180 Days and Counting... Series Box Set books 7 - 9

by B. R. Paulson

She’d know that sound anywhere. David, her husband, had driven a Ford when they’d dated. She’d learned the sound of his car and had never forgotten what it sounded like when he got to her house. She could run down to him without waiting for him to come up to her.

  In her fatigue, for a split second, she thought David was coming for her. But that wasn’t possible. David was dead. She’d watched him kill himself.

  Margie tightened her jaw. She couldn’t lose it. Not yet. She could have a breakdown at Cady’s, if they ever got there. Or she could see David in the afterlife, when she died.

  The car screeched to a stop, the bright beams of the headlights warring with the LED shafts of the flashlights.

  The silhouettes of the men revealed they had packs on their backs and some type of rifles in their hands. They were having a hard time juggling the flashlights and the rifles at the same time. The dogs weren’t on leashes, but they backed down at the sight of the car.

  The car stopped, the transmissions shift into park loud in the relative quiet. A door opened and Manson’s voice reached Margie and Ryker, sending another shiver of fear through them. “Margie, put the lights down.”

  The men with the dogs laughed, half-lowering their lights as they realized what was happening. “Margie, huh? Sounds like we have a woman we’re looking for. I told you we were going to find some fun.”

  One of the men stepped forward, choosing his flashlight over his rifle.

  Margie winced. That was going to be a stupid mistake.

  “We’ll help you find this ‘Margie’, man. That’s a nice car you got there.” The man laughed, half-turning back to his friend as if looking for agreement. His friend laughed and then screamed as the end of a crowbar went into the first man’s face and out the back of his skull.

  Margie held her hand over her mouth, gasping in silence. Ryker turned away. Watching in horror, Margie distractedly noticed the car was left on. Too bad he was there and they were here. If they could slip around the side, they could take the car. It’d be risky and Manson would never let them leave, but what if they could get it? What if he couldn’t stop them?

  Desperate fear emboldened her. Margie leaned close to Ryker both to counsel with him and to distract him. “Let’s see if we can get the car. Watch for it. I’ll say when.” She didn’t need to see his terror. Why were they going to rush into the mess that Manson was causing when they could keep running north?

  Because Margie knew Manson wouldn’t stop until he found them. He’d never expect them to be there, taking the car. Getting out of there alive, meant taking huge risks. If they failed, then they would have faced their death sooner. They were out of options and Margie knew it.

  The man’s screams turned to yells of revenge and rage. He dropped the flashlight, bringing up the rifle. Manson bent to the side of the headlights, and the sickening sound of him removing his weapon was barely audible under the rumble of the car. Manson turned off the lights of the car, but left it idling.

  The only lights left were the flashlight beams laying on the ground. Neither of which offered much help.

  “You can put the gun down, or not, either way it’s your choice how you die.” Manson’s soft voice carried easily on the spring night air.

  Margie tugged Ryker forward. Now was there chance. While Manson stalked the other man, he was distracted. He wouldn’t be expecting a carjacking.

  Her heart beat erratically in her ears and she tip-toed back toward the bank until they were parallel on the walkway with the rear of Manson’s car.

  A dog growled. The man still standing laughed. “I’m not going without a fight. If anyone should be prepared to die, it should be you.” Both men maneuvered themselves and spoke to get a feel for where the other was.

  Margie and Ryker didn’t wait. They bent over, moving quickly to the back of the car. The sweet scent of exhaust encircled them as they crouched behind the rear bumper.

  Hearing Manson and the other man from that position was more difficult. Margie pivoted on her feet, and peeked over the top of the trunk hood. From the looks of it, Manson had stolen the classic Ford she’d been eyeballing on her gas run.

  They couldn’t chance opening another door. The driver’s door stood wide open, the dome light dark. The only lights glowed from the minimalistic dash. The older cars didn’t have the fancy contraptions the newer vehicles did. Basic gauges and dials were just another reason older cars were so appealing.

  Manson’s voice seemed to move further from the car. A dog growled again like a warning. Wasn’t there more than one dog? Margie glanced around. Was there one just waiting to pounce on them? Had they miscalculated the entire thing and were just then about to die?

  Her fear was like a hard ball in her chest. She couldn’t blink in danger of missing something and ending up dead. If it was just her, she wouldn’t be so worried. But she had Ryker to watch for and she didn’t take that responsibility lightly.

  Ryker was still beside her which was a good sign. They had to get in that car. She leaned back to Ryker, pressing her lips to his ear and breathed, “You’re going to slip into the seat in front of me. Duck down and crawl across. I’ll get in and drive.”

  He nodded, his eyes wide. She’d just told him he was going first. He should be terrified. Margie was scared. Everyone should be scared. Why wasn’t everyone freaking out? Because there wasn’t time for that!

  She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. There wasn’t more time to gather more calm. That was all she had. Snapping her eyes open, she ignored her chattering teeth and closed her lips around them. Her whole body was shaking, but that didn’t matter. She’d go into shock later.

  Manson was laughing at something. “You think I’m scared of your dogs?” The man hissed and the sound of a dog barking and snapping his teeth followed.

  Margie watched Manson lean to the side as the dog attacked. She jerked her hand to Ryker and crouched down again. Ryker moved toward the driver’s door ahead of her. But she didn’t let him get too far ahead of her before following. He looked back when he reached the opening. Margie was close enough to put her hand on his back.

  She nodded. Now or never.

  Chapter 10

  Cady

  Cady ignored the pleading look in Bailey’s eyes. Her daughter was terrified and Cady didn’t blame her. The virus wasn’t something to be excited about.

  Parking the truck behind a copse of trees at the dumpster area, Cady shifted the truck into park. Studying the area, the best she could with the extremely limited light from the stars and moon, she pulled the keys from the ignition. Without the keys, it would be next to impossible to siphon gas from the dual tanks. She’d installed a locking cap and other features before she even realized her prepping hobby was going to be necessary.

  Cady studied the layout. It was an obvious place for people to scavenge, but no one would look past the dumpsters. That would keep anyone’s attention trained there. How many times had she herself gone to the dump to drop off things and never seen the forest or the fencing around the area? Even the port-a-potty sized office at the other end was easily ignored.

  No, there wouldn’t be any worry about losing their things permanently. Right then, they just needed a safe place to stash things.

  “I think we’ll put the majority of our things over there.” Cady pointed toward the collection of boulders and moss-covered rocks that led the way into the woods. The natural crevices would help hide things they couldn’t carry. She wasn’t willing to lose the things they had, not without at least trying to protect them and keep them for later.

  Leaving her home had been hard, leaving behind so much of her preparedness items and the place Bailey had grown up. The men who’d invaded and the gunshots pinging into the back of the truck had helped tamp down any reservations at leaving. But sitting there in the truck and trying to prepare to leave almost everything behind, Cady didn’t know if she could do it. Some of the things in there were essential to their survival. The oils, the baby formula… so muc
h. She glanced at Bailey and Jessica. What if Cady didn’t know what she was doing?

  If Cady were going to be completely honest, she would be able to say to Bailey that there was no question of what if Cady didn’t know what she was doing, no… She had absolutely zero idea what to do. None. Her daughter and the baby’s lives were in her hands and she had no idea if what she was doing was wrong or right.

  Bailey didn’t need to know that. She couldn’t panic. Adding any stress on Bailey would exacerbate the virus. Maybe. There were too many variables, too many unknowns. Cady’s sense for control and stability balked at not having the answers.

  She gripped the top of the steering wheel and leaned her forehead onto the top curve.

  “Mom-" Bailey cut off her words when Cady held up a finger.

  “Just a second. Just give me a second.” The sickness had left her depleted of energy and she hadn’t stopped to rest, not really, since that morning when she’d forced herself to get up. They’d gone into town because Jason had been sick and they had to see if Beth had more oils.

  They’d grabbed Beth and all of her things and somehow avoided getting killed by the men who had followed them relentlessly with the van, and then again, the men with the fence full of bodies. Cady and Scott had gotten back to her place to find Jason dead and Beth shot in the rig with them. Jackson had arrived and Beth had killed him and then herself. Cady and Bailey had left with the baby with gunshots following them. Last but not least, Bailey most likely had the virus. Scott hadn’t come with them. There was too much…

  Cady just needed a minute to ground her sanity.

  Just one minute.

  Bailey seemed to sense that her mom was on the brink of something. She didn’t interrupt Cady’s mental stretching. She didn’t ask questions or hound Cady as Cady just let her eyes rest for a minute.

  Her entire body was tired, achy, and she didn’t want to sit there too long and fall asleep.

  They needed to get somewhere safe or safer than their truck in a roadside dump before they could drop their guard enough to get some sleep. Sleep would make all the difference. Sleep would solve a lot of their problems. True, not the safety one, but making decisions and resolving some of the issues they faced would be ten times easier with sleep.

  After a time period that was longer than a minute, Cady lifted her head even though she didn’t want to. Facing Bailey, she sighed. “Okay, you were going to say something?”

  Bailey nodded, eyeing Cady like she might lose it. “I wasn’t sure I heard you right. We’re leaving all our stuff over there?” She furrowed her brow and pointed toward the rock shadows.

  Cady nodded tightly. “Yep. You should stay here and watch the baby. I’ll move things and get us packed with the stuff we have to have right now. Hopefully, we can come back and get more of our things, but right now, it looks like we’re stuck going by foot.”

  “I don’t think you’re in a condition to hike, Mom.” Bailey watched Cady in the lights from the dash.

  As if her condition had a say. “It doesn’t matter. We don’t really have an option, do we? We need to get to Grandma’s and then we can sleep. It’s only three miles. That shouldn’t take more than an hour to get to.” If they could get across the bridge and any other road jams that might be in place. She kept her concerns to herself. Two women out walking with a baby would be prime targets. Cady tried to keep the scenes of post-apocalyptic books she’d read out of her mind. Hard to do when she was living during those types of conditions and she had been an avid reader.

  Glancing around the truck, Cady opened the door and slid from the cab. She closed the door without slamming it and moved to the back of the rig. She had to pick and choose the things they could take and hide the things they couldn’t.

  Would anyone know if she sat down and cried? She just wanted to beg for some kind of mercy from the heavy burdens weighing her down.

  Instead of giving in to her desire to cry and give up, Cady hefted the bins and items from the truck and then dragged them to the rocks. Positioning them among the dips and behind boulders with depressions in the backs, Cady did the best she could with the energy she had and the options before her. She retrieved their 72-hour kits from the back seat, ignoring the look Bailey gave her from the passenger side.

  Cady had to be able to fit some oils in their packs and more formula. The few that Bailey had packed in the small satchel wouldn’t be enough to last but a couple of days. Cady packed enough formula concentrate to last a month, but the ten canisters took up a lot of room and she had to leave behind clothes and a thin sleeping bag to fit them.

  They would have to find a way to get back there before the month was up. If they were still all alive.

  Stepping back multiple times from the rocks, Cady checked and rechecked to make sure that nothing was visible but the true test would be during the day. No way were they waiting around for that. She’d have to have faith that her hiding job was as good as she could make it.

  She dug through the essential oils, searching for helichrysum and ravintsara. Neither were prepared. A small roll-on vial labeled “Shingles” was at the bottom of the last bin she hid. She held it up, the dark black words easy to read in the dim lighting on the white label.

  If that was all she had initially, then she’d use it on Bailey. Something was better than nothing.

  The oils bins and the guns with ammunition bins she tucked in the back of the rocks, closer to the trees and fence. She covered as much as she could with loose pine needles, cones, and boughs. It probably looked contrived, but Cady was running out of time.

  Tucking her handgun into its holster under her arm, she opened Bailey’s door and handed her the gun she’d brought from the bin for her. “Time to go. Let’s get you situated.”

  Cady had packed her own bag the heaviest. If Bailey was carrying the baby, she didn’t need to be over-burdened.

  Bailey pulled on her dark jacket and twisted a rubber band around her hair into a loose bun. “Mom, I really think we should wait. Maybe sleep here? It’s pretty safe, don’t you think?”

  “Nothing is safe, Bailey. Not out in the open. We have to get moving so we can get to Grandma’s. I’m not going to keep arguing with you. We need to go. Here’s your pack.” If she remembered correctly, they had to hike about three-hundred yards past the bridge to the north to get to the foot bridge. Once there, they could cross and start the trip deeper into the north Idaho forest.

  Cady wouldn’t accept any more arguments. She had her mind made up. They had to get to her parents’. Fortunately, most of north Idaho had its prepper groups and most residents were intent on being capable of survival in most situations.

  Some groups and neighborhoods had set up procedures beforehand and Cady’s parents’ area had such an organization. The Mosses hadn’t been as fanatical as some of the members, but The Gulch was in a position to help out the families in their group. If they had any survivors.

  If nothing else, Cady and Bailey could get into the group and survive. Cady had met a few of the members and that would make it easier to be integrated into the group.

  They just had to find a way to fit in, once they got there.

  Chapter 11

  Manson

  The dogs came out of nowhere. Manson knew they were there, but their actual location was a mystery.

  One attacked him below the knee, clamping his teeth through the soft skin and flesh on the top sides of his shin. From the side, another one clamped his teeth onto his forearm. Manson lost his grip on the crowbar, but just for a second. Repositioning his fingers, he swung the bar wildly, hoping to hit something or someone. A whimper from one of the dogs and a solid whacking sensation shot up his arm. He’d connected.

  The man cocked his gun. Manson hadn’t caught a clear look at the weapon, but the sound sent a chill down his spine. He ignored the still-gnawing dog on his leg. If he didn’t get to the man before the man shot Manson, then the dog wouldn’t be an issue.

  Nothing would be.
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  Manson lunged forward, drawing back his arm and swinging it in the general direction of his main threat. It was hard to see exact locations in the dark. Depth perception and everything else was off.

  He’d turned off the interior lights in the car before he’d gotten out and now he wished he hadn’t.

  On his second swing, the crowbar connected with the muzzle of the gun. The sound twanged through the darkness.

  Manson kicked at the dog, throwing himself toward the man.

  The slam of the car door broke his concentration and he snapped his head around, his hands grappling for a full grip on the man’s neck or arms. Anything. What was happening behind him? He should be focused on the fight, but instead, part of his attention was on the car. Was someone stealing his car?

  The lights from the dashboard in the car illuminated Margie and Ryker clearly, the latter staring with wide eyes out the passenger window as the car peeled out, racing forward.

  Letting go of any handhold he had on the man, Manson turned, side-stepping, and reached for the car. “No!” Before he could do anything else, the cold round barrel of the man’s gun found the back of Manson’s head.

  The last thing he saw before the explosion was the red taillights of the Ford Fairlane he’d stolen driving away with the woman he was desperate to kill inside. Wasn’t that the breaks?

  Boom.

  Chapter 12

  Perry

  “We lost five or six?” Perry stood at the edge of the ravine with the moon just barely peeking through the gathering clouds. He glanced over his shoulder toward Dick, his third-cousin-once-removed or that’s that they told people. Perry couldn’t remember how they were related, just that they were related. Saying it that way made it sound less like an incest family tie than anything else. Incest wasn’t unheard of up that way, but Perry had a reputation to protect.

  “I’m not sure. We still can’t find Vanessa.” Dick shrugged, his inebriated movements almost animated looking in the contrasting moonlight.