Fit In_a post-apocalyptic survival thriller Read online

  Fit In

  Book 9

  180 Days and Counting… Series

  B.R. Paulson

  Fit In

  When Cady runs, it isn’t because hell is chasing after her. It’s because her daughter is in danger and Cady believes escape is the only option.

  If she only knew.

  As Cady and her daughter make their way north, Scott realizes just what he lost and he’s willing to fight to get it back.

  And Cady’s mom? Lookout, because she’s headed back to her daughter’s place, and come hell or high water, she’s going to make it. Who she leads there may help or hinder her survival.

  This series is almost complete at 12 books. Don’t tell the women that – they might not all make it.

  Dear Survivor,

  Wow, look at how far we’ve come. There’s some serious issues we’ve left in the past and we’ve lost some amazing friends. Now, though, I want you to be prepared for what’s coming.

  There is going to be more death, more loss. There will be more wins, though, but not as many as we would hope. I want you to know that I’m torn up about these twists and as I’m getting ready to wrap up the series, my heart is both heavy and light. Sad for the things that have happened and happy for the things to come.

  We have book 9 (this one!), book 10, 11, and 12 left. We’re almost there and my heart is ready for these three generations of women to find some kind of redemption.

  May I say, thank you for continuing with me. Knowing that you’re there reading this and going on this journey with me has helped pull me along.

  Remember the NICU with Scott? I still resent that that happened. Or Jason’s death. There have been so many things that I’ve felt deep down that have left me a little scarred.

  Believe it or not, I have another series coming soon after this one and I’m excited while also terrified of getting too attached – again. That one will be filled with natural disasters and survival.

  Again, thank you so much for reading. I’ve enjoyed our time together.

  Keep breathing,

  Paulson

  Chapter 1

  Scott

  Red taillights didn’t garner more than a flicker of a glance from Scott as he ducked behind the greenhouse. His heart thumped loudly and he swallowed to keep his nerves in line. His gun was inside, but that didn’t stop him. He had to get inside, get his gun, and protect the home Cady was so fast to leave behind.

  Taking a deep breath, Scott leapt from the non-existent protection of the plexi-glass building. He didn’t have time to wait for Ranger to catch up. He couldn’t stop. He sprinted, ignoring the beams of light flashing around him.

  He dodged around the feet half-stretched out of Beth’s dead body. He didn’t have time to be too careful. He had to get inside.

  The light never focused directly on him. Probably because the intruders were more concerned with the truck driving away, shooting at the disappearing taillights, then anything else. More likely than not, they assumed that everyone at the house was in that truck.

  They weren’t wrong. Everyone that mattered drove away.

  Scott slid through the slider doors. In the near complete darkness, he grabbed for his gun sitting on the table or maybe it was Beth’s. He wasn’t sure and he didn’t care. Actually, a part of him recognized that the gun was the one Beth had used to shoot Jackson out front and then herself in the Adirondack chair on the deck.

  With the butt of the gun in his palm, Scott rushed through the dark house to the front window. His boots rubbed on the carpet in the living room and he softly kicked the trim when he got too close to the wall. He held his breath as he peeked outside into the darkness.

  One flashlight lay on the ground, the beam sliding past Jackson’s dead form and highlighting the rocky surface of the gravelly drive. Anything in the path of the light took on an elongated shadow that stretched over the dirt like tall fingers reaching for something they couldn’t get to.

  Another beam of light swooped through the treetops, pinpointing the position of one of the men taking shots at the truck turning onto the road. Neither of the men were there, close enough for Scott to dispose of. He wasn’t in position anyway, either. The break was exactly what he needed.

  Scott raised the handgun, carefully sliding open the window. He pulled out his pocketknife and slid the blade through the mesh screen from top to bottom. The whir of the metal through the screen felt loud but couldn’t have been heard by the men who hadn’t stopped shooting or shouting.

  He parted the new slit in the mesh and pushed the muzzle through. He wasn’t sure how many bullets were left in the gun but assuming it had only been used when she’d shot Jackson and then again when Beth had shot herself, Scott should have at least six shots left. That’s if it was a standard .45.

  Six or not, that wasn’t very many left for him to try to take out these men. His chest tightened and he worked to control his breathing. He wasn’t panting, exactly, or even gasping, but more along the lines of struggling not to hyperventilate. With his adrenaline spiking and still not fully recovered from the virus, Scott wasn’t sure how much more he would be able to endure before he just collapsed.

  Cady was worse off than he was and she was on the run.

  He waited for the truck’s taillights to disappear through the trees. Heat flooded his face. Why hadn’t he gone with them? He was there at the house with no one to protect. No one to live for. He’d lost Cady. He’d lost his niece. Bailey was long gone. He couldn’t call them back for a do-over.

  The only one who had stuck around was his nephew, but being a dead body out by a lamp post wasn’t exactly what Scott had in mind.

  As far as he was concerned, he had no real reason to stay and yet, he’d stayed. He didn’t even have a real excuse for staying.

  Scott looked around. He’d been in such a hurry to get inside to get his gun, he hadn’t paid attention to where Ranger, his dog, was. He didn’t have time to find him. He had to at least make sure the looters didn’t get Cady’s place. If nothing else, Scott had to do that. He’d already let her down in so many other ways. He’d already let down so many people that mattered to him.

  What if Cady wanted to come back to her home? She wouldn’t be able to, if those men ransacked it. All of her things would be gone. The sanctity of her home would be gone. Scott knew what that was like – he had the remains of a dead woman in his yard and windows broken. He wasn’t likely to return there for a while.

  What if Scott saw Cady again and he had to tell her that he’d lost her house? Setting his jaw, Scott rested his elbow on the windowsill and waited. If that happened, he would be able to say that he did everything he could to save it.

  The shooting out by the driveway stopped. Far off the in the distance and fading fast, the sound of Cady’s truck rumbled back to Scott. Fainter and fainter, until… the sound was gone.

  Scott hunkered down and waited, watching the drive. They’d come back toward the house. If for no other reason than to retrieve their falling flashlight. They’d still go through the house. They would be foolish not to.

  The light on the driveway acted like a beacon. One of them would reach for the flashlight. He could take them both out as long as he knew where they were. He had the advantage. They weren’t even aware he was there. As long as Ranger stayed away, Scott didn’t have anything that would give him away. He had to kill them. Wounding them would just be cruel.

  As much as he didn’t want to kill anyone again, he had to remember that the killing in the NICU had been a mercy killing. Every single one of them – even the nurse. Now, killing these men, he wasn’t protecting anyone immediately – except himself – b
ut who was he protecting down the road? How many homes had these men robbed? How many people had they killed? Because they weren’t shooting after the truck for the fun of it. No, they wanted to kill. They’d gone into Rachel’s home, next door to Cady’s, late at night and they hadn’t knocked. It didn’t take a genius to know their motives weren’t pure.

  Scott couldn’t imagine standing by and letting them go when they most likely would hurt someone else. He wouldn’t tolerate it. If he’d had the chance, he probably would’ve been the one to kill Jackson, too.

  But Beth had beat him to it.

  Over the rasping of his breathing, Scott could make out the sound of boots on the rocks and stomping through the island. He closed his eyes as he pictured the man tripping over Jason. He’d left his nephew’s body by the lamp in the center of the island in the loop of the driveway and he couldn’t remember why.

  A falter in the steps in the island. There it was. He’d found Jason. “There are bodies all over this place, Ed.” A voice called from the darkness of the loop. In no time that man would be upon Jackson and he’d pick up the flashlight. He’d mark himself a target and he had no idea.

  They were so cocky in their safety. The men assumed they were the predators, top of the apocalyptic food chain. That assumption made them sloppy, lazy. Vulnerable to Scott’s attack. He was tired, but he could take advantage of cockiness.

  Scott opened his eyes and focused. He just had to be patient, wait until they both came into view at the same time. He couldn’t take too much time between shots or he’d only be able to get one while the other ran or fought back. He couldn’t allow that to happen. There weren’t enough bullets for a shoot-out.

  “Yeah, hey, where you at? Do you think that truck was the one who killed them all? They probably took everything good, huh. Do you think anything is left?” A flashlight beam skimmed the ground, sweeping side to side as Ed came up the curve of the drive, not far from his friend in the island. The boots on his feet stepped into the long light spilling across the driveway.

  “No idea.” The man in the island reached Jackson, kicking him in the side as he passed. “Look, here’s another one.” He bent down, grabbing up the flashlight. “What’d this fool do to get shot like that? One less for us to kill, I guess.” He chortled, standing.

  Scott didn’t need to wait any longer. He was angry. He didn’t need a plan or to think over his actions. He was sick of the injustice. His family was gone. Everyone he cared about was gone – either dead, left with Cady, or so far out of access they might as well be dead. None of them had deserved it. Not one of the dead had looted from others or stolen.

  Men like this… Scott didn’t care if they deserved to die or not. He was fed up with it all. He turned the gun toward Ed who was still walking toward his friend. Scott tightened his jaw. Ignore what you’re going to do, Scott. Just do it. They deserve it. Pulling the trigger ripped the night open with the report of the shot.

  The man grunted and fell to the ground, his flashlight clattering to the rocks beside him. The sudden silence filled with disbelief and a gasp.

  “Ed!” The man by Jackson turned and crouched but didn’t stand a chance. Scott pulled the trigger again, this time not aimed as well, but still hitting his target. His ears rang. The second man fall on top of Jackson’s body.

  Scott didn’t move. He just stared at what he’d done. He’d hit them. There was no other evidence of anyone else coming after Cady’s place. He’d made sure of that. Sinking to his knees, he leaned his head against the wall and left his hands resting against the windowsill. He didn’t let go of the gun gripped tightly in his fingers.

  The full import of what he’d done hit him in the chest. There was nothing he could do to prepare himself for that. Even telling himself it was okay hadn’t worked. He couldn’t convince himself that they’d deserved anything. They hadn’t pointed a gun at him. At least not yet.

  No matter what else had happened, Scott had killed again. Even as much as the guilt hurt, killing those men wasn’t as hard as his first time killing. Was it going to get easier and easier? Or had the sheer amount of innocent lives he’d taken the first time desensitized him to taking any other lives? Scott wasn’t perfect, but he had a feeling that wasn’t a good thing.

  Chapter 2

  Margie

  Margie took the backpack from Ryker and waited for him to take a drink of the water. They hadn’t been able to carry a lot of the water, but they could drink what they’d brought. She swigged from the bottle after he finished and passed it to her, then she twisted the cap on and tucked it back into the pocket on the side of the pack.

  “Margie, I can carry it more. I don’t feel right making you take the bag.” Ryker shifted his feet, yawning and covering his mouth with his arm.

  Shaking her head, Margie pulled the straps up her arms and hoisted it higher on her shoulders. Taking a deep breath, she considered Ryker. With everything they were facing, he was concerned about her. He had manners and that somehow created a bright spot in their flight toward Cady’s. “No, we need to keep going. If we share the load, it won’t be so bad. Keep going. That’s going to have to be our mantra.”

  Keep going. She’d thought for sure they’d be to Cady’s by then. She glanced back at the approximate spot they’d left her bright orange bag. They couldn’t afford to carry it and she was disgusted they had to leave it, but some things just had to be the way they were. Margie could deal with that. She could handle losing a bag of gear. What she couldn’t handle was losing her or Ryker because of the reflector strips going down the sides of the bag and her stubbornness to hang onto it.

  Some things had to be more important. If they walked through the night, they could get sleep and food and more supplies at Cady’s. It wouldn’t take that long. It couldn’t.

  At least Margie hoped so. She hadn’t even allowed herself to really think further than getting to Cady’s and having a homecooked meal. She’d been so focused on keeping the sanctuary of Cady’s home as her goal, that she’d refused to even acknowledge that Cady and Bailey might not have made it. Sure, the thought had crossed her mind, but dwelling on it hadn’t been something she’d allowed to happen.

  The home might be in someone else’s hands.

  Pushing aside that very real possibility was getting harder and harder with everything they were forced to face. She smiled tightly at Ryker, even though he couldn’t see her. “Ready?”

  They moved north, keeping their steps measured and consistent. Margie stared ahead, trying to make out the different shapes and shadows as they walked. Thankfully, they had a relatively clear trail to walk. As the clouds moved across the moon, glimpses of the road came and went. The inconsistencies drove Margie mad, but she clenched her jaw and ignored the shadows.

  One step forward. Two. Was that her foot scraping on the ground or was she breathing harder than before? They weren’t moving faster. Margie measured her breathing and nothing had changed. Must have been a misstep. She focused on picking up her feet better, glancing down everyone in a while in case she could catch a glimpse of where she was actually stepping in the dark.

  The silence was peaceful and lulling. For a brief moment, Margie wondered just what they were running from.

  A dog’s snarling bark jerked them from their trance of just moving forward.

  Margie inhaled sharply, reaching behind her and grabbing for Ryker’s arm. They ducked behind some of the young pine trees to hide. A branch scratched her cheek but Margie just shook it off. She stared in the direction the barking came from. It had sounded louder, closer, than she’d pictured possible.

  Ryker’s voice split through the quiet. “Do you –"

  Margie reached up and covered Ryker’s mouth with her hand. “Sh.” She breathed. If the men with the dogs were following them, they had either seen Margie and Ryker, their dogs were scent chasers, or they were just moving north as well. There was no real way to be certain. No matter which one it was, Margie wasn’t willing to take the chance tha
t they would be caught.

  Margie murmured, “We need to get inside somewhere. Can you run? I think there’s a collection of stores up here, about a block or so. We can cut across the woods when we get closer to the next crossroad.” She pulled her hand down when he nodded.

  Breaking into a trot, Margie was careful to keep her hand on the bottom of the backpack to prevent it from bouncing and making noise. Her arms grew tired fast, but there weren’t any other options.

  Their slow lope covered the ground and sooner than Margie had hoped, they broke past the forest to their right. Finally, they were catching a break.

  An intersection stretched out before them, highlighted by the moon breaking through the clouds overhead. Judging by the moon’s position in the sky, they were well past midnight.

  To their left and right, running east and west, Prairie cut across US-95. The choppy edges of buildings created deeper shadows in the night, competing with the treetops in the skyline. Across from their position, a strip mall claimed the majority of the north end of a ten-acre lot. Closer to where they would cross, a smaller building with drive-through access offered protection on the south end of the lot. Bushes blurred the crisp lines of the building’s shadow.

  The clouds shifted and moonlight flooded the lot, exposing the faces of the abandoned businesses like a diffused spotlight. Glass hung like jagged teeth in the window holes of the large buildings. Where restaurants and shops had once been stood ravaged storefronts with little familiarity to their faces.

  They didn’t need protection. While a broken window wouldn’t offer much safety, a closet inside might. If they could just get across the street, the blacktop, all that empty space, they might find some safety. Their tasks were formidable and Margie just wanted to lay down and sleep.

  Whispering, Margie pointed toward the lot. “If we break this into chunks, we can do it and still be safe. Keep an eye out for anything that looks…” She left it there. What would she say? Anything suspicious? Unsafe? Scary? Edible?