Try Hard: a post-apocalyptic thriller (180 Days and Counting... Series Book 7) Page 5

  But just because people survived a virus, didn’t mean they had a survivor mentality. You had to do things to survive. Make sacrifices. Some people had that trait and some people didn’t.

  “Ryker, if it makes you feel any better, I think it’s only a matter of time until things right themselves.” Kelsey smiled over her shoulder and then looked at Margie as if she expected Margie to agree with her.

  How was that possible when Kelsey’s words completely contradicted what Margie had just said? Margie fell silent, keeping her hands on the wheel. No one said anything for a few minutes.

  Kelsey slapped her knee. “Margie, enough. You can’t ignore me forever. We need to get off the freeway and go north. Now.” She pointed at the green sign that showed they only had another hour to get to Ritzville. One hour. Through Ritzville they could go toward Spokane or head toward Richland.

  “I’m not getting off this freeway. I’m not talking to you. So sit there and keep your mouth shut unless you’re willing to tell me what it is you’re hiding from us.” Margie clenched her jaw. She was serious and Kelsey better get it through her head.

  “I can’t.” Kelsey tapped her fingers on her upper thigh. Her anxiety hadn’t lessened and the further east they went the more tense she became. “Please, you have to go north. We have to get north as fast as possible.”

  “No. We’re not leaving this freeway except to get more gas. You can’t tell the truth. Well, now, that’s just too bad. Since that is the case and I’m not going to listen to lies, I suggest you don’t talk, then. I’m really close to pushing you out of the car without stopping.” Margie wasn’t joking but Ryker’s snicker brought a small smile to her lips. It did sound funny spoken aloud.

  A lengthy pause followed and Margie hoped for silence the rest of the way. She had too much to think about, to worry about, and dealing with Kelsey’s truth dodging took more energy than Margie had.

  She was hungry and tired and she just wanted to get back to Cady’s and make sure her family was alright.

  Kelsey cleared her throat and Margie rolled her eyes. Great, here she goes. Probably going to try to start a different conversation. Margie considered the shoulder of the freeway. If she pulled over, did she have enough time to kick Kelsey out the door and then get going again?

  “Look, my family…” Kelsey swallowed and continued. “My family lived in Richland, not too far from the nuclear station. Those guys…” She sighed, shaking her head and dropping her chin. “The guys using the gas station for their bait and trap promised to get me information on my family. They promised to tell me if they were okay or not, as long as I didn’t leave and I kept the place going like a normal gas station. They promised everything would be fine.”

  She stopped and stared as they passed another sign, her sigh long and filled with regret. “Some of the men didn’t like the plan, so they started shooting up the place at night. I’m not… sure why they got mean so fast. I think some of them were sick and hiding it? Maybe they knew about the alcohol inside? I’m not sure. I don’t know exactly when they turned so horrific. By that time, I was too far into it.”

  Kelsey wiped under her eyes. “I just wanted to hear from my family, make sure they had at least made it or that there wasn’t a fallout. When the power went down… there’s no way there isn’t fallout. And it will travel for miles and people won’t even know it. You’ll get nauseous, really sick, and the radiation will be hard to expunge from your body.” She wiped her hands on her thighs, not waiting for any comments as she continued. “There’s nothing nuclear around Easton. There’s nothing nuclear on the coast.” She looked out the window and folded her arms over her chest. “All of that is upwind from the plant. Where we’re headed? They’ll most likely get some of the radiation there. Then what?”

  While the thought of being irradiated was terrifying and most likely true, Margie couldn’t help wondering why Kelsey would freak out so easily. “Why’d you leave the station then? I mean, you had everything there. You could still wait for the news.” If what she was saying was true, then Kelsey shouldn’t have left let alone blown up the station. What had she hoped to accomplish with that display?

  Kelsey scoffed, but the sound lacked humor. “My family isn’t there. I doubt they’re alive, even if there wasn’t fallout. My sister was a drug addict once upon a time and her immune system isn’t all that great. This virus would wipe my family out in no time. I was just… hoping, you know? It’s too late to know anymore. If we drive through Ritzville, there’s a good chance the northerly winds are blowing the radiation that way. We don’t… know what that will do to us.” She finally looked at Margie. “Those men were holding me hostage there at that point. I didn’t work with them after I saw what they were doing. You were the first one I was able to save.” Kelsey blinked, her eyes shiny with unshed tears.

  No one spoke for a few minutes. What exactly was there to say? Margie’s discomfort grew. Had she been in the wrong to question Kelsey? It made sense why Kelsey had deviated from getting on the freeway for so long, but Margie’s gut said something still wasn’t right.

  A green sign stated they were only a few miles from Ritzville and that junction.

  If Kelsey was right, then they had to factor a nuclear fallout into their plan. The only problem was, the fuel gauge was low and they all needed to get out of the car for a break, not to mention get something else to eat.

  Too late now to think about what a nuclear fallout would mean. Margie wasn’t sure, but she didn’t think fallout meant an explosion. If she remembered right, a fallout was when radiation escaped because the coolant was no longer keeping the facility sufficiently cooled.

  An explosion would almost be better. At least an explosion was something you could see, something you could plan around, try to escape.

  But a slow leak of invisible danger was worse than a bullet coming for you.

  Margie wasn’t sure what to do, but with their gas running low, she would have to decide fast. Like it wasn’t bad enough they were fighting the clock for food, rest, and gas. Now they had to add nuclear fallout to their list of problems.

  If there was a place to complain, Margie needed to get in line. As far as apocalypse went, the one she was trapped in was the worst one she could have imagined.

  Surviving might be harder than she’d ever read about.

  Chapter 11

  Jackson

  The minivan was a nice enough ride, if you liked that kind of thing. Jackson could see how the minivan would be appealing, if you had rugrats and grocery shopping to do, maybe soccer games or other annoying family responsibilities. The multitude of food stacked in the back helped impress him as well.

  Inside the van was wholly unimpressive. Crumbs and wrappers littered the floor of the vehicle. The heater looked like it was hit or miss. The lack of A/C surprised him. There was no radio, but when Jackson hit the CD button the whiny twang of country music filled the air.

  Arching an eyebrow, Jackson grunted. He felt more justified in killing Norman. It wasn’t even a good band like Blackhawk or Garth Brooks. No, the CD sounded like an original country singer like Willy something or other.

  After trying to stick out it out for at least one tinny sounding song, Jackson pressed the power button in irritation. He shuddered. Yep, not good music. Some things just needed to die – people, country music, racism. Jackson was the eradicator of all the bad in the world.

  Empty streets greeted his studying gaze as he looked around the town on his way toward the freeway onramp. Jackson couldn’t help wondering just where all the survivors were hiding.

  He had no doubt there were survivors. For some reason, Jackson had failed in achieving his 90% mortality rate. The virus had been expected to hit a 75% rate, but hadn’t he increased his expectations by adding the Cure? Hadn’t he covered all his bases? What was wrong with people that they couldn’t do what they instructed by the news channels and get the Cure? He’d barely survived his exposure and that was only because he understood what was
happening.

  Someone who had no idea what was going on and was weakened by the effects of the virus didn’t stand a chance against the toxins in the Cure.

  Okay, he’d covered his bases on that end, but maybe more of the poison should have been mailed out along with the disease. If Jackson had done a better job, he wouldn’t be running into so many survivors. Why weren’t they dead?

  Somewhere his calculations were off. He’d destroyed all his work so he had no way to double check and see where he’d gone wrong.

  How had he failed?

  Turning onto the freeway entrance, Jackson settled into the drive. He had almost a full tank of gas. In the newer, base-model of the vehicle, there would still be good mileage. Jackson should be able to make it to Coeur d’Alene, Idaho until his next fill up was needed – maybe even north to Athol.

  He knew he had to go north to Athol, but that was where his confusion started. He should have printed off a map before closing his home office down.

  As long as he could get somewhere in that vicinity, he would be able to figure out his next step. For now, he just wanted to get Montana behind him. He would figure out the rest of it after he did something productive.

  The long road stretched before him and Jackson’s mind turned back to his failures.

  But were they failures? Had he failed at everything he’d done.

  Jackson’s goals were to wipe out the population. He hadn’t done that. He’d dented the huge number – by a lot – but not enough. There was a higher number of survivors than he’d calculated for. How much of the Cure was out there? Unused? It didn’t matter how many people he’d killed, he hadn’t killed enough. The knowledge left a sinking sensation in his gut, like he’d let everyone down. The only person whose opinion mattered was his own… and Cady’s.

  Was she impressed? Was she at least in awe of his plan and the way he implemented it?

  As Jackson drove over the Fourth of July Pass he realized he had to redefine his idea of success.

  Had he wiped out the population? Not as much as he’d wanted to, but enough to alter the realities for most of the world. The ones who lived wouldn’t likely survive long. There was an attitude about surviving. Not just anyone would make it through the hard times.

  Trees and mountains filled his view. Small lakes and ponds mingled in large fields with fast rushing rivers and creeks. All of it would be able to continue moving forward without the interference of human activity. Jackson had protected it, all of it.

  The afternoon closed in. Long clouds blocked out the sun and a freeway sign stated Coeur d’Alene was only fifteen miles ahead. The miles and hours had passed fast.

  He was close.

  He needed to get to town, find a gas station or somewhere there were a lot of cars and see if he could find a map or someone he could torture for directions. Glancing at the gauge, Jackson was pleased to see he still had a third of a tank of gas left. He could make it to Athol. That would be a great pivot point.

  He had Cady’s address, he just needed help figuring out how to get there.

  In no time, he’d be with his bride and once that happened, she would be able to tell him how amazing he was and what a great job he’d done.

  All of his research had reassured him that she would take the vaccine. He was never wrong. He couldn’t wait to see her face when he showed up at her place.

  Things were definitely looking up.

  Chapter 12

  Bailey

  Facing the north, the bathroom window didn’t get sunlight streaming in. With the hour growing later, Bailey noticed the cooling temperatures as they seeped into the room. Her hand trembled as she stared at Jason lying half in and half out of the torn-up bathroom door. Ragged edges showed where he’d clawed his way in.

  Bailey had shot him three times and he was still breathing, groaning every few seconds. Fear had frozen Bailey in place, her heart hammering in her chest. She couldn’t breathe. What was she going to do? She had to get out of there. She had to get Jessica to safety.

  Jason lifted his head, dropping it back to the ground and then dragged his hand close to his chest. His eyes weren’t open, but that could change in a split second.

  The larger bathroom was just beyond him and through it her mom’s bedroom and then the rest of the house. All she had to do was grab Jessica and jump over Jason. That was it. Then she could run away. She could get out.

  Why hadn’t three bullets been enough to kill him? Her hand shook as she clutched the gun in her palm. She should shoot him again, in the head. She should. But pulling the trigger had taken more out of her than she wanted to admit. Mentally she wouldn’t be able to shoot him again. Especially when he was wounded and lying on the ground.

  Jessica started whimpering again and Bailey realized that the gun blasts were louder than she’d anticipated and less than a few seconds before. Time seemed to have stood still and Bailey shook her head. She had to get them out of there. Now.

  Bending down, she grabbed Jessica from behind the toilet, gripping the edges of the bassinet with fingers that didn’t want to stop quivering. Her breathing became hitched and Bailey worried she would soon lose it and start crying.

  Staring down at Jason, Bailey studied him. Did she climb over him? Could she do it?

  He shifted, pushing himself to his side and opening his eyes the barest slit. The black liquid smeared across his cheek from his nose and he laughed, his teeth covered in the stuff. His laugh ended on a cough and he jerked his chin up. “You got three. I’m going to rip your arms off when I get up.” The dimness in his eyes hid any and all traces of the Jason who had begged for help seconds before.

  No way could Bailey climb over him. He would grab her.

  Jason closed his eyes, his hand falling to his side. He wasn’t dead. His chest rose and fell in deep, gulping movements. Bright red spots spread over his shoulder, his side and a scarlet line showed where the bullet had grazed the side of his neck.

  In close range Bailey hadn’t even been able to keep her shots more localized? To be fair, her hands hadn’t been still as they’d jerked with fear and regret.

  What was she going to do? She shook her head at the thought of shooting him again. She couldn’t. But she had to get out. Going out that door wasn’t an option. The longer she sat there, gripping the bassinet and staring at Jason, the more time she was giving him to get his strength together to come after her. And with only a few feet separating them and nothing else, he would have complete freedom to do what he wanted.

  Bailey tucked the gun into the back of her waistband, the barrel still warm from the shots. Keeping her movements small and as quiet as possible, Bailey stood on the toilet lid without too much thought, tucking the baby bassinet against her hip. She climbed out onto the roof, careful to place her feet on roofing that didn’t seem to have ice on it. She didn’t dare put Jessica down, even as the slippery roof wanted to claim them.

  Her stomach tight, Bailey refused to look toward the ground. She had to stay focused on the roof, on where she was stepping and grabbing.

  With her free hand, Bailey clung to the side of the house, staring at her options. Glancing back at Jason, who had begun pushing himself from the ground, Bailey clenched her jaw. He wouldn’t stop. She had to get down and hide. There was no other option.

  She stepped around the side of the roof, the angle steep but maneuverable. Her breath puffed in front of her in a faint white cloud then disappeared. The temperature dropped with the sun behind the trees. It was still afternoon, but where she stood was like an ice box as the ice and snow on the roof and the protecting chill of the shadows kept the temperature much lower than the surrounding area.

  At the next bathroom window, Bailey’s confidence grew. She stepped forward, shifting her grip from one edge of the vinyl window to the next. Her foot slipped to the side and her knee buckled toward the wall. She clutched the corner of the window where the vinyl siding and the metal overlapped, giving Bailey a decent handhold and she held her bre
ath.

  That could have been bad. She claimed a moment to get her bearings, but didn’t wait long or look back. Not yet. Don’t look down or back, down or back. Just look forward. Look where she needed to be and get there.

  Finally, Bailey reached the edge of the house, the ice patches behind her littered the roof like mines on a battle field but in full view.

  She’d moved across the roof in no time, even though it felt like hours, it might have been less than a minute. Hindered with her arms full of the baby, she had taken longer than Jason would most likely take. His wounds didn’t seem to affect him much.

  Just at the edge where the sunlight still glowed, she stopped. She didn’t have far to go. The lean-to roof was right there!

  “I’m going to kill you, Bailey!” Jason’s roar echoed out of the window, loud in the powerless silence.

  Bailey gasped, half-turning to glance back and see where he was. Had he gone back into the bathroom? She peered through the window inches from her face, no sign of Jason in the larger room.

  He stuck his head out the window that Bailey had slipped through. Jessica’s crying started anew and pulled his attention their way. Bailey gripped the bassinet harder, leaning her knees toward the corner of the house to keep her balance. The bottoms of her Converse shoes didn’t have the traction she needed, but they didn’t let her slip.

  Jason narrowed his eyes and ducked back inside. Then, while Bailey searched the bathroom again for him, he pulled himself out of the window, coming to stand on the roof outside the bathroom. He studied her as he steadied himself on the steep pitch.

  “Give me the gun, Bailey.” His voice had softened, but the crazy in his gaze hadn’t faded.

  Bailey wasn’t going to do anything of the sort. She shook her head, edging around the corner of the house onto a less steep pitch of the roof. If she could just get around to the side, she could climb down the lean-to roof and jump to the picnic table from there, only about three feet drop. She could do that easily.