Too Late_an apocalyptic survival thriller Page 6

  Chapter 8

  Bailey

  After her mom ducked around the corner, Bailey closed her eyes and turned, pressing her back against the well-insulated soft green wall. Would things ever go back to the way they were? She missed her friends and school and just the freedom to go to the store to help with errands.

  She was trying so hard not to cry or show she was weak to her mom. Her mom seemed so strong… the last thing Bailey wanted was for her mom to be ashamed of her. Bailey couldn’t cry about losing her dad, or that they didn’t know where her grandparents were, or even what her friends were doing. None of her friends answered their phones. She was stranded in some kind of a weird dimension where everyone would wake up and realize they were all wrong.

  Even as she imagined it, she’d never felt more wrong. Bailey wasn’t trapped in an alternate reality. She was trapped in her life, stuck, and soon her mom would get sick and then Bailey would be alone.

  The coop smelled of fresh hay and paint. Scott was a perfectionist and overly maintained his things. Even the chickens had been cleaner than any animal Bailey had seen before and they had healthy birds themselves.

  Bailey clenched her gun in her hand, making sure to keep her finger off the trigger. What would Dad think, if he saw her now? She was so far from feminine it was scary. Thinking of Dad led to more thoughts of Mom.

  What did Mom mean by the vaccine might not have taken hold? That was ridiculous. When you got vaccines at the doctors they never warned you to stay in your house until the vaccine had time to take hold. Maybe it was just another way Mom was trying to smother Bailey under her protection.

  Forcibly giving Bailey the shot had been almost unforgivable. The only thing that kept it redeemable was the fact that Mom had done it out of love. She just wanted Bailey to live.

  Bailey got that.

  She sank onto the bench beside the door, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees. Hanging her head, she leaned over.

  A gunshot broke through the silence of the padded building and she jerked to her feet. Pushing up against the wall, Bailey held her gun with trembling fingers. Who had shot? Mom or someone else?

  Bailey tried to breathe, but she couldn’t hear with her ragged breaths cutting through the silence. Nothing followed and Bailey’s palms grew damp. What was she going to do, if it was anyone but her mother? Could she kill someone? She wasn’t even fourteen, yet. Her birthday was soon and she didn’t want to miss it, but was that enough to kill someone?

  No, but to shoot someone, all she had to know was if her mom was in danger. Maybe Bailey could do it then. Maybe she could face someone else and shoot them, if she needed to. She hadn’t been able to shoot Kent when he’d attacked her mom. She’d been good at screaming, then, but nothing else.

  She leaned back, pressing her shoulder blades into the wall. What was she going to do? Did she run out the back of the coop? Where did she go? Scott was supposed to be there soon. Would he be able to save her or her mom? Maybe Cady had been forced to shoot someone else. That would be two killings in one day.

  Her poor mom. Cady wallowed in her guilt. She always seemed to over-think things.

  The crunch of footsteps on rocks reached Bailey, growing louder as the person reached the coop. The door opened and Bailey stared toward the opening with wide eyes. Who would step through? She gripped the butt of her gun, her teeth chattering as if she were cold. Panting, Bailey waited to see who was coming in. Why hadn’t Cady said anything? Was she okay? Cady would have called out to her or something… wouldn’t she?

  A young man walked through the door, closing the panel behind him. Something in his left arm took the majority of his care. He murmured something, lowering his face.

  Bailey lifted her gun, aiming it at the center of his chest. “Don’t move.” Had he heard the tremor in her voice? She wouldn’t scare a butterfly. Hopefully, she lived long enough to work on her intimidation skills.

  He stopped, raising his gaze from the bundle in his arms. He swallowed, taking in her appearance and then focusing on the gun in her hand. Carefully, he shook his head. “Whoa, wait, it’s okay. I’m not here to hurt you.”

  Bailey licked her lips. She had to take charge of the moment. She could it. She lifted her chin and demanded, “Who are you?”

  “I’m Scott’s nephew. Who are you?” His voice was deep like it had already changed and there was something in the way he held himself that suggested he was comfortable inside or outside. He probably liked camping and reading. Both ideas Bailey could get on board with.

  It wasn’t a dating show, but she liked the way he looked enough to pretend he was a good guy. Plus, he’d claimed to be Scott’s nephew, but she didn’t see Scott anywhere.

  She blinked slowly, lowering the gun. The combination of his answer and his attractiveness were very well-placed weapons. If he was lying, she’d die and she almost didn’t care. “I’m Scott’s neighbor.”

  The suspicion left his gaze and he smiled. “Scott said we might not see you right away. When I asked him how old you were, he said he didn’t know. It’ll be good to have someone my age to hang out with. I feel so isolated.” He peeked at her from behind his thick lashes. After a moment he held a baby toward Bailey. “This is my cousin. Her name is Jessica.”

  Bailey tucked the gun into the holster her mom had given her and leaned forward. The small baby had a slight tuft of dark hair and small lips. She didn’t seem to mind being talked about or carried around as she slept peacefully. “She’s so cute.” Bailey leaned closer to see the small infant, conscious of the fact that Jason smelled like Axe deodorant. That’s what she would think of the end of the world smelled like.

  “Yeah, she’s like two days old. We rescued her.” His pride resonated inside Bailey.

  She hadn’t done anything because her mother had kept her locked in the house because she was afraid of exposing Bailey. Well, who cared? Who wanted to live while the rest of the world was dying?

  “I’m Jason. Do you want to hold her…” He tilted his face forward as he waited for her name.

  “I’m Bailey. Can I hold her?” Was there a rule she wasn’t aware of about holding brand new babies? If her mom were there, she’d have some kind of a rule. In case Cady showed up, Bailey reached for the baby before Cady could say no. Bailey didn’t care if there was a rule, as Jason transferred the baby into her arms. “Ooooh, she’s so little.” Bailey cooed, completely taken with the small girl.

  She tried not to stare at Jason who had definitely grown even more attractive in the last few seconds since he’d shared the baby with her. Ducking, Bailey breathed in the baby smell and kissed the smooth forehead. “She’s just perfect.”

  “Yeah. I think so, too.” Jason beamed at his cousin. He crossed his arms and watched Bailey with the baby. He wouldn’t need long before his frame would fill out and he’d resemble Scott even more.

  Yelling from the house reached them and Jason maneuvered himself in front of Bailey and the baby as if he would save them from a fate worse than death.

  Bailey glanced up at him, grateful for his protective stance.

  Worry furrowed his brow. Jason cocked his head to the side as he tried seeing her and the door and window. “Something is going on. Why are you out here?”

  “We came over to drop off baby stuff Scott asked my mom to get. Mom sent me out here when we heard someone in Scott’s place. I heard a gunshot and now here you are.” She looked out the window and then back at him. “Did you hear the gunshot?”

  “Yeah, it’s why Scott sent me out here with Jessica.” Jason craned his neck, pushing her back away from the door. “Someone’s coming.” Jason lowered his volume, keeping his words to a whisper as he backed Bailey further into the coop.

  As they got closer, Scott and Cady’s voices became more recognizable. While their words were hard to distinguish, they didn’t need to be announced as their voices carried ahead of them.

  Jerking the door open, Cady stormed into the small building, jerking her
gaze from Jason to Bailey. She shook her head as she slouched back, a half-sob on her lips. Squeezing her eyes shut, she clamped her hands over her mouth.

  Scott grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her to face him. “It’s okay. This is going to be okay. Being sick doesn’t guarantee anything. They’re all young. They’re going to be fine. I have to believe that. Tell me you believe that, Cady.”

  Cady shook her head, her eyes tearing up. “No. You don’t understand.”

  Enough was enough. They were acting like the world was burning. “What is the big deal?” Bailey blurted out. “I had the vaccine, you all should be upset about you. I’m fine.” She directed her gaze at the baby, brushing the smooth cheek with her forefinger.

  Bailey wasn’t worried about herself. She clung to Scott’s words though as she looked down at the baby. Hopefully, Jason, the baby, Cady, and Scott would get over the virus. They were healthy. She had to hold onto that.

  Scott turned an aghast expression toward Cady, his hands still gripping her arms but in confusion. “What vaccine?”

  Bailey’s eyes widened as she watched her mother’s mouth fall open and her gaze rove the coop as if the answer lay somewhere inside. What had Bailey done? She hadn’t known it was a secret.

  Cady kept her knowledge tightly to her chest. She’d never told Bailey to keep anything to herself. She’d probably assumed Bailey wouldn’t get a chance to say anything to anyone since you had to be around people to talk to them.

  Now the secret was out.

  Bailey wasn’t sure what that meant, but judging by the incrimination on Scott’s face, it wasn’t a good thing.

  Just what had Bailey done?

  Chapter 9

  David

  David’s wife was one of the most stubbornly optimistic women he’d ever met. Margie had an insatiable need to make sure everything was easy for everyone but herself. She was the only person he knew who would push herself to drag a mortally sick man with her to survive the apocalypse.

  At that point, he was more like an anchor she was dragging through the pavement than anything else.

  The pain had blurred most of their trip.

  David couldn’t figure out why he’d let Margie talk him into going away from home when he just wanted to sit on the veranda and watch the deer eat from the deer feeder he had set up at the end of the yard. There was one spike David had been watching grow over the last few seasons. He wanted to see if he got a bigger rack on him this year.

  Somehow David had survived escaping the ship. That was hell in and of itself. Making it off the lifeboat and onto solid ground had given him a renewed burst of energy, until they’d had to sit in that small rickety car.

  Then the men, with their rough voices and their estimations that David was pretty much dead already. He hadn’t needed that. Margie hadn’t needed that. She’d squeezed his fingers so tightly, David had almost cried out from the pain.

  Back in the Bug had been like Margie telling him to climb back into a torture chamber. The lack of suspension picked up every bump and line in the road. Even slight grooves became tracks the Bug couldn’t escape.

  His teeth had chattered from cold and irritation and David dipped in and out of consciousness. He just wanted to lay down.

  Honestly, he just wanted to die. At his last office visit, they’d assured him the tumors were growing. He would be lucky to survive the week. There he was, almost three weeks later and he was plugging along – barely surviving, but still breathing.

  And in more pain than he’d thought possible.

  Margie told him to stay there but where was there? David struggled to work through the pain and Ativan fog to open his eyes, but he ended up blinking wearily, just barely opening his eyes in a slit.

  His wife clutched the handle of a garish orange and yellow duffel bag, walking toward the gas station. She glanced side to side as if checking for danger, but her steps didn’t falter.

  David was slowing her down. He lolled his head to the side to stare out the window. They had stopped at a gas station in the middle of nowhere. He wasn’t even sure where they were. A small collection of businesses that probably tried calling itself a town, but that was more or a less a stopping point between other towns. Maybe the rule was if you had a Burger Kind, you were a township.

  With the Bug’s engine off, the chill from the setting sun crept into the metal paneling and up along his legs. He hadn’t completely dried off from the rain whenever that had been and the chill latched onto the damp material, making it more like razorblades cutting at his flesh whenever he moved.

  The cold ran up and down his skin but he’d been in a fevery daze for so long he wasn’t sure what was a real temperature and what was fever induced. When he and Margie had talked about the end coming, they’d never planned on him being shackled with cancer and a weak immune system. How did you bugout with those conditions?

  You didn’t. Margie had to get back to Cady’s. That was obvious. The sooner the better. She wouldn’t be able to get there, while lugging David alongside her.

  She was also the most stubborn woman… he loved her so much. She’d never willingly leave him behind. No… he had to make the decisions. He would never be able to convince her to leave him, either.

  David blinked hard, trying to remember what it was Margie had said, something about being right back. How much time did he have left before she returned?

  He swallowed past raw pain in his throat. Everything hurt and he had the awful sensation that he’d wet himself while he’d rested. He didn’t want to continue on like that. What kind of a life was he living? What kind of an existence was he dooming Margie to? If she did stay with him, she’d get sick and stuck. She had to move faster, get back to their daughter’s home before Margie got sick. It was only a matter of time.

  He was limited with what he could do. He had to pull himself together long enough to think up a plan and it had to be fast. She’d be back… he wasn’t sure when or even how much time had passed. His weakness was going to be his biggest frustration.

  When Margie had been digging around for keys at the shore, David had seen a gun in the glovebox. A gun. The glovebox was only inches from him.

  That seemed like a year ago. She’d stopped at the storage office, muttering something about getting him into a comfortable motorhome. Maybe if he hadn’t been with her, she would have just kept driving and wouldn’t have been in danger of getting caught by the men with guns. Maybe she wouldn’t be so stressed out and she’d be able to travel faster, get to safety faster.

  There was no maybe about it. The certainty was, David was holding her back. He would be the reason she died. Him. Not Margie.

  He glanced at the mirror-like windows of the store and wished he could see her one last time.

  David wasn’t stupid. He was dying. There was no other outcome for him. The only thing that he had any control over was when.

  Chapter 10

  Margie

  Margie had gone against everything her gut had told her and now a lock had clicked into place on the door behind her. If everything wasn’t so time-sensitive and dangerous, she was tempted to sit on the cold linoleum and cry.

  She spun on her heel, wincing as the orange bag slammed into her hip. Why hadn’t she paid attention to her instincts? She’d known better. She could have siphoned gas from one of the cars along the street. She could have done something… anything, but walk into that gas station.

  David was going to suffer for her decision. He would get cold and when his pain spiked, he wouldn’t have the medicine because Margie had it in her bag.

  Pushing on the door, she shook her head. “No, no, no!” Her voice rose with each word, yelling at the end. The time for worrying about causing a scene was long gone. In about two seconds, she was going to start throwing a fit. Out of the tinted glass she could just barely see David’s shape in the windshield. He was all by himself and she was trapped in that store.

  The bag slid down her arm as she flattened her palms and s
lapped the door, kicking at the bottom frame and pushing with all of her weight to get out. “Let me out! David! I’m coming, David!” She scanned the wall of glass for a weak spot. She didn’t even care if someone was in there – which there would be, if the lock had slid into place. As far as Margie cared, though, they could shove their lock where the sun wouldn’t shine.

  Her goal was David, taking care of David, and nothing was going to get in her way – certainly not a gas station glass door. She glared, gritting her teeth, and then kicking the bottom of the door as hard as she could.

  How could the car be only ten yards from her? It might as well have been five miles for all the good it did her. David must be so scared. She paused in her rampage on the door to touch the glass. Yep, it was getting colder. He wasn’t just getting scared, he was getting cold and she was standing in there and not helping him!