Death Days: 180 Days... and Counting Series, #6

By B.R. Paulson

Cady is fighting just to stay alive. Her daughter is almost dead. Cady's mother has to decide between saving one or the other.

Could the end of the world be any worse? 

You bet, when you have a group of men set out to enslave every woman and corrupt every child they come across. With so much against them, it's no surprise when Cady considers giving up. All she'd have to do is jump off the ledge. But then what? Her daughter would be a victim and Cady just couldn't let that happen.

While Cady rallies the other captives, decisions are made around the world that may or may not seal the apocalypse into place. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Captiva Publishing
• Release date: Jan 20, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201421922

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

CADY

Was it possible to hurt while you dreamt? If Cady was already in pain, then what were her options? Pinching wouldn’t do anything.

She had to be dreaming as she sat across from Bailey at the dining room table at their house. The house she distinctly remembered abandoning.

Folding her arms, Cady studied her daughter with her long hair – and Cady already cut that off – and blue halter-top. Bailey didn’t look up as she poked at the spaghetti on her plate, looking more bored than anything.

Confused, Cady glanced around the kitchen she thought she’d never see again and the dining room with her favorite dishes set before them. While Bailey picked at spaghetti, Cady’s plate was completely empty. Even her fork was shiny and new.

Outside the bay-style window, the sun shone down but a shadow covered the yard like a cloud had crossed in front of the sun. Men moved across the backyard in the dim lighting; their silhouettes black against the overly bright emerald green of the long-grown grass.

With slow and painstaking movements, the men picked their way around like they were traveling through a minefield in slow motion.

There was danger. So much danger. How did Cady warn Bailey when Bailey was more interested in something she muttered about under her breath? Something about missing a party or was that a dance?

Stomach hurting, Cady shook her head, but everything seemed to move through a viscous material that slowed down to an infinite speed. She couldn’t do anything. Nothing. Of course, she was dreaming, but everything still seemed so real.

A deep red rash spread up Bailey’s neck as Cady watched. Her daughter’s eyes brightened with a feverish intensity. Bailey twitched, her eyelids slipping into a half-closed position as she continued poking at her dinner and acting like nothing was wrong. Blood dripped from the corner of her nose and her left eye took on a bloodshot appearance.

Bailey! Bailey! Cady’s own throat hurt and she reached up to clasp her fingers around her neck. She squeezed and squeezed and squeezed. She couldn’t breathe. Why couldn’t she let go of her neck?

She snapped her eyes open, finally awake only to find Perry half-standing above her with his hands around her neck, exactly where she’d dreamt her own hands were.

Perry lowered himself down until he straddled her waist, staring at her with a maniacal grin on his cracked lips. His straight arms pressed the full brunt of his weight onto her neck and Cady’s vision splotched with bursts of black and red.

She weakly fumbled at his hands on her, but the lack of oxygen combined with the pain already assailing her body were too much and her hands fell limply to her sides.

She shifted her gaze from his face to the side, prepared to die. I’m sorry, Bailey. I tried. I really tried.

Perry lifted his hands, shifting himself from on top of her.

The sudden influx of oxygen as Cady inhaled was almost enough to make Cady pass out on the opposite end of the spectrum. Her chest ached as she breathed in, down her sides and back. She had no doubt that during the beating she’d received the men who had abused her had cracked some ribs.

Perry moved away from her, allowing more of her vision to take in the interior of the five-person tent they were in. The vinyl flooring rustled and crinkled as Perry moved around.

He stopped beside a trunk that sat beside the zippered opening. Picking up a cup, he drank from it, never offering it to Cady. He glanced back at her and motioned toward the tent with the dish. "If you’re in here, you’re mine. If you’d rather be everyone else’s, you’re welcome to join the women on the other side of camp. I’m going out to find your daughter. How you behave determines if she stays in here with you or if she goes with the group." He inclined his head as if to bow politely to her in a formal setting.

Cady moved her tongue, determined to swallow, but only showcasing where she was hurt in her throat and jaw area. She didn’t need the reminder that she’d been through hell. No. What she needed was something to help her figure out how to get out of there.

Perry chuckled at her weakness and ducked out of the tent before Cady could do anything more.

She slumped back to the sleeping roll she’d been thrown on, her legs half on the sleeping bag while the parts that were off absorbed the distinct chill from the ground through the material.

Everything hurt. Everything ached and stung and burned in ways she hadn’t thought possible. How long had the beating gone on? She’d passed out sometime in the middle of fists and feet flailing down upon her. She’d had the forethought to wrap her arms around her head and lock her fingers in case of a blackout, but the aching in her neck and jaw suggested maybe she hadn’t done a very good job.

She straightened her legs, grateful for the few minutes she had to herself. The tent floor protested her movements with crinkling and rustling. Cady frequently paused as she tried to move without screaming. Her knees hurt and her hips. Her back felt like it could be broken, but the fact that she was able to move her legs and arms confirmed it was just sore.

What was she doing? Muscles and inches of her skin hurt in ways she hadn’t thought possible. She blinked heavily, desperate to sleep some more, but certain she wouldn’t wake up before Perry returned to do whatever he wanted to her. What if he had Bailey and she couldn’t protect her?

Cady rolled to the side, wincing as she hit the tender flesh over her ribs. Extreme fatigue from running while still recovering from the CJ180D virus pulled at her. She just wanted to sleep. That’s all she wanted.

Was that so bad? To want to get some rest?

Focus, Cady. What had Perry said before he’d left? Something about going after her daughter and bringing her back.

No. He couldn’t have Bailey. He couldn’t find her. Cady had to do whatever it took to make sure Bailey was safe. Even if that meant Cady had to take the brunt of more beatings like the one she’d barely survived.

Psst. A soft whisper of sound came from the back of the tent, opposite the opening that faced the camp.

Cady snapped her eyes open, unaware that she had already begun to fall back to sleep. She didn’t move. What if it was a trap? What if she’d imagined it? Worse, what if she was making the sounds herself?

Psst. Are you still alive? The soft whisper of an older woman passed through the thin tent material.

Cady took as deep a breath as her ribs would let her. She breathed out. Yes, barely. That’s all she had in her. She didn’t know who the woman was or what she wanted. Cady didn’t know if she had the energy to do more than breathe and get from one minute to the next, so she couldn’t give more to the woman.

Her eyes blinked heavily and she finally realized she couldn’t fight it. If Perry got back and he raped a sleeping woman, she’d have to deal with that then.

As it was, she didn’t have the energy to do more than simply exist from second to second.

If he brought Bailey back with him, then so be it. Cady would protect her then. She had to have enough hope that Dusty had returned to the house where Cady had left Bailey and Jessica. He had to have returned to protect them.

Cady couldn’t picture anything else.

It’s okay. You’re going to be okay. The soft whispers of the unseen woman lulled Cady to sleep and she welcomed the dark comfort as it wrapped around her. She wasn’t sure, but she had the weirdest feeling she was being covered by a blanket or something.

It didn’t matter. Nothing did. She returned to the depths of darkness.

CHAPTER 2

MARGIE

Margie passed by Ryker as she pointed toward the perimeter of the clearing around the house. Check around that side of the house for anyone we missed. She paused in her flight toward the west side of the property, narrowing her eyes as she studied the teenage boy. Are you okay? Can you do what needs to be done?

What she was asking was if he could kill anyone left. In the heat of the moment, killing was second nature, you did what you had to do. But as you stared someone in the eyes you had to acknowledge they were another person and you were going to snuff them out. That took forethought and planning when you were going around cleaning up.

When had Margie learned that lesson? When had she gone from being David’s wife and planning a food storage and garden to being a woman that had to kill others? What about her Christian responsibilities? She hadn’t thought of those since climbing off that cruise ship in Seattle. Maybe they would have helped her deal with the many horrific incidents that had happened since.

Close to losing her own grip on reality, Margie didn’t want to see Ryker lose that last humane piece of himself. She was already certain she’d killed that innocence in her long ago – or months that felt like ages.

He jerked his chin up and down and whirled from her, rushing toward the other side of the house to do what she’d asked.

Should she call out to him that he could call her to do the job for him? Biting her lip, Margie turned to secure the rest of the house and the surroundings. She would still check the parts that Ryker looked into. After the short time they’d been together, she had learned to trust him. She just didn’t like leaving that amount of pressure on a boy his age.

The acrid smell of smoke and burnt flesh filled the air. Margie avoided looking directly at Elba who still hung half-in and half-out of the upper story window. As soon as the perimeter was secured, Margie would deal with the survivors… and the dead.

Wind rustled through the branches of the large trees, rubbing the pine needles in a whispering chorus as if people stood just outside of view and murmured behind their hands.

Even with the eerie feeling of being watched, Margie couldn’t find anyone who wasn’t already dead to train the barrel of her gun on.

Passing a fallen man with blood starburst across his dirty black and white flannel shirt, Margie bent down and grabbed his boot. She dragged him the few feet to the edge of the clearing just to get at least one of the bodies out of the way. Adrenaline coursed through her as she worked, keeping her fatigue at bay. She’d hold onto it as long as she could.

Why wasn’t she rushing back to the house? Why wasn’t she hurrying to check on Bailey and catch up? As soon as Bailey had run outside and hugged Margie, Margie had patted her back and turned her back to the house. She’d sent her inside with the command to wait until Margie had checked the area.

Now, knowing they were safe for a moment, Margie wasn’t sure what was holding her back.

Hands shaking, Margie leaned against a woodshed and took a deep breath. Why wasn’t she latching onto a feeling of security and calm at that point? She’d found her family. Everyone was safe.

Except… were they? Margie assumed Bailey and Cady were together. If that was the case, wouldn’t Cady have rushed out to see her mother? Wouldn’t Margie have seen Cady as the fighting had been underway? Cady would never have let Bailey rush out of the house without checking for danger herself first. Never.

So, if Bailey came out alone and unchecked…

Cady hadn’t come outside or made herself known. Margie’s daughter would have come out immediately and wouldn’t have let Bailey leave the house until she’d made sure everything was safe. That latter point continued to play over and over in Margie’s mind.

As long as Margie stood there at the side of that woodshed, she could pretend Cady was inside. She could pretend her daughter was safe.

For just a moment, Margie needed that more than anything else. She just needed to hold onto the hope that everything was going to be okay and they had time to rest now.

But she wasn’t stupid. She hadn’t made it as far as she had without listening to her gut. And her instincts screamed there was so much wrong with the situation.

Margie? I’m going to go inside, now. Do you think that’s okay? Ryker’s sunken eyes were older than a teenager’s should be. Ranger, Scott’s dog, stood beside him on alert, as if he could keep this new owner alive when he’d lost his last one. Did the dog blame himself? Join the club.

Margie pushed off the sun-bleached siding of the shed and fell into step beside Ryker. Reaching out a hand, she patted his back. Let’s both go inside. I’d like to introduce you to my granddaughter. She couldn’t say daughter, not when she wasn’t sure if Cady was even there… or even alive.

As they walked to the house, Margie winced with each step that made a sound whether it was a snapping twig, crunching leaves, or just gravel rubbing on other rocks. The noises didn’t matter, but they set Margie further on edge.

Glancing around as they reached the front of the house, Margie sighed. We’ll have to come out and take care of this in a little bit. I don’t want anyone to have to see what went on here. She also didn’t want to be subjected to the sight of death as the bodies would eventually bloat up and then rot.

Are you sure wild animals won’t do that? Ryker offered a side grin and then dropped his smile as if he remembered what he was talking about.

Margie reached out, pulling Ryker to a stop by tugging on his sleeve. He turned toward her; his eyes narrowed warily as he rubbed the side of his nose.

Hey, it’s okay to make jokes. This is… Outside of what we should have to deal with. The fact that Ryker had smiled at all reassured Margie that maybe a small part of him wasn’t irreparably broken. Seeing the things he’d seen would destroy a grown man, let alone a teenager facing constant life or death situations.

Ryker sighed and looked past Margie’s shoulder before meeting her gaze. "Do you… Do you think it really is okay? I don’t want to be disrespectful to my family. I feel like it’s not okay to ever smile again." He wiped the back of his hand across his nose and heaved in a large breath.

Margie pressed her lips together in a thin line and reached out, wrapping her arm around his thin shoulders. Yeah, I understand that. But I promise, your mom doesn’t want you to never smile again. She wants you to be happy. You need to try. Even in this crazy world. Come on. Let’s see what we need to do inside.

She steered Ryker up the path, glancing around behind them again for any signs of imminent danger.

The reality was rougher than anything Margie could have imagined when her prepper friends had warned her of upcoming dangers. There hadn’t been time to protect themselves from the tyrannical destruction of the virus or of the terror ripping through what was left of humanity.

She’d planned on natural disasters, EMPs, and attacks from foreign military forces. Never a miniscule viruses or crazy men hellbent on destroying what was left of the human race.

At the front door which had been left slightly ajar, Margie waited until Ryker and the dog were fully inside before closing the panel behind them. Ranger had sniffed the air, then gone inside. If it was good enough for the dog, it was good enough for Margie.

The solid thud as the door shut gave her a small sense of comfort, small, but present.

Hi, Grandma. Bailey stood on the other side of the living room; her arms wrapped around her waist as she blinked more often than normal. The room was quaintly decorated with a bend toward practicality and more than a few instances of bright color and whimsical touches.

Bailey. Margie didn’t mention the shorn hair sticking to her granddaughter’s scalp as well as poking into the air around her face as if even her hair was unsure what to do. Her face had a peaked appearance at all the angles, like Bailey hadn’t been getting enough sleep or enough to eat and it was showing.

Margie let the relief of finding her granddaughter alive take over her nerves and let the edge slip away. No matter what condition Bailey was in, she was there. Alive. Margie just wanted to celebrate the fact that she’d found her granddaughter. She rushed across the floor, ignoring the small sounds