Isolation | Book 4 | Holding On

by Jones, Nathan

  “We're done,” Nick repeated sharply.

  “So that's it?” Chet snarled, finger trembling on his trigger. “Shooting out their tires didn't work, so we let them drive away?”

  “What would you suggest?” Nick asked. “Try to pick off drivers? Just fire indiscriminately into cabs?”

  “Why not?” Ben said, finally finally lifting his head from the scope of his .30-30. “They trashed our house. They shot at you. Jay said he's going to kill you! Maybe they deserve it.”

  Nick bit back a sigh, leaning over to put a hand on Chet's shoulder until his friend also eased his finger off the trigger and leaned back. Then he looked around at his team. “You ever hear of the Hatfields and the McCoys?”

  Charlie nodded. “Yeah, a bit. I watched a movie about them once.”

  “Yeah, me too.” Nick watched Jay's trucks wobble out of view, sparks flying off a few of their rims. “They were just two normal families who didn't like each other. An argument turned to a feud, and then that feud turned into a tragedy.”

  “Yeah, well with them both sides were in the wrong,” Ben snapped. “You saying we're in the wrong here, defending our families, our homes, against that wackjob?”

  “Of course not.” Nick took a breath, fighting for calm. Speaking of feuds, the McCleese brothers just seemed to jump from one to another: first the Drydens, now Jay. “But with the Hatfields and McCoys someone was probably in the wrong to begin with. Someone usually is. But both sides just kept on pushing to more and more extreme measures, one-upping each other in how far they were willing to go, until finally by the end of it both sides had done terrible things.”

  He slung his rifle, looking around at his friends. “Jay's threatening our town, our loved ones, and we have to fight to defend them. But we also have to fight to stay civilized, to keep our humanity, even when the world's going crazy around us. Otherwise we might end up being the ones terrorizing innocent people while convinced we're in the right.”

  He paused significantly. “I don't want to walk away from this crisis haunted by how low I stooped, the unconscionable things I did. I've already had to kill to defend my family, and I'm going to have to live with that for the rest of my life. I don't want to do it again if I can avoid it.”

  Chet looked away, obviously not convinced. “And if you can't?”

  Nick gripped the strap of his rifle. “Then we do what we have to. But we do it right.”

  Denny blew two squawking signals on his megaphone, then called into it. “All right, guys. Let's get out of here. Jay might get over his surprise and decide to circle back around.”

  Considering the tense situation with his people, Nick was happy to jump on that. He backed away from the hilltop and stood. “You heard him. Let's get back to our vehicles.”

  Chet opened his mouth, probably to say something like he hoped the man did come back so they could take another crack at him. But before he could Ben nudged him sharply with an elbow. The brothers finally slung their weapons over their backs and hurried to follow Nick, with Val, Charlie, Chase, and the other volunteers bringing up the rear.

  They were almost to the vehicles when the radio at Nick's hip crackled. He almost wasn't surprised to hear Jay's voice.

  “You call that an ambush, Stanberry?” the Wensbrook leader demanded. “I'll show you one none of you will walk away from. After I pay a visit to the houses you cowards abandoned, make sure you get the same sort of homecoming you gave-”

  Nick shut off the radio, sick of that bald psycho's voice.

  When he looked up he found Chet smirking at him bitterly. “Didn't take him five seconds to make you eat your words, huh?” the young man said. “We go easy on him today, he just uses it as an excuse to come at us twice as hard tomorrow. He's not going to stop until we stop him.”

  “I stand by my words,” Nick said as evenly as he could. “Even more when Jay's providing an example of what we could become if we lose ourselves.”

  Chet just grunted harshly. “My dad told me as a kid that it's not wrong to stand up for myself. Ducking my head and letting someone do whatever they want to me or people I care about, just to avoid a fight, doesn't make me a good person. Just the opposite, really, if I'm failing loved ones who are depending on me.”

  It was hard to argue that. “It's a different story if he's shooting at us,” Nick said. He nodded irritably towards the brothers' truck. “You want to sit around at the site of an ambush debating this until Jay comes back? Let's go.”

  ✽✽✽

  Ellie watched grimly as a patrol of four Zolos survivors trooped past her camp at a distance of about thirty feet, nodding politely to her and Ricky as they passed.

  Starr had ordered everyone on high alert after the failed ambush on Jay's convoy, and doubled the survivor patrols. Ellie had no doubt Nick and their other friends among the survivors were running themselves ragged at the moment, but even so she didn't feel safe.

  Such was the power of a bald maniac with a few matches, some water balloons, and enough hatred to burn the world.

  Even though nothing he'd done so far had been truly difficult or devastating, aside from for those poor people whose homes had been targeted like Stanberry's leaders and the McCleeses she supposed, everyone seemed to believe Jay's powers bordered on the supernatural. As if he was some sort of evil genius/super soldier instead of a random hunter with a grudge.

  “Is Dad going to be able to come to the wedding?” Ricky asked her abruptly, eyes on the passing patrol. He'd been cuddled on her lap long enough for her legs to start falling asleep, but considering everything they'd been through she savored every moment she could hold her child.

  And ached fiercely to be able to hold Tallie as well. But thanks to Jay that wouldn't be happening anytime soon.

  “I'm sure he'll find a way to take a break from his patrols to be there,” Ellie murmured, hugging her son tighter for a moment. “He and Tallie wouldn't miss something like this for the world.”

  Ricky didn't seem reassured. “What if Jay attacks during the wedding? Will he shoot us?”

  “Of course not, honey!” she exclaimed. “Your dad and his friends are going to protect us.”

  “But how can he protect us if he's at the wedding?” her son protested.

  Ellie paused helplessly, trying to think of the best answer for that. Before she could find one the radio on her belt crackled. “Hardy to Ms. Feldman. Urgent communication. Over.”

  She frowned as she gently eased Ricky off her lap and scrambled to grab the radio; Johnny, her counterpart in the main camp, liked to be informal and almost always kept things on a first name basis, especially when referring to himself. To the point where it actually took her a second to realize it was him, mostly by the familiar voice.

  That was her first indication something was wrong.

  “Feldman here,” she replied.

  Johnny's voice was clipped, strained . . . she almost would've said frightened. “Ellie, I need you to give me a quick refresher on outbreak lockdown protocols from the Colorado Springs camp.”

  She felt her heart seize in horror as the implications dawned. “Is it-”

  “I'm afraid so,” he replied grimly, as if afraid to even say the word.

  Zolos.

  Ellie had dreaded this day ever since volunteering to take over the camp. And considering that this was a quarantine camp, an outbreak seemed like a matter of “when” rather than “if”.

  Even so, she'd hoped they could beat the odds. That by some miracle they would be spared running into the virus at all or, if they did have cases, their entry quarantine procedures would keep them safely contained.

  Unrealistic as it was, she'd hoped.

  Well, at least they'd prepared for when “if” became “when”. “Please tell me it's in the section hit by Jay's biological attack that we already quarantined off,” she said.

  She doubted they were that fortunate, though. The handful of people in the tents hit by the Wensbrook survivors' water balloons had
seemed fine for the last nearly four days, so she'd let herself hope that they were either lucky and immune, or the water in the balloons had been safe after all.

  More than likely the latter, since while Jay might seem like a psychopath, the people with him couldn't all be such monsters that they'd deliberately risk infecting innocent people.

  “I'm afraid not,” Johnny replied grimly. “It's four confirmed cases so far among two different families, all in the nearby new arrivals' section. Under the circumstances it's safe to say they'll probably just be the first.”

  Ricky was huddled fearfully at her side, staring up at her anxiously. Over by the fire Hal and his siblings had all leaned closer, listening in mounting dread.

  Ellie swallowed. “You've closed off the entire section?”

  “We're in the process of doing so. We need to know what to do about the people already in there, how to see to their needs without them risking infecting each other or anyone outside the section.”

  “First things first, we need to transfer those who've fallen sick to the Zolos survivors' section. And everyone they've come in contact with needs to be separated from the others in the section, on the off chance they weren't exposed.” She frowned, mind racing. “They need to be separated from each other as well for the same reason. Which is going to be a headache when it comes to meeting their needs . . .”

  The radio was silent, and Ellie realized she was wasting time thinking the entire situation through when she needed to be acting quickly in this crisis. She shook herself and continued firmly. “First things first. Lockdown, separation.”

  “Right.” Johnny's voice abruptly raised in a snarl, the force of his transmission causing a burst of feedback. “You listening to this, Jay? Eavesdropping like always? Well then I hope you're aware that you've infected innocent people! You've as good as murdered them!”

  Ellie bit back a flash of irritation. This wasn't the time or place for this; they had no way of knowing this was Jay's fault, since the sick people were in the new arrivals section, not in the tents hit by Wensbrooks' water balloons.

  Granted, it probably was. But even if so, publicly accusing Jay of it would just serve to anger everyone in Stanberry and the camp who'd volunteered to fight him, ensuring they'd probably be more vicious in further conflicts.

  The radio crackled with Jay's laconic voice. “Got any proof of that? You're in a quarantine camp . . . only a matter of time before you actually needed to worry about, you know, quarantining people.”

  Ellie cut in before Johnny or anyone else could reply. “Stay on task, Johnny. We've got a crisis to deal with.”

  There was a brief pause. “Right,” the quarantine camp leader said, although his voice shook with anger. “I'll be around to talk to you in person. Johnny out.”

  Jay started to reply, more of his usual vitriol from the sound of it, and Ellie clicked to change channels, going to the prearranged backup.

  Then she turned to Hal, determinedly straightening her shoulders. “Let's get to work.”

  ✽✽✽

  Got any proof of that?

  The words rang in Larry Barons's head as he finished his patrol shift and started back to camp, uncomfortable behind the wheel of the truck he'd picked out to replace the one the Stanberry fighters had disabled. His preference would've been to change the tires on his old one, but at the moment grabbing a new vehicle from the ones abandoned all over the place was easier than making repairs.

  Besides, with the way they'd put the pedal to the metal to get out of that ambush, the rims were probably trashed.

  It was tempting to let himself get distracted thinking of those awful moments when their ambushers had first opened fire, the frantic minutes that followed in their panicked struggle to get away. But letting himself think of that would've been cowardly, considering what he'd just heard.

  Zolos in the quarantine camp, within the four days since Jay's water balloon attack. Which meant it very well could've been them in spite of Jay's cavalier denial.

  Things were spiraling more and more out of control.

  Larry wasn't happy about what had happened at that Stanberry house they'd ransacked yesterday. It had just been a crazy thing that had gotten out of hand. He didn't even know who had first started it, if anyone had.

  They'd originally gone into the place intending to loot it, in response to what had been done to their own homes in Wensbrook. As Jay had put it, “justice”.

  Their leader had been stirring them up emotionally the entire way there, reminding them what they'd lost, what had been done to them, how unrepentant Stanberry was about it. So by the time they arrived at that abandoned farmhouse the group had been pretty pissed off.

  Safe to say things had started off on the wrong foot.

  So they'd stormed in and began grabbing everything worth taking, not destroying anything. At first. Larry couldn't remember who it was who'd started smashing dishes in the kitchen, but spurred by his example someone else had started smashing out windows, and yet another had began slashing up furniture with his knife.

  Larry had tried to step in and stop it, but Jay had caught his arm and pulled him back. “You don't want to get in the way of people letting out steam,” he'd said quietly. “Their blood's up, hard to tell what they'll do.”

  It was an outrageous thing to say, considering Jay had been the one who'd deliberately gotten their blood up in the first place and turned their friends into an angry mob. And if anyone could step in and stop them, it was their leader. It was his responsibility to keep things from getting out of control.

  Instead, Jay had ambled over to the mantelpiece and started tossing family photos into a pile, then stomping on them.

  Larry had gone outside after that, feeling sick. He'd had doubts for a while about where Jay was taking this, but that had been over the line as far as he was concerned.

  And now Stanberry was accusing them of deliberately spreading Zolos in the quarantine camp. And it might be true.

  What was he going to do? He'd never thought his friend would go down this path, that trying to get justice for their homes being looted would turn into an ugly war against another town. A town full of mostly innocent people who were just trying to survive this, same as them.

  Well, first things first it was time to have another talk with his friend.

  Jay was still at camp, as expected. Or more accurately, he was out on the makeshift shooting range they'd built, along with most of the group's other Zolos survivors willing to fight.

  When Larry had left for his patrol in his new vehicle, his friend had been in the process of having the six disabled trucks moved onto the range. Now their fighters were all crammed into the vehicles, drilling at returning fire against ambushing enemies.

  A few dozen mostly hidden targets to either side had already been riddled with bullet holes, but Jay didn't seem satisfied with his fighters' progress because they were still at it. Probably since the earth berms and piled undergrowth and refuse around the targets was even more riddled with bullets.

  As Larry got out of his truck in the main camp's parking area, he heard his friend shouting orders through a bullhorn. Everyone in the trucks scrambled out and changed positions in the vehicles, then a tense silence settled as everyone seemed to wait.

  He spotted Liza Coates leaning out the passenger side window of the lead vehicle, gripping her rifle with an extremely reluctant expression on her face. She'd become even more dissatisfied with what was happening here than Larry was, and was probably a large part of the reason he hadn't been pulled into Jay's madness.

  He had to admire her willingness to speak out when everyone else seemed too afraid to. And no doubt after she learned about Zolos in the quarantine camp she'd once again insist Larry try to talk sense into Jay.

  Well, Larry didn't usually need much urging, although he appreciated her moral support. But this time he didn't need any urging at all.

  Since any confrontation was going to be delayed until Jay's little vehicle tr
aining exercise was over, Larry settled down at the fire beside Mitch, an older man who'd lived down the street from him. Or still did, technically, although neither of them spent much time in Wensbrook these days.

  “Is it true?” Mitch said quietly, staring towards the training fighters with troubled eyes. “Is there a Zolos breakout in the quarantine camp?”

  “That's what they're saying,” Larry murmured back. “And from what the scouts are saying, they're certainly acting like it with how they're scrambling to manage containment and treatment.”

  His neighbor cursed under his breath. “Was it us?”

  Larry looked away with a surge of guilt. “I don't know.”

  The half dozen people at the fire with them had been quietly listening in, and after that the strained silence lingered; most of them probably feared exactly what Larry did, that they'd spread Zolos to innocent people.

  A minute or so later the gunfire at the range faded, and Jay's voice over the megaphone called out. “All right, cease fire! Magazines out, chamber check, safeties on! Good work everyone, I think the next time Stanberry tries dirty tactics we'll be ready for them.”

  There was a minor commotion as everyone piled out of their vehicles and put away their weapons, eager to wash up and get some dinner. Liza immediately made her way over to join Larry, eyes scrunched in deep concern. “You hear what happened in the quarantine camp?” she hissed.

  “I heard,” he replied grimly.

  Her grip on her rifle tightened until her knuckles were white. “This is seriously messed up. We need to-” She abruptly cut off, eyes turned back towards the firing range.

  Larry turned and saw Jay approaching with most of the fighters. “Why so grim?” their leader called cheerfully towards the people gathered around the fire. “What's eating you guys?”

  “What do you mean, what's eating us?” Larry demanded incredulously. “We spread Zolos to those poor people in the quarantine camp with that “harmless prank” you insisted on doing.”