Isolation (Book 2): Going Out

by Jones, Nathan

  That didn't stop Hannah's husband as he landed in a sprawl, barely pausing before surging back to his feet and once again throwing himself at Hal.

  A deafening blast from nearby made Ellie flinch and drop into a protective crouch. But not before she got a good firsthand view of Brock getting what looked like a beanbag right to the stomach. The man's leap turned into a boneless tumble as he gave a strangled grunt, and he curled up on himself with a whimper of pain.

  Then the guards were there, separating all four of them with sternly waved shotguns and shouted orders.

  One of them turned out to be Officer Merrill, the policeman who'd first greeted Ellie and Hal at the roadblock outside the quarantine camp. The man quickly got in the middle of the chaos and gave them all furious glares. “Just what the blazes is going on here?” he demanded.

  Ellie jumped in before either of the Nowaks could poison the well. “These two stole my car and left us for dead in the middle of the desert!” she spat. Nearby Hal, who had two guards watching him like a hawk, nodded his furious agreement.

  “They were going to get us infected with Zolos!” Hannah wailed, tears streaming down her face as she rubbed at the red handprint on her cheek. She looked a pitiable sight, sitting in a heap on the ground bawling as if the world was ending.

  Merrill wearily rubbed between his eyebrows, either unmoved by the woman's plight or too tired to care. “We don't handle criminal prosecutions in this camp,” he said as patiently as he could. “Our job is to keep the peace and make sure nobody gets sick.”

  “So you're not going to arrest them for grand theft auto?” Ellie demanded.

  “Not going to arrest us?” Brock shot back incredulously, expression dark with rage and humiliation. “These psychos tried to murder us in front of a camp full of witnesses?”

  “I was just trying to restrain you so I could drag you in to the authorities for your crime,” Hal snarled.

  The officer pursed his lips and, even through the barrier of his faceplate, whistled loudly enough to make everyone within twenty feet wince and cover their ears, if they could. “Enough!” he snapped. “All four of you, you get one strike in this camp, and you just got it. From now on stay away from each other . . . if I see anyone causing trouble again, I'll toss you in the isolation cells for the duration of your stay here. Understood?”

  “What about my car?” Ellie demanded. “When we get out of this camp, we're going to need it.” She saw from the man's expression that he really didn't care and probably wasn't going to help out, so she hastily continued. “The title should still be with it, in the glove compartment. It's in my name.”

  “Then talk to the folks in processing and explain your situation, see what they want to do about it. And in the meantime, no trouble.” Merrill nodded to his fellow officers to back away from Hal and Brock. Then he motioned to Ellie and her boyfriend to walk ahead of him, moving them away from the other couple.

  She and Hal were wise enough to go without a word, content the situation was dealt with. But apparently Brock wasn't. “You think you get to wail on me and my wife and then just walk away, you roided out piece of trash?” he shouted after them. “You'd better sleep with one eye open, you and your girlfriend both!”

  Hal had been ignoring the insults and threats flung at his back, but the moment Brock threatened Ellie he abruptly spun and took a step towards the other man, suddenly looking much more solid and menacing. “What was that?” he said, voice dangerously quiet.

  Brock stumbled back behind the protection of the nearest guard and visibly swallowed, taking the better part of valor and choosing not to answer. Which meant he'd finally recovered his wits; no matter how angry the man was, Ellie couldn't believe he'd been stupid enough to make a threat like that in front of the camp's guards.

  Hal continued, ignoring the officers who moved between him and the other man. “You get a pass for stealing Ellie's car and leaving us to die . . . I'll be happy to never have to see you again. But if you try to lay a finger on her, if you ever even go near her, I'll make you regret it. You get me?”

  It wasn't a rhetorical question; the young man stared at Brock unblinking until the man sullenly looked away and nodded.

  Without another word Hal turned and walked away again, allowing himself to be directed by Officer Merrill after a few steps. Ellie followed, not sure how she felt about that encounter.

  She'd taken a few self-defense courses over the years, so she wasn't exactly defenseless. On top of that, Brock wasn't exactly the most intimidating specimen; she had a feeling that once his anger died down he wouldn't even consider trying to harm her.

  Even so, she'd be lying if she said that watching Hal jump to her defense like that hadn't revved her engine. The depths of his feelings for her had been clear as day, and she couldn't help but thrill at the sight of it.

  Merrill led them all the way to the entrance to their tent, where he gave a final stern warning. “Remember, one strike. And all other considerations aside for why you shouldn't go around tackling people, you do realize that the fact they might be carrying Zolos makes it an even worse idea?”

  Hal flushed, looking genuinely ashamed of himself. “I didn't even think about that. As soon as I saw him I just . . .” He shrugged.

  “Well next time do think about it. And try to avoid seeing him again while you're at it.” The officer turned to give Ellie a stern look through his faceplate. “That goes for you too, Miss Slappy.”

  She felt her face flush in mortification as she nodded. “Of course, Officer. Sorry for the trouble.”

  Merrill grunted and turned away, stomping back to where the other guards waited. Ellie decided not to further tempt fate at the moment, considering how close they'd come to ending up right back in the isolation cells, so she ducked into their new tent to get out of sight.

  Hal seemed to have the same idea because he was right on her heels.

  Thankfully, the chemical smell had mostly dissipated while they were out walking. That left them in a space a few feet bigger than the cell they'd been in, separated into two sleeping compartments by a flimsy fabric wall with a zipper in the middle for a door. Probably one room for the parents and one for the kids, if this tent had been intended for a family of four.

  Rather than the cots that had been in the cells, their new accommodations boasted foam pads. Thin and hard and obviously designed to be easily decontaminated, but since there were four of them that meant she and her boyfriend could each stack two on top of each other to make a moderately more comfortable bed.

  Or push them together to make a larger bed, although Ellie sternly brushed aside that tempting idea.

  Hal looked thoughtfully between the two rooms. “I'll take the front room if you want the back one,” he offered.

  She nodded in gratitude and leaned against his side in a silent invitation to put an arm around her. Which he obligingly did. “That's a good arrangement for now,” she said. After a short pause she continued in a teasing voice. “Just in case you need to tackle an intruder.”

  Her boyfriend groaned. “Not my proudest moment, flying off the handle like that,” he admitted. “I'm usually a lot more levelheaded.”

  Ellie hugged him a bit tighter. “I can understand. Those two did leave us for dead out of sheer paranoia, after all.” She paused, frowning. “Speaking of paranoia . . . you think we might've exposed ourselves to Zolos by coming in contact with the Nowaks?”

  “From the couple who wipes down rocks in the middle of nowhere? It's possible, but I doubt it.” He paused, smiling in grim satisfaction. “Although it's nice to see them getting some karma.”

  She quirked an eyebrow at him. “The universe working its vengeance through us?”

  Hal shook his head. “I meant the fact that they were so terrified of Zolos that they were using chemical wipes on rocks out in the middle of nowhere, and willing to steal our car and leave us stuck in a desert because they were afraid we wouldn't be careful enough ourselves.”

  He
waved as if to take in the camp around them through the tent's walls. “And now here they are, in the middle of a place full of thousands of potentially infected people, with no way to keep themselves isolated if infection hits this camp.”

  Ellie had trouble finding any satisfaction in that. “If infection does hit the camp, we're in the same boat.”

  Hal paused for an uncomfortable moment. “Yeah,” he finally said, sounding subdued. “But at least we're in it together.” He absently rubbed her shoulder, staring down at her thoughtfully.

  She looked away, feeling a bit self-conscious. “What?”

  “You're the first girl I've met who'd put the smack down on some chick who was about to clock me with a stool,” he said.

  Ellie groaned and put her face in her hands. “We went completely daytime TV, didn't we?”

  “I did,” he said quietly, voice sounding completely serious. Earnest. “You were just your usual incredible self.”

  She felt her face flushing; good thing she was already covering it with her hands.

  They both jumped at a voice from outside, muffled as if speaking through a hazmat suit. “Hey new guys, leaving your meal out here!”

  “Thanks!” Hal called back. He rubbed her shoulder again, tone turning light. “What do you say we get some dinner, then get back to introducing ourselves to people in the camp?” He gave her a sheepish smile. “With less tackling on my part, this time.”

  Chapter Two

  Bad Dream

  The nightmare started sometime in the middle of the night, on the third day since Nick had left his office quarantine. Probably just hours before it would've been the full four days to guarantee Tallie wasn't showing symptoms after he'd accidentally hugged her.

  Just hours.

  It started with her soft voice waking him from some restless dream, tiny and scared and full of hurt in the darkness near his bed. “Daddy, I don't feel good.”

  Nick stirred groggily and stared at the black shape barely visible against the deeper darkness of night in KC without electricity. In his confused state his first thought was that what they'd eaten for dinner, not the sort of food he usually fed her, had given her an upset tummy.

  “Come here, sweetie,” he mumbled, pulling back the covers for her to snuggle, just like any other time she woke up in the night and sought him out.

  The little figure shook her head, sobbing miserably. “I wet the bed.”

  That explained why she hadn't climbed right up onto the bed to snuggle with him. She knew when she had an accident she needed to wait to be cleaned up. He started to climb out of bed to help her, then froze as she continued. “But not pee.”

  Nick stared at his daughter, grogginess vanishing in the face of mounting horror. “What's not pee, sweetie?” he said, voice shaking.

  She held up her hand, which looked even darker than her face in the almost lightless room, shining with a dull liquid sheen. “I think I need a Band-Aid.”

  He abruptly became aware of a familiar metallic scent in the air. That, combined with the sight of her tiny hand covered in what could only be blood, made him suddenly find himself swallowing rapidly to keep from throwing up.

  No! No no no no!

  This was a nightmare, just a bad dream. He would wake up any second now and everything would be okay. He'd walk down the hall to check on Tallie, confirm she was sleeping peacefully in her bed to reassure himself after such a scare, then he'd go back to sleep himself and in the morning everything would still be fine.

  His daughter did not have Zolos because he'd failed to properly quarantine himself after being exposed. He hadn't just sentenced his little girl to death because of his own stupid carelessness.

  This was a nightmare! It couldn't be-it couldn't . . .

  Nick slapped himself across the face as hard as he could, a yelp torn from between his lips as stars flashed across his eyes.

  “Daddy, you okay?”

  The words, spoken with childish worry, were a death knell to his last fleeting vestiges of hope that this wasn't real; when his vision cleared from the slap he saw the tiny shape still standing in front of him.

  Then Tallie slumped to the ground, almost as if she'd fainted. To his relief, she quickly began squirming, although it didn't take long to realize that something was wrong with her movements. For a few seconds she feebly kicked her legs, whimpering miserably, then she looked up at him, voice trembling with fright.

  “Daddy, I can't stand up! I feel really tired.” She sniffled. “Why do I feel so tired?”

  Common sense told him he should stay away, avoid getting infected himself. But if he did Tallie would have no one to care for her. Anyway he was the one who'd infected her in the first place, so what did it matter?

  Besides, at the moment he was too frantic with worry for his daughter, and furious with himself, to care about his own fate.

  So he pulled Tallie into his arms, wanting to shout in horror at the wetness on the fringe of her nightgown and on her legs. Bleeding from all orifices, a symptom of the dreaded virus. Along with extreme weakness.

  “Shh, sweetie,” he whispered, tears flowing from his eyes. He held his baby girl tight as she trembled in his arms. “It's okay.”

  “I'm scared, Daddy,” she mumbled. “I need lots of Band-Aids.”

  “Dad? What's going on?”

  Nick screamed and scrambled back towards his bed with his daughter in his arms as another shape filled his bedroom doorway. “Get back, Richard!” he shouted at the top of his lungs. His son froze, but that wasn't good enough. “Go back to your room, now! Don't come out!”

  “D-dad?” Ricky stammered. “What's going on? What did I do?”

  The poor kid was obviously terrified, but Nick didn't have time to be gentle about this. “Tallie has it, son!” he said fiercely. “Get back to your room, and walk near the wall so you don't touch any of her blood on the carpet.”

  His son still didn't budge. “How can she be sick?” he demanded. “We haven't seen anyone but that robber who came in, and you said that guy didn't make you sick! That he didn't have it!” His voice became more and more panicked with every word. “How is she sick?”

  Tallie had started to sob weakly in Nick's arms. He cuddled her closer, wishing he was sick and she was well. Wishing he had the choice to take her sickness so she wouldn't d-

  No! He refused to even consider that possibility. For either of his children. “Richard Berthold Statton,” he said in a voice that brooked no argument. “You need to grab as much food and water from the kitchen as you can, go to your room, and shut the door. Don't go anywhere else no matter what happens. Do you understand?”

  His son sounded terrified and miserable. “B-but I wasn't able to take care of me and Tallie when the electricity went out. How am I going to take care of myself now?”

  “I don't know, Ricky, but if you stay here you'll almost certainly get sick and die.” If by some miracle you haven't already been exposed. Nick had to believe his son hadn't been, although he pushed aside those awful considerations to focus on the current crisis. “You have no choice but to depend on yourself again, so we'll have to find some way to help you manage it. Go, now.” There was no response. “Go!”

  Ricky fled, although Nick heard the sound of him crying in fright.

  He held Tallie to his chest, rocking her gently as she clutched weakly at him and continued to whimper. His terror for her, and worry about whether Ricky had been infected after all, and even if not how an eight year old boy was going to manage on his own if Nick got sick and died, or even how he'd care for him without infecting him . . .

  It was too much. Too much for him to process. Too much for him to contemplate. Too much for him to even begin to make a plan for at the moment.

  What was he going to do?

  “Shh,” he whispered, kissing the top of his daughter's damp, sweaty head as she sobbed into his chest. “Sorry to scare you with all the shouting, sweetie. It's going to be okay.”

  Tallie didn't calm
down immediately, but with patient soothing her sobs finally slowed to feeble hiccups. She lifted her head to look up at him. “I'll be okay in a few weeks, won't I Daddy?” she whispered. “I just need to stay in bed until I feel better, like when I had chickenpox?”

  “Of course, honey,” he murmured, trying not to think about the fact that Zolo killed most people within three days. “You just need to rest. I'll take care of you.”

  His daughter sniffled and buried her face in his chest again. “At least we finally get to cuddle,” she said in a small voice.

  Something inside Nick broke at that. He clutched her tiny body protectively, unable to hold back his own wracking sobs as his world crumbled around him.

  Out of all the thugs in the city, why did the one who broke into his house have to have been carrying Zolos? Why did one brief hug have to be enough to pass it on to Tallie?

  Why couldn't he have been infected instead of her, back in his office before he ever came out?

  Why hadn't he been infected, when he'd been splattered in that guy's blood? Was he one of the impossible few who didn't even get sick from the deadly virus?

  Most importantly, why had he ever thought potentially exposing his children to Zolos was a better option than tackling the difficulty of helping them survive through the door, just because Ricky had been having a difficult time?

  Sure, rationally he knew the problems his kids had been facing without him were severe, and they would've struggled to the point of having trouble surviving if he'd stayed in his office for the full three weeks. But even that would be better than infecting them with the virus. What had he been thinking, gambling with stakes like that? With the lives of his children?

  He couldn't lose his little girl, he couldn't! This wasn't happening!

  This wasn't going to happen.

  With effort he forced himself to calm down, carefully standing with Tallie in his arms. “Come on, honey,” he whispered gently. “Let's go to the hospital.”