“We'll bring you everything we can find,” Mrs. Gerson promised. “Thank you again.”
“Of course. I'll do my best for him.” Nick shifted awkwardly. “And I, uh, guess I'll come back to pick up whatever you're willing to give from what he scavenged.”
“All right.” Tears in her eyes, the older woman waved to her son. “I love you, honey. Please, please get better.”
The young man gave her a sickly smile. “I haven't tapped out of this fight yet, Mom.” But in spite of his brave words, his tone had little confidence in it.
Nick stooped over the ropes tied to the sled and began hauling it out of the yard. It slid smoothly enough over the grass, then he had to get it through a back gate and across some rough ground that took forever in order to reach the road.
At which point the screech of the weighted sled scraping across pavement made casual conversation impossible. Heck, it made even thinking hard. Thankfully the exhausting effort of huffing and puffing to tow the sled didn't leave Nick much interest in doing either until the task was done.
It took twice as long to drag the sled as back to the shed, and by the time he was done he was pouring sweat in the heavy, humid air.
As he pulled Mack into the shed's boundary he noticed an inflatable mattress, already inflated, waiting there, along with pillows and sheets and blankets and a few other necessities. The Norsons must've prepared those things so the young man would have a comfortable bed to rest on.
That was more hospitality than they'd shown for Nick and his kids. But to be fair, given the close proximity and ages Mack was probably good friends with their son Darryl, and not some diseased stranger who'd put them in a bind.
He left Mack outside in the shade of the picnic umbrella as he got the bed made, noticing as he worked that Bruce, Winn, and Gen all came around to talk to the sick man and express their sympathy and best wishes. From Gen's familiarity with Mack it was obvious she did know him fairly well, which seemed to support Nick's guess that he was friends with her ex.
The young man was too weak to chat comfortably across the distance, but he seemed grateful for the company, at least. Nick felt a bit bad when it finally came time to drag him into the shed and get him settled down on his new bed.
“Tallie, this is my friend Mack,” he told his daughter, who watched curiously from her own bed. She looked none the worse for wear for him being gone for over a half hour, which was a relief.
“Hi,” she said weakly. Her arm twitched as if she wanted to wave, but she was still too weak.
Mack forced himself to smile at her, although he looked like he wanted to pass out from exhaustion. “Hey. Your dad's turning into a regular nurse, huh?”
“Yeah.” She made a face. “I wish I was better already, though.”
“Yeah, me too,” the sick man whispered, tone full of bitterness and despair. “Me too.”
Getting Mack into bed was an ordeal in and of itself. He barely had the strength to help at all, and every time Nick started dragging him onto the light inflatable mattress it skidded out from under him. It probably would've been funny under less grim circumstances, like some sort of slapstick. Tallie did giggle weakly once or twice when it seemed certain Mack was finally on the mattress, only for it to slide away again at the last second.
Well, at least one of them was having fun with this.
Exhausted as Nick was, he had to do his best not to curse in front of his daughter. He finally managed to pin the mattress up against the wall, holding it down with one knee as he dragged the sick man onto it.
“Sorry,” he wheezed as he got Mack situated comfortably on the bed and got him wrapped in blankets. The man just grunted, seeming relieved the ordeal was finally over and he could rest.
Nick leaned back, mopping at his forehead with an already soggy sleeve, then wearily reached for a water bottle and one of his few remaining electrolyte tablets. “So how long have you been sick for?” he asked, shaking the bottle as it began to fizz.
Mack grunted again. “Since yesterday evening.”
“So you're well on your way to surviving the three days,” he said with forced cheerfulness. “Once we get you past that, it's just-”
“Look man,” the sick man snapped, “I appreciate it, I really do, but just don't.” He took a shuddering breath, turning his head away from Nick's surprised look as he continued dully. “I was an idiot. I was an idiot and I took stupid risks scavenging and now I'm dying of Zolos. I might've infected my family, and even if I didn't I still failed them. They need me to be there for them, but I'm going to die and leave them without one more person who could've helped.”
“We don't know that,” Nick said firmly, leaning forward to help the man drink. “My daughter survived, and so can you.”
“Nine out of ten people disagree,” Mack said as the bottle touched his lips. But he greedily drank as much as he could before sagging back on his pillow.
“I need to head back to your house to grab everything,” Nick said as he set the bottle aside. “Anything you need before I go?”
“Well . . .” The sick man looked away, expression twisting with mortification. “I, um, hate to put you in this position, but I've been too weak to move all night and all morning. I, ah, need a bit of help with stuff I can't do myself. The sooner the better.”
Nick could admit he'd been dreading this. But it was part of the job he'd agreed to, and basic human comfort and dignity the man was asking for; he'd be a jerk to begrudge him that. “Of course,” he said. “Let's get you taken care of.”
He put a privacy barrier in front of Tallie's bed, then did his best not to show his reluctance as he got to work getting Mack changed out of his bloody clothes, helped him relieve himself, and then got him cleaned up.
No beating around the bush, it was one of the least pleasant things he'd ever done.
He couldn't imagine how humiliating it had to be for his patient, so he tried to mitigate the awkwardness by keeping a running dialogue going as he worked, telling Mack everything Melody had told him about caring for Zolos patients. For his part the man grunted noncommittal replies and cooperated mechanically, probably wishing he was passed out for this newest ordeal.
Finally, though, Nick had Mack's needs taken care of. As a last step he covered his bleeding orifices with pads and changed him into clean clothes.
He was a bit worried about how much the sick man seemed to be bleeding, far worse than Tallie had. But maybe that was just the difference between a little kid and an adult, and not a bad sign he should be worried about.
“Thank you,” the young man wheezed quietly as Nick carried the painting tray he'd used as a bedpan towards the door to dump it out and clean it.
“Sure,” he said as he ducked gratefully outside, leaving the doors open to air the place out.
A few minutes later he gave his patients one last check to make sure they didn't need anything else, then headed back to the Gersons' house.
Mrs. Gerson was still waiting outside when he got back. He gave her a quick report on everything he'd done so far, leaving out his worries about Mack's bleeding, and fetched the small box of things she'd gathered together to help care for her son. With a bit of haggling, they agreed on a week's worth of food for him and Tallie from what Mack had scavenged as payment.
But as Nick was gathering up what he judged to be a fair estimation for an adult and small child, the older woman hovered nearby, a hesitant expression on her face. “Um, if you could,” she said as he started to load up to leave, “would you be willing to decontaminate the room, hallway, and porch, too?”
He paused, staring back at her somewhat incredulously. “I'm not sure I could do it well enough to guarantee I've gotten rid of Zolos and they're safe to use again.”
She waved that away impatiently. “I wouldn't expect them to be, no matter how careful you were. It's just that we've got the rest of the family here, and even though we did our best to seal off Mack's room and the hallway leading to it, I don't want to ri
sk the virus somehow spreading to other parts of the house.”
That was fair enough, he supposed, although he didn't have much enthusiasm for it. “I guess I could give them a quick wipe down.”
His attitude must've been obvious, because she waved back towards Mack's contaminated stash of scavenged items. “I could throw in another case of beans?”
Under most circumstances that wouldn't really be worth over an hour of work, especially considering his usual hourly rate for consulting. But these were far from most circumstances, and 24 more cans of food could mean the difference between life and death for him and his daughter.
“All right,” he told her, setting down the stuff he'd collected and brushing his hands together briskly. “Where's the cleaning materials?”
Chapter Nine
Time
“Excellent suggestion, Mr. Dotrieb!” Ellie said in approval, jotting “Recreation (park, sports field, playground, picnicking area)” on the whiteboard Cathy had loaned her. Then she stepped back so the list they'd brainstormed already was visible to everyone:
“Necessities for Founding New Community
Clean, plentiful water (purification, boiling, safe sources).
Firewood (cooking, stoves/outdoor grills, fire pits for outdoor gatherings).
Sanitation (latrines, outhouses, trash pits/fires, hand washing, laundry).
Temperature controlled shelter. Rainproof?
Long term food production (farming, foraging, hunting, scavenging, trade?).
Security, peacekeeping, protection (preventing Zolos outbreaks, robbers, crime).
New arrivals (welcome? Confirm free of virus. Useful skills/resources? Peaceful intentions?).
Education (3 Rs, apprenticeships, useful skills).
Emergency services (medical, firefighting plans).
Public field (park, sports field, playground, picnicking area).
They'd spent the last hour going over these necessities, prioritizing how much each was needed in the new community they planned to establish near the quarantine camp. It had been a good discussion, interesting if not always exactly fruitful, but Ellie thought they were making good progress.
She almost wished she could be there to help them make the place work.
Maybe once she found Nick and the kids and Hal's family they could all come back here and move in. Her boyfriend certainly didn't seem completely opposed to it; his expertise in construction had made him an instant celebrity among people talking about building shelters that might become permanent homes.
Ellie had rarely seen him so energized as when he was talking shop, giving advice to the prospective settlers about different construction styles and their priorities for shelter, such as whether they wanted more efficient communal structures or more isolated rooms.
Unsurprisingly, most people seemed to want the isolated rooms, even among couples and parents with young children. The specter of Zolos made everyone super cautious, even if it meant more work. It was hard to fault them for that, either.
The meeting took a while to wind down, everyone energized about the subject and wanting to keep talking. To say nothing of those who would've loved to get started immediately, and were itching to get out of the camp so they could head a couple hundred yards beyond the fences and begin building their new settlement.
Eventually, Ellie had to excuse herself before she was late for a school class with kids from Sector B, and Hal also reluctantly tore himself away to head out to his early afternoon exercise session. The discussion kept going full swing even as they left, which was good to see; the better these people could plan their settlement before they were finally allowed to leave to get started on it, the better it would do.
She hoped.
Since her and her boyfriend's next meetings were somewhat close to each other, they walked together across the camp for as far as they could, waving and offering greetings to people they knew or, more commonly, people who knew them. Those exchanges were almost universally pleasant, most of people's wariness about Ellie's programs fading now that they'd been going on for this long.
Not to mention that the camp as a whole had settled down a lot with the Nowaks and other instigators of the attempted breakout all back in the isolation cells. People with concerns about the various exercise programs, grief counseling, social activities, and other group meetings were simply staying away, and so far no outbreaks had occurred because of Ellie's projects to further inflame tensions.
Meanwhile, her various classes, sessions, and get-togethers were better attended than ever, and more people were finally stepping forward to volunteer to lead activities of their own. Including, she was glad to find, people more qualified than her for a lot of the events in question. Especially the grief counseling and activities like that, where professionals could offer more than the sympathetic ear that was usually all Ellie could manage.
She and her boyfriend had almost reached the spot where they'd head to different sections of camp when a call from behind turned them around, and they spotted Cathy in her familiar hazmat suit hurrying towards them.
“Sorry to delay you from your work,” the woman called as she caught up, puffing slightly. Her tense expression immediately made Ellie tense as well; this felt like bad news.
“What is it?” she asked.
“The Los Angeles quarantine camp is failing,” the relief worker said, not beating around the bush. “It's been failing for a while, I mean, since it was always one of the largest camps by far. Impossibly large really, to the point where we've been forced to redirect more and more workers there from all across the country, trying to stay ahead of the influx. But things are really getting dire now.”
Ellie instinctively sought out Hal's hand. This wasn't just an item of curiosity, or even a heartbreaking story of human suffering, for the two of them; it was personal. And not just because if things had turned out differently and Ellie hadn't jumped a median to avoid a roadblock outside LA, she and her boyfriend might be in that camp right this minute.
But even if they weren't, someone else they cared about was.
Ned Westmont, Hal's dad, was one of the only people they'd been able to get in contact with while trapped in this quarantine camp. Only through passed messages from helpful relief workers a couple days ago, but he'd been able to let them know that he'd arrived safely after being sent back to the States by the Japanese government.
Specifically he'd arrived in LA, then immediately been hustled along with the other new arrivals to the Los Angeles quarantine camp. As far as they knew he was still there, waiting out his 21 days so he could continue his journey to KC.
Cathy would know that, since she'd been the one to deliver that message to them. Which explained her sympathetic expression and brow furrowed with worry. “How bad is it?” Ellie asked, throat feeling tight.
The woman's eyes darted to Hal, then towards the ground. “Outbreaks have spread to over half the camp, in spite of their best efforts at lockdowns,” she said, almost too quietly for them to hear. “In the remaining sectors people are rioting, desperate to break out. Thousands have, spreading the riot to the nearby population centers and exposing more and more people to the virus. The death toll is already in the tens of thousands, and is expected to jump into the hundreds within the next 24 hours.”
Hal's grip on her hand became almost uncomfortably tight, and she wrapped an arm around him and held him close, willing what strength she could into him. “Is anyone getting out?” he asked hoarsely.
Cathy hesitated, then shook her head. “They're working on evacuating guards and relief workers. The situation is too unstable to begin evacuating residents yet.”
Ellie rubbed her boyfriend's back soothingly. “He might be one of the people who managed to get out. Maybe he made it out of the cities without being exposed, and he's making his way to KC right now.”
“Yeah, maybe.” He hugged her back briefly, expression haunted, then reluctantly tore himself away. “I, um, need to get to my exerci
se session.” He started off, shoulders hunched and eyes on the ground.
Ellie wanted to go after him, blow off her own class to offer him comfort, but she had the feeling he preferred to focus fully on exercising while he processed the news. She turned back to Cathy, who was looking after him sympathetically. “Will you try to get whatever news you can from LA? Even if it's bad, it's better to know.”
Her friend nodded, looking tired. “No shortage of bad news these days,” she said with a sigh. “But I'll keep my ear to the ground about the camp there.”
She gave the relief worker a grateful look, then reluctantly continued on to her class, mulling over the troubling news as she went. From what Hal had told her about his dad, he seemed like a resourceful person. Hopefully he'd think of a way to keep himself safe through that chaos.
Trapped in this camp, there wasn't much else they could do besides hope. Which was even more frustrating, because if Ned had been able to contact them they could've driven their returned car to go get him.
Well, there was still the chance he'd manage to get in touch with them before they got out of here, and they'd be able to arrange to pick him up then.
For Hal's sake, Ellie hoped so.
✽✽✽
Nick finally pulled the mirror away from Mack's lips and sighed, leaning back dully. His eyes stung, and he blinked quickly a few times and looked away.
Nine out of ten. Easy to ignore that unpleasant reality, but that didn't make it go away. No matter how much you hoped it would.
“What's wrong, Daddy?” Tallie asked worriedly from her bed, staring at him with huge eyes. “Is Mack getting worse?”
He hesitated, debating telling her. But he couldn't exactly lie when the truth was right in front of them. Especially when he was going to have to be the one to inform Mack's family and see to the burial for them.
Isolation (Book 2): Going Out Page 17