Isolation (Book 1): Shut In

by Jones, Nathan

  Replying took too much effort, so she simply rolled onto her back and continued struggling to catch her breath, luxuriating in the feel of the burning agony in her legs slowly fading to mere rubbery exhaustion.

  After a few minutes her friend dragged himself to a seated position. “Well,” he said, obviously struggling for an upbeat tone as he looked at the dense thicket surrounding them, “looks as if we're back on foot in the middle of nowhere.”

  Ellie couldn't bring herself to match his tone. “Only with literally nothing but the clothes on our backs this time.”

  His expression sagged. “Yeah.” He forced himself to stand, injecting some determination into his tone. “Well, we know the drill. Find a road, find a sign to tell us where we are, and make for the nearest civilization.”

  Then what? she thought with a bleak surge of despair. Steal another car? Run out of gas and get kidnapped and sexually assaulted by more robbers? She wouldn't have thought that even a serious pandemic would make travel so difficult, but with no one manning the pumps gas stations might as well not have existed at all, and without them no one was going anywhere.

  The few more states they had to travel might as well have been the other side of the planet.

  But at the same time, she hadn't been through everything she'd been through just to give up now. Not when her children were depending on her. So bleak as things looked at the moment there was no option but to grit her teeth, gather up every scrap of determination her exhausted body had left, and keep going.

  So she pushed to her feet with a weary groan. “Let's get looking, then.”

  Hal nodded and glanced back the way they'd come, a trail of broken branches and trampled undergrowth that even Ellie could follow in spite of her complete lack of any sort of tracking ability. “If I could make a suggestion, even though those SOBs are probably long gone let's go the opposite direction of the road they were on.”

  She shuddered and nodded in agreement. “That's an excellent suggestion.” Without waiting for an invitation, she turned and continued blazing a trail the way they'd been running.

  He let her take the lead, the thicket too dense to let them walk side by side. “Also, we should keep our eyes open for anything useful. We're going to need whatever we can find.”

  True enough, since they currently had literally nothing. If Ellie had thought their circumstances had been dire in Southern Utah, now they seemed completely hopeless.

  Couldn't they ever catch a break? “At least we're not in the desert,” she mumbled.

  Hal grunted in agreement. “That'll probably double the speed we can travel right there. And hey, no pesky spare clothes and other junk to slow us down. Can you imagine wheeling your suitcase through these trees?”

  Ellie couldn't bring herself to smile, but the absurd mental picture did raise her spirits slightly. “That's it, look on the bright side.”

  They fell silent after that, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. And, if her friend was anything like her, trying furiously to think of any way out of this mess.

  Chapter Fifteen: Making Do

  “Daddy, the chili exploded in the microwave!” Tallie called through the door.

  Nick cursed under his breath and hung up his phone, tossing it on his desk. “Okay, honey! Did Ricky turn it off?”

  “No, he ran into his room and slammed the door! He's in trouble, isn't he?”

  He did his best to keep his tone patient. “No, honey, he's doing great.” He can't be in trouble because I'm depending on him to take care of both of you out there. Besides, if anyone's at fault it's me for giving terrible directions.

  What had he gotten wrong? He'd told his son to dump the chili out of the can into a plastic bowl and microwave it, since that would be safer than using the stove. Did chili spatter a lot in a microwave? Should he have told Ricky to cover it? Had three minutes been too long to cook it?

  “It won't be as bad as he thinks,” he continued firmly. “There'll still be plenty of chili. Have him get the oven mitts and take the bowl out of the microwave, then wait for the stuff that splattered to cool down and wipe the microwave clean. Next time he can cover it with a paper towel or paper plate or something to keep in from making a mess.”

  There was a very long pause from the other side of the door. Nick knew Tallie well enough to know she'd either wandered off, gotten bored and found something to distract herself, or he'd dumped too much information on her at once and she was staring blankly at the door, trying to figure out what he wanted.

  It turned out to be that last one. “I'll have Ricky come talk to you,” she finally chirped.

  He sighed and slumped down on his office chair, exhausted physically and mentally almost to his limit from cleaning his office and then himself. He had his own chili to look forward to, cold from the can.

  For food and water Ricky had needed to push things through the cracked-open door. That meant canned food and water in any containers his son could find. Containers which would need to be more and more imaginative, since their trip to the office was all one way.

  Which was actually a worry, warning that if this quarantine went on for too long Nick was going to have to either force Ricky to handle potentially contaminated containers, which he wasn't about to do, or go out and search for an alternative source of water. Maybe an external spigot on the outside of the apartment building.

  He hated having to open the door even to get food and water passed in to him, since he'd gone to great efforts to seal it off from the rest of the house with duct tape and cloth bunched along the bottom. But he'd done his best to run a fan in the window, preferring to send any potential Zolos outside rather than into the rest of the apartment. That would mean chilly conditions once the sun set, but he could live with that. Especially as the days gradually grew warmer.

  Days. He'd barely been in this quarantine for hours and he wasn't sure how he was going to manage this; the longer it went on, he was sure, the more conditions were going to feel closer to third world. He hadn't needed to relieve himself yet, but once he did he'd have to find a creative solution. Hygiene and sanitation were going to be real concerns, too.

  And that was just his own issues. What were his kids going to do without him to personally help them? Ricky was smart and responsible, at least considering his age, but there were some things he might not be able to do while following instructions told to him through a door.

  Where the blazes was Ellie? She should've been back sometime today, realistically hours ago. And if not, she at least should've called to let him know what was happening. She knew the dire circumstances he and the kids were in, with him in quarantine and an eight-year-old and five-year-old left to fend for themselves.

  He hadn't thought to ask about her progress or timetable when he called to tell her about the attack, and his calls since then had all gone straight to voicemail. Again. It would've been funny if it wasn't leaving him an emotional wreck.

  Unable to contact his ex-wife, he'd done the next best thing and searched online for any news that might give clues to what was delaying her. He didn't find any specific mentions of her, unsurprisingly, or any situation he could confidently suspect she might've found herself part of.

  But what he did find didn't do anything for his escalating worry.

  All over the country, including in the cities that lay between Ellie and returning home to them in KC, criminals seemed to have figured out the same thing that the punks who'd broken into Nick's home last night had: that people who'd put themselves into quarantine right from the start were most likely safe, and they'd conveniently plastered their houses with notices to let the world know that.

  Combined with the fact that the government was fully occupied dealing with Zolos, that meant the chaos that Nick had assumed wouldn't happen because of people's fear of catching the disease was finally exploding, and in a major way.

  Gangs were running rampant in cities, taking territory and snatching up whatever they wanted from people who h
ad no way to stop them. And out in the rural areas things were, if anything, even more outrageous, with roving bands hitting isolated houses or even small towns and ransacking quarantined homes.

  There was even an uproar outside of Denver, where apparently a truly monstrous group of criminals had gone around to several towns raping and even kidnapping women. In spite of the Zolos pandemic spiraling out of control and an estimated sixth of the country infected or already dead, people were going ballistic about that sort of blatant lawlessness in the United States of America.

  Nationwide demands were pouring in for Colorado to stamp down hard on that group and anyone else who had the same idea, and if they couldn't then the Federal government should. Some of the most incensed of those calling for action were even demanding that the Air Force send in a few fighter jets and blow the entire villainous group to bits with missiles launched from high altitude. Which was insane considering the criminals had hostages, as others pointed out while demanding the Pentagon send in Special Forces teams to rescue the kidnapped women.

  After which point, most didn't seem to find the idea of the group being blown to smithereens all that objectionable.

  Nick couldn't believe things had gotten that bad in less than a week. The thought of Ellie out there in that chaos, potentially driving right through areas where women were being taken from their homes to face who knew what awful fate, was driving him frantic with fear. Especially when he was still a bundle of nerves after having to kill a man to defend himself in his own home.

  He felt like he should be doing something, anything, besides just sitting uselessly in his office while the mother of his children was out there facing that danger alone. Or well, technically with some strange dude she'd decided to carpool with, which he couldn't help but feel was even worse.

  But what could he do? Even if he knew where Ellie was, and even after she'd explicitly told him not to take their children out of the safety of the apartment, after potentially being exposed to Zolos if he went to pick her up he'd be running the same risk of infecting her. The only option that seemed available was to wait for her to contact him, same as he'd had to wait the last two times she'd vanished off the face of the Earth, phone going straight to voicemail.

  Only this time, he couldn't help but feel like something terrible had actually happened. Maybe that was just because he was imagining the worst after spending the last hour reading articles and watching videos of the chaos exploding across the country, but he didn't think so.

  The world was going insane around him, and the woman who'd been the love of his life for over ten years was out there in the middle of it.

  And there was nothing. He. Could. Do.

  Even if there was once again some good reason for Ellie to be incommunicado, and she was okay but simply delayed, what options did he have if she didn't make it back soon? Should he try to rig up some sort of full-body suit, and wear it full time around his kids? He wasn't sure that was even possible with the materials at hand, and even if it was could he take that risk when it meant possibly exposing Ricky and Tallie to a deadly virus?

  No, better his son turn bowls of chili into volcanoes in the microwave, while he did his best to talk the boy through any problems he and his sister ran into through the door.

  In the meantime, there was something Nick could do . . . bury the body.

  It seemed like the decent thing to do. Nobody was getting back to him from the police, city office, or coroner's office, and the punk's buddy hadn't bothered to come back and claim his friend to return to whatever family he might have. With that in mind, the idea of a human being just rotting out in the open seemed inhuman, whatever the circumstances. To say nothing of any sanitation issues to do with having a corpse sitting right outside his apartment.

  So he retrieved a small hand shovel and a ground tarp from the small store of camping supplies pushed to the very back of his office's closet, unused since . . . had it really been all the way back when Ellie was pregnant with Tallie, and they'd taken that vacation to Wallace State Park for Ricky's third birthday? That felt like forever ago.

  Well these supplies would get some use now, if for a far less happy reason. “Ricky, Tallie!” he called through the door. “Eat your lunch! I'll be right outside, so if you really need me yell super loud and I'll hear you.”

  He heard a door bang against a wall as it was thrown open. “Outside?” Ricky called back in alarm. “What if you get sick?”

  Nick grimaced. Getting covered in that punk's blood had been more of a danger than climbing down to the bottom of the fire escape ever would be, at least as long as nobody else was anywhere nearby or used it. “I'll be careful,” he replied, with the confident tone of a dad who wasn't 100% sure of something but pretended to be so his kids wouldn't worry. “Don't worry, it'll be fine.”

  There was no reply. Nick hefted his pathetic little shovel and the tarp and lifted the fan out of the broken window, climbing out onto the fire escape.

  Considering his resolve to stay in the house until the Zolos crisis was over, he sure was going out a lot.

  Burying the body of his attacker turned out to be one of the most difficult things he'd ever done. And that had nothing to do with the fact that he had to dig a hole in a narrow strip of grass at the side of the building with a shovel the size of his forearm, barely better than using his bare hands. Which meant a shallow hole, and even then he was exhausted beyond belief by the time he was done; he'd gotten in terrible shape in the last six months.

  No, what tore him up was the surreal fact that he'd killed a man. He'd never really even gotten into a fight in his entire life, and now he was digging a grave for someone who'd tried to murder him in his own home with a knife.

  The body, which he'd carefully wrapped in the tarp while touching it as little as possible, waited nearby in silent condemnation. It was already starting to stink, making his stomach churn every time the breeze turned from that way.

  Finally, he decided he'd dug deep enough to cover the body with a few inches of dirt and sod. Hopefully that plus the tarp would keep stray dogs away, and if not he could always mound the dirt higher. Kill two birds with one stone if he needed to dig a new hole anyway, maybe to use to bury waste once he finally got around to the unpleasant necessity of relieving himself without a bathroom.

  Another challenge to look forward to.

  Nick dragged the body into the shallow hole, hastily piled dirt back on, and found a few loose pieces of concrete and asphalt to pile on top for good measure. With the job finally done, he slumped down on the third step of the fire escape and took a few swigs from the water bottle he'd fetched from the office halfway through digging the hole.

  He choked when his phone abruptly rang.

  Ellie! Tossing the bottle away, he scrambled to pull the device out of his pocket. To his disappointment the number was an unfamiliar one. Still, that didn't mean it wasn't his ex-wife on another phone, so he hastened to answer it. “Hello?”

  “Nicholas Statton?”

  A fresh wave of disappointment surged through him, although he tried to swallow it and keep his tone steady. “Nick here.”

  “Mr. Statton, this is John Barnes, from the coroner's office in-”

  “About the home invasion I called in?” Nick blurted, relief surging through him. It wasn't a call from Ellie, but it was still welcome. “Thank God! I just finished buryi-”

  “I'm afraid that's outside of my jurisdiction,” the man cut in curtly. “I'm out in Wabash County, Indiana, calling to . . .” he trailed off. “Did you just say you finished burying something?”

  He felt his face flushing. “The guy came at me with a knife. We struggled for it, and I ended up stabbing him. Burying him seemed like the decent thing to do.”

  There was a long pause, then John cursed quietly. Not in shock, or horror at hearing of a killing, but with the sort of tired resignation of another problem dumped in his lap. “Did you report it?”

  “Of course.” Why else would he be as
king if that's what this call was about?

  “Okay, well, I can't really help you with that. Like I said, outside my jurisdiction, sorry. Your best bet is to keep trying to contact your local authorities.”

  Nick sighed, sagging back to rest his head on one of the higher fire escape steps; the narrow metal bars turned out to be incredibly uncomfortable. “All right. So what's this about, Mr. Barnes?”

  There was a brief pause, and when the man finally spoke it was obvious he was making an effort to change the tone of the conversation. “I'm calling because you're listed as the next of kin for one of our deceased, Mr. Statton. I regret to inform you that Fred Statton, your father according to our records, has passed away from a Zolos infection.”

  He stared at his phone blankly for a few seconds. Absurdly, his first thought was that now he knew where his dad had disappeared to.

  With a start he realized the silence had dragged on long enough to be uncomfortable. “Oh, um, thank you for letting me know.”

  “Of course.” John sounded a bit surprised at his response. Or lack of it, maybe. “I understand this must be sudden, and I wish I'd had time to present it more tactfully. I've got a long list to go through, and unfortunately we're too swamped to take incoming calls. Do you have any questions about his death?”

  “I . . . no, nothing that can't wait until things settle down. Thank you again.”

  “Take care, Mr. Statton.” There was a click as the call ended.

  Nick set down his phone on the step beside him, staring at it even after the screen went black to save power.

  His dad was dead? He barely remembered the man, hadn't seen him since he was a kid. Where a face should be was just a blur, no memory of voice or mannerisms or anything they'd ever talked about. Just a few vague recollections of shoulder rides, and one distant memory of a trip to some park on a cold day in the late fall, with bare tree limbs rattling and leaves skittering across the ground.