Isolation (Book 1): Shut In

by Jones, Nathan

  The relief worker, who'd eventually introduced herself as Cathy, gave a weary snort. “Actually, that's the fun-” she cut off, sounding embarrassed. “I was going to say the funny thing, but that really wouldn't be appropriate under the circumstances.” The woman slumped down on her chair with a sigh, staring off into the distance. “No, Ms. Feldman, food won't be a problem.”

  Ellie exchanged glances with Hal, and they both stayed quiet waiting for the relief worker to elaborate. After an uncomfortable silence Cathy gave a start, realizing what they wanted, and reluctantly continued. “In any other situation, if the nation suddenly ground to a halt like this we'd be experiencing critical shortages in weeks, if not sooner. Especially in population centers. But with the, well, all the people we've lost to Zolos, there's plenty of everything left for the survivors.”

  She sagged a bit farther down on her seat, expression bleak. “In fact, if things continue as they are we won't have to worry about running out of ready resources for years. They'll go bad before we can use them all. Not to mention the livestock and wild game populations, and agriculture that maintains itself with minimal care needed, like orchards and vineyards.”

  Hal gave the camp a dubious look. “I don't see any orchards or cow pastures around here.”

  Cathy snorted again. “True, we need to send trucks out for supplies from the nearest FETF stockpiles, or wherever else they can find them. The drivers have a risky job, and not all of them return. Probably due more to desertion than sickness, though.” She shook her head, straightening briskly. “But to make a long story short, you guys will be just fine in the camp. You'll eat like kings, have all the necessities you need, and we run power for a projector so you can watch movies every night. It'll be fun.”

  Ellie didn't see how anything that kept her from her children for the better part of a month could possibly be fun, crappy movie nights or no. But she didn't put up a fuss as the woman continued to ask questions and jotted down their information.

  “Is there some way I can contact my family?” she asked during a lull as the relief worker took a bit longer writing the answer to a more detailed question. “I left them in a bit of an emergency when my phone was taken from me.”

  Cathy gave her a sympathetic look; over the course of filling out the paperwork they'd told her about the attack in Watkins. “Cell phone service is getting patchy in places, but we have a couple satellite phones available for use by residents once a day. It's hands off, you have one of us punch in the number while you stand in the clean zone, and you can shout the conversation across the tent.”

  That sounded annoying, but Ellie supposed beggars couldn't be choosers. “Can I use it soon?”

  “The moment we get you processed,” the suited woman assured her.

  After a few more questions they were finally led towards the entrance to the camp. “You'll notice we have a lot of one-man tents,” Cathy said, waving at the endless rows of temporary shelters, “as well as a lot of two or three person tents, and relatively fewer cabin tents big enough for families and almost no proper barrack tents to hold large numbers of people, like we'd usually use for relief efforts in a camp like this.”

  Ellie had already noticed that the tents were ludicrously widely spaced, to the point where the camp sprawled three or four times as big as it needed to be and had to be a nightmare for efficiency. “Is all the space so that so people can say separated?”

  The relief worker nodded. “We're doing whatever we can to keep people from coming into physical contact by any means possible. Along with having your own isolated tents, we have the people who prepare the food do so in hazmat suits, fully sterilized at regular intervals, and then more people deliver the food directly to the residents so they don't have to gather in public areas like mess tents to eat.”

  “That must take crippling amounts of man hours,” Hal pointed out.

  “It would, if we weren't using residents to do the jobs,” Cathy agreed. That provided a very interesting avenue to explore, but before Ellie could jump on it the woman continued with brisk determination. “Latrines completely circle the camp, as well as some bisecting it. Each section of camp uses a specific one, and people are encouraged to wipe down every surface they touch before and after use.

  “Social interaction is allowed and even encouraged, but unless you've specifically been in contact with a person before entering the camp we strongly urge you to keep a distance of at least six feet, better yet ten, at all times as you socialize.”

  The suited woman had been leading them to a fenced-in and well guarded section near the front that, well . . . Ellie couldn't think of any generous way to put it but that it was filled with cages of chain-link fencing. They were completely closed off by plastic sheeting, clear on top to let in light and along the front with an optional privacy curtain, and opaque along the other three sides. They were so carefully sealed, in fact, that each one needed a filtered vent for air circulation.

  The vast majority looked small enough to barely accommodate one person, with only a relative few big enough for couples or families. Inside the cages were hard, plastic-covered cots sitting on trampled grass, with no sign of toilets or even buckets for the people inside to use to relieve themselves; they must've had some other accommodation. Maybe separate latrines.

  Most of the cages were full of despondent people, slumped on their hard cots or sprawled across them motionless, napping or simply in a stupor of boredom. More than a few were using the limited space to do what exercising they could, while others were talking to neighbors through the plastic walls.

  “These are the isolation cells,” Cathy said, tone apologetic when she caught their expressions. “I'd like to paint them in the best light, but they're basically exactly what they look like. A necessary evil to reduce the risk of infection for the residents in the camp at large.”

  “Reduce,” Hal repeated. “Which is why even after keeping us in cages for a while, you still have all those other policies in place to prevent contact with other people or anything they've touched.”

  The woman nodded, shoulders slumping wearily. “We keep everyone with obvious Zolos symptoms who miraculously survive and get better in the cages for the entire duration, of course. But even if people show no symptoms after five days, they might still be carriers. As I'm sure you know, roughly one in ten people survive the virus. A fraction of those are highly resistant or even immune and exhibit little to no symptoms at all, but remain carriers.”

  She grimaced “And then you might also find truly selfish and despicable sorts among those who got sick but survived, who are now recovered and come to the camp but lie and say they were never exposed so they can avoid having to stay in the isolation cells for weeks. Or, who knows, maybe they just want to get everyone sick because they're monsters. Anyway, just one carrier let in among the residents would be catastrophic. We can't afford to let our guard down in the slightest until someone's gone three weeks, when we can be sure they're no longer contagious.”

  Ellie hadn't considered all of that. Feeling sick, she thought of Hutch's vaunted Q Team and the poor people they'd taken. His stupid quarantine procedure would get them all infected with Zolos, and while she had zero sympathy for the robbers, she hated to think that a bunch of innocent people stolen from their homes now faced even more terrible circumstances because of those animals.

  The other woman's expression showed a hint of wry derision as she continued. “Unless of course the CDC is able to wade through their gigantic backlog, and we can begin testing people for Zolos en masse. As it is, we'd be waiting way longer than three weeks to get results back anyway, so what's the point?”

  She hadn't been aware there was a test for Zolos, although realistically why wouldn't there be? It sure would be nice, since it meant she'd be able to get out sooner to help her kids. “Is the test accurate?”

  “It has been so far.” Cathy's expression briefly clouded through her hood's faceplate, likely imagining what sort of catastrophe awaited i
f it failed even once, before she shook herself and forced a smile. “But like I said, doesn't make much difference to us at the moment. Maybe sometime in the future you'll have the option of being tested, get out of the camp a bit sooner to get back to your kids.”

  The relief worker led them to an empty row of cages, made with different plastic and slightly different chain link fence sections, as if they'd been made at a different time than the others. “Here's your home for the next five days,” she said, bright tone incongruous with the note of apology that remained in it. She paused, shifting awkwardly as she looked between them. “Which just leaves the question of what living arrangement you want. I know you've been traveling together, but I'm still obligated to offer you individual isolation cells. Especially since you're of different genders.”

  Ellie exchanged a wry glance with Hal. She'd traveled safely with him for a week without the slightest issue, and she trusted him completely. On top of that, the prospect of spending five days alone in what amounted to a plastic cage sounded awful.

  On the other hand, the fact that he'd just kissed her made things a bit awkward between them. Not enough to make her go for an individual cell, though. “I think we're good sharing an enclosure,” she said firmly.

  Hal nodded, looking relieved; he obviously didn't like the prospect of being alone any more than she did. “Yeah, we're good.”

  “Okay then.” The woman motioned to their right. “This cell here is your new home for the next five days. It's technically a three-person one, but the number of incoming residents has slowed drastically in the last few days, and I figure you could use the extra space.”

  “Thank you,” Ellie said. The cage looked incredibly cramped and uncomfortable, but considering the conditions she'd been living in the last few nights it might as well have been a luxury suite.

  “Once you're settled in I'll issue you blankets, clean warm clothing, and toiletries,” Cathy continued. “They'll be yours for the duration of your stay in the camp.” She unzipped a plastic door that opened onto a chain-link door on the cage, putting a key in one of those circle padlocks to open it. She only had the one key, so Ellie had to assume all the cages used the same lock for convenience.

  The woman stepped aside to let them go in and take a look around. Ellie had strong reservations about that, like the cage was a trap waiting to snap shut on her, so she procrastinated at the doorway. “What's the camp's routine like?”

  The relief worker motioned vaguely at the rows of tents. “Not much to say. Meals are delivered out somewhere between six to eight in the morning, eleven to one for lunch, and five to seven in the afternoon. We run a movie on a big screen with a projector every night at sundown.”

  Ellie waited, but nothing more was forthcoming. “That's it?”

  The woman frowned, looking uncertain; Hal also seemed to confused as to what she was getting at. “Stay out of trouble, obviously,” she replied.

  “So you don't have anything to occupy the pris-camp residents?” Ellie pressed.

  She knew from personal experience how potentially volatile confined, bored people could be. And the kerfuffles she'd seen had been things like conferences with a lecturer canceling at the last minute, or people waiting for mass transportation that was running late. She didn't even want to imagine the powder keg represented by a bunch of residents locked in a quarantine camp, with people dying all around them, including loved ones, and them possibly next. Then on top of all that overwhelming pressure of just sitting around with nothing to do but think about the mess they were in.

  That was how riots started, or a rash of increasingly serious misbehavior. Either of which would necessitate severe crackdowns that would see them all stripped of autonomy and treated like prisoners in truth.

  Cathy didn't seem to see the problem. In fact, if anything she was impatient with the line of questioning. “There are camp chores, of course. A lot of those, and volunteers can earn extra rations and things like phone and internet privileges. But with so many idle hands sitting around, jobs tend to get snapped up quickly. And if people bring in things like books or games they're welcome to make use of them. Otherwise the rule is don't cause problems, and you'll be fine.”

  Ellie wasn't worried about herself or Hal, she was worried about everyone else. But she supposed she should probably see the situation in the camp herself before deciding whether she should try to talk to the people in charge about potentially defusing a powder keg.

  Besides, she was sure they weren't stupid and were keeping tabs on the problem.

  “Do you need to use the latrine before you go in?” the relief worker asked. “Otherwise you get a chance once an hour, a separate set of latrines that are thoroughly sterilized between each use to a level we simply can't manage for all of them, only the highest risk ones for the isolation cells.”

  Hal glanced at her and shrugged, and she shrugged back; after days of starvation and thirst, even after drinking a bottle of water she was fine for the moment. “I think we're good,” she said. “But what about the phone call? During my last call with my ex-husband he told me he might be infected, so he was going into quarantine in his office and leaving my eight-year-old son to care for my five-year-old daughter on his own.”

  Cathy's expression was suitably horrified at that. “Oh honey, I'm so sorry.” She hesitated. “I think I can get you in for an emergency call in that case.” She glanced at Hal. “And you, hon?”

  He hesitated. “My family was in an exposed apartment complex. They were fine last I spoke to them, but . . .”

  “But I'm sure you want to know for sure.” She turned away from the open cage. “Okay, let's head to the phones. Then after that you'll probably want to eat, even if it's between mealtimes.”

  Ellie bit back a longing groan at that. “Thank you, Cathy,” she said quietly, voice fervent with sincerity. “Thank you so much.”

  The woman shifted in obvious embarrassment. “We do what we can,” she mumbled.

  At one end of the cages, still in the fenced-in isolation area, were a few clusters of tents near a row of porta-potties where a dozen or so relief workers and guards in hazmat suits busily managed residents let out of their cages.

  Ellie and Hal gave the potentially infected people a wide berth, with Cathy picking them a route that would keep them well away as she guided them to one of the tents. She led the way in, tying back the entry flaps so they wouldn't accidentally brush them as they followed.

  Within the tent was a single phone, enclosed in a plastic box. “Don't touch anything in here,” the relief worker said, motioning for them to stand on a plastic tarp near the entrance, still beaded with droplets and reeking of bleach. As they complied she moved to the phone and hovered her hand over the number pad. “I'm afraid I can't offer you privacy under the circumstances. What's the number?”

  Ellie told her, and the woman briskly punched it in. But to her dismay, the phone's speaker immediately made the noise of a call going to voicemail, followed by the beginning of Nick's familiar, professional message.

  Cathy gestured, a silent question about whether she wanted to leave a message. Ellie nodded, and they all waited tensely for the beep. “Nick, this is Ellie,” she called across the distance. “I'm not sure what's going on with you, hope you're okay, but I'm just calling to let you know I'm in a quarantine camp outside of Colorado Springs. I had no choice but to stay, and they won't let me go until I've waited out the whole three weeks to make sure I'm not a Zolos carrier.”

  She took a deep breath. “I'll try to call you when I can, but I lost my phone so you won't be able to call me. I'm sorry I won't be able to come back to help you with the kids. Keep them safe, and let them know I love them.”

  The relief worker hung up. “Try again?”

  Ellie nodded and gave her the number again. It once again went immediately to voicemail. As Cathy hung up Ellie stood staring at the phone with dread churning in her gut, barely aware of the woman getting the number of Hal's family so he could m
ake his call.

  There could be any number of reasons why Nick's phone was off, even something as simple as that he'd forgotten to charge it. But that didn't stop her mind from immediately jumping to the worst possibilities.

  What if friends of the criminal her ex-husband had killed had come back? What if Nick had been infected by Zolos during that attack, and it had somehow managed to infect their children? What if the building had caught fire and forced them to flee into a disease-ridden city?

  What if what if what if.

  The call connected, and a woman's sharp voice answered. “Hello?”

  “Mom, it's me!” Hal called across the tent, voice thick with relief. “Are you all right?”

  “I'm fine,” she replied, not much warmth to her tone. “We made it to your apartment and we've been surviving, mostly.” She sniffed. “You didn't leave us much to work with, though.”

  Wow, her friend hadn't been lying about their relationship being strained. The young man flushed. “You know I empty the fridge and freezer before visiting Dad.”

  “So once again that useless waste of space makes things harder for me.” Hal visibly tensed, looking about to heatedly protest, but before he could his mom continued. “Well you'll need to find us more when you get back. Nonperishable stuff, too, because the power's out in the whole city.”

  “Wait, what?” Ellie burst in, not caring if she was interrupting. “The power's out?”

  There was a pregnant pause. “Who is that?”

  “My friend Ellie,” Hal said, shooting her an apologetic look. “We've been traveling together.”

  His mom made an incredulous sound. “So while your brothers and sister are starving, you took your sweet time getting back so you could shack up with some skank?”

  Ellie felt her cheeks catch fire, overcome by a surge of embarrassment and anger she hadn't felt so strongly since high school. By the phone Cathy shifted awkwardly.

  “Mom!” Hal said sharply, then hastily continued before she could get a word in edgewise. “I'm stuck in a quarantine camp for three weeks. I'll be back when I can. Don't go outside unless you absolutely have to.”