Isolation (Book 2): Going Out

by Jones, Nathan

  She couldn't disagree with her boyfriend. All that work getting ready, and probably a bunch of work afterwards if using the latrines was any indication, and she got five minutes of lukewarm water?

  Be grateful for the small things, she told herself as she reached for the handle.

  Lukewarm was closer to barely tolerable, and Ellie erred on the side of caution when it came to her initial soak so she'd have enough time rinsing off. Since this was her first shower in what felt like ages she made liberal use of the shampoo, before realizing that if she was allowed to keep the bottle it might be nice to have for the trip home once leaving the camp. Same as Hal was encouraging them to save any nonperishable food they got with their meals, in case they needed it later.

  Oh well, she'd be more frugal next time.

  Rinsing was a frantic procedure, since she was afraid the water would shut off with only half the soap washed away. But on the plus side, once she was finally done she was able to relax and just enjoy the stream of water, which felt much more pleasant now that she was used to it. She even groaned in disappointment when the water cut off.

  Feeling properly human again, she stepped out of the stall, shivering at the slightly chilly air. “Any towels?” she called to Cathy.

  “Want to dry off with one after it's been through two bleach baths?” the other woman called back wryly. “I'm afraid you'll have to make do with drip drying. That'll give you time to decontaminate the stall.”

  Of course. Ellie grudgingly worked to be just as thorough preparing the stall for the next person as she'd been for her own shower, reminding herself of her musings while using the latrine for the first time, about how rushing the process could be dangerous for another innocent person.

  Once she was done she was finally allowed to dress in her new clothes. She discovered that her new bra and panties were plain and utilitarian but at least comfortable, which was more than she could say for the thin but somehow still stiff and scratchy coveralls.

  Still, they were clean; that made a world of difference.

  Stepping out from behind the privacy screen she was a bit startled to see a line of people, made far longer by the fact that everyone was keeping a cautious distance, in front of the stalls waiting for their turn. She'd been able to forget for a moment that she was in a camp with thousands of potentially sick people, but that made for a jarring reminder.

  Cathy directed her to one side to wait for Hal, since they needed a relief worker to escort them back to their cell and the camp's staff was already being run ragged from the looks of things; she felt a bit bad thinking about how the day had just begun and these poor people were already dealing with this kind of stress.

  A few minutes later her boyfriend finally emerged, hair still damp and looking refreshed and cheerful. Apparently his shower hadn't come with an opportunity to shave since the blond stubble still remained, but honestly she kind of liked the look.

  Suitable to facing the potential end of the world.

  Ellie felt her face heat a bit when her boyfriend whistled at the sight of her. “Looking good!” he called as he made his way over to join her, tugging at his coveralls where they were tight across his chest.

  “You clean up pretty nicely yourself,” she said, reaching out to take his hand. He did one better and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

  They had to wait a few minutes until Cathy was free to take them back to their cell. Ellie spent the time doing her best to comb the tangles out of her hair with her fingers; she really wished she had a brush, or even a comb.

  The relief worker finally showed up to take them back down the row of cells to theirs. “Have a great day, guys,” she said as she locked them inside. “Let me know if you need anything.” Then she was gone.

  That left Ellie still standing staring out the front of their cell, some of her good mood evaporating at the blatant reminder of her confinement. Especially since they still had a good hour or two of waiting until breakfast was brought around to them.

  Isolation cells got their meals last, since obviously feeding them first would increase the risk of spreading infection to the rest of the camp, even with careful decontamination procedures. Although it was a pragmatic precaution that she approved of, she still couldn't help but feel a bit like she was at the bottom of the totem pole, irrational as that was.

  Hal wrapped his arms around her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder to stare out at the camp with her. “What's up?” he asked quietly.

  Ellie shook herself out of her funk. She didn't want to depress him with it, especially since it was hard to be gloomy when being held by him felt so nice. “You know,” she said wistfully, leaning back against his chest, “glorious as that shower was, I can think of a real disadvantage.”

  “Oh yeah?” he murmured, nuzzling her neck in a way that felt absolutely heavenly. “What's that?”

  She laughed wryly. “This, actually,” she said, although she didn't pull away. “We could barely keep our hands off each other when we weren't squeaky clean.”

  “You have a point,” her boyfriend replied. She fought a disappointed groan when he pulled away, plopping down on his cot and staring down at the ground morosely. “This is going to be harder than I thought.” He jumped, then hastily looked up and gave her a sheepish smile. “Not that it isn't worth it to do this properly. I'll just have to try harder to stay well on the other side of the boundaries we set.”

  “There's plenty of fun we can have on this side of the boundary,” Ellie protested, heart sinking in disappointment. Normally if a guy pulled away from her like that she'd be ticked at him, but how could she be when it was her own stupid fault?

  Hal grinned wryly. “I agree.” He flopped down on his stomach across his cot, propping his chin on his crossed arms. “So let's hear a funny story about your life, and then I'll tell you one about mine.”

  Ellie groaned and lay back on her own cot, staring up at the cloudless sky through the clear plastic ceiling of their cell. “I'm going to go crazy,” she grumbled.

  “Hey, we have all the time in the world to get to the really fun stuff,” he said, amused. “For now, while we're here together with a motivation to do something besides tear each other's clothes off, let's make the most of it and really get to know each other.”

  Darn it, why did he have to be so amazing?

  Although Ellie had to admit that if her biggest complaint at the moment, after reconciling with the fact that she was trapped in here unable to get to her kids, was that she was afraid she was having too much fun with her new boyfriend, well . . .

  Yeah, things were definitely looking up in some ways.

  ✽✽✽

  Nick had always thought hope was kind of overrated.

  It was only needed in situations with unlikely good outcomes. And sure, it kept you going, doing what you needed to do, when otherwise you might not. But the thing about unlikely good outcomes was that they were unlikely, which left a lot of opportunities to experience the crushing despair of hope not panning out.

  No, plodding stubbornness was more his style. It produced the same results as hope, but there was no sense of devastation when things inevitably didn't turn out well.

  Win-win.

  Unless of course you counted a person's general state of happiness and contentment. But that had been mostly out the window when his financial troubles really started, and went the rest of the way after the divorce. Then there was this entire pandemic of apocalyptic proportions thing, trying to keep his children alive while at the same time being unable to hold and comfort them.

  So yeah, the happiness and contentment ship had pretty much sailed for the foreseeable future.

  Of course, that was all just BS. Stubbornness was great when it came to Nick's own circumstances and things that affected him, but where his kids were concerned he had to have hope. They were, in most ways, the only source of hope left in his life.

  However things turned out for him, he had to hope that he'd get them safel
y through this. That when Ellie came back she'd find their children healthy and happy and ready for the world to get back to normal, so they could go on to the bright futures waiting for them.

  And darn it, forget hope because that was going to happen! It wasn't an unlikely good outcome he was hoping for, it was exactly how things were going to work out. Nick wouldn't accept anything less, he'd make it happen no matter what.

  Even if his own life was a series of spectacular failures, he wouldn't fail his kids.

  Good pep talk, Nick, he thought wryly as he finished sterilizing himself. With a last check to make sure he hadn't missed anything, he ducked out of his room and closed it behind him, then went to wake Ricky and Tallie and feed them the breakfast he'd cooked last night.

  Sleeping in his own bed had been an unexpected luxury, the best sleep he'd had since, well . . . before all the financial troubles started, actually. So basically in years.

  He wouldn't have thought he'd be able to sleep at all, considering all his fears about Zolos and providing for his kids with the power and water and gas all off, and their food and water supplies dwindling. But he supposed sheer exhaustion made a pretty good soporific.

  Go figure.

  “Time to get up, kids!” he called down the hallway. “Use the potty if you need to, then wipe down the toilet seat with the wet wipes I left by the sink. I'll leave your breakfast by your doors.”

  He heard a thump from Ricky's room, then the door popped open and his son poked his head out. “Good morning, Dad!” he said brightly.

  Nick chuckled. “Morning, kiddo. You want to make sure Tallie knows how to wipe down the seat? But be sure to stay away from her for the next few days.”

  Ricky made a face. “We're still doing that?”

  “As best we can. When it's a matter of life and death we can't be too careful.”

  His son started for the bathroom, grumbling under his breath. “I take back the “good” part!”

  Nick shook his head and went to check on the rice he'd cooked late last night. Not all that long ago, actually. In spite of that it was looking sadly dry and clumpy, but he hoped kids who happily ate plain rice without even wanting salt or butter for it wouldn't complain too much.

  He put on a pair of rubber cleaning gloves he found under the sink, then served out generous portions for Ricky and Tallie and the rest for himself. Noting as he did that their paper plates were almost gone.

  Just one more thing to worry about.

  He plopped the plates down beside his children's doors and backed away, peeling off the gloves inside-out as he called down the hallway. “Eat up! Once I'm done with my own breakfast I'll be taking stock of our situation.”

  “What does that mean, Daddy?” Tallie called through the closed bathroom door.

  “It means I want to see how much food and water and stuff we have,” he called back. “Be sure to wipe down the seat like I told you, then wash your hands.”

  “'Okay!”

  Now that it was light enough Nick could finally see clearly, he was eager to see how his kids had left their food and water supplies. Or, for that matter, how well they'd filled as many containers as possible before the water pressure ran out.

  As it turned out, the answer to that was not as well as he would've liked. Nick supposed he couldn't blame an eight-year-old and a five-year-old for having trouble dealing with large containers full of water, which was why he'd instructed them to use smaller containers to fill the bigger ones.

  But he'd been optimistic in hoping that two young children would spend the majority of a task like that working rather than playing.

  The big storage bins in his room that he'd used for moving hadn't all been filled, as he'd repeatedly stressed to his son. Instead, only the top one in each of two stacks had been. And the empty pitchers Ricky and Tallie had obviously used to fill the containers had then been discarded, rather than being filled themselves.

  The same was true for the kitchen and other rooms. A lot of watertight objects that would've been suitable, if not ideal, for holding water had been completely overlooked by two kids working in the dark with flashlights who hadn't known what to look for, hadn't seen the importance of trying harder, and had just wanted to get the job done quickly.

  On top of that, and again against Nick's express directions, they'd filled containers that weren't suitable for water! The worst examples being an empty bleach bottle from under the sink, and an empty detergent bottle from the laundry room. The water in those containers would almost certainly be toxic, not fit for anything but flushing the toilet.

  And they already had plenty for that purpose in the tub, thanks to Tallie's midnight bath the night before last. Which could double for washing hands, dishes, and if necessary even clothes in a pinch, he supposed.

  At his best estimate, the drinkable water they had could last them two weeks if they were very careful. They'd want to drink from the open containers first, since that water might attract insects and vermin, which would then render it undrinkable. It might even grow algae or mold, which would also make it undrinkable and might present a health hazard.

  As for their situation after two weeks? Nick was afraid he'd probably be forced to venture out to draw water from the Missouri River, or preferably some cleaner source, and find a way to purify it without exposing himself or his kids to Zolos.

  That line of thinking made him think of his hug with Tallie after he'd come out of self-imposed quarantine, and how if by some miracle he was immune or highly resistant to Zolos he might've infected her at that time. It was why he'd insisted the kids stay away from not just him but from each other, as well as avoiding areas where other people had been.

  Especially Ricky; if Nick was a carrier, and he'd foolishly infected Tallie, then his son might still be free of infection. They had to do whatever they could to make sure it stayed that way.

  For seventeen days, until he could be sure none of them could be carrying the virus any longer. Two and a half weeks of making sure Ricky didn't touch either of them or anything they'd touched, and somehow didn't get infected by airborne Zolos.

  How the heck was Nick supposed to do that?

  The rational answer was that he couldn't. All he could really do was pray he hadn't been exposed to the dreaded disease by the thug who'd broken into his home. A reasonable hope, since he hadn't gotten sick himself during the four days when he should've showed symptoms. But he wasn't taking any chances.

  “Hey Daddy,” Tallie said, popping into view around the corner and edging into the kitchen. She was trying to hide one of her irrepressible smiles. “Why did the banana split?”

  “Hey honey,” he said absently, frowning at the dismal state of the water containers arranged haphazardly around the sink. “I don't know, why?”

  She giggled. “Because it saw the root beer float!”

  Nick laughed in spite of himself and turned, intending to sweep his daughter up in his arms. At the last minute he remembered the danger and, with a pang, struggled to keep his smile as he blew her a kiss instead. “That's a great joke. Did you make it up?”

  “Nope.” She shuffled sleepily over to plop down on a seat at the table, bed-tussled dark brown hair fanning across it as she dropped her head onto her crossed arms with a wide yawn. “Del's older sister Miri told it to me.” She looked at him, big greenish-brown eyes shining hopefully. “Can I have a playdate with them soon?”

  He felt another pang, wondering if her friends were even still alive out there. “As soon as we can, sweetie girl,” he said, giving her the best smile he could manage. It was probably a little sickly.

  In spite of those grim thoughts, and his earlier self-pitying musing about hope, it was impossible not to cheer up around Tallie. Being able to see his daughter, to talk to her face to face, after days of being trapped alone in his office was wonderful.

  His mood improved even more when Ricky came in, still chewing on a last mouthful of rice as he moved into his own corner of the kitchen. “What are
we going to do today, Dad?” his son asked. “Now that there's three of us we can play games.” He made a face. “Although we'll have to wipe down every piece after we touch it.”

  “Or wear gloves,” Nick replied. “And, um, sit far away when it's not our turn. Or better yet I'll just handle all the pieces while you guys tell me what to do on your turns.” He straightened, brushing off his hands purposefully. “First things first, though, did you guys both finish your rice?” They nodded in unison. “Okay then. We've got a lot of work to do today. We need to figure out a routine that'll work for all of us now that the power's out, and also establish some very important rules about being safe from Zolos in case it's in the apartment and I have it.”

  He looked around with a grimace. “Also, the place is a bit of a mess after leaving you guys to fend for yourselves for four days. Just because we're living through an apocalypse doesn't mean we have to live like we are.”

  Tallie wrinkled her nose. “That didn't make sense, Daddy.”

  “Sure it did. It means Chore Day.”

  His kids both groaned. Chore Day had been a long-standing tradition before the divorce, reserved for when Ellie was due back from a business trip and they needed to get the house presentable. He'd kept it up since moving to his apartment, usually at the end of visits before Ricky and Tallie headed back to their mom's house.

  Although, he was embarrassed to admit, sometimes when they first arrived. Mostly putting away things from the move, sure, but in his post-divorce lethargy he hadn't always been on top of keeping his dinky new apartment shipshape.

  Today's Chore Day was one of the most intensive ever, no surprise. On top of general cleaning up, after a thorough briefing on Zolos safety that included every precaution Nick could think of, he got the kids' help taking stock of their supplies. Which included gathering everything in the apartment that could possibly be burned in order to cook food.

  That was a depressingly short list, even adding the furniture and things like spare cardboard boxes and bins of old documents and folders that he'd probably never use again. Which meant he might have to risk Zolos by going outside and scrounging for more things to burn.