That was . . . good? Ellie would've preferred to hear that Zolos had never so much as touched this place, but she supposed that wasn't exactly realistic for a quarantine camp.
There were surprisingly few people out and about. She could only assume everyone was inside their tents, trying to minimize the risk of exposure to the virus. “Any time of day when people come out in force?” she asked Cathy.
The woman shrugged. “Lots of residents eat their meals at the entrance to their tents. You'll also see some socializing as people wait for their turn at the latrines. And if you volunteer for camp chores you'll be working with others. Then of course just about everyone comes out for the movie each night.”
That was about what she'd expected. Maybe now would be a good time to go around and introduce themselves to everyone, at least in their sector to begin with. That way they could gauge the mood of the camp and decide the best way to get started.
Cathy led them to the area in their sector that featured larger tents. “You guys are in luck, since with the way we planned out this sector it jumps from individual tents to accommodations for families of four. A little bit of breathing room if you want to stay indoors, which is a surprisingly popular choice these days.”
“That sounds great,” Ellie said. “Although if I did want to go for a walk, what's the policy?”
The relief worker shrugged. “Stick to the lanes, no closer than ten feet to anyone's tent. No closer than ten feet to anyone in camp, either. Avoid the entrance unless you need help, and stay away from the isolation cells or you might end up back there, as a precaution in case you caught something. Same goes for all the other utilitarian tents.”
She paused, tone becoming severe. “Also, steer well clear of the camp where me and the other relief workers and guards are staying . . . some of them are super skittish about working here. Going anywhere near where they spend their time outside their hazmat suits is a good way to get yourself shot with pepper spray, beanbags, or even tear gas.”
“So basically, stay away from everyone and everything,” Hal said wryly. “Kind of makes you wonder what's the point of leaving our tent.”
“Blame Zolos, not the people trying to keep everyone safe,” Cathy said, a touch defensively. When he just raised his hands with a disarming grin she calmed a bit. “Anyway, as you can guess the punishment for any infraction is pretty much the same . . . back into the isolation cells.”
That just reinforced Ellie's perception of the cells as jail. “Are there many people willing to risk that to cause trouble?”
“Some, maybe.” The other woman smiled thinly. “The risk of being exposed to Zolos is all the deterrent most residents need to keep to themselves.” She abruptly stopped at a tent, pulling a big floppy sticker from a pouch at her waist and carefully peeling off the back.
“Anyway, here's your home sweet home for the next two weeks and two days,” she continued in a chipper voice as she slapped the sticker on the side of the tent facing the front of the camp. It said “OCCUPIED 2” on it. As she was admiring her handiwork, she paused as if remembering something and turned back to them with a look of chagrin. “I probably should've asked sooner, but you're still fine with sharing an enclosure, right?”
Ellie draped an arm around Hal's waist. She could trust them both to behave themselves, and she couldn't imagine enduring the remainder of her stay at this camp by herself. “Absolutely.”
“All right, then.” The relief worker stepped away, voice turning brisk. “Anyway, I'll leave you to settle in. Meals will come by three times a day as long as that sticker is visible, the latrines for Sector F are clearly marked at the center of the sector, and laundry can be dropped off every Saturday near the latrines. Any questions before I go?”
Hal glanced at Ellie, but she just shrugged. “Can't think of any at the moment,” he said.
“Okay, well if you do have questions or concerns, head on over to the entrance to the camp. We've got a booth set up there. Ditto if you want to volunteer for camp chores. And if there's an emergency there's a guard booth near the latrines, or you can scream for help until someone comes running.”
“Thanks for everything, Cathy,” Ellie said.
“Of course, hon,” the motherly woman said warmly. “I'll come by in a few days to make sure you're doing okay. Until then be safe, okay?”
They both waved as the relief worker started off, then turned together to face their new tent. “Home sweet home, huh?” Hal mused. “Beats the isolation cell.” He unzipped the door flap and peered inside, coughing slightly. “Phew, still has that new tent smell.”
Ellie leaned in and sniffed, nose wrinkling. The interior of the tent had a strong residual odor of cleaning chemicals, courtesy of the precautionary decontamination it must've undergone after being set up. “Guess airing out the new place is a pretty common first step,” she joked, pulling the tent flap open wide and tying it. Then she hesitated. “You know, it's almost time for them to start passing out dinners. Like Cathy said, people often poke their heads outside to eat, so while we're waiting for our tent to air out maybe we could go around and introduce ourselves.”
He gave her a surprised look. “To our neighbors?” At her expression he blinked. “Our sector?”
“Everyone, if I can,” she replied. “You don't need to tag along.”
Her boyfriend chuckled. “Hey, I like meeting new people. And it's not like I want to spend the next few hours breathing in those fumes. Just wondering if there's some goal behind it.”
“Well for one thing we're going to be around these people for weeks. It would be nice to get along with them.” Ellie motioned. “Also, we're going to be around these people for weeks. If there's potential trouble brewing I'd like to know about it, see if I can head it off.”
“How, exactly?” he asked wryly.
She grinned back. “Workplace cohesion.”
Hal snorted as if he thought she was joking, then winced when he saw her trying not to glare. “Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to laugh at your expertise, I just don't see the connection.”
“Well, I haven't talked your ear off about the sort of work I do, but a lot of it involves keeping people calm, happy, and working towards something productive.” Ellie waved around at the camp. “Which this camp could use, right? I have skills that can help these people, and when the alternative is just sitting around twiddling my thumbs, why wouldn't I use them? Especially when by helping them I help us, too.”
“How?” he asked, not doubtfully but definitely confused. “Helping them increases our chances of being exposed to a Zolos carrier.”
She stared out at the widely spaced rows of mostly one-man tents. “If I can keep everyone focused on a goal, or even just fill their days with purposeful activities, they'll be less likely to get bored or panic. Bored people cause mischief, and panicking people riot. And once either group gets going, the behavior tends to spread.”
“Panicking people don't think clearly,” he shot back stubbornly. “You try to rescue a panicking swimmer, they'll drag you down with them and you'll both drown. Even if we try to help these people, fear might cause them to do something unsafe. We could end up infected and die in this place before we can ever get out to return to our families.”
That was a compelling argument, but only because it was an emotional one; Ellie desperately wanted to get home to her children. But the best way to do that was to make sure this camp held together for sixteen days, until they could get out and go home.
“That's why lifeguards train to deal with panicking swimmers,” she said gently, taking his hand and squeezing it. “You know what to do when a panicking person has hold of you in the water?”
“Punch them?” her boyfriend replied in a wry tone.
“As a last resort,” she agreed. “They'll try to climb on top of you, pushing you down until you're in danger of drowning yourself. But if you grab them under the armpits and lift them up, even if it means going under yourself, they'll let you go. That gives you
a chance to push away and get clear so you can try to approach again from behind.”
He stared at her, frowning thoughtfully. “So the best way to help someone who's going to drag you down is to lift them up? That's pretty poetic.”
Ellie made a face. “Although the reason drowning people let go when you do that is because on an instinctual level they either feel you sinking and let go before you drag them down with you, or they feel themselves no longer in danger of going under and calm down long enough for you to get away before you drown yourself.”
Hal blinked, then snorted. “That does kind of ruin the spirit of the analogy.”
“Not necessarily.” She turned to look at him, solemn. “We need to lift this camp up long enough for it to let us go. If I can help these people survive through this disaster long-term, great, but isn't getting out ourselves a good enough reason to do what we can?”
He took her other hand and squeezed them both, staring down at her intently. “And if we have to punch this place as a last resort?”
Ellie gave him a crooked smile. “If we're going all over the camp talking to people and seeing how we can help out, that'll also give us a chance to scout out and plan possible escapes for if things hit the fan.”
Her boyfriend laughed and pulled her to him. “Have I told you lately how amazing you are?” he asked, kissing her warmly.
“Pretty sure that's one of those things I'll never get tired of hearing,” she murmured before sinking back into the kiss, letting it go for a bit longer before reluctantly stepping back. Hal made a disappointed noise, and she couldn't help but grin as she gave his rump a playful swat. “Much as I'd like to spend all day standing around making out in the middle of a quarantine camp, how about we stow our stuff and get going?”
✽✽✽
Since they didn't have phones or watches, and the speakers atop poles scattered around the camp only gave signals on the hour to mark the time, it was hard to tell exactly how long it was until five o'clock when the camp workers would begin passing around the meals. Ellie guessed it was still somewhere between a half hour to an hour, though.
That meant only a few people were out at the moment, so they decided to spend the time until dinner walking along the lanes in the camp, making sure they could get around without getting too close to anything that would get them in trouble. They also surreptitiously explored the perimeter, trying to find a good spot where they could get out if a disaster struck the camp.
On the way Ellie paused to greet the few people out and about. To her surprise, in spite of the general fear about Zolos people seemed only too happy, even eager, to stop for a chat. She could only suppose boredom and isolation were taking their toll.
“So you're finally moving from the little prison to the big prison, huh?” asked a young woman named Tricia, who was laying out on a blanket in front of her tent reading a book. Her light tone couldn't completely mask her bitterness. “I saw you heading from there. Does it feel nice to breathe the fake freedom of this wide open space, where we're barred from going pretty much anywhere?”
“I don't know,” Ellie replied gently. “It feels great after our cell.”
Tricia scowled, looking towards the smaller camp for the relief workers and law enforcement. “Give it a week and you'll be feeling more like this is a prison too.”
“Maybe so, although it's always good to look on the bright side of things, ” Hal said. “Besides, given what's at stake we understand the necessity.”
“We,” the young woman repeated. “Guess that makes all the difference, huh?” She hugged herself, even though the late afternoon sun was fairly warm. “I had to wait out my five days alone in a cell, with no one in the nearby ones. I could talk to more distant people by raising my voice, but it was such a hassle most people eventually stopped trying. And ever since then I've been in this tent barely even seeing my neighbors. We talk a bit while eating, but that's it.”
Ellie's heart went out to the poor girl. This was exactly why she wanted to get involved in the camp, to give good people something to focus on besides misery and negativity. “Well we'll be by here pretty often, so you'll have at least two people to talk to.”
Tricia shrugged and held up her book. “Beats reading this for the third time, I guess.”
Ouch. She tried not to take offense at that, reminding herself that the girl was in a hard situation and was barely out of her teens. No doubt plenty of people would be struggling with a bad attitude in this place, something she could hopefully help with.
Still, they didn't stick around chatting for much longer after that. Ellie promised Tricia they'd be back to check in on her, then they moved on in their exploration of the camp.
“You might be onto something, wanting to do something to help here,” Hal murmured. “From what I've seen so far, this place could use a lift in spirits.”
“The sooner the better,” Ellie agreed, glancing back at the young woman they'd just left. She started to look forward again, then froze as her eyes locked on a familiar face emerging from the tent they'd just passed.
Two familiar faces, actually, a couple in their early twenties who were cautiously venturing outside. Their eyes were on a camp volunteer coming up the lane ahead, leaving food a safe distance away from the entrance to every tent.
The man in the lead was tall, but looked shorter due to the gut pushing out the front of his camp coveralls, with light brown hair already beginning to recede in spite of his age. It was hard to tell the height of the woman creeping out behind him, not only because she was huddled nervously behind her husband but because her shoulders were perpetually hunched. As if cringing away from the blow she expected the world to deal her at any moment. She had dark brown hair, worn long in a tight braid that pinched already narrow features.
Hannah Nowak spotted Ellie and Hal a moment later and went deathly pale. She sharply nudged her husband, and Brock's eyes widened when he recognized them. He grabbed his wife's arm and hastily turned them both away, the couple trying their best to be inconspicuous.
Ellie stared at their backs in shock. How in the world had they ended up here? They should've long since been back in Missouri with their stolen car.
But whatever they were doing here, what was important was that they were. And unfortunately for them, however hard they might've tried to be inconspicuous they weren't invisible; Hal had stopped as well to see what had so surprised her, and when he followed her gaze he spotted the couple too.
“Son of a-” he snarled.
“Hal . . .” Ellie began.
“Don't mind me,” her boyfriend growled, starting forward with barely suppressed rage written across his features, “just going to drag this thieving POS to the police to get the justice he deserves.”
Brock stepped in front of Hannah protectively, raising his fists. Although he looked like he wanted to bolt in terror. “That's far enough, Westmont. We have no idea where you've been or what you're carrying.”
Hal briefly paused, but only to laugh incredulously. “You know exactly where we've been, because you left us there!”
Ellie looked around, noticing that the volunteer worker and the few people out and about, including Tricia, were all staring their way. Brock also looked around, seeming emboldened by the public setting. “We're sorry for leaving you, Westmont. But we did what we had to in order to protect ourselves, before Ellie's carelessness got us killed.”
“Before she got you killed?” Hal snarled, fury exploding free of his attempts to restrain it. He lunged forward, center of gravity low, and hit the man in a flying tackle.
The volunteer worker shouted in alarm as both men went down hard, Ellie's boyfriend on top and wrestling to pin Brock as the man struggled wildly to get away.
“You left us for dead!” Hal screamed in his opponent's face, easily dodging a feeble punch. “You have no idea what we went through, what she went through, because of you!”
Hannah cried out in distress and started forward to help her husband,
grabbing at Hal's shoulders and raining blows down on his back. Then she suddenly whirled, reached into her tent, and snatched up a solid metal stool, hauling back to swing it down at Hal.
No way. Ellie might not have approved of her boyfriend going after Brock when it would've been better to let the police handle it, but she wasn't about to let this hateful woman smash him over the head with a potentially deadly weapon. She darted forward, giving Hannah a full-armed slap to the face the moment she was close enough.
She was a bit ashamed to admit how satisfying that felt.
The other woman reeled away, stool flying out of her hands, then fell flat on her backside. After that she just sat staring up at Ellie in dazed surprise, looking as if she had no further interest in trying to whack anyone with a stool.
Ellie turned away from her, intending to grab Hal and pull him off Brock. But before she could take a single step a loud, authoritative shout from behind her made her whirl around, eyes widening in alarm when she spotted half a dozen law enforcement officers in hazmat suits hurrying down the lane towards them, led by the camp volunteer who'd been delivering meals.
The guards were carrying what looked like shotguns, which oddly enough had some sort of colored paint or tape on the barrel and stock. She didn't know what that signified, but the officers with their weapons looked like they meant serious business.
“Hal!” she called in warning. She wasted no time raising her hands and backing away from Hannah, who still sat on the trampled grass wearing a stunned expression.
At some point her boyfriend had managed to pin Brock, but when he heard her shout he looked up, eyes also widening when he spotted the approaching guards. He hastily scrambled off the heavyset man and stepped away, raising his hands as well.
But if he was done, Brock wasn't. The man scrambled to his hands and knees with a snarl, either not aware of the approaching officers screaming for them to break it up or too furious to care. He launched himself at Hal, who hastily sidestepped to avoid the awkward tackle.
Isolation (Book 2): Going Out Page 4
