Way back at the beginning of this nightmare of finding out Tallie was sick, when he'd ordered Ricky to go to his room to avoid exposure to Zolos, he vaguely remembered also ordering his son to bring as much food and water as he could in there with him.
The eight-year-old had taken that literally. As well as taking pretty much all their remaining full water containers and all the food but the rice, dried beans, and flour.
That wasn't going to work. Ricky could survive for weeks on that stuff, but without it Nick would have to venture out to find a source of water at least, and probably firewood as well so he could cook the remaining food.
All that would take time. Time he didn't have when his daughter needed him to care for her. But what was the alternative? Ask his son to push some of the food and water back out into the hall, increasing his chances of exposure to Zolos?
Well, one thing at a time.
He grabbed one of the few remaining full water bottles and popped a tablet into it, shaking it as it dissolved in effervescence. Then he swung by the bathroom to fill a bucket with water from the tub for washing and grab a bar of soap, and continued on to his bedroom.
Tallie stirred with a grumble of complaint when he gently lifted her to a sitting position, propping her up with a few pillows, but when he brought the bottle to her lips she gratefully drank a sip. Then she immediately wrinkled her nose. “This soda tastes yucky.”
“It's not really soda,” he told her. “But it'll help you get better.”
With that encouragement his daughter took several more long sips before stubbornly turning her head away and pressing her lips tight. Nick decided that was good enough for now and got to work cleaning her up, stuffing her bloody clothes in a bag he intended to burn when he had the chance. He also got a clean blanket, crumpling the one she'd been using in the corner to also burn.
Although considering how aggressively Zolos spread, it was probably a pointless gesture.
It horrified him to see her bleeding from everywhere, and he had to remind himself of Melody's reassurance that the bleeding wouldn't be a serious threat to his little girl. Even so, he wasted no time cleaning away the blood with a cloth and soapy water, then applying clean pads torn from some of his spare clothes.
Everywhere but her nose and mouth so her breathing wouldn't be restricted, and her eyes so she could see. Nick would need to wipe her face clean regularly, but he fully intended to care for his daughter tirelessly until she started to get better, even if he had to stay awake for three days straight.
Tallie, exhausted and weak, mostly dozed as he cleaned her up and dressed her again in warm winter pajamas. As soon as he was done she rolled over and cuddled into her clean new blanket, falling into deeper sleep.
It was probably safe to leave her to rest for a little bit, so he made his way out into the hall and padded closer to Ricky's room. Although not too close. He was going to call quietly and ask if his son was awake, but then he heard soft sniffles coming from the other side of the door. “You feeling okay, son?” he called quietly.
The sniffles stopped. “Yeah, I think so.” Ricky's voice abruptly shifted to panic. “Why, do you think I might have it too?”
“We're going to assume you don't, although I want you to pay close attention for the next few days checking for symptoms. And we also need to be extra careful about quarantine for the next few weeks. Is your window open?”
“No, I'll open it.” There were a few moments of silence, followed by the sound of a window sliding open. Then his son was back at the door. “I hate Zolos, Dad.”
Nick leaned his head against the wall. “Yeah, so do I.” He sighed. “If you haven't already, I need you to stuff dirty clothes or something against the bottom of your door. Then let's talk about how you're going to go to the bathroom without actually going to the bathroom, and eat your food without fire or whether I can talk you through starting one.”
That was a long conversation, because he wanted to make sure Ricky not only understood the danger, but also exactly what he needed to do to keep himself safe from it. Nick also stressed that his son should come to him with any questions, especially before he tried something he didn't know how to do.
At some point the eight-year-old stopped responding, probably because he'd finally fallen asleep. Nick decided they could cover the rest in the morning and backed away.
With Ricky hopefully now quarantined away, and if the universe had even a speck of mercy in it somehow not exposed to Zolos yet, and Tallie tended to and resting as peacefully as possible under the circumstances, there was another consideration.
He made his way into his office, grabbed a couple sheets of paper from the printer, and searched around in his desk drawers until he found a marker and some tape. Then, hand shaking with pent up bitterness as he worked, he carefully wrote identical messages in large capital letters on both sheets.
One, he slapped on the outside of the makeshift cover he'd made for the broken window leading out onto the fire escape. The other he carried to the front door, opening it just long enough to tape to the outside. Then he lifted the flashlight to make sure the message was clearly visible:
WARNING!
THIS RESIDENCE IS
INFECTED WITH THE
ZOLOS VIRUS!
While the warning was obviously meant as a courtesy to prevent anyone from accidentally exposing themselves to infection, Nick had to admit that the bigger part of his motivation was preventing any more thugs from breaking into his apartment and threatening his family. He just hoped potential robbers weren't stupid enough to think the warning was just a deterrent to keep them away, and came in anyway.
If they did they'd have plenty of time to take whatever they wanted, and hurt him and his kids if they were so inclined, before ever getting sick. Days to continue robbing other houses and infecting other families before they showed any symptoms.
Like the thug who'd spread the virus to him and ultimately to Tallie.
More importantly, now that he had no way of contacting Ellie he needed to keep her away for her safety as well; for the first time since she'd left them that message about being in the quarantine camp, he thought it might be a good thing that she'd been kept away. She'd probably be better off staying far from this apartment and the danger it represented.
On the other hand, if she actually made it home soon then there might be some way she could get Ricky out of here before he got exposed to Zolos. She could take him to her house, care for him there. That would be a huge help in so many ways.
But it was also a pipe dream. The camp wasn't about to let her go before making sure she was safe, and even once she got free she was still a couple states away with no transportation.
Nick grit his teeth and shut and locked the door again. Then he went to get another fire lit on the fire escape so he could begin boiling the water in the bathtub to purify it. They had plenty of empty containers, and at the moment having enough water to last until Tallie was strong enough that he could leave her to find more was the biggest concern.
Hopefully Ellie would be able to find her way back here eventually, but he couldn't count on it happening soon enough to help in this current crisis.
✽✽✽
“I'm sorry,” Cathy said. She sounded like she genuinely meant it, even with her voice distorted by the intercom speaker that allowed her to speak to Ellie and Hal through the thick glass that separated them from her.
At the moment she was safely sealed inside the help station at the entrance to the camp, for once out of her hazmat suit. That allowed them to see that it wasn't just the padding of the suit that had given the woman such a plump, motherly look.
Which she used to full effect as she gently delivered her bad news. “Personally I'm inclined to take your side when it comes to your claim of a stolen vehicle, given the details you've provided and, if I'm being honest, just my general impression of you. But I've spoken to the policemen stationed here, and they're telling me it's not enough. Possession is
nine-tenths of the law at the best of times, and this is far from that.”
Ellie ground her teeth in frustration. She and Hal had spent the entire morning going from camp guards to relief workers, trying to get back the car Hannah and Brock had stolen from her. It was parked out on I-25 with the other vehicles left there by travelers ordered into the quarantine camp, just waiting to be claimed and provide them the means to get home once they were finally allowed to leave this place.
“But my name's on the title in the glove compartment!” she said, struggling to keep her tone reasonable. “Did you tell them that?”
“Ellie Feldman's name is on the title,” the relief worker said gently. “But without any ID we just can't verify that's you.”
Ellie swallowed down her bitterness. So not only had those robbers in Watkins kidnapped and sexually assaulted her, but just as an offhand gesture while searching her they'd also deprived her of her identity? “I've got all my information, though. I even have my driver's license number memorized, if that'll help. Can't you look me up in a database, even find my picture and confirm my identity?”
Cathy shook her head wearily. “The internet's a skeleton of itself at this point . . . even most of the government servers are down, aside from those directly connected to the relief efforts, or those needed for vital operations on a state or federal level. And those are being kept running by pure desperation more than anything. On top of that, at this location we barely get a good enough signal to connect to the network set up for use by quarantine camps nationwide.”
“So right now we're not officially us?” Hal asked dully. “And two car thieves who left us to die in the middle of a desert just get to get away with it?”
“For the moment, I'm afraid so. The policemen assured me they'll keep looking into it, but to be honest we're struggling just to survive here, so even something like grand theft is fairly low priority.” The motherly woman settled back in her chair, looking tired. “Was there anything else you needed help with, guys?”
Ellie hesitated, struggling to switch mental gears in spite of this frustrating setback. “Actually, there was. I had an idea I wanted to run by you, something I'd like to volunteer for.”
At her side her boyfriend tensed slightly, giving her a look as if silently asking if this was the best time for this. She took his hand and squeezed it, and after a moment he squeezed back supportively and turned back to the relief worker.
Cathy looked between them. “Somehow I get the feeling you're not talking about digging latrines or delivering meals, huh?”
“No, although I firmly believe that it could be nearly as important.” Ellie took a moment to compose herself, get into presentation mode. “Before the world went crazy, I worked as a workplace cohesion consultant. My job included optimizing efficiency in the workspace, improving employee morale, and conflict resolution.”
Behind the glass the woman's face became carefully neutral; she could almost see the relief worker trying not to roll her eyes as she started to dismiss Ellie as some corporate management type who just wanted to throw her weight around.
Well, not the best way to start out. But it wouldn't be the first time she'd needed to prove herself to a doubtful audience. She continued confidently. “There are a number of ways I can transfer my knowledge and skills from a business setting to this quarantine camp. First and foremost, from my observations of the residents and my discussions with them, I've seen a great deal of potential for improving morale.”
“Morale,” Cathy repeated flatly. “This is a quarantine camp, not the Armed Forces.”
“Having good morale is incredibly important whenever a group of people is concerned, not just in the military. Not only will improving it here benefit the residents' quality of life, but it will also foster peace and cooperation in camp. Considering the bleak world we've all suddenly found themselves in with the appearance of Zolos, that should be a priority.”
“Maybe.” The relief worker rested her elbows on the narrow shelf in front of her, dropping her chin onto her clasped fingers. “How would you go about improving morale in camp?”
“Well, first and foremost people need things to occupy their time. Sitting around bored will make people miserable and surly, not to mention inviting mischief. At the very least I'd like to organize exercise programs, maybe three times a day of an hour each, and ideally one for every sector in camp if I can find other volunteers to lead them.”
Cathy pursed her lips. “Bear in mind that everyone needs to stay ten feet away from each other, so you'll have to find exercises that account for that limitation. Preferably ones that don't involve a lot of moving around, which seem like they would be hard to find.”
Ellie shook her head with a smile. “Not at all. There are plenty of exercises that are well suited for that. For instance, I've been doing yoga regularly for over a decade now and could probably lead classes.”
“And I could run a group through the usual standing in place exercise routines,” Hal added. “Pushups, sit ups, burpees, jumping jacks, high knees, that sort of thing.”
“Along with improving health, regular exercise will greatly improve people's morale and sense of contentment,” Ellie said, building on her boyfriend's enthusiasm. “And we could do things like organize classes for the children, encourage group gatherings and discussions, and even try to think up games that people can play without coming into contact with each other or any items others have touched.”
“Boredom has been the number one complaint from camp residents,” the relief worker mused. “To the point where if we had the power for it and the screen could be lit brightly enough to be visible in daylight, we'd be running movies all day.”
“Keeping people entertained isn't as hard as you might think,” Ellie said. “Mostly it just takes people who are willing to put in the effort to think up ways to do it, then wheedle everyone into stirring out of their funk to take part. Once that happens most people will become enthusiastic about the activity and start participating and contributing themselves.
“But just keeping people entertained is only the most superficial of what the camp needs,” she continued, now in full presentation mode. “I'd also like to organize support groups for people who've lost loved ones to the virus or to the chaos it's caused.”
Cathy grimaced. “That's pretty close to everyone in camp, unfortunately. We have a few grief counselors working with our relief efforts, but with so many thousands of people here they're pretty much swamped helping a bare fraction of those in need. Support groups among the residents might be a good solution.”
Ellie nodded. “I'd also like to encourage people to plan for the future, host meetings to spitball ideas about specific things we can do to prepare for when we're finally released from quarantine. Not only surviving Zolos, but dealing with problems like staying fed, shelter, hygiene, protecting ourselves if necessary, and everything else that would be needed to survive in the world as society falls apart around us.”
“That seems a bit beyond the scope of this quarantine camp,” the other woman said dubiously.
“Maybe for your relief efforts,” she agreed. “But for the people in this camp it could make all the difference. Whether it's the end of the world or just another normal day, one principle always applies . . . if you want to do more than just survive day to day, vulnerable to the first disaster that hits you, you need to plan for the future and work towards it. Just sitting around in camp waiting for others to rescue you and your family is all well and good if someone actually rescues you, but we should all know well and good by now the world doesn't usually work like that.”
Hal briefly rested a hand on her shoulder in agreement. “If you're independent and see to your own needs you can survive anything, but if you just wait to be saved you'll be SOL when it doesn't happen. I've had a harsh lesson in that truth recently.”
Cathy nodded grudgingly. “Well, I suppose there's something to that. If more people had been prepared for this disaster, relief e
fforts would've been able to focus solely on containing the virus and treating the infected. We might've actually stopped it in its tracks, or at least made some real headway.”
“Exactly. Which is why to help with fostering that independence, I'd like to look through whatever news we have coming from this area, anything we can find about safe places residents could relocate to once they leave here. Those whose homes are no longer safe, that is. And also how they can obtain necessities and try to build new lives.”
“On the subject of news,” the relief worker said, “we've been tossing around the idea of morning and evening announcements over the loudspeakers. Residents have been pestering us for any news they can get of the outside world, at least some idea of how things are going out there. That might not do much for morale, since the news is almost all bad, but at least it might keep people occupied for an hour or two.”
“I think that's an excellent idea,” Ellie said. “Speaking as a resident who'd like to get any news I can of the outside world, the more the better.” She hesitated. “On that subject, would it be possible to call my ex-husband again sometime soon? I'm really worried about my children.”
Cathy hesitated. “I could probably arrange it within the next few days. But I should warn you that service for a couple of the major telecom companies has gone down within the last few days, and for others service is getting spotty in certain areas.”
“What about Kansas City?” Hal asked urgently.
“I'll check, I promise.” The motherly woman abruptly stood, tone turning brisk. “Well, thank you for volunteering your assistance to the camp. I think your ideas have merit and could probably benefit the people here. I'll run them past the administrators and find out what they think, see what kind of support we can provide you. Come back tomorrow morning and I'll let you know what we decided.”
Well, that sounded a lot like the sort of empty assurances you told someone as you showed them the door. Ellie had thought the meeting was going well, but now she wondered. “Of course, thank you for your time,” she said. “If you don't mind, I'd like to get started talking to people about whether they'd like to participate, even contribute.”
Isolation (Book 2): Going Out Page 8
