Isolation (Book 1): Shut In

by Jones, Nathan

  He'd barely spared his dad a thought in over a decade, had barely missed him in his life. So why did learning of his death leave such a hollow feeling in his gut?

  Maybe just regret at all the missed opportunities. The gulf of bitterness and estrangement that would never be bridged now.

  Nick reached for his phone to call his mom, hesitated, then drew his hand back. He was half afraid that, even in these circumstances, her only response to learning of his dad's death would be a snarky remark. He was in no state to put up with that right now.

  Some niggling part of him suggested that he should call her anyway. That he'd missed his chance to talk to his dad one last time, and if he stayed stubborn and the unthinkable happened he might miss that same chance with his mom. And with her new family, the step siblings he was barely aware of and the stepdad he did his best not to actively despise.

  No, he'd save that call for some other time, if ever. Just like he probably wouldn't tell his kids their other grandpa had also passed. Same as he wasn't telling them that he and their mom couldn't get in touch with their grandma Feldman.

  They were already exposed to enough fear and misery with the country falling apart around them. Enough doubt and hardship.

  Speaking of which . . . with a sigh, he gathered his things and trudged up the steps to check in with them, make sure they were still doing okay with their dad trying to parent through a door, unable to physically intervene if something went wrong.

  Where in the blue blazes was Ellie?

  * * * * *

  After about an hour of bushwhacking, Ellie and Hal finally found a road.

  It was a pitted asphalt two-lane meandering towards the mountains looming to the west. Probably the same range of the Colorado Rocky Mountains they'd crossed on the way to Denver, which at least gave them some idea of where they were.

  Although it wasn't as if they could've gone too far away in a half hour or so of driving. But it meant they'd gone either north or south along the mountains, rather than east away from Colorado's capitol. Which wasn't anywhere in sight, another clue to their location.

  Not that they'd expected find a hilltop in this uninhabited terrain of wooded hills with a city of over half a million people sitting on the other side.

  After a bit of debate they agreed they'd be more likely to find a town if they followed the road east away from the mountains, since for all they knew it just headed right up into them without ever passing more than an isolated cabin or two. Also, it meant they wouldn't have to hike uphill, and would even be going downhill more of the time.

  Night fell with them still on the road, no sign of civilization so far. Not even an abandoned house or bit of rotting fence to be seen. They also hadn't seen any road signs to point them anywhere.

  Even worse, at some point the road had curved from east to southeast, then almost due south running parallel to the mountains. Since they had no idea if they were north or south of Denver, that meant they could either be hiking towards it or away, with no way of knowing how far they had to go to reach anywhere that could offer them help.

  All Ellie knew was that they hadn't seen any branching roads to offer an alternative, aside from a few dirt or gravel tracks that seemed to veer back towards the mountains to accommodate joyriders in 4x4s or ATVs.

  Another thing that was becoming painfully obvious was that they needed help. Neither of them had any idea what plants were edible around here, unless of course they'd been lucky enough to stumble across a fruit tree or berry bush, which they hadn't. So foraging was out. They'd also passed more than one stream trickling down from the mountains, but without a container or any way to easily make fire they couldn't make use of that water.

  At least at first, although by the time dusk rolled around and the thirst became a monster crouched on her shoulder, demanding to be sated, she wasn't sure she cared about the risk.

  “You'll care when you're squirting from both ends while we're struggling to hike to find help to survive,” her friend told her grimly when he caught her striding purposefully towards a narrow trickle of water, which ran towards the road and then along it for a hundred or so yards before going underneath in a culvert and continuing on southeast.

  “We might not have a choice between waterborne pathogens and dying of thirst before long,” she shot back, longingly eying the trickle of water.

  “But we're not there yet.” He took her shoulders, looking deep into her eyes. “Let's give it a bit longer, El. We might run across a spring that offers clean water, or finally find a residence or roadside rest area or something.”

  Ellie didn't want to spend the night thirsty. She really, really didn't want to. It was looking to be miserable enough as the air quickly turned chilly once the sun set, leaving them with no fire, no shelter, and no warm clothing or blankets.

  Hal led the way back off the road and into the woods, searching in the fading light until he found a spot where the previous autumn's fallen leaves lay thick on the ground. He quickly got to work rigging up a shelter from fresh leafy branches against a fallen log, which hung suspended between the trunks of two trees a few feet off the ground.

  “Where'd you learn to do that?” she asked. “Boy Scouts?”

  “Survival TV shows,” he replied, shaking his head wryly. Maybe with a touch of bitterness. “Scouting was just one of the many things that wasn't really a part of my childhood.”

  At his direction Ellie got to work gathering up fallen leaves. They could pile them atop the branches of the shelter where needed to keep out the wind, pile them in the shelter to provide soft beds and insulation from the cold ground, and pile them atop themselves to make makeshift blankets.

  “Leaves,” she said, staring forlornly at the damp layer of mulchy deadfall beneath the dry, crackling top layer. She was sure they were going to be maddeningly scratchy and uncomfortable, and make a racket loud enough to wake the dead with every toss and turn. Probably full of gross bugs, too. “Nature's gift to people with literally nothing else.”

  Her friend ignored the sarcasm. “We can also stuff them in our clothes when we head out in the morning if it's too chilly. Nature's coat, right?”

  Ellie grimaced. Sleeping in a pile of leaves would be bad enough with them outside her clothes; she really didn't want to put them where they'd be directly scratching and tickling her skin. Which she supposed went back to the literally nothing else part of it.

  “Are we just the unluckiest people ever?” she asked, trying not to sound whiny. Although she felt like she'd certainly be justified in it if she did.

  Hal paused arranging a new branch on the shelter to turn and look at her soberly. “Maybe not the unluckiest,” he said in a quiet voice. “If we hadn't gotten away from those guys this morning . . .”

  He didn't finish the thought, although he didn't really need to. She shuddered and nodded her agreement, getting back to work.

  Granted, if she was still a captive of the robbers she'd probably have food, water, and shelter right now. Not to mention maybe a bathroom and other basic necessities that seemed like luxuries at the moment. But the thought of the horrors she would've suffered after four days of dubious comfort was enough to remind her that there were far worse things than being exhausted, cold, hungry, and thirsty.

  Not to mention probably coming down with a cold, after the stress and deprivation her body had endured ever since first being trapped in that plane on the tarmac in Hawaii.

  They finished setting up the shelter and filling it with leaves in silence. Then they spent a few minutes shivering in the cold as they stared at the fruits of their labor. It was low, cramped, probably drafty, and crude, but at least it was better than huddling on the ground in the chilly night air.

  “I could try to get a fire going?” Hal finally offered, although without much enthusiasm.

  Ellie glanced at the last glimmer of light on the western horizon; setting up the shelter had taken longer than she'd expected, and it would be full dark in a matter of minutes. �
�I don't think we have time before the light's gone.”

  “Yeah.” He hugged himself a bit tighter. “Sure would be nice, though.”

  Yeah, it really would've been. Getting colder by the second, and with nothing else to do, they wasted no time climbing inside the shelter and burrowing under the leaves, squirming around to make nests. Ellie was still shivering when she finished, but it was the feeling of climbing under a thick comforter on a cold night, knowing that in a few minutes she'd be warm.

  She hoped.

  After a succession of nights with poor sleep, and after the awful day she'd just had, it was no surprise that before long she felt her eyelids drooping, sinking into blissful sleep. She even felt herself finally starting to warm up, a blessed feeling in spite of the itchy discomfort of the leaves packed around her.

  Hal's voice drifted through the darkness, comfortingly close in their little shelter. “How you doing?”

  Ellie blinked her eyes open, staring at the black outline of stacked branches just above her head, then with a yawn let them droop closed again. “Fine. I don't think I'll freeze in here.”

  “Good.” He paused, then continued hesitantly. “I mean about . . . this morning.”

  Oh. “I'd really rather not talk about it.”

  “Yeah, I get that.” Her friend's voice was nearly a whisper, full of guilt and anguish. “It's just I've never been more terrified in my life, El. If something had happened to you, if I'd failed to keep you safe, I-” he cut off with a sharp breath before continuing shakily. “I don't know what I would've done.”

  Ellie reached out in the darkness, digging through leaves until her fingers found his arm. She followed it down to his hand and gripped it tight. “I do,” she said quietly. “You would've found a way out for us. Exactly like you did.”

  He didn't reply, although he returned her grip with equal intensity.

  She wasn't sure how long they lay like that in their nests of dead leaves, surrounded by the quiet rustles and chitters of night animals and soft breezes through the foliage. Letting those peaceful noises lull her after the day's traumas. All she knew was that she was still holding Hal's hand as she drifted off.

  Perhaps it was that reassuring contact, or perhaps it was simply sheer exhaustion, but the nightmares about Watkins that Ellie had secretly dreaded would torment her never made an appearance.

  In fact, she slept like the log the shelter was built against.

  ◆◆◆

  Early spring nights could be cold, even with a nest of leaves to keep Ellie warm.

  That considered, and the fact that she'd fallen asleep holding Hal's hand, she supposed it wasn't a huge surprise when she woke in the early morning to discover that sometime in the night she'd huddled close against his back for warmth.

  It felt . . . distractingly nice.

  Even beyond shared body heat, she had to admit that she'd missed the feeling of someone's solid presence beside her as she slept. Of holding and being held. Nights had been surprisingly lonely since her divorce, something she hadn't expected considering how often she slept alone on business trips, or when Nick had pulled late nights working.

  But no matter how good it felt, as soon as Ellie realized where she was, and more importantly who she was with, she hastily pulled away with her cheeks flaming in embarrassment. Then, even though it was still freezing outside, she hauled herself out of her nest and climbed out of the makeshift shelter to shiver in the early morning chill.

  It had just been for warmth, and it wasn't even something she'd consciously decided to do. She just hoped it wouldn't make things awkward between them.

  If her friend hadn't already been awake, her crashing out of the shelter pretty much did the job. Just a few seconds later he gingerly climbed out after her, hugging himself as he looked around. “Morning,” he mumbled, joining her. “Walking's the best way to warm up I can think of. Anything you need to do before we get going?”

  If he was aware they'd basically spent the night cuddling he showed no sign of it. Then again, it might've been because he seemed to have something else on his mind; he was shifting in place, scratching at his palms with an expression of clear discomfort on his face.

  “You okay?” Ellie asked.

  He grimaced. “Actually . . . not so much.” His face flushed in obvious embarrassment, and he studiously looked off into the trees. “You're going to laugh at me, but, um, do you know what poison ivy looks like?”

  She frowned as well. “I think that mostly grows farther east.”

  “Poison oak, then, or poison sumac or plants like that,” he persisted, scratching at his hand again and shifting gingerly in place some more.

  Ellie glanced down at his palms, realizing with shock they were covered in rashes. Along with more patches of red on the backs of the hands and around the wrists. “Holy cow. Did you accidentally brush against something?”

  Hal winced and shifted again. “More like, uh, used it to wipe with yesterday.”

  She also winced, eyes widening in sympathetic horror. “Oh no!”

  “It's not that bad,” he said stoutly, although now that she was looking for it the stiff way he was standing suggested otherwise. “I can walk.”

  Ellie certainly hoped so, since they couldn't exactly sit around waiting to die of thirst. Although walking with a rash like that on his butt was going to be sheer torment; her heart went out to him, especially since it could've just as easily been her if she'd needed to relieve herself at any point yesterday.

  “We can take it slower if you need,” she said, patting his shoulder. She glanced around ruefully. “And on the way, we can be more careful to avoid touching anything.”

  Her friend snorted. “On the plus side, unless we find something to eat soon I probably won't have a reason to repeat this mistake.” He gave the shelter they'd made a final look, half pride and half disgust, then sighed and limped back towards the road.

  They'd been walking less than ten minutes before Ellie began to worry about how well Hal was going to hold up. His stride was becoming more bowlegged by the step, a constantly pained expression on his face, and his hands alternated itching furiously at his palms.

  If things weren't so desperate she probably would've found his plight at least a bit funny. Not his suffering, of course, but the sheer absurdity of this situation. If it hadn't been bad enough to walk long distances hungry and tired and cold, he had the bad luck of wiping his butt with poison oak of all things!

  The poor, poor guy.

  Well, Ellie didn't have any cream for his rashes, or any other way to ease his discomfort, but at least she could help him not add to it. She gently caught his closest hand as he started to scratch his palm with it again, and at his questioning look said firmly. “I know it's driving you crazy, but no dermatological problem was ever solved by scratching it. In fact, it almost always makes it worse.”

  Her friend grit his teeth and let his hands drop to his sides. “Kinda makes you wonder why the urge is so strong, then. Epic fail for our biology.”

  She finally did laugh, but with him. “I'm sure there was some reason for it at some point.”

  They settled into an easy silence, walking quietly for a few more minutes. Ellie saw his hand twitch a few times as if moving to scratch, but was pleased to see he always caught himself. After like the fifth time he spoke up abruptly. “How about sunburns?”

  “Hmm?”

  “I can't think of any downside to scratching those.” Hal grinned at her. “Actually, it's kind of nice to have a massive sunburn across your back, and to feel the sheer enjoyment of just scratching the heck out of it as much as you want.”

  “While your skin peels off like the mange?” she said dryly.

  His grin widened and he shrugged. “Hey, it was going to come off anyway.” He absently scratched at his palm, then jerked his hands apart with an irritated sound and shoved them into his pockets.

  A few hours after sunrise the road they were on finally joined another one. Even better,
it was an Interstate: I-25, headed north/south. Not only that, but there was still some traffic on it, although not much. And certainly none that showed any signs of stopping to help them.

  Not that they would've had much chance of flagging down a passing vehicle, since they agreed it would be best to stay just out of sight of the Interstate as they followed it, in case those robbers made another appearance.

  After a bit of debate they decided to head south, on the reasoning that if they were north of Denver then going that way would take them there, and if they were south of it then they seemed to recall there being more towns along that stretch of I-25.

  Although after following the Interstate for a mile or so they found a sign that flew in the face of that assumption.

  “Colorado Springs,” Hal mused, staring at the name of the closest city on it. “Guess that mean's we're south of Denver, not north.”

  Ellie's eyes were locked on the distance, fighting the urge to cry: 17 miles. It had taken them so long last time to get to St. George, and now they had to go almost as far again if you counted yesterday's hiking? This time even more exhausted, after already going a day without food and water and no guarantee of finding any, or warm clothes or camping gear for that matter, before they reached their destination.

  At least along the Interstate they had a better chance of finding a place with running water. They could drink until their stomachs burst, they could bathe and clean their clothes, and Hal could soothe the areas affected by his rash. They might even find some place selling food, although they'd have to rely on charity since the robbers had stolen their wallets.

  Thirst was the most driving need, so desperate her head throbbed and her eyes were dry and blurry. But that didn't distract completely from the hollow, nauseous pain of her empty stomach.

  “Can we make it 17 miles without food and water, if we need to?” she whispered.

  “Food, I'd say so,” Hal replied. “Water, we'd probably be in serious trouble by that point.”