Isolation (Book 2): Going Out Page 12

  “Probably.” Nick carried Tallie around to the passenger side and gently set her on the seat, buckling the seatbelt around her blanket-wrapped form. Then he made his way to the driver's side and popped the trunk.

  His son looked dubiously into the space. “Will I be able to breathe?”

  He'd actually worried about that a bit himself. “Keep the trunk open a bit, and put something like a blanket in the way so it can't close if we go over a bump. Although in case it does, there's a way to open it from the inside.” He quickly showed Ricky how to do that, and had him practice opening and closing the trunk a few times.

  The eight-year-old was soon burrowed in the small space with his things, the trunk's lid closed almost all the way with a corner of his blanket covering the latch to keep it from locking. But as he peeked out through the narrow space his eyes moved quickly back and forth in obvious fright. “What if more guys like the ones who attacked the apartment try to get at me when we're stopped?”

  Nick smiled grimly. “Don't worry, nobody's going to want to come near us.” He retrieved the two papers warning about Zolos that he'd replaced with notes to Ellie, and taped them to the rear windows, being sure to give Ricky a wide berth. “That's it, you ready?” he called to his son as he started for the driver's side door.

  “We won't be driving long, will we?” the eight-year-old asked, sounding like he was having second thoughts about the trip.

  “Just a couple hours, and I'll drive slow so you don't get bumped around.” He hesitated. “If you have some sort of problem, just pound the panel between the trunk and inside the car as hard as you can, and shout if you have to.”

  The only response from inside the nearly shut trunk was grumbling, which he assumed meant Ricky was ready to go. Nick climbed behind the wheel, noticing that Tallie had fallen asleep again.

  Probably good that she got some rest during this trip. He started the car and confirmed that the tank was nearly full, like he remembered it being on the trip to the hospital, then pulled out onto the street.

  He hadn't thought to do it before, but as he drove away he slowed down and took a long look back at the apartment that had been his home since the divorce. He didn't think he'd miss it much, but at the same time he had to wonder if he'd ever go back.

  Not until it had been three weeks and the Zolos was gone, that was for sure.

  Gritting his teeth, Nick sped up and didn't look back again. He had a ways to go, especially since he wanted to at least drive by Ellie's house to see how it was doing; if need be, she could take Ricky there if she got the chance.

  Not only that, but he was worried about his son huddled in the open trunk; would exhaust fumes bother him too much back there if the car was moving too slowly? With so much distance to travel that was a real worry.

  Well, he'd tried not to stop and idle in one place for too long. Although the view of the city around him didn't really encourage that, anyway.

  The eerie, desolate sensation he'd felt driving to the hospital at night was even more pronounced during daytime, when you'd expect people to be out and about. Watching the empty streets and yards out the windows of his apartment just didn't do it justice.

  Of course, if that hospital worker was right and over half of Kansas City's population was sick, most likely dead at this point, then even with the remaining people in hiding he supposed it wasn't surprising that the place looked empty.

  Lawns were starting to get overgrown and shaggy, and full trash cans that had been brought out to the street but never emptied were still sitting there, many knocked over by animals and the trash scattered everywhere. Vandals had smashed the windows of cars, thrown rocks through the windows of buildings and at streetlights and stop lights, and defaced public structures like bus stops.

  Graffiti was everywhere, most of it so obscene Nick was glad Tallie was asleep and Ricky was in the trunk where he couldn't see it.

  Aside from the usual sort of defacement you tended to find in big cities, the majority of the new spray painted words and crude artwork placed blame for Zolos on everything from the government to terrorists to random foreign nations. Generally with lots of swearing and threats involved.

  The vibrant, bustling city he'd lived in for most of his life had become an abandoned ruin in a matter of weeks. It went beyond shocking or horrifying to almost sickening.

  And it got even worse when he reached the neighborhood where Ellie's house was located. The home they'd raised their children in for the better part of a decade.

  Nick wasn't sure if it was people paranoid of Zolos going overboard, or the most extreme act of destruction he'd seen yet, but an entire neighborhood had been burned to the ground. Including Ellie's house.

  He drove slowly down the street past the charred, collapsed ruins, eyes drawn to what was left of his former home. The only thing he felt was a sort of hollow emptiness at the sight, mostly because he'd already gone through the emotional pain of no longer seeing this place as his home after the divorce. Although he felt bad for Ellie and the kids, who'd no doubt be far more distressed.

  Well, on a pragmatic note that was the last bit of business he'd had in KC. Driving on past the ruined house, and any hope it might've offered of a place to return to that was free of Zolos, he turned north and headed out of the city.

  Chapter Six

  Hat in Hand

  Okay, Nick. You're about to seriously impose on complete strangers, with a dubious ally in your upstairs neighbor who at best could be called a casual friend. One who may have offered an offhand invitation to come up here to stay with her back at the beginning of this disaster, when nobody knew how bad it was going to be.

  So . . . how are these people going to view you?

  Well, two and a half weeks after first becoming aware of the Zolos threat and he'd already been chased out of his home, gotten his daughter infected, and was running the very real risk of endangering his son. Also, he was flat broke with barely any water or food and a car with half a tank of gas, all probably contaminated by the virus.

  Oh, and in spite of the lean and desperate situation he'd somehow managed to remain overweight. Maybe not as much as he had been, but definitely more than he'd like.

  All things considered, it was looking like they'd view him as pathetic.

  Which seemed a bit harsh. Sure, he wasn't doing great, but who was? He'd done the best he could, and managed to get through some seriously messed up situations. And however he'd failed his kids so far, they were still alive. God help they stay that way.

  Pitiable, then?

  No, Nick really didn't like the idea of evoking pity or, worse yet, contempt. He still had his pride, flimsy as it was considering he was going hat in hand for help, even knowing full well he was bringing Zolos with him to threaten Gen and her son and the boy's grandparents.

  Lugubrious?

  Meh, that was more of a state of mind than of being. He needed to present himself to these people as someone obviously in need of help, but not seeking charity. Or well, actually seriously seeking charity, but only until he could get back on his feet and care for his family, which he was certainly able to do. Or would be, once he got his bearings.

  Bowed. Nick snapped his fingers, causing Tallie to stir sleepily and peek out of her blanket at him before snuggling back in and going back to sleep.

  That was it. He was struggling to stand tall under the weight of crushing burdens, bearing a certain nobility even as he faltered and needed a hand to keep moving forward.

  And now that he'd spent a delightful few minutes BSing himself about how they'd really see him . . . yeah, he was dreading this encounter with his friend and her ex's parents. It wasn't so much that he hated the idea of asking for help with little to offer in return, although he did, but more so the fact that they would almost certainly turn him away, and he couldn't even find it in himself to blame them.

  He'd like to think he'd help someone in his situation, but deep down he knew he'd probably slam the door, bolt it, and go for a
gun if he had one.

  But he couldn't see any other choice. If nothing else maybe he could convince them Ricky was still uninfected, get them to take his son in where he'd be safe, before the boy's luck finally ran out around his infected dad and sister.

  Nick slowed down as he came in sight of Stanberry and saw the roadblock across the road. It was manned by three men armed with non-military pistols and rifles, none in any sort of official uniform; some sort of volunteer force or militia?

  Those weapons immediately raised to point at his car as the sentries caught sight of him, and he swore and slammed on the brakes, swerving in alarm. Thankfully, none of the men opened fire, although one waved wildly to signal him to go back the way he'd come.

  Crud. If Stanberry had closed itself off to the rest of the world, a sensible precaution he supposed, that was going to be a problem. Although on the other hand, Billy's grandparents supposedly lived outside of town.

  Did that mean outside the protected area? And if so, would the overcautious guards watching the approaches let him drive around searching?

  He'd have to hope the answer to both was yes. He'd come so far already and left his home behind; Gen and Stanberry might be his only chance to help his kids outside of a quarantine camp.

  Nick found a side road branching away from the highway and followed it west, hoping it wouldn't also lead into town or, equally useless for his purposes, away from it. He also hoped he wouldn't run into another roadblock or some sort of patrol.

  He didn't, thankfully, although he had to leave the road when it started to veer towards town, pulling onto a dirt track that seemed to keep circling around the town. That was risky in more ways than one, since his car was the farthest thing from an off-road vehicle imaginable. The bumpy road jounced them around every foot of the way, waking Tallie up and even causing Ricky to give a muffled shout of protest.

  Chagrined, Nick slowed down and reached over to give his daughter a comforting pat on the shoulder. “Sorry,” he whispered. “Go back to sleep.”

  She yawned hugely. “Are we there yet?” she said in an exhausted little voice.

  “Soon.”

  The dirt road eventually connected to another road, or maybe a street, although if there was a roadblock he'd either missed it or got behind it. Which probably wasn't a good thing if he didn't want the volunteer force here to open fire the moment they saw him. On the plus side, he began to pass scattered houses that could be the one he was looking for, so he began keeping a sharper eye out for Gen's white hatchback.

  It took almost fifteen minutes and he guessed he must've circled almost halfway around the town. Even then, he almost missed it because the house in question was far back on the property, obscured by a thick hedge and a couple fruit trees. He only caught a flash of white through the gap in the hedge the driveway passed through, and slowed to a stop and backed up to get a second look.

  To Nick's vast relief, he saw Gen's familiar little car sitting next to the ranch-style house. With a weary smile he drove onto the driveway, just far enough past the hedge to be in view of the house without coming close enough to alarm the occupants.

  As he put the car in park, the door to the house opened and man in his 50s with slate gray hair and broad shoulders, Bruce Norson he assumed, stepped outside. Although any other details were a bit hard to notice because Nick's full attention was drawn to the large caliber, scoped hunting rifle the man carried. He simply held the weapon, showing no signs of actually using it, but the warning was clear.

  Visitors weren't welcome.

  Well this was off to a great start. Nick took a breath, shut off the car, and climbed out. He would've preferred to leave it running, just in case, but he was sure Ricky had already suffered enough from fumes and wanted to give his son a chance to get some fresh air.

  Sure enough, he saw the trunk door pop open and the eight-year-old poke his head out, looking around curiously. Nick waved to him, then turned to Bruce and opened his mouth to call a greeting.

  The older man beat him to it. “Something I can do for you?” he growled, tone implying there better not be.

  “I'm a friend of Gen's,” Nick called back hastily. “Nick Statton, and my two children Ricky and Tallie. Billy's friends. She said if things got too bad in KC I should swing by and pay her a visit.”

  Bruce stared at him for an uncomfortable half a minute, then started backing through the door. “Stay there!” he barked. “If you're telling the truth I'll bring her and we can sort this out.”

  “Okay, tha-” The door slammed shut, cutting Nick off.

  Fantastic. Guess he hadn't acted bowed enough.

  “Are we here, Dad?” Ricky asked, starting to climb out of the trunk.

  “Yeah. You can get out and stretch, but stay by the trunk for now, okay?”

  His son made a face. “That's because the rest of the car might be infected with Zolos, isn't it?”

  “That's one reason.” And speaking of which, Nick needed to be completely up front about him and Tallie carrying Zolos. Not only did he want to make sure they were all careful not to get anyone infected, but if he tried to hide something like that he'd destroy any trust Gen and her family might have in him, and any hope of ever earning it back.

  Besides, there was little hope of hiding Tallie's condition even if he'd wanted to.

  So he went around to the front passenger seat and gently unbuckled his daughter, lifting her up into his arms as he waited for Gen to come out. She stirred sleepily, peeked around at this new house and yard with listless curiosity, then buried her head against his shoulder and drifted off again.

  In less than a minute the door opened again and Bruce stormed out, still with his rifle. Behind him came a plump, matronly woman near his age who was probably his wife Winn, along with the familiar figure of Gen Foss at her side. As the three adults crowded on the porch, a little head poked around the doorframe and peeked outside: Gen's son, Billy.

  “Hi Billy!” Ricky called, waving excitedly. The younger boy waved back cautiously and started to come out, before his mom spotted him and ushered him back inside. Then she turned to regard Nick, expression hard to read.

  Gen looked . . . pretty good, actually. About the same as she had when he last saw her, as she was heading out at the beginning of the Zolos crisis. Her dark blond hair was well brushed and shiny, there were no bags under her light gray eyes, and she was dressed in clean clothes that suited her well.

  Compared to how much of a wreck Nick must look at the moment, she looked fantastic. There were no obvious signs of exhaustion or stress or fear, no hints she'd faced any sort of deprivation. She even looked like she'd had a chance to get in better shape.

  Of course, it was possible and even likely she'd been through troubles that hadn't left any visible marks. Even so, Nick was glad his friend seemed to have escaped the worst of this disaster. Far better than he had, definitely.

  “Hi, Gen,” he called, smiling weakly. “Sorry to just drop in on you like this.”

  His friend couldn't seem to bring herself to smile back, but at least she waved hello. “It's a bit of a surprise,” she said hesitantly.

  Before he could reply, get to the unpleasant task of asking for help, Bruce abruptly stiffened and stepped protectively in front of the two women. “What's wrong with the kid?” he called gruffly, pointing at Tallie.

  Well, here goes. Nick closed his eyes for a moment, bracing himself. “She survived Zolos and is recovering.”

  If he'd suddenly dropped his daughter and pulled out a gun, brandishing it like a lunatic, the three people on the porch couldn't have responded with more horror and fear. Gen gasped and moved back to clutch Billy, as if afraid he'd suddenly run out and try to play with Ricky, while Winn filled the doorway as if to block his escape.

  As for Bruce, he didn't exactly lift his rifle, but he certainly clutched it a lot more tightly. “Are you insane?” he snarled. “You brought Zolos to my house? What sort of friend of Gen's are you?”

  “A d
esperate one,” Nick said simply. He shifted Tallie to one arm so he could wave towards Ricky. “My son has been spared so far, but I needed to get him out of the apartment before he was infected.”

  “How is it even possible he's not infected?” the older man demanded, brows furrowed.

  “We kept him in a different room as soon as we knew there was a danger,” Nick hastily replied, feeling a flicker of hope that maybe this would be a point in his favor. “He stayed there, away from us, until we left. I even made him ride in the trunk to keep him from being exposed until I could get him someplace safe. He's shown no symptoms so far.”

  “And you brought him here?” Bruce fumed. “You son of-”

  He cut off as Gen stepped forward and rested a hand on his shoulder. The young woman murmured a few words to him, then when he shook his head sharply in refusal she spoke more insistently. Winn, holding Billy's hand, also whispered sharply, and finally her husband grudgingly stepped back to debate with his wife.

  Gen moved up to the top step of the porch, regarding Nick and his children for several long seconds. He smiled weakly at her. “I was hoping you'd be a bit happier to see me.”

  His friend rubbed between her eyes, expression pained. “I'm sorry, Nick. You know it's good to see you, and I'm glad that Tallie survived this terrible disease and you and Ricky seem to have been spared. It's just . . .” She shook her head, looking almost angry. “I made a comment in passing about maybe dropping by if you were headed north, way back before I had any idea how bad things were going to get. Billy's grandparents taking us in is one thing, but you showing up out of the blue asking for help is something completely different.”

  “I know,” he said quietly, fighting the urge to hang his head in shame. She really didn't deserve the problem he'd dumped in her lap.

  “Do you?” she demanded. “Stanberry's doing everything in its power to keep Zolos carriers out. The Norsons are heavily involved in helping with all the volunteer work going on in town, trying to get everyone to pull together to get through this crisis. The leaders are instituting forced quarantine on anyone who so much as leaves the town's limits, unable to go anywhere but their home for the full 21 days.”