Isolation (Book 1): Shut In Page 13

Heck, she'd thought sleeping on the plane had been unbearable.

  Well, lying around in this tiny tent wasn't making things any better. She bit back a groan and hauled herself out of her sleeping bag, fumbling to put on her shoes before climbing out into the chilly dawn air.

  On the bright side, the view was breathtaking. The landscape stretched out in all directions, all stark lines and desolate angles from the mountains visible on every horizon, dimly distinguishable from the sky by the faint glow of the approaching sun. On the eastern horizon the sky was already lit in rosy pinks and pale blues and whites, promising a truly spectacular sunrise.

  Not that she was in the mood to stand around watching it. Neither, it seemed, was her remaining traveling companion.

  Hal had dumped out his suitcase and carryon bag, and at the moment was sorting through them for things like changes of socks and underwear, his few long-sleeved shirts, and a light jacket that looked more useful for keeping out rain than keeping him warm.

  Of course, the clothes in Ellie's own suitcase weren't much better in that regard.

  It didn't take a genius to figure out what the teenager was doing. They were in the middle of nowhere, with no guarantee they'd be able to hitchhike for a ride. With that in mind getting back to civilization with all her clothes, even though many had been expensive, didn't seem all that important.

  In fact, the sweatpants and long-sleeved shirt she'd worn to sleep were far more suitable for this harsh environment than a business suit and nylon stockings. She was just grateful she'd packed her yoga pants and top for exercising, as well as a pair of jeans for walking around during her free time. And even more so that the shoes she wore, while looking nice, were also practical for walking.

  She hoped; hiking long distances across a desert in Southern Utah was a far cry from ambling around tourist spots in Japan. Definitely not how she'd ever intended to test them out.

  She wondered if the designers even had.

  Although a far more important consideration than clothes, than anything, was water. Ellie looked around anxiously, fearing the worst, but to her vast relief the bags of gas station jerky and other snacks and the case of water were still there by the fire.

  She breathed a sigh of relief, making her way over to inspect them. “Well, at least Hannah and Brock aren't complete monsters,” she said, counting the plastic bottles still in the case. “This water should last us several days.”

  Hal had abandoned his sorting to come join her, staring grimly down at their meager store of supplies. “A few, maybe, in this arid heat and with us walking all day. We'll have to ration carefully, so prepare to be thirsty all the time.”

  Ellie nodded, not liking to hear that but acknowledging it was probably all too true. At this time of year she wouldn't have thought the days would be all that unpleasant, but that was back in Missouri where it was nice and humid, even in early spring. In the badlands of the Southwest, who knew how miserable it would get?

  She was going to find out all too soon, unfortunately. “What about the food?”

  He shrugged dismissively. “Long term, it's a worry. At the moment it's the least of our problems . . . what we have could last us over a week without getting too hungry. Enough to get back to civilization where we can find more, hopefully.”

  “Which just leaves where to go.” She looked around at the barren majesty of Southern Utah and felt a sort of leaden dismay at the dreary sight.

  “Back to St. George,” Hal stated firmly.

  Ellie stared at him. “That's over thirty miles.” With the heat and dry air sapping their strength they'd have trouble making it far each day. Ellie prided herself on being in fairly good shape, but she wasn't used to brutal long distance treks in harsh conditions, and wasn't sure if she could confidently say she'd be able to make it more than ten or at most fifteen miles.

  The teenager looked grimly resolved. “At least it should be mostly downhill. Water will be a concern, but hopefully we might find more on the way.”

  “Why not go forward, hope to find a town in the direction we're trying to go anyway?”

  He snorted. “I checked, our buddies the Nowaks didn't leave us a map, and our phones don't have a signal. No way of telling how far it is to the next place, but in Southern Utah it could be a hundred miles.”

  “There are road signs,” Ellie pointed out.

  Hal paused, then nodded his agreement. “Okay. What do you say we head back towards St. George while searching for a road sign?” That seemed reasonable enough, so she nodded back. With a grunt the young man stepped over to his things and continued packing. “All right, then. Let's try to get some distance behind us while the day is cool.”

  She certainly had no argument with that, either.

  They ended up leaving most of their clothes and toiletries behind. The dubious silver lining to leaving her laptop in the car was that she didn't have to haul its weight; she didn't think she could've brought herself to leave it behind, even in a desperate situation like this. Of the things they'd agreed were absolute necessities, or at least important enough to justify the weight and space, they packed as much as they could into Ellie's rolling suitcase, and the rest into the school backpack Hal had used as his carryon bag.

  “I'd prefer to be lugging sixty or so pounds of essential survival equipment in a proper camping backpack to this,” he said wryly, easily hefting the pack. “But at least we won't be slowed by added weight.”

  Well, that's looking at the best of the situation, she thought as she looked morosely at the hundreds of dollars worth of business attire she was leaving to the elements.

  They set off with their meager gear and made their way along the dirt road to the gravel road, then followed it back to the two-lane highway and finally to the Interstate. The distance that had taken one or two minutes in the car took over an hour on foot, and she was already sure that going the entire day like this would be brutal.

  At the Interstate traffic was sparse. Hoping for the best even so, as they walked south Hal and Ellie held out their thumbs to every single vehicle that passed, even crossing over to the median to try catching traffic from both directions. But nobody so much as slowed down, and more than a few sped up or even changed lanes, as if wanting to avoid letting even the air around them come in contact with their vehicle.

  Ellie went so far as to try to get in front of one car that had slowed down going around a bend, to try to get it to stop so she could at least talk to the driver. Hal looked like he was going to have a heart attack when she did it, and the swerving car barely missed turning her into a smear on the road, horn honking furiously as it sped up rather than slowed down. She had a feeling it wasn't out of concern for her safety, but because the driver was terrified of coming anywhere near her.

  Zolos. Even in the middle of nowhere, where it certainly wasn't anywhere to be found, it was still causing them problems.

  They had to walk for almost another hour before they finally found a road sign for the northbound lanes. The morning sun was already heating the air uncomfortably, and Ellie found herself seriously wishing she'd packed some sort of hat. At least she had sunglasses to block out the blinding glare of sun on pale sand and rock.

  They hurried the final hundred or so yards to the sign, circling around to see what it said. To Ellie's delight, there was another town only 10 miles to the north. Far closer than St. George, which was currently 29 miles away going by the last southbound sign.

  That seemed like an excellent reason to immediately turn around and head the other way, but her traveling companion didn't seem to agree. “Kanarraville?” he demanded, glaring at the sign in disgust. “Are you kidding me?”

  Ellie stared at him. “Don't tell me you actually know the place.” That seemed like an impossible coincidence.

  Hal snorted, giving her an incredulous look. “Of course not. But just look at that name! It screams “Population: One.”

  Unfortunately, he probably had a point. She had a hard time seeing what the pro
blem was, though; they didn't need the Buckingham Palace, they just needed food and water and transportation. “So?”

  “So how exactly are we going to find a car in a place like that? Even if it had the other things we need, we'd still end up stranded there.”

  That was also hard to argue against, since going by the sign the next place past Kanarraville was far enough away to make it an impossible walk several times over. She knew some of the smallest towns weren't always shown on signs until you were practically right on top of them, but those sorts of towns wouldn't be any help to them, either.

  Still, it was a lot closer. “You sure you still want to go to St. George, even though it's three times the distance?”

  The teenager seriously thought that through for a short time. “We've already gone around two miles closer to it,” he finally said, “and it's a place we actually want to go to. I think it's worth the extra time and effort, rather than taking a big risk on the easier option.”

  Considering they'd only gone a few miles so far, during the coolest time of the day as well, she wasn't sure how well she could handle that much time and effort. But she didn't want to be stranded in some podunk town while her children were trapped in a city where Zolos was running rampant, either.

  “St. George it is,” she agreed resolutely. “We'll have to keep our eyes open for water along the way.”

  Hal nodded, and they continued on down the road.

  Chapter Eight: Unanticipated

  Ellie was pretty sure this parched desert air was literally killing her.

  With all the traveling she'd done, to many different parts of the world, even, she'd managed to fool herself into believing she was actually somewhat adjusted to other climates. And even in Missouri, which felt like breathing soup on its muggiest days, there were times of year where the air was pleasantly dry.

  Like right about now in early spring, actually.

  But there was dry and then there was dry. Ellie's eyelids felt like sandpaper if she didn't constantly blink to keep her eyes from drying out, her mouth was so parched that breathing hurt and she had to work to swallow, and her skin poured sweat that did nothing to cool her before it immediately disappeared, leaving her feeling half mummified. Although not until after it had made sure the grit blown by the constant breeze stuck to every inch of her skin and clothes, making her feel grimy and gross.

  To add insult to injury, that breeze didn't cool her, either. It felt like it came straight from an oven, heated by the baked earth and baking her in turn.

  Although if there was one good thing about the dust caking her from head to foot, at least it protected the exposed skin on her face, neck, and hands from the unrelenting sun. Even so, she was pretty sure she'd have a farmer's tan to match Hal's by the time they finished this trek. After she got over the excruciating sunburn, that is.

  To replace the water she constantly sweated out, every few minutes Ellie took tiny sips from the bottle she held. Which seemed like a terrible idea if she was trying to ration, but she didn't think she'd be able to stumble on if she didn't. Even so, it worried her how swiftly empty water bottles were accumulating in her suitcase, ready to be refilled as soon as they found water.

  Her muscles were probably suffering most of all, though; her legs felt like rubber, barely holding her weight with every step. She'd predicted this climate would sap her strength, but knowing it intellectually did little to prepare her for how drained she felt after a morning of hiking.

  Ellie couldn't think of many times she'd felt this wrung out, and the day still stretched on ahead of her.

  So physically, she was shot. Unfortunately she wasn't doing so great mentally, either; moving in the opposite direction of home was a serious blow to her morale. She knew it wasn't rational to think like that, since when talking distances of over a thousand miles it made little difference which direction she walked. It would take weeks or even months to go that distance on foot, and seemed close to impossible when faced with barren, unpopulated regions like Southern Utah.

  They needed a car. Once they had one again, the thirty miles they'd walked away from home could be recovered in no time at all.

  Mentally, Ellie knew all that. But it didn't do anything for the part of her that was exhausted and furious at herself for trusting Hannah and Brock, and desperate to get home to her children. Every mile marker they passed that symbolized moving farther away from that goal felt like a knife to the heart.

  What was equally crushing to her spirits were the infrequent vehicles that passed, all of which continued to speed by in the farthest lane, or even on the shoulder. She would've thought a vehicle with a trailer might've been willing to let them hop aboard and ride far from the cab, but apparently the fear of disease overpowered any feelings of sympathy for hitchhikers stumbling through a wasteland.

  Ellie wondered if cars would drive on even if the driver saw them collapsed and dying of thirst. Her cynical side guessed they'd probably go even faster, mistaking their condition for Zolos.

  At noon they stopped in the shade of an overhang by the side of I-15, relishing an escape from the relentless sun. It even felt marginally cooler, and the breeze became slightly refreshing. Now that they were stopped Hal insisted they check each other for signs of heat exhaustion, or even worse heatstroke, which Ellie agreed was a necessary precaution.

  They checked each other's foreheads, and went through a checklist of possible symptoms like confusion, dizziness, headache, cramps, nausea, or fatigue. Some of those signs were hard to distinguish from how they'd usually expect to feel after a morning of walking, but she had a feeling the ones they saw in each other were severe enough for concern.

  “Let's rest for an hour in the shade, give ourselves a chance to recover and hopefully for the day to cool down a bit,” Hal suggested. He dug two water bottles out of his pack and handed one over to her. “And we should take the opportunity to drink a full bottle each.”

  Ellie hesitated accepting it. “Can we spare that much?”

  “Given our condition, I'm not sure we have a choice.” He opened his bottle and took a long, slow sip, then settled back against the rock wall with a sigh, shifting around a bit to get more comfortable.

  She joined him, taking a long sip from her own bottle and luxuriating in the feeling of not being completely parched, even for just a moment. They sat like that for a few minutes, resting. Ellie even started to doze.

  At least until Hal spoke up abruptly. “You're holding up really well.”

  Ellie cracked open an eye and squinted at him. “For an old woman?” she teased.

  He flushed. “You're not old at all!” She arched an eyebrow, and he fidgeted. “You're just in good shape, you know?”

  Well, she'd take a compliment when it came, awkward as it was. “I hope so. I jog every morning when I can, and do yoga a few times a week.”

  The teenager perked up. “Oh yeah? I'm a yoga enthusiast myself.”

  Ellie couldn't help but be a bit surprised, taking in his more muscular build. “You do it too?”

  “Not so much.” He grinned. “But I'm a huge fan of girls who do.”

  She rolled her eyes. Of course.

  Hal noticed, expression becoming irked for a second before he looked away. His tone was almost diffident when he finally cleared his throat. “Hey, listen. Can we clear the air about something?”

  Ellie tensed, afraid he was about to talk about his interest in her and press for whether she was interested in him. That was the last thing she needed at the moment, but if it was a conversation that needed happening then she supposed now was the time. “I suppose.”

  “Thanks.” He paused as if collecting his thoughts, then spoke calmly and quietly. “I've seen you looking at me like I'm barely old enough to have finished potty training, like just now. But I'm not a kid . . . I'm 23, only a few months away from my 24th birthday.”

  Ellie blinked, reexamining his youthful features and the assumption she'd held all this time that he was a teenager. May
be she was just embarrassingly bad at reading ages, although she'd only been off by a few years and at that age it could be hard to judge.

  “Old enough to drink, huh?” she said lightly.

  The young man flushed, remaining perfectly earnest. “Old enough to have my own place and a truck. Old enough to work a decent living doing roofing during the summer, and construction jobs for a company that handles disaster damage to homes the rest of the year. Old enough to be out of debt, send help home for my brothers and sister, and even have some savings.”

  “Oh,” Ellie said, feeling a bit stupid. She knew people older than her who still lived with their parents and were searching for a job, so Hal having his life together like that was really impressive. Enough so that she felt a bit guilty for dismissing him so readily because of his age.

  He raised his voice slightly, passionate rather than angry. “I know people call my generation the most lazy, immature, and entitled that's ever existed, but I grew up through one of the worst divorces you could imagine. Definitely worse than any I've ever heard anyone else talk about. I didn't have the luxury of being entitled or immature, and definitely not lazy. I had to grow up fast, and make tough choices about whether I was going to work hard to succeed in spite of everything life threw at me, or go down a bad road like a lot of my friends did. I decided to work my a-” he cut off, flushing, “my butt off, and I have.”

  That sounded a lot like what Nick had gone through, and how he'd chosen to shape his life in response; that sense of diligence and personal responsibility, so different from most of Ellie's friends, were what had originally drawn her to her ex-husband in the first place.

  And if she was being honest with herself, the calm and determination with which Hal was handling their current situation, the way he'd stepped up and pushed hard to make sure they survived the most trying experience of her life, certainly pointed to his maturity.

  She lost her smile and made her tone serious as well. “I know, Hal. I've met men decades older than you with a fraction of your maturity.”