Isolation (Book 1): Shut In Page 21

  He snarled at the horrific possibilities, then forced himself to his feet. He wouldn't let that happen! Even if he had to claw his way to surviving a disease that killed nine out of ten people, he wouldn't leave his children alone and defenseless.

  He stared down at the body of the man who'd tried to kill him, revulsion surging through him for more than just the possibility of infection. He'd never even imagined he might have to kill someone, let alone in the safety of his own home to protect his family.

  In the surge of emotions following the attack Nick would've thought that what would affect him most was how close he'd come to death. And maybe it would, after he'd gotten over the shock and adrenaline and had time to process what had happened.

  But what he felt even more than that at the moment was his sense of the peace and safety of his home being violated. Logically he knew that his apartment wasn't all that secure, with a flimsy door, thin walls, lots of windows, and even a fire escape giving easy access. But it still shattered some feeling of security he hadn't even been aware of to know that someone could just break into his home and threaten him and his loved ones.

  What if they'd broken into Tallie's room instead of his office?

  What if the other intruder came back with more of his buddies? How would Nick feel safe in this apartment now? How could he feel like he'd be able to protect his kids?

  What choice did he have?

  It was hard to understand what sort of people would force a man, a father with young children, to this extreme, just for some food and any valuables in the apartment. Who'd make simple robbery a matter of life and death.

  Nick had always believed that people in general were pretty decent. After all, in spite of the sad events of his own life he could readily admit that the majority of people he met were friendly and kindhearted. Selfish sometimes, shortsighted sometimes, quick to assume the worst of others in some cases, but usually pretty decent.

  But this criminal had been willing to destroy innocent lives, threaten children even! And he'd been laughing as he tried to do it. Meeting someone like that shook Nick's faith in humanity, just a bit.

  That realization helped him fight off the surge of guilt about having to kill the man in self-defense, although he didn't think he'd ever fully get over the horror of it. It also, if he had to admit, made it easier to not feel guilty about just dumping the body off the fire escape and leaving it to rot on the ground below. He couldn't think of anything else he could safely do.

  Nick supposed he should contact the authorities about the incident, although they were probably so busy dealing with the Zolos crisis that they'd tell him they couldn't do anything about it. Heck, they were probably flooded with so many similar calls that he wouldn't even be able to get through to anyone to report the crime.

  What a mess.

  The intruder's body turned out to be surprisingly heavy. So heavy, in fact, that it took all his strength to wrap it in a blanket and then drag it to the window, prop it up and tip it onto the fire escape, then manhandle it over the railing to drop to the ground below. All the while watching cautiously for the return of the other thug, and barely aware of being outside in just his boxers.

  He tried not to hear the sickening thud the body made as it landed.

  Nick swallowed bile and climbed back through the window, panting and dripping with sweat from the exertion and feeling barely human after the grisly task. He needed to get clean, but more importantly he needed to clean and sterilize his office.

  Then quarantine himself inside it for as long as he needed to be sure he wasn't sick and wouldn't infect his kids.

  Although first things first, before he got to work he had to consider what that SOB had said about the quarantine notices. If criminals out there were looking for places where people had been in self-imposed isolation from the moment they found out about the Zolos threat, that meant that instead of protecting his family those notices were actually putting them in danger.

  So they had to go. Nick hated the idea of going outside and maybe coming in contact to the virus, but considering he'd just been covered in the blood of some stranger who was going around robbing people who might be infected, that seemed like a secondary concern.

  He climbed back out the window, inched down the fire escape past the body, and made his way back around to his front door. He thought he saw a few eyes peeking out windows through blinds or behind curtains, and finally began to feel self-conscious about being out in his boxers, something he'd never do under normal circumstances.

  With that in mind, he wasted no time tearing down the notice he'd taped to his door before locking himself inside the presumed safety of his home. He crumpled it and tossed it out onto the street, then trotted back to the fire escape and climbed back into his office.

  “Dad?” he heard Ricky shouting frantically through the door. “Are you okay?”

  “I'm fine, Ricky!” he called, although he'd never felt less fine in his life. “I need you to get me a few changes of clothes, and a roll of paper towels and a container of wet wipes. Just toss them through the door without coming inside. Then I want you to go take down all the quarantine notices taped to the windows in every room.”

  There was a long pause. “Why?” his son asked nervously. “Zolos is still a danger, isn't it?”

  So are those signs, he thought grimly to himself. “Just do it, son. Then get your sister and come back . . . we need to talk about me staying quarantined in the office.”

  “What?” the eight-year-old demanded in panic. “How will you eat? Who will take care of Tallie?”

  Nick sighed and sagged against the wall. “That's what we're going to have to talk about,” he said quietly. “You're going to have your work cut out for you for a day or so, taking care of yourself and your sister until your mom gets here. You'll have to be more responsible than you've ever been before, but I know you can do it. She should be here sometime today, probably earlier rather than later.”

  And none too soon; Nick was just glad she'd found a car, or he'd really be worrying right now.

  His son took several minutes to gather up the requested items, but Nick didn't wait for him before getting started cleaning up his office. Starting with digging out the box cutter from his toolbox to hack out the large section of carpet soaked with the blood of his attacker.

  His office would never be the same, and for that matter neither would he.

  He just hoped he was alive to not be the same for a very long time, so he could be there for his kids.

  * * * * *

  Ellie jolted awake to the sound of her phone ringing, hearing Hal's soft snores in the passenger seat end with a snort as he also came awake. In the early dawn glow she saw him twist enough to look back at her blearily.

  “Sorry!” she hissed, scrambling for her phone. Then she forgot her chagrin with a surge of alarm when she saw Nick's name, rushing to answer. “Nick? Are the kids okay?”

  Her ex-husband's reply was worryingly slow. “The kids are okay,” he said quietly. He sounded deeply shaken, implying he wasn't. “Ells, some punks attacked the apartment.”

  “What?” she nearly yelled, making Hal jump and twist around to look at her in concern. “Are you hurt? Did they expose the kids to Zolos?”

  “I'm fine,” he hastened to assure her. “The intruders were only in the office, and I've kept the kids out. I also had Ricky take down the quarantine notices in the windows and I pulled down the one on the door, since that's how they knew the place was safe to attack. I'll stay in the office away from the kids until you can get back and pick them up.”

  She nodded. “Okay, I'll take them to my house as soon as I get there. Hold tight.”

  “Right, we'll be fine until you get here.” In spite of that reassurance Nick didn't sound fine, at all.

  Ellie twisted to face the backrest in the backseat and lowered her voice, holding her phone close. “Nick, are you okay?”

  He was slow to answer. “The guy pulled a knife on me,” he fina
lly said in a haunted voice. “I-I had to defend myself. Defend the kids.”

  The implication was clear, and she felt a upwelling of horror mingled with pity for her ex-husband. “You did what you had to do, Nicholas,” she said gently. There was no response. “You want to talk about it?”

  She heard Nick suck in a sharp breath. “No. No, I still need to finish cleaning the office, and talk Ricky through making breakfast for Tallie. Hurry and get here, okay?”

  “Sure.” The call ended with a click, and Ellie spent a few seconds staring at her phone.

  Nick's apartment, attacked. Sure, she knew big cities could be dangerous, and even as a lifelong resident of Kansas City who loved her home, she had to admit it didn't look great when it came to crime. But she'd lived there most of her life, and had never experienced worse than a stolen bike or the occasional car break-in. Usually resulting in nothing more than some small items stolen or slashed seats.

  No one had ever tried to attack her or burgle her home. Admittedly, she took the necessary precautions to protect herself and her family, including avoiding dangerous areas and not being out at dangerous times. She'd even taken self-defense classes offered by her college and a couple companies she'd worked with.

  She also always carried pepper spray in her purse, and at her dad's insistence when she first moved out had accepted his gift of a .22 pistol and a box of hollow point bullets. Both of which Ellie kept safely separated and securely locked away where the kids couldn't get at them. Although that also made it harder for her to get at them, which probably didn't matter since she'd only gone shooting once or twice in her life; she'd have trouble using the gun to defend herself anyway.

  It just hadn't seemed like a priority before now, especially when they'd moved into her current house in a safe neighborhood a few years ago.

  Only now Nick's apartment had been attacked. Even more than that her normally gentle, unimposing ex-husband had actually been forced to kill someone to protect their children. Had the entire world gone crazy?

  Either way, she resolved to dig out her dad's gun and always carry it with her the moment she got home.

  “Everything okay?” Hal asked quietly.

  No. She sat up briskly, rubbing at her eyes. “We've got light. Should we check the other gas stations, then if necessary try to find a car to siphon gas from?”

  He nodded, awkwardly starting to climb over to the driver's seat. “Let's get going.”

  As her friend got the car moving Ellie climbed out of her sleeping bag and pulled on her shoes, scrubbing a hand through her hair and wishing she could take a shower, or at least had a comb. Maybe at some point this morning she could take a minute to brush and floss her teeth, but that was probably the best she could hope for when it came to freshening up until she got home.

  She climbed across the lowered back of the passenger seat and raised it, grabbing her water bottle and swishing water in her mouth before taking a long drink. “Get enough sleep?” she asked around a yawn.

  Hal grunted. “Never thought I'd prefer the ground over a padded seat, but meh.” He glanced her way. “Someone attacked your ex's place?”

  “Yeah.” Ellie wasn't up to discussing it at the moment, so she went with something Nick had mentioned that might be pertinent to them. “Apparently criminals are using the quarantine notices to figure out which places have been isolated from the beginning and are probably safe.”

  He swore quietly. “Takes a special sort to prey on families while hundreds of millions of people across the world are dying.”

  “That sort's always been there. It's just easy to ignore that fact when society's ticking along smoothly, since we almost never run into them in our day to day lives.”

  “I've had one or two run-ins with people like that, even when society was “ticking along smoothly,” her friend replied with a snort. “Believe me, I know.”

  Ellie felt her face flush. The “I probably know it better than you” wasn't implied in his tone, but it was evident; from what he'd told her of his life, her own had been easy and secure in comparison. Trying to school him on the darker side of humanity was arrogant on her part.

  They pulled into another abandoned station, as smashed up as the one they'd just left. Hal once again picked his way behind the counter and tried to get a pump working, again with no success. This time, however, when he left the convenience store he was wearing gloves he must've scavenged, and carried a plastic bag full of supplies in one hand and a rolled up hose, hand siphon pump, and 3-gallon gas can in the other.

  Ellie accepted the pair of gloves her friend tossed her as he deposited the grocery bag on the backseat. But rather than putting away the hand pump and gas can, then climbing back behind the wheel, he leaned into the car to talk to her. “I'm thinking the gas we have left in the tank might be all we have to get us to the next potential place on the highway where we can refuel. We should save it if we can.”

  She grimaced as she realized what he meant. “Back to searching on foot?”

  He nodded. “We'll run the tank empty if we try driving from one car to the next looking for gas to siphon. If it doesn't pan out we've wasted fuel that could've gotten us twenty to fifty miles farther.”

  “Hey, not arguing.” With a sigh Ellie pulled on her new gloves and climbed out of the car, grabbing her wallet but leaving everything else behind. Hal locked the car behind them, and together they set out along the street.

  “This shouldn't take as long as St. George, at least,” Hal said, glancing around at the nearby houses.

  True enough, although that wasn't because they'd have success any quicker here. It was just that Watkins was a small town, a few hundred residents if she was any judge. That would cut down the time they spent searching, but also their chances of finding what they were searching for.

  At least they had plenty of experience with this from St. George. At the first house they fell back into their routine of calling to the people inside. Ellie also noticed Hal checking the car in the driveway, although before she could disapprove he shook his head grimly. “Locked, no way to get at the tank without a crowbar unless we can convince them to give us the keys.”

  “Let's see if we can convince someone to sell us gas before we head back to the gas station looking for a crowbar for looting,” she replied wryly. She wondered if she should be worried how quickly her perspective had changed from being an honest, upright citizen to one who pressured fearful people into giving her cars, was an unprotesting accessory to looting, and didn't bat an eye at theft.

  Maybe she should be, but with Nick quarantined off from Ricky and Tallie nothing mattered more than getting home to be there for her children. Although she'd avoid telling them about this particular part of her adventures, and if possible in the future she'd try to make restitution for what she'd taken.

  That would be the measure of her character, she supposed: whether or not her good intentions were forgotten the moment her recent actions slipped from her mind.

  The first house was a bust, unsurprisingly. From their experience in St. George they got no response at all at roughly three-quarters of the houses they visited, and of the remaining quarter ninety percent of the responses had mostly been threats and shouted pleas for them to leave. Only a few people had been willing to have a civil conversation, and only that last family had “helped” them.

  The next house proved equally fruitless. Halfway to the next one after that Hal abruptly paused, holding up a hand. His expression was tense, almost fearful, as he glanced back the way they'd come in the direction of I-70. “You hear that?” he whispered.

  Ellie listened. She heard it, of course, the sound of approaching engines. Her mind was just so used to the noise that it took her a couple seconds to pick it out as something to pay attention to.

  Engines, plural, and from the sound of it over a dozen. When everyone was holed up in their houses avoiding Zolos and the roads were nearly abandoned, so many vehicles driving through a small town like Watkins, whethe
r together or separate, was enough to take notice of.

  What was more, while she heard the distinctive throaty roar of motorcycles, she also heard the lower rumble of trucks. Although it wasn't until the noise of engines was joined by the screeching of tires that she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end as red flags began to wave wildly in her subconscious.

  Hal grabbed her arm and yanked her towards the nearest hiding spot, some bushes growing against a chain-link fence running along the sidewalk. They barely managed to squeeze themselves into the confined space behind one before the first of the vehicles came into view down the street.

  Chapter Thirteen: Watkins

  Ellie's first glimpse of the motorcycles reinforced their decision to hide.

  It wasn't so much the way the bikers were dressed, since you'd expect to see them wearing leathers and sporting a certain look. She actually had a couple college friends who'd recently purchased hogs and enjoyed going on road trips in the summer. They'd even half-jokingly tried to convince Nick to get one and join them.

  These men, however, had guns, rifles or shotguns she wasn't sure, slung on their backs with the ends sticking over their shoulders. And under one leather coat she saw what looked like body armor. As they got closer she also saw many sporting knives or pistols on their hips.

  Farther back, a sturdy truck carried half a dozen more men. Along with guns, these men were carrying sledgehammers, crowbars, and even what looked like one of those things law enforcement used to knock down doors.

  Hal had a hand on her arm, as if afraid she was about to run out and wave cheerfully at these terrifying men. Or maybe it was to reassure her, since she realized at some point since they found this hiding spot she'd caught his knee in a white-knuckled grip.

  “Whatever they're here for, I doubt it's anything good,” he whispered, breath tickling her ear. “We should forget the gas and try to get out of here as soon as it's safe.”