Isolation (Book 1): Shut In Read online

  Well, Nick wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

  He practically walked down the aisle with his arm held out, scooping things into his cart. Mostly he focused on things his kids would be willing to eat like canned fruit, chicken noodle soup, stew, chili, spaghetti noodles and sauce, tuna, and oatmeal. The rest of the cart's basket, and the rack underneath, he loaded down with whatever he could get his hands on, especially bags of rice and flour and beans and unopened boxes of cans, since they took less time to grab than individual cans and would be easier to move.

  Nick was no expert, and was in too much of a hurry to do the math, but he was reasonably confident all this food would last him and the kids at least a month. Also Ellie, when she got back and if she decided to live with them during the emergency. In fact, even with her there it could possibly last them as long as two months, although they'd be forced to ration.

  Which was, fingers crossed, as long as it would take for the Zolos scare to pass and everything to get back to normal.

  It only took him about ten minutes to load his cart down to the point it took physical effort to move it, and the wheels screeched alarmingly under the weight. By that time people were starting to flood into the aisle, either coming to the same realization he had or because there was no other food and they were desperate.

  Heck, people might be fighting over bags of dog food by the end, if things got bad enough. Kind of like the news stories he remembered about the panic before hurricanes.

  He dodged around the people crowding into the aisle, surprised to see that in just the short time he'd been in the store the crowd of shoppers had doubled in size. Every checkout station was open, harried-looking store employees rushing to run purchases as the lines of customers got longer and longer, clogging the front of the store and even stretching back into the aisles.

  The problem was only exacerbated by the fact that everyone was keeping a cautious bubble of open space around them for fear of infection. Although on the plus side even though there was plenty of shouting, including swearing and shockingly vicious threats, nobody so much as jostled anyone else.

  It was the politest panic Nick had ever seen.

  He joined the shortest line he could reach, then settled in to wait as the store grew louder and more chaotic by the minute. Of which, going by his phone, there'd been almost 30 when he checked it near the front of the line; it was like the shopping rush the Friday after Thanksgiving, except now people were leaving electronics and toys on the shelves and stripping the store bare of anything edible, wearable, or that had the slightest emergency use.

  The man behind him had a cart half full of donuts and other baked sweets, of all things, and the other half was filled with curtains and sheets in the largest sizes possible. To use as blankets? Bandages? Partitions? Just to feel like he was buying something that might help?

  Most shoppers were purchasing too many products to ring up efficiently, not to mention the confusion caused by people knocking things off the little escalator things to put their own stuff on, or refusing to use them at all for fear someone infected might've touched them at some point. So most employees were simply having customers bring their carts right up to the register, then scanning the items through, bagging them, and crowding as many as possible into the tiny space beyond the register before loading bags up into the carts again.

  The employees were wearing gloves and masks, unsurprisingly, but even so seemed very unhappy and grudging about having to let so many products handled by possibly infected shoppers pass through their hands. A few, Nick noted, were actually having customers bring their carts around to scan and bag items themselves, while supervising from a cautious distance.

  A thief probably could've walked stuff right out the front door in full view, and he had a feeling nobody would've tried to stop them. Or at least lay a hand on them. Surprisingly, though, there didn't seem to be anyone trying it; maybe they were afraid if they did, other panicked customers might view their stuff as fair game and steal it from them in turn.

  The illusion of order was often all it took to maintain it in truth. Although given the increasingly frantic mood, Nick didn't want to stick around any longer than he had to. He'd already seen a furious customer throwing potatoes at everyone around him in some spate of fury or panic, and while it might have looked funny on the surface those things could hurt.

  From the sounds of it some of those hit had been hurt, in fact; he didn't want to still be here when more people realized that chucking hard objects was something they could do without risking touching infected people, causing a downward spiral of escalating violence.

  Like the world's most vicious food fight.

  Partly out of boredom, and partly to feel like he was doing something, Nick tried calling Ellie every five minutes or so. Although he eventually stopped leaving voicemails when he realized how frantic he was starting to sound.

  He couldn't help it. His ex-wife made a point of always being close to her phone, especially when it was his turn to watch the kids, in case there was some emergency with them. In a situation like this he couldn't think of much besides her phone being smashed to smithereens or confiscated that would keep her from answering his calls, let alone calling herself.

  The thought of why she hadn't yet was pointing him to some grim possibilities he didn't want to contemplate.

  Nick also called Gen, and was relieved to hear that she'd checked on the kids not long ago and they were doing fine. His friend also reported that she and Billy were out the door on their way north, and wished him and the kids the best.

  “I can't really invite you guys up to visit, considering I'll be crashing with my ex's parents,” she said in a wry tone, a subtle indication that she wasn't thrilled about the prospect. “But if you do decide to leave KC and head my way, let me know and I'll do whatever I can to help you.”

  “Thanks,” he said, “but I'm buying tons of food here, and me and the kids will be fine holed up in the apartment until all this blows over.”

  “I hope so. Take care of yourselves, Nick.” She hung up.

  He contemplated checking in on his mom, then decided that not even the end of the world could make that call tolerable. Besides, she should be okay with Mack and his kids. As for Nick's dad, he wouldn't even know how to go about contacting him, so that was out.

  With his thoughts on Ellie, he also called the nursing home where her mom was staying. The receptionist who answered his call sounded harried, informing him that he wasn't the only one checking in on parents or grandparents with this Zolos scare, and their phones were ringing off the hook. She assured him that she wasn't aware of any issues with Mrs. Feldman, but that she'd have someone check on her and call him back to let him know how she was doing.

  To his relief, the woman also assured him that the nursing home had almost no contact with the nearby hospitals and emergency rooms, and they were being extra cautious about turning away visitors and keeping the place closed down to make sure nobody was exposed to the dreaded virus.

  That was more weight off his shoulders than he'd expected, after seeing the pitiable state of poor Mr. Thurston on the TV; in spite of the divorce, Nick had always thought Ellie's mom was a sweet woman, even when Alzheimer's began taking its toll. Considering she was the only grandparent the kids really had, he'd even taken them to visit her a few times when Ellie was gone on business.

  He hoped the home was able to keep out the sickness; the kids were sad enough about their grandma not always recognizing them, but to lose her entirely would be devastating. Especially with their emotional states already so fragile with the divorce.

  Of course with this current crisis, especially with their mom not answering her phone, they might be facing even worse tragedies. Nick tried to force himself not to think like that, but stranded in a checkout line in the middle of a store full of paranoid, panicking people wasn't the best place for thinking happy thoughts.

  An eternity or almost exactly forty minutes after entering t
he store, Nick finally reached the register. His cashier was one of those who was still personally running items, although the poor guy acted as if he was handling radioactive waste, and sharply ordered him to leave things on the end of the escalator and he'd pick them up from there and ring them.

  For all the good that would do, although Nick didn't bother pointing that out.

  In fact, he wished he hadn't thought of it so carefully when he realized that while the gloves might've protected the employee, the outside of them had touched items touched by every single person who'd gone through that line. Meaning if anyone in it had been infected, Nick might soon be too.

  And far worse, so would his kids; maybe he should've insisted on ringing up his items himself after all.

  Although that probably would've made this trip to the store take minutes longer. It was a laborious enough process to slowly empty the cart across the scanner with the employee's help, then bag everything up and load it all back on. The young man at least seemed grateful that so many of his cans were in unopened boxes, or big sacks of grain, beans, or flour.

  Finally it was time to pay. Nick glanced at the little monitor that told the final tally as he pulled out his credit card, then froze when he saw the numbers. “What is this?” he demanded.

  The cashier had the resigned look of someone who'd been through this way too many times. “Just got word a half hour or so ago to double prices. Employees are still putting up notices, but the change in policy was effective immediately.”

  Seriously?

  If there was one thing Nick had really, really, really learned in his life, it was that throwing money at problems didn't always make them go away. And throwing lots of money made them not go away even worse.

  On the other hand, when the problem was not starving to death while under quarantine as a virulent disease ravaged his city, throwing money at it seemed like a better alternative to, well, starving to death.

  So he barely hesitated in swiping his card, thinking bitterly that if he'd gone to the store immediately instead of watching the news first he'd be paying half as much. And even more bitterly that only hours ago the idea of putting his card over the limit just to buy food would've filled him with despair.

  He supposed there'd be plenty of time for that if the world ever got back to normal, and he found himself once again crushed under a mountain of debt. “Never let the suffering of others stand in the way of making a quick buck, huh?” he said caustically as he put his card back in his wallet.

  “I'm just an employee, sir,” the young man replied in a weary tone. There wasn't even much of a “screw you” behind his tone; how long had he been putting up with this from customers, when the decision had been made far above his head? Probably up at the corporate level.

  Nick felt a bit guilty. “Sorry, that wasn't cool.”

  The cashier shrugged. “I'm just living for the end of my shift, dude.”

  He couldn't help but glance at the teenager's mask and gloves. “I'm a bit impressed you stayed, considering this Zolos scare.”

  The store employee obviously wasn't in the mood for chitchat; he just motioned to Nick's bags as the card reader confirmed the purchase and a receipt printed out for him to take. By far the longest receipt he'd ever run up. “Thank you for shopping with us, sir. Have a nice day.”

  “Yeah, you too.” Nick struggled to get his cart squeaking its way to the door, waiting nervously through a minor bottleneck as people slowly poured through. Then he was in the parking lot and headed briskly for his car.

  There were abandoned carts all over the place, people in too much of a rush or too paranoid to risk taking them to the cart return areas. Many clogged parking spaces, and Nick shook his head as he saw the drivers of newly arrived cars risking scratching their paint by pushing the carts away with their bumpers as they parked, or even scraping along beside them and wedging the carts between their vehicle and the one next to them.

  He wasn't pleased at all to find that the truck next to him had done that as well, half crumpling a cart against the passenger side of his car and denting the door.

  He cursed up a blue streak as he unloaded as much of his cart into the trunk as it could fit, and the rest into the backseat through the driver's side. He had the strong urge to throw a can at the truck's windshield, but valiantly resisted it. Although more to avoid wasting precious food than out of any desire to be reasonable.

  In spite of his anger, though, Nick ended up leaving his own cart where it was. And instead of trying to disentangle the cart crushed against his car he just backed out. The squealing of metal on metal as his paint job took damage he couldn't afford to repair set his teeth on edge, but he at least had the minor satisfaction of seeing the cart's push bar smash the truck's tail lights on that side.

  Hopefully it hadn't also smashed his.

  Another car was waiting to take the space he'd just vacated, the woman driving it staring at him like he was a lunatic as he drove off. Nick ignored her as best he could and wove through the parking lot maze of abandoned carts, cars searching for parking spaces, and shoppers pushing absurdly overloaded carts, breathing a sigh of relief once he reached the road.

  Which, in a chilling contrast, was just as eerily abandoned as before. As if everyone who was out and about at the moment had all gathered at the store. Which maybe they had.

  At least he didn't run into any problems on the way home.

  ◆◆◆

  Tallie was waiting to throw her arms around him the moment he opened the door. Her eyes and nose were red and she'd obviously been crying, and even now that he was home she looked like a little lost fawn caught in the headlights, bewildered at this strange change to her peaceful world.

  “Daddy, are things okay now?” she asked.

  Nick thought of the mangled side of his car, the panic he'd seen at the store. He still had the rest of the groceries to unload, another few minutes outside at least where he could come in contact with someone, possibly picking up this infection from them.

  But the sight of his little girl so obviously distressed overshadowed all other considerations. He hastily set the bags he was holding down, then stepped forward and swept her up in a hug. Her arms and legs locked around him with every ounce of strength in her tiny body, and from the way she shuddered he had a feeling she'd started crying again.

  He hugged her back fiercely, kissing the top of her head. “Of course things are okay, sweetie girl,” he murmured. “This is just like that flu scare last year . . . it'll be over in a few weeks.”

  Ricky, standing nearby looking as if he wanted to rush forward and throw his arms around his dad too but was trying to act mature, spoke up diffidently. “We never had to evacuate from school last year. And you never went to the store and bought a bunch of food.”

  Nick felt Tallie hug him even tighter in sudden fear, and had to resist the urge to shoot his son a sharp look; Ricky was just as scared as his sister, even if he was being brave about it. So brave Nick couldn't help but feel a fierce surge of pride for his son.

  He stepped forward and crouched to wrap an arm around Ricky's shoulders. “It's a bit different,” he admitted. “But it won't affect us at all. I mostly work at home anyway, and I can do must of the things I usually have to travel for in conference calls if I really need to. You guys will probably like it more anyway, since you won't have to go to school.”

  Ricky thought that over solemnly, then looked at the bags he'd brought in. “You need help with the groceries?”

  Nick paused, weighing his desire to unload the car quickly with his need to protect his son. It wasn't a hard choice. “No, I've got it.” He gently set Tallie down. “How about you and your sister take the stuff I bring in to the kitchen and start unloading things?”

  Fifteen minutes later, Nick locked the car and carried the last few bags into his apartment. He paused in the doorway, staring out at a deceptively peaceful world.

  One he no longer felt safe venturing out into.

  So
this was it. They had what they needed, fingers crossed, and there were no more reasons to go outside. That meant it was time to lock the door and hope against hope their little apartment stayed a protected bubble against the dangers of Zolos.

  He threw the bolt with an almost ceremonial feeling, wondering if he should find a way to keep the kids from opening it. He fully intended to make sure they both, especially Tallie, knew very well that they shouldn't go outside, and exactly why; the consequences for disobeying could literally be death in this situation. Nick didn't want to scare them, but they needed to understand the danger.

  But no matter how well he explained things, that might not guarantee two young children wouldn't try to go outside anyway while throwing a tantrum, or if they were going stir crazy.

  In the end, though, he decided it was better not to make it harder to open the door than was strictly necessary, in case there was an emergency and they needed to leave quickly. It would be a bit ironic if he nailed the thing shut to protect his family from Zolos, only to be unable to flee if there was a fire.

  Although there was the fire escape connecting to his office.

  Nick turned his back on the door and made his way to the kitchen to begin helping put away all the food. Now that they were safely inside, he didn't have to worry about potential exposure to the virus. He hoped. Although what he did have to worry about was any exposure they might've already had today, or possibly even previous days without realizing it.

  He resolved to watch his children closely over the next few days for Zolos symptoms, and teach them to Ricky and even Tallie so they could tell him immediately if they noticed anything wrong.

  If the unthinkable happened and they did get sick, he wasn't sure what he'd do. The hospitals would probably be overloaded to the point of uselessness within days if the outbreak got out of control, if they weren't already, but even so they might be able to offer care, medicine and whatever, that he simply couldn't offer if he tried to help his kids at home.