Isolation (Book 3): Starting Anew, page 17
part #3 of Isolation Series
“That our stuff?” the big man called.
“It is.” Nick tossed the moving truck's keys as the two men came within ten feet. Jay snagged them out of the air, and Nick continued talking to him. “Wasn't sure who I'd be meeting here.”
“You mean you didn't expect the guy in charge to be the one sitting on his hands out in the middle of nowhere for three days straight?” the bald man called back, tone acid. “I spent one night in my house, then realized there was no place I'd rather be than here, making sure you guys did what was right.”
“Well I hope this makes up for what happened to your homes.” Nick stepped away from the moving truck, motioning in invitation. “We've loaded this thing to capacity, including the cab.”
“And you think one truck is enough?” the big man called. “It better be full of bars of gold, if your leader's promise of restoring our stolen possessions, or at least something their value, wasn't a lie.”
Sometimes silence was the best response. Darby had told these two that they could only spare so much because of the quarantine camp, and repeating that would probably just anger them. So Nick kept his peace as the two peered into the cab, then threw open the truck's rolling door and poked around inside, taking several boxes out so they could see farther in.
Finally Jay hopped down from the back, expression incredulous. “You think this makes up for everything you took from our town?” he demanded. “You even going to try to pretend it is?”
“It's not,” Nick said as calmly as he could; maybe silence wasn't the best response. “But the simple truth is it's all we could spare. More than enough to support your people.”
The man slammed his fist against the truck's flimsy siding, snarling out a stream of curses. “Support? You think we need charity? You think that's what this is about?” His voice was getting louder by the word, a disquieting gleam coming to his eyes. “That we just came sniffing around hoping you'd give us some stupid bags of rice and wheat and beans, a few gallons of vegetable oil, some bandages and antiseptics and generic painkillers, and water purification equipment?”
“Besides, if you're talking survival where's the guns?” the big man with him demanded. “Where's the booze? Where's the real medicine? Where's the fuel from our gas station? Where's all the things you emptied out of every business and most of our houses?” He took a menacing step closer. “Where's our stuff?”
“It's what we could spare,” Nick repeated lamely. “You can go to an emergency relief stockpile for anything we didn't give you.”
“Give us?” Jay repeated incredulously. “Give us?”
“You can't give us what you stole from us in the first place,” the other man growled. “Even if the stuff in this truck wasn't a complete joke compared to what you took.”
The Wensbrook leader whirled on his friend. “Larry, are you as blind as the idiots in Stanberry? Why are you obsessing over the stuff? The stuff doesn't matter.”
Nick frowned. “If it doesn't matter then why are you-”
He cut off with a grunt as Jay lunged forward and grabbed him by the front of his shirt, half lifting him into the air; the strength in those frail arms was frankly alarming, as if the man was fueled by pure rage.
“You think this is about the garbage from our town you've squirreled away in your stockpile?” Jay screamed in his face. “This is about the homes your town desecrated! The houses of loved ones, friends, neighbors, that you broke into and rummaged around in. The owners might be dead, but that doesn't give you the right to sully their memory like that!”
“I-I . . .” Nick stuttered. How did he respond to that? What could he even say?
The bald man hauled him over to the front of the truck and slammed him into it violently enough to make his teeth rattle. “I'm not sure the people of your town can make up for what you've done, but at the very least you should return what was taken,” he snarled.
“We need those things to help real, living people,” Nick said frantically. “We have nothing but respect for the people of Wensbrook who were lost to Zolos, but the things they left behind could help others survive now. Is that so terrible?”
Jay swore bitterly and hauled him a few feet sideways to the passenger side of the truck, then shoved him hard enough to send him stumbling backwards. At least until Nick lost his footing and slammed into the ground with enough force to send blinding pain shooting up his spine from his tailbone.
The Wensbrook survivors' leader stood over him, raging. “You want to send us to the relief stockpile? Why don't you go there if you think it's so great, you POS? What gave you the right to break into our houses and tarnish the memory of the people we lost? Why do you keep looking at me like I'm the bad guy here?”
Nick stared up at him helplessly. He couldn't think of anything to say, wasn't sure there was even anything he could say.
But no answer was apparently once again the wrong answer, because Jay reached towards the small of his back and whipped out an enormous pistol, pointing it down at his face. “You people think you can do something like this to us and we'll just roll over? Maybe sending back your corpse will convince them otherwise!”
“Please,” Nick gasped out, staring at the round hole of the gun's muzzle that seemed to fill half his vision. He felt his bladder start to release in sheer terror and forced it to stop, although not before a humiliating trickle came out. “I've got two children at home!”
For a moment he wondered why Chet and Ben weren't doing anything, and then he realized that Jay had dragged him around to where his friends couldn't see what was going on. Had the man known they were there and done it on purpose?
Scrud, he should've had the two take up different positions so they could cover both sides of the truck; served him right for not having any combat experience or knowledge of tactics whatsoever.
Which meant he needed to talk himself out of this, if he could.
The other man, Larry, stepped up and carefully put a hand on Jay's arm holding the gun. “Hey, this is the guy who at least gave us something,” he told his leader carefully. “Maybe he's not the one we should be pissed at.”
“All this guy gave us was an insult,” Jay snarled. “He just proved his people don't really understand the problem here.”
The big man gently pushed the gun away so it wasn't pointing at Nick anymore, to his vast relief. “You're probably right,” Larry said in a quiet voice, “but I don't want to go to war with people who were my neighbors a couple months ago. I just want my stuff back.” His leader showed no reaction, and he kept going more forcefully. “We might've been the ones looting an abandoned town if things had turned out differently, man. Let's stick to the plan for if they didn't meet our demands.”
In spite of Nick's terror it was hard to ignore that. Plan?
Jay slowly turned to look at his friend. “It's all about the stuff for you, isn't it?” he accused quietly.
Larry shifted from foot to foot, looking uncomfortable. “Well I mean, the other things you're talking about matter too, of course. But mostly yeah, I think we deserve to get our stuff back. This is about justice, and killing this guy's not going to help our cause.”
It took a few seconds, but Jay finally visibly fought to push down his anger and regained the phony easygoing persona he'd shown up to that point. “Right, right, we don't shoot the messenger. That seems like more the sort of thing the enemy would do.”
Tucking his gun away, the bald man leaned forward to offer Nick a hand up. When Nick just stared at it warily, the man chuckled and leaned down to bodily lift him to his feet, again showing surprising strength for someone who'd survived Zolos. “Hey, no hard feelings man, right? You can understand I'm a bit upset, but that was no reason to take it out on you.”
No, no hard feelings at all about you pushing me around and shoving a gun in my face like you were going to murder me five seconds ago. Water under the bridge. Although on the plus side, at least the man didn't seem to know that Nick was one of the scavengers who'd searched Wensbrook; when he'd been tossing out all those “yous” in his accusations it had almost sounded like he did.
Either way, best get out while the getting was good. Nick backed away from the man, rubbing at his bruised tailbone. “This situation isn't ideal for any of us, but we're doing the best we can,” he said as calmly as he could.
“Well I would beg to differ there, but I guess it's more than nothing.” Jay made a show of dusting him off, then briskly turned him in the direction of Stanberry and shoved him forward a step. “I'm afraid you're going to have to hoof it back . . . we'll be taking the truck as part of what's due to us.”
Nick had kind of figured they would, which was why he'd had the brothers bring his car. “Anything you'd like me to tell Stanberry's leaders when I get back?” he asked, then wondered if he shouldn't have just appreciated the chance to get away in one piece and kept his mouth shut.
“No, no!” the Wensbrook leader said cheerfully. “I believe I've expressed my displeasure well enough. Just make sure your bosses know it was aimed at them, even if you were the unfortunate punching bag.” He hardened his tone. “And they'll be getting a taste of it soon enough, if this is the best they've got to offer by way of an apology.”
Fantastic. Looked as if the supplies they'd given up, which could've gone to feeding hungry people in the camp, would just go to feed people determined to cause problems for Stanberry. Making it that much easier for Jay to focus on his feud.
Well, Nick had been on board with giving the Wensbrook survivors supplies to try to appease them, so he didn't have any room to complain that it hadn't worked. He was just disappointed Jay wasn't being more reasonable.
Why did people always insist on pushing towards violence, and keeping on pushing until everyone was too sickened by the resulting carnage to continue, or even worse one side was completely beaten, instead of just trying to find a peaceful solution in the first place?
It was still his hope that they'd be able to find a solution everyone could be happy with, but some part of him was feeling like he was back in his office in his apartment, with that thug climbing through his window to threaten his family all over again.
The thought of what he'd been forced to do then, and what might happen in this current confrontation if things continued to escalate, made him sick.
Nick hurried down the road towards where his friends waited with the hidden car, lightheaded and legs feeling weak at the thought he'd almost died. His heart pounded and his mouth was dry, gut churning at the fear that at any moment the men behind him might change their minds and put a bullet in his back after all.
He didn't get shot. That was a plus; probably the only one he could think of for this disastrous encounter.
Chapter Nine
Storm on the Horizon
Ellie felt like she should be at the quarantine camp at the time of Nick's delivery to the Wensbrook survivors, in case it didn't go well and Jay immediately attacked.
She'd left Hal back in their scouting post in the tree by their camp, in case the Wensbrook leader chose the unlikely direction of the Norsons' house northwest of town as his approach. And she'd left Ricky with him, since if it came to a fight then the camp a stone's throw from the roadblock was a more likely source of trouble than a little house on the outskirts of town.
Although at the moment she was waiting at what was becoming her usual place by the rebuilt barricade, waiting nervously for her ex-husband's car to come into view so she could hear what had happened. And dreading the possibility that instead it might be a dozen vehicles full of people planning violence, after leaving her children's father beaten up or worse next to the moving truck he'd brought out to them.
Ellie quickly dispelled that image; Darby, waiting by the roadblock showing nerves in spite of his best efforts to present a confident front for his people, had assured her that Nick had brought Chet and Ben with him as backup, and she trusted the two young men to keep him safe.
The Mayor wasn't the only one at the roadblock, of course. News of the delivery had spread in spite of the early hour, and most of the town's leaders were there along with a sizable crowd of curious onlookers. Darrel looked understandably peeved at that, likely thinking that if Jay did pull a surprise attack then they'd all be in danger.
After an anxious twenty minutes or so of waiting, one of the men at the roadblock abruptly called for silence. After a few seconds she heard what he had: the approach of a single engine, sounding more like a car than a truck.
Nick!
Her hope was rewarded when his affordable little car zipped into view, moving at dangerous speeds. It screeched to a halt a safe distance from the barricade, her ex-husband hurling himself out of one of the back doors and approaching where the town's leaders waited. His face was ashen, beaded with sweat in spite of the cool morning, and he looked like he'd just escaped a nightmare.
Chet and Ben joined him, and the three quickly filled them all in on what had happened with Jay, causing a stir of agitation from the crowd. Ellie listened with mounting horror, realizing that her worst fears about Nick's safety had almost come true.
Horror, and guilt. After all, hadn't she been the one who'd been so confident that Jay would calm down with time and become more reasonable? Her ex-husband might've chosen to deliver those supplies partly thanks to her assurance.
Darrel excused himself halfway through the account, stepping away and raising his radio to begin barking orders to his patrols. Darby also looked as if he wanted to rush back to his informal command center in town and begin handling this crisis, but he was wise enough to take the time to get every detail he could from Nick and the brothers.
Ellie listened attentively as well, not only because she wanted to be able to help her ex-husband get over what had obviously been a traumatic experience, but also so she could decide what measures to take in the quarantine camp as a result of this failed peace offering.
First things first, she'd need to talk to Starr about turning his security force into a more formal defense force to protect the camp. Weapons in the camp were few and far between, and it was still four days before the ones Nick had scavenged from Wensbrook would be safe to distribute, assuming the town's leaders were willing to give any to Starr.
She'd have to talk to Darby about any weapons he could spare.
Her musings about what she needed to do was interrupted by Nick abruptly cutting Darby off as he rephrased a question he'd already asked. “If that's all, I'm going to go.”
The Mayor paused, looking put out at being interrupted and slightly suspicious. “Go where?”
His tone seemed to infuriate her ex-husband. “Out to scavenge, if you're worried I'd use nearly getting my head blown off as an excuse to slack off,” he snarled. “And next time you want to send someone out to people looking for blood, you can go yourselves.”
Darrel, who'd just returned from organizing his patrols, snorted in derision. “You're back without a scratch, no harm no fuss. Don't be such a coward, Statton.”
“A coward?” Nick repeated incredulously. “That's rich coming from you. A wack job just shoved a gun in my face, ready to kill me before his friend stepped in. The main reason he was so pissed was because you basically threatened to gun down his entire community, a crowd of weakened Zolos survivors we were trying to calm down. Meanwhile, I had only two friends to back me up out there because you were too scared to cross the magical line of your patrol border.”
Ellie tried to look at both sides in an argument, but she had to admit she was fully behind her ex-husband on this one.
“Magical line?” the patrol leader snapped, expression darkening. “You think it's ludicrous to have a justified fear of Zolos? I'm the most reasonable person out there.”
“Everyone thinks they're reasonable,” Nick shot back, “and yet there's still plenty of unreasonable people running around. It's almost like unreasonable people have zero self-awareness, which fits you to a T.”
Darrel snatched off his baseball cap, crumpling it in his fist as he took an angry step towards her ex-husband. “You know, Statton, I'm getting really sick of your-”
“Enough, both of you!” Darby shouted. “Don't you think we have enough problems right now?” He turned to his cousin. “Up the patrols, everyone available on duty and multiple rapid response teams, until we figure out what Jay has planned.” He whirled on Nick. “And you, get back to scavenging. We've still got people pouring into the camp.”
“I'm going,” her ex-husband said stiffly. “Although if I'd just sent you to nearly get your head blown off, without an ounce of support or a hint of apology, you know you'd be telling me to stuff it.” He stomped off before either man could answer.
Ellie was definitely going to need to talk to him tonight.
“That man seems determined to make everything difficult,” the Mayor grumbled. He sighed and turned to Ellie. “We need to talk about what precautions we should take with the camp in case of attack.”
She nodded. “Right away. But I need to make a personal errand real quick first. Shouldn't be more than a half hour.”
The tall man rubbed the bridge of his nose. “A personal errand. In a crisis.”
“Yes,” she replied firmly. “Because in a crisis, family comes first.” She turned for the camp, making for where she'd parked her car as she called over her shoulder. “I'll be back soon.”
In spite of her haste, on the way to her car Ellie was forced to stop at a small crowd clustered around the fence, only halfheartedly following quarantine isolation precautions. They were clamoring for news, agitated enough to potentially be a problem if she ignored them, so she resigned herself to taking a few minutes telling them what had happened.
Besides, she needed to give Starr that heads up in case Jay tried something before she got back.
The camp's residents were understandably upset at the idea they might get attacked while trapped in their vulnerable setup. As one woman in the crowd colorfully put it, “We're like cattle in a feed lot.”
Ellie did her best to reassure the group that the town's patrols were guarding them as well, and also publicly asked Starr about whether his security volunteers would be willing to spend some time setting up defensive positions and taking sentry shifts.
