Isolation (Book 3): Starting Anew, page 32
part #3 of Isolation Series
Ellie made a face. She had a feeling that sitting comfortably at a shooting stand on a range, calmly lining up a shot with all the time in the world at a stationary piece of paper on a straw-packed scarecrow, was going to be a lot different than shooting an enemy in the middle of a fight.
Especially if it was dark and there was a lot of confusion and loud noises and panic.
She was impressed Nick had managed it last night when he'd come so close to capturing Jay. Although her heart went out to him, having to deal with whatever guilt and shock came from nearly dying and being forced to take a life. He seemed to be handling it well enough, but she wondered if he was just putting up a strong front.
Maybe she should talk to Chet and Ben about being extra supportive to him and Charlie for the next few days. Assuming Jay didn't attack before then and force the Zolos immune security volunteers into even more fighting.
Shaking her head, she put those concerns aside for now and focused on hitting the bullseye.
Starr had agreed to let them create an extension to the main camp's shooting range for just them to use. It helped that after Nick's warning that Jay might be coming after them, they'd decided to move their camp to just on the other side of the main entrance from the range, one of the most well protected spots to be found outside of the camp itself.
Of course, sometimes the enemy decided to break right through the front door, in which case their new camp would be right in Jay's path. But she didn't think he had the numbers for something like that, and anyway it didn't seem like his style.
Because the ranges were all right next to each other, everyone had to take a break whenever someone wanted to go downrange to replace a target or something. In this case it was the Zolos survivors on the range farthest south, who were taking to their practice with a grim determination that put everyone else to shame.
But then, considering they'd taken on the responsibility of being the front line of defense, the ones most likely to run into trouble, it made sense.
That reminded Ellie that she needed to get in touch with Denny about instructing his patrols and sentries on the proper way to greet refugees making for the quarantine camp. Since his Zolos immune volunteers were also carriers of the virus, they needed to be careful not to infect anyone they came in contact with. And, just as importantly, to warn the people approaching the areas they patrolled of the danger of infection, and the safe routes to take to reach the quarantine camp.
Yet one more headache piled on top of all the others, thanks to that stupid bald psychopath.
She sighed and straightened from the rifle. “That'll have to be enough for now. I just thought of something I need to take care of sooner rather than later.”
Hal nodded, not looking surprised or disappointed; this wasn't the first time she'd interrupted some less urgent activity to put out some fire dealing with the quarantine camp. “All right, let's go wash up and get to it,” he said, wrapping his arms around her and giving her a fond peck on the lips. “We can clean the rifle later.”
Those were two things he insisted on after shooting, washing their hands to get rid of any potentially toxic residue and cleaning the weapons they used. The hand washing was simple enough, but she dreaded cleaning the weapon; he hadn't showed her how to do it yet, but it sounded like something that was going to take a while and require a lot of delicate, careful work.
But then, things always seemed intimidating until you tried them. Then as long as you had someone helping you do it properly, it was never as bad as you thought.
After washing up Ellie took her fiance's hand as they headed back to their camp. “I hope things settle down by our wedding, so we can have a proper honeymoon,” she murmured.
He squeezed her hand. “Hey, if we could get to a beach I bet they're all deserted right now. We'd have it all to ourselves.”
She made a face. “They're deserted for the same reason we'd be afraid to use them.”
“Well it's not the location of the honeymoon, it's who you spend it with.” Hal playfully bumped her shoulder with his. “So I'm looking forward to the best honeymoon ever.”
Ellie felt warmth surge through her. “Yeah, me too.”
Things were less than perfect for a wedding, but then life was rarely ideal. It was enough that she'd found this wonderful man to be at her side, no matter what the future held.
With the world going crazy, that was a lot.
✽✽✽
It took Larry Barons most of the day after Artie's death to work up the courage to speak. Not to mention finding a chance when his leader was available for discussion. But finally at dinner he decided it was time.
Jay'd been out hunting for most of the day, and while the meat from the buck he'd brought in was more than welcome, Larry had a feeling his friend had gone out to have some time alone and sort out his issues.
Which was understandable, considering what had happened last night. He hoped that break had done the man some good, but it sure didn't seem like it as he snuck a quick glance at Jay's face.
The poor guy looked as if he'd aged a few decades in the last few weeks, and not just because of nearly dying from Zolos. His once robust frame was shrunken and hunched, formerly strong features gaunt and pinched from carrying strong negative emotions for long periods of time.
Worst of all were his eyes, though, sunken and gleaming with a light that made Larry uneasy. No, if he was being honest they seriously wigged him out.
He's losing it, a treacherous part of his mind he didn't want to acknowledge kept saying. Losing it, or lost it entirely. The grief crushed him and now he's clutching onto his rage and hate for Stanberry like a lifeline.
Galvanized by that spike of concern for his friend, he cleared his throat and spoke in a rush before he lost his nerve. “I don't like this, Jay.”
Jay didn't look up from the cut of barbecued backstrap he was gnawing on, fresh from the deer he'd just brought down. “So don't eat it. Plenty of other people want some venison.”
Larry grit his teeth. “I mean this situation.”
His friend took so long to answer that it came as a surprise when he finally growled around a mouthful of meat, “None of us like this.”
Larry looked up from his cowardly inspection of the fire as he challenged his leader, momentarily at a loss. Liza Coates, at his side, elbowed him in the ribs in a silent encouragement to continue, and he took a deep breath. “It's gone too far. That thing with the balloons-”
“Was a practical joke, since just the fear of exposure was enough to reset those idiots' quarantine countdowns,” his friend scoffed, spearing another bite to stuff in his mouth before continuing. “Unless of course you didn't use clean water and wear decontaminated gloves for it like I said?”
“We did,” he grumbled. “But there's a chance Zolos still got in there somehow. And even if it was completely safe, from what we overheard on the radio those thirteen people we accidentally hit in the main camp don't think it's funny. They're probably going through one of the most miserable times of their lives right now.”
His leader just waved that off. “They'll be right as rain once they sweat it out for four or five days and realize that they're just fine.”
Larry wasn't sure he agreed with that. After going through the hell of watching just about everyone he knew and loved get sick and die, of losing his wife and daughter, the thought of even faking out those poor people with a contamination scare seemed unforgivable.
But he'd already argued about that ad nauseam, and continuing that debate would only derail the conversation. So he just shook his head stubbornly. “It's gone too far. Artie shouldn't have died.”
“That's right, he shouldn't have!” Jay snapped in a sudden blaze of fury. He slammed his meat down on his plate and tossed it to the ground at his feet, barely seeming to notice that it almost upended in the dirt as he stood, fists clenched. “I was just sneaking in to talk to the survivors in that camp, and that lunatic Statton drew guns on us! Artie and the Darren opened fire just to shoot out their lights and cover our escape, like we'd arranged beforehand, and for it those SOBs murdered him!”
Much as Larry loved his friend, he couldn't help but think uncomfortably that they didn't have much room to take outrage at other people pointing guns, considering what they'd been up to so far in this business with Stanberry.
“You said it wouldn't come to shooting and killing,” Liza spoke up suddenly. “You said we'd all be going back home to Wensbrook with justice done and our property restored, and none of us would have to fight to accomplish it.”
Their friend reddened further. “I thought they would've given in by now! Any reasonable people would've!”
“Well maybe it's time for us to consider giving in instead,” Larry said quietly. There were a few murmurs of agreement from others around the fire, many of whom had previously come to him pleading for him to try to talk some sense into their leader. “I don't want to die for a bit of stolen stuff, most of which wasn't even ours to begin with.”
Jay clenched his fists at his sides. “You were the one making the biggest deal about our stolen stuff when we started all this, Larry!” he snarled.
That threw him for a loop, and he fumbled uncomfortably. “Maybe I did. Maybe I've changed my mind, though.”
His friend's jaw clenched and worked as if he was seriously grinding his teeth. “I didn't ask for any of this! You wanted me to lead you, and I'm doing the best I can to do what all of us agreed was the right course of action. We all knew there was a chance that no matter how careful we were, someone on the other side might get trigger happy and shoot us. But if we give up now it's all for nothing. Artie would've died in vain.”
He paused and looked around, keeping it up until he'd met all their eyes in turn in an agonizing stretch of silence before continuing. “If you want to quit, we'll quit. Do you want to quit?”
Heads were already shaking no, even those who'd come to Larry now looking guilty at their leader's tongue-lashing. Liza glanced Larry's way in frustration, and he was sure he looked just as at a loss as her as he grudgingly shook his head as well. She sighed and mimicked the gesture, although she looked disappointed.
“But no more firefights,” he said firmly. “We get our stuff back and an apology for what happened in our town, but we don't turn this into some sort of bloodbath over it.”
“I never wanted to.” Jay growled. “We'll win this by continuing on as we have been, squeezing them until it hurts them more to hold onto their ill-got gains than to return them.” Without waiting for a response he stooped to snatch up his plate, slightly dusty now from his scuffling feet, and stalked towards the other camp, calling over his shoulder. “I'm going to check in with the recruits.”
That was a couple dozen Zolos-vulnerable people, a combination of quarantine camp deserters and refugees headed that way that they'd intercepted and convinced to join their cause instead. Coordinating with them without risking infecting them was a massive headache, and the “recruits” hadn't proven all that useful so far, but Jay seemed excited at the prospect of building their numbers.
Although for what, Larry wasn't sure he liked to think.
“We should've pressed harder,” Liza said when their leader was gone. “I know you see it just like I do, Lar . . . he's pushing himself over the edge.”
Yeah, he saw it. Another thing he didn't like to think about. “He'll be okay once this is all over with and we can go home.” At her dark look he hastily raised his hands. “But I'll try to convince him to get more sleep, maybe delegate some of his duties.”
She just made a doubtful noise and got back to her venison, gnawing the tough meat as if it was their crazy situation she was sinking her teeth into.
Larry sighed and got back to his own food. He hated this, hated it more than he liked to admit, but he didn't know what he could do about it.
Hadn't it been enough to watch all their loved ones die, without going on a crusade against some random town none of them really cared about?
He just wanted to go home and grieve his wife and daughter, and all the other loved ones Zolos had taken from him. He just wanted to try to rebuild his life.
Artie had wanted to stay in Wensbrook and move on, but now he'd never get that chance.
How had it come to this?
End of Starting Anew.
Ellie's and Nick's story continues in Holding On,
fourth and final book of Isolation.
Thank you for reading Starting Anew!
I hope you'll consider taking a minute or two to leave a review.
Reviews provide me with valuable feedback for improving my writing,
and are also tremendously helpful for boosting a book's visibility.
Here's a link to take you right there:
Starting Anew Review Page
I've also included a list of links to my other post-apocalyptic books on the following page,
if you're interested in reading more of my work.
Links to Post-Apocalyptic Books
by Nathan Jones
BEST LAID PLANS
Fuel
Shortage
Invasion
Reclamation
Determination
NUCLEAR WINTER
First Winter
First Spring
Chain Breakers
Going Home
Fallen City
MOUNTAIN MAN
Badlands
Homecoming
Homeland
Mountain War
Final Stand
Lone Valley
ISOLATION
Shut In
Going Out
Starting Anew
Jones, Nathan, Isolation (Book 3): Starting Anew
