Isolation by Jones, Nathan (the first e reader .TXT) 📗

At the bottom of the stairs Larry led the way to the open door and made sure Mrs. Metford went out first. “Was anyone else in there with you?” he shouted as she took her son from him and started to bolt away.

“No!” she shouted, not even looking back at him. The poor woman ran until she was in the center of the street, as far from any fire as was possible. Once there she collapsed to the ground, coughing and patting little Bobby's back as he coughed as well.

Larry left them and ran on to the next house, in time to meet a sleepy young couple as they stumbled out their front door. “Anyone in there with you?” he shouted at them. They stared at him with wide eyes, expressions frightened and confused, before slowly shaking their heads.

Fine. He ran on to the next house, which turned out to be abandoned, and was halfway to the one beyond that when a hand gripped his shoulder.

It was Jay. “That's it!” his friend shouted in his face, still barely audible over the roaring flames around them. “The winds have shifted back the other way . . . the fires shouldn't spread any farther. And if they do, everyone in our group is already up and safely outside.”

Larry felt his shoulders sag in relief, slumping down to the grass right where he stood. He finally took the time to really clear out his smoke-filled lungs, coughing and hacking until he was breathing a bit easier. As he did Jay thumped his back, while also gripping his shoulder supportively.

After a minute or so Larry forced himself back to his feet, accepting his friend's supportive shoulder, and stumbled out onto the street. A crowd was gathering there, down the street and well upwind from the last houses the flames had spread to. They were mostly in pajamas, underwear, or some half-dressed state, with only a few fully dressed.

Dozens of soot-stained faces turned to watch as Larry and Jay approached, all looking miserable and defeated and above all frightened. Although a few had moved beyond shock to anger.

“This was Stanberry!” a woman in the crowd shouted. “They tried to burn us to death in our beds!”

Larry opened his mouth, then closed it. The evidence certainly seemed to support her claim, little as he liked to admit it.

He tensed as Jay stepped forward to face the crowd, started to reach out to pull his friend back, then hesitated.

That hesitation was all Jay needed; firelight showed a hint of smugness on the man's face as he turned back to confront Larry, the crowd symbolically at his back. “So much for your claim that our enemy's happy to let the fight go if we leave!” he said loud enough for everyone to hear.

Larry was probably the only one who knew Jay well enough to hear the triumph in his voice. “Shut up, Jay,” he said wearily.

“No!” his friend shouted, turning to face the crowd again. “This is what we can expect from Stanberry! They looted our houses while we were with our loved ones dying in a quarantine camp. They refused to so much as apologize for what they did, and laughed at our demands to return what they stole. We tried to keep this nonviolent, and they're the ones who shot at us. Twice!”

A rumble spread through the gathered crowd. Larry was dismayed to hear more agreement than dissent.

Jay seemed to hear it too, and continued with even more zeal. “And now, when we were ready to give up our grievance and return home to live our lives in peace, what do they do? They burn down half our town!”

We burned down half their town first, Larry thought. And they only came after Wensbrook when we trashed a bunch of houses and deliberately/accidentally spread Zolos to a camp full innocent people.

But Jay's words drew a roar from the crowd, which now seemed firmly on his side. He seemed to relish the renewed support for his cause, because he raised one fist in the air and lifted his voice to a scream. “They won't leave us alone! If we walk away from this fight now they'll follow us and shoot us in the back!”

He paused, letting the silence hang as the mood of the crowd stirred to a frenzy, then continued harshly. “The only way we end this is by winning! If we want peace, we have to keep wearing Stanberry down until they surrender!”

Another roar rose above the deafening noise of the flames around them, people shaking their fists and screaming their defiance.

Larry watched it all with a sinking heart, realizing he'd lost any chance he might have had of calming his friends. His house was on the other side of town, safe, and he hadn't considered the pure strength of feeling everyone would have about losing their own homes.

The place where they'd lived and loved, then had to abandon so they could flee to a quarantine camp and watch just about everyone they cared about die. Having their houses scavenged was a harsh enough blow, and Larry certainly empathized considering the raw grief, despair, and rage he'd felt when he'd seen the state of his own place.

But watching those same homes burn, a symbol that these poor people had really lost everything, would be too much to bear for most. Enough to rekindle the previous rage a hundredfold, to make his friends forget their guilt about possibly spreading Zolos to the quarantine camp, their resolve to come home and try to rebuild their lives.

Enough to put them back on the warpath.

He should've either shut Jay up before he opened his mouth, or jumped in and turned this into a debate right off the bat. Instead, he could only watch numbly as Jay moved among the crowd of disheveled men, women, and children, clapping backs and gripping shoulders comfortingly.

“Come on, back to our camp!”