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

you say that,” she murmured back. There was a muffled call from inside the house, and she groaned wearily and started to stand. “Well, I really need to get to work. The longer this takes, the better chance Jay has of catching us outside the barricade.”

Nick nodded; he'd feel better when she was safely back in town, too. “I need to get back to my patrol,” he agreed. “We'll be out there keeping guard . . . keep your radio on in case we need to call in a warning.”

“We will.” Gen blew him a kiss, then reluctantly slipped back into the house.

With equal reluctance he turned to hurry in the direction his patrol had gone. He would've preferred to keep his thoughts on Gen and the fleeting but pleasant moments they'd just shared, but with the columns of smoke on the horizon in front of him he found his thoughts turning grimly back to Jay, and what the man might have planned for them.

As well as Chet and Ben, and whether they really had disappeared last night to go light some fires of their own.

Chapter Five

Uneasy Quiet

Nick finished trickling the last of the water in the bottle he held into the mouth of the older man he was helping, then took a rag and gently wiped away the blood around his eyes, nose, ears, and lips.

The Zolos patient was barely conscious, frail and bleeding heavily from his orifices. Betty wasn't hopeful of his recovery, but they still needed to try as hard as they could.

If nothing else, it was kindness to at least make his final hours as comfortable as possible.

Nick set the cloth aside and rested a hand on the man's shoulder. “Hang in there,” he whispered. He didn't even know the patient's name, and felt bad that he could only spare a few moments for him; the man hadn't soiled his adult diaper, and it wasn't due to be changed for a few hours yet for the blood seeping out of his orifices down there.

Although Nick had been faced with that unpleasant task plenty of times in the last couple days, as he'd volunteered to help the sick between patrol shifts.

With a weary sigh he straightened and moved on to the patient on the next cot, fetching a fresh water bottle, an electrolyte tablet, and a clean cloth. The young man there was alert, propped up with pillows, and offered Nick a weak smile as he approached. “More water, huh? I already feel like my bladder's going to explode.”

“Do you need to be changed?” Nick asked, trying to sound brisk and businesslike about the onerous task. He wasn't a trained nurse or orderly; the closest thing he had to that sort of experience was caring for Tallie and Mack Gerson. He was sure neither him or this poor guy were overjoyed with this situation.

The man grimaced, a truly ghastly expression with blood crusted around his eyes, nose, and mouth, and more seeping out. “I was actually holding out for a trip to the latrine, if you want to give me a hand.”

Nick bit back a grimace of his own. He'd helped a few of the stronger patients with that, but it was exhausting unless he had another person helping to carry what basically amounted to limp weight, and they were seriously stretched thin with far more sick than volunteers to care for them.

“How about a bedpan?” he offered.

“Better than sitting in my own piss like a baby, I guess,” the patient said in weary resignation. “I'm almost looking forward to getting so sick I pass out, as long as I pull through the other side.”

Nick didn't have the heart to point out to the poor guy that if he did pull through, which thankfully seemed likely given his condition, he'd be too weak to care for himself. He'd have to endure this sort of indignity for weeks, yet.

He helped his patient take care of his bodily needs, got him cleaned up and situated comfortably again, then gave him some water and moved on.

The rest of his time helping the patients felt like an eternity of exhausting and less than pleasant tasks. Although as was often the case with work like that, looking back it was all a blur by the time he finally took a break to eat a hasty lunch before his next patrol shift.

The town and camp hadn't lessened their vigilance in the last two days since Jay's confrontation about the fires in his town. But in spite of the man's obvious fury, aside from burning the outlying houses he hadn't tried anything.

At least as far as they knew.

Even Jay's scouts seemed to have pulled back, out of view, and he'd also abandoned his previous strategy of zooming around menacing Stanberry with his convoy of six vehicles. Everything was quiet out there, although knowing what he knew about Jay's volatile nature Nick wasn't foolish enough to call it peaceful.

It was just a matter of time before the man attacked again. And considering he was taking days to prepare, it was probably going to be a big one.

Nick's grim mood evaporated quickly as he got closer to the scavenger group's campsite and heard the unmistakeable and heartwarming sound of Tallie's giggles. Grinning, he sped up and came into view of the fire to find his daughter rolling on the ground laughing.

Beside her Aimee was leaning over a pot of what looked like oatmeal, face set in an expression of good-natured exasperation as she slapped and shook one of those little plastic honey containers. It was mostly full but the honey inside was crystallized, and even though the young woman had taken the squeeze top off she still couldn't get any out.

When she spotted Nick approaching she shook the container at him, mock scowling. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

He shrugged and scooped up his daughter, cuddling her as he settled down in a camp chair. “Are there any other ones?”

Aimee's scowl deepened.