Sealed In Part 18

'No. They are sick. Real sick. I think I got too close. What do I do? This is real.'

'Are you hurt?'

'No. What do I do? I don't want to get sick. But if I got it, I can't go near mom or Cody.'

Richie knew when there was a long pause between texts that Andy was coming up with a plan, and he did. He told Richie that he had heard from his pap that people exposed got sick in a day. Andy a.s.sured Richie he probably wasn't sick or exposed, but if he wanted to be careful, he had to leave the car and walk back a couple miles.

Bailey's RV. It was parked on the edge of Bailey's property, far enough away from Hartworth to be safe. It was the place Del had planned to meet Tanya and her son, Tad.

Andy told him to go there and he would drop off supplies and food. He also instructed Richie to turn off his phone once he let Andy know he arrived at the RV to conserve battery power. If after two days Richie showed no signs of the illness, Andy would come and get him.

But what if he did? What if he got sick?

Andy a.s.sured him that he would come.

Richie shut down his phone as he walked the distance to Bailey's property. Four miles was a long haul, especially in the dead of winter. The temperatures had dropped, and snow fell. His fingers grew numb, and his feet were wet. By the time he arrived at Bailey's property, Richie could barely feel any of his body. He was numb, but the cold didn't numb his fear. Richie was scared.

The RV looked barren; no footprints were around it at all. It was a nice RV, big and modern. Richie reached for the side screen door. It was open, but as he reached for the handle, he realized that it was locked.

He stepped back, figuring he'd try a window when the door creaked open and the barrel of a shotgun appeared.

Did someone speak? As usual, he heard something, a m.u.f.fled noise similar to a tone. All Richie could do was cover his ears and call out, "I'm deaf. I'm not sick. Please. I'm cold."

After a few moments, the door opened slowly, and Richie stepped inside. An older man immediately shut the door behind Richie. He visually examined Richie then lowered the gun. He waved his hand for him to come in further.

The older man wasn't alone. The RV had at least eight people huddled together. None of them looked sick, but then again, what did Richie know.

He was either walking into a safe haven or into a viral time bomb.

Lincoln, Montana

"No, Andy, listen. These are just Hazmat coveralls; they won't work keeping out a virus. They won't," Emma told him. "These are designed for dust. I got these for when Yellowstone blew, for the dust and debris."

In her kitchen, Andy handed her a roll of duct tape. "Seal me over the ... g-gloves."

Nose running from crying, Emma did as instructed. She packed a box of supplies for Andy to take along with a five gallon container of disinfectant.

After she sealed his boots and gloves, Andy stepped into a second suit. "It ... it will work."

"Keep your eyes covered with the goggles. Use the mini tank for breathing," she instructed. "Park the truck a good distance away, take only the disinfectant and supplies. Got that?"

He grabbed her hand. "I'll b ... be fine. I don't th ... think Richie will get s ... sick. Bailey's is f... four miles out."

"Be careful, and please, do not go into Hartworth."

Andy shook his head as his answer, leaned forward and kissed Emma, and then he kissed Cody. He grabbed the box of supplies and headed out. Everything else was in his truck.

After he left, Emma settled at the kitchen table with Cody. The little girl ate her lunch, oblivious to everything going on.

"You're so lucky," Emma told her. "Gam loves you so much, and I am so sorry that you are going through this."

"Gam sad?"

"Gam very sad." Emma reached out and ran her fingers down Cody's cheek. She was grateful that the child wasn't sick and that she was so young that she wouldn't remember anything. That was, if they survived whatever it was that was wiping out a town so close by.

Hartworth, Montana

The roads were desolate; Andy expected as much. Traffic on the road was mainly between Lincoln and Hartworth, and he imagined that most in Lincoln were aware of the shut down and stayed away.

He moved pretty well despite the fact that the roads were getting slick with snow. He parked off the road where he knew he could get out, left the truck, trotted a bit, set down the sealed bag of clothes and disinfectant, and then with the supplies made his way to Bailey's RV. It was cold; the double suits did little to s.h.i.+eld the temperature. He dreaded the thought of undressing, but it had to be done.

He set the items by the door, knocked, and took off.

Once he arrived back at the disinfectant, he undressed completely and doused his naked body with the cleaner. He s.h.i.+vered out of control, was barely able to breathe, and knew he faced hypothermia. Grabbing the clothes from the bag was a struggle; it was even harder putting them on since his damp body started to freeze. Once he dressed, he took off for the truck. He wore only socks, which he took off once he returned to his vehicle, and pulled on shoes.

Andy was freezing; he didn't think he'd ever warm up. He was glad to see the message from Richie, stating, :Thank you. Phone going off. If you don't hear from me, I did not get sick. Text on the 20th."

Andy was confident Richie wouldn't get sick. How could he? He really wasn't exposed. Not that Andy knew.

He blasted the heat in the truck as high and hard as he could and made the fatal mistake of driving through Lincoln on the way back.

He just wanted to get back.

The second he drove into town, Andy reached for the heat, shut it off, and closed the vents.

It was surreal. Early afternoon and not a soul walked the streets. There wasn't a track in the road, not a footprint. Bonnie's was closed and so was every other business.

No movement. It was eerily empty.

Either Lincoln was scared and they hunkered down, or they, too, were hit with whatever Hartworth had.

Andy didn't want to think about the latter; he just hoped for the best and drove to Emma's.

Chapter Eleven.

Hartworth, Montana

December 19th

Never could he recall ever being too sick to move, yet Stew didn't move from that chair next to Heather's bed. By late afternoon, he was too sick to think. His stomach wrenched, and Stew swore he could feel the blood moving through his veins. It was thick and sluggish, and it burned. His skin was so itchy he wanted to rip it from his body.

He was unable to contact Emma any longer. His phone died. However, he had a plan. To initiate it, he needed to rest. He hoped that would give him one more boost of strength. But Stew closed his eyes to sleep and didn't wake up until it was dark. The clock read after midnight. How much time had pa.s.sed, had been wasted? He wondered if he should even attempt his plan. As he reached his hand toward Heather, he heard confirmation that he should.

Sobs.

Stew didn't need to see who was crying; he knew. It was Val, and he also knew the reason; Roman had to have pa.s.sed away. Stew looked down to Heather. She was barely responsive, and Stew realized that she wasn't far behind.

With every ounce of strength he had, he slipped his hands under Heather and lifted her as he stood to his feet. Stew teetered. The weight of her body on his arms was like hot coals, burning, aching, and straight through to every nerve fiber in his body.

Walking would be a ch.o.r.e, and he did so one step at a time. He swayed a lot, b.u.mped into the wall, but Stew kept moving.

His legs hurt like h.e.l.l as he treaded toward the stairs. He prayed with every step he took that he wouldn't drop his granddaughter.

"Stew," Val called out weakly. "Where are you going?"

Stew glanced for only a second over his shoulder and moved for the staircase. "We're both dying," Stew said. "We're going home."

The steps were the biggest obstacle. Using the walls as support, Stew glided down more than walked. He even stumbled twice. He imagined it was the last of his determination that kept him going. He just needed to get outside. Val would certainly have a car there, something, and then Stew could go back in for the keys after he got Heather in the car.

He didn't expect for Larry to pull up in the squad car.

"Where ya headed, Stew? You look bad."

"I feel bad, Larry. I'm heading home. I'm taking my baby and we're heading home to die."

"You can't leave Hartworth."

"The h.e.l.l I can't. I can go home. My property is far enough away from Lincoln. I'll go straight there. I'll open the propane and once my girl pa.s.ses, it's done. But I'm not gonna die here, and neither is she. Not here."

Larry looked forward and then Larry stepped from the police car, leaving the door open. He walked to Stew. "Give me the girl."

Stew shook his head.

"Give her to me, Stew. I'll put her in my car. Keys are in the ignition. Just give me your word you go only to your house and you do just as you told me."

"You have my word."

"Then you take my car." Larry braced under Heather and lifted her from Stew.

The release of the weight was a relief, and Stew walked slowly to the driver's side. As he slid in, Larry set Heather in the pa.s.senger's seat, buckled the belt, and closed the door. Stew could barely grip the door enough to close it. Larry walked over.

"G.o.dspeed, Stew. Find peace."

Stew nodded. Then Larry closed the door. The car was running, and Stew drove off.

Larry stood there watching until the police car drove from his sight. When he turned, Val stood there.

Val didn't wear a coat. His face was drawn, and he handed Larry the journal.

"Why are you giving me this?"

"To take it back to the fire hall. But I see you have to walk now." Larry shrugged. "No big deal." He inhaled as he took the journal. "My, uh, my work is done. You ok?"

"No. No, not at all. But ...my work is done, too." After a heavy sigh, Val turned and walked back into his house.

Holding that journal, Larry began his walk back to the fire hall. He was barely a block down the empty, quiet street when the sound of a single shot rang out. Larry stopped. He knew what it was and from what direction it came, but he still paused briefly to look over his shoulder, and then he kept walking.

FLASH FORWARD.