02

Quaranteam: Off the Grid

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Many thanks to CorruptingPower, Ronan, OtterlyMindblowing, BreakTheBar, The Licentious Laurate, Julius Drake, Agathon, and 32Inch for not only permission to write in this shared world but also for the help and support to write all of this. Check out their work!

This story will deal with some depressing topics including death and emotional trauma. It is a very slow burn in terms of sex so please don't complain when it takes a while to get there. I truly hope that you enjoy.

-Bronan The Librarian]

Chapter One

April 22nd, 2020

The cemetery was silent except for the soft tapping of the spring rain. Moments before it had been broken by the

tchunk

of a shovel filling in the last of a shallow grave. The bare earth was placed between two existing graves. One almost 30 years old, the other still showing the edges of the sod that the groundskeepers had added barely a month earlier. Now, the grass was already showing signs of neglect. Several other graves had been unofficially added during the lockdown, marked with crude crosses or markers. Rain dripped from the matted auburn hair and glasses of the man who had left the latest.

Elizabeth K Sullivan

3.23.08 - 4.21.20

Forever would have been too soon

Why wouldn't the tears come? They hadn't the night before when the overcrowded hospital hall had listened to the flat tone of his daughter's heart monitor announce the end of a too short life. They hadn't when the nursing staff had watched in pitying silence as he unhooked the machines that hadn't been able to keep her broken lungs and heart from falling apart. They hadn't even as the doctor yelled at him as he wrapped the girl in the sheets coated in her own blood and he carried that terrible weight out past hushed patients and staff. He had laid his only child into the back seat, keeping on the mask that may or may not have been keeping him from getting sick before driving out to the far side of town to this silent place where even the crows had the decency to watch without making a sound as he scraped out a hole in which to place his burden.

Colin Sullivan was 35, overweight in the way of most men who settled into a domestic life, curly hair now laid wet and flat over his round face. Hazel eyes with a ring of deep green around a light brown core stared out at the early morning light. Pale skin with a wealth of freckles, marred by old scars and dark circles that spoke of the stress of the last month.

The other graves on either flank of his daughter should have brought tears and howls of grief as well. The older one was his father. Colin had been 8 when the man had suffered a massive heart attack, brought on by smoking a pack a day and an abiding love of red meat. The other one was his wife. She had been working as a receptionist for an urgent care clinic before being exposed to this Covid garbage. Her asthma had turned out to be a death sentence. This left Colin trying to raise a grieving 12-year-old as the world closed down around them. The schools hadn't had time to even send out the new plans for their students when Beth had started coughing. The paranoia from watching his wife waste away was quickly replaced with blind panic as she progressed in mere hours from feeling cruddy to gasping for breath, unable to speak as she coughed up a pink froth.

The ER had been packed with the sounds of coughing and the miasma of human suffering. Even as the nurses and doctors leapt into action and got Beth hooked up to a ventilator to try and save her.... It had been too late. From the shreds of conversation he'd picked up while he gripped her hand after she had been sedated? It was probably too late by the time she let out the first cough. It wasn't Covid, Colin knew. That bug he had seen close up as well. Whatever had killed his daughter was something new and terrible. Something he had exposed himself to quite thoroughly.

Not that he could bring himself to care.

Dropping the shovel, Colin returned to his slightly beat up Toyota sedan and pulled two cans of spray sanitizer out, holding down the top of both, filling the car with a fog of dubious virtue. Maybe it would kill off whatever virus or bacteria that he had been around. Maybe not. Maybe he even cared instead of hoping that he could follow his daughter as quickly as possible. The roads on the northern end of Spokane in Washington state were deserted during the lockdowns, so no one was around to see him pull out of the cemetery and head back towards his apartment.

The gray sky wept for him as he headed home. Normally he would have the radio on or a playlist of his own blaring over the speakers but now he just kept the windows down and let the water drip onto his arm. Parking the white sedan, he shuffled towards the second story apartment with growing dread. The realization that there would be no one there hung over him, settling a weight onto his chest and shoulders. He turned the key and entered. The rooms seemed too warm. Too still. Colin kept his mask on and began wiping down every surface, from his desk next to the door to the kitchen, to the bathroom. With the day not even halfway done he stood in front of the door to Beth's room. The drawings that she had made and taped to the door stared out at him with the same innocent joy that his daughter had always held.

He grabbed a fist full of trash bags and entered.

Bed sheets, stuffed animals of forgotten origin, dirty clothes that he had never had the heart to force her to clean up... he ruthlessly suppressed any thought as he bagged it all and sanitized the room. His mask felt like it was constricting his breath. Like it was wet, limp, and filthy beyond his mind's ability to comprehend it. He ignored it and took everything out to the dumpsters. It took longer than he had expected before the room was bare. The traces of the life lived in the room were all but gone.

All that was left were the childish doodles on the wall that had been hidden by Beth's bed. Colin had kept the family in the apartment for close to a decade so that Beth could stay in the decent schools that the area offered, as well as trying but failing to save money to upgrade to a real house. Colin stared at the drawings left by his daughter years before. Finally it hit home. Tearing off the mask, Colin stumbled to the bathroom and threw up. After what felt like everything that had ever crossed his lips was gone he cried. As the light from the setting sun came down the hallway to the west he vaguely wondered if the tears would stop even if he died in that spot.

-o0o-

May 12th, 2020

Colin had finished packing. His job, which had gone remote at the start of the lockdowns, had offered a skimpy severance package just to cut costs. That had been an easy choice after the two days of bereavement that had been offered. As an energy analyst Colin would work through the numbers for a business and use the amount of power and water used day by day to track business, then compare those numbers to the revenue for the day to try and help clients know what kinds of upgrades to their sites would be cost-effective. His boss had decided that keeping Colin around after the second requested leave of absence in a month wasn't cost-effective.

Cashing out his 401k, along with the money remaining from the life insurance his wife had left (minus the massive chunk that the insurance company and hospital had claimed) he had found a long-term Air BnB in the woods far to the north of town. He had some clothes, the piles of books that his wife had bought (and he never found the time to read), a double barreled shotgun, his laptop, and as much rice and dried food as he could fit alongside the propane canisters that he might have to rely on for his cooking.

One last look at the apartment left the same dull ache that living there provided. He locked the door and headed down the stairs. He had already cleared the fridge, cleaned the last of the dishes, and left a note for the property managers that he was abandoning his lease. With the world in the state that it seemed to be sliding towards? Colin figured that it was even odds that no one would care either way.

The Toyota headed north, taking the back roads across the farms and orchards just beyond the line of hills that defined the boundary of the city. The sun was out and the streaming white clouds made for an idyllic scene as he moved with the small number of other cars on the road. The lockdown was at least keeping most of the traffic clear, even if it seemed like every second car that *was* on the road was sporting political slogans or massive flags. Colin ignored them as part of the scenery even as they swerved recklessly, waved flags, and honked as if he gave a shit.

The tiny town of Deer Park provided a spot to pick up a bunch of booze and fresh meat as Colin drove further out. He ignored the looks and mutters from the locals about his mask before filling the front seat of the overloaded sedan with the latest purchases. Now the farms were separated by thick bands of pine forest, often orange or brown from several years of drought. Turning to the west, a pair of tiny towns went by along with a little lake. The road went up into the hills, past taxidermy signs and collections of 2-3 trailers surrounded by ruined husks of cars. A long driveway curved out of sight to the right. This was where his GPS told him to turn, so he headed up the gravel path. The path circled around a granite outcropping and the small cabin came into view, dark brown stain and white trim, along with a panorama of the verdant valley and the creek running through it below. There was a hot tub under a gazebo facing the valley, along with a large outdoor freezer which was connected to a separate set of solar panels. Even if power went out, he would have some way to protect perishable food.

After having moved his belongings inside, he searched around. The place was simple, with rustic decor and a few sets of antlers along with a TV linked to an old satellite dish and a DVD player. There was a fireplace, an electric stove, and a propane generator off to the side of the building as well as a well-maintained barbeque grill. Colin cautiously checked the grill for wasps. It had only taken one childhood encounter with a hive of those little bastards living in a grill to make him cautious for the rest of his life. It proved to be bastard-free and he breathed a sigh of relief. The food and booze were stored. His meager stash of clothes was put away.

Colin cracked open a beer and sighed. He still wasn't sure what compelled him to come out here. He knew that there was no way that he could stay in the cursed space that his family had once lived in, but pretending that he could just live on the edge of the wilds forever was a pipe dream. His money would run out eventually, even at the reduced rates that the pandemic had encouraged for this little place. He was out of work and had no idea if anything could ever motivate him to return to any office, let alone one where his niche skills could be used. He would have to see if there was some kind of gig work that he could perform, either as a contractor or remotely. His mind crept along the edges of the mundane, the beer grew warm without him drinking it.

Everything he was doing was just... drifting. Avoiding the maelstrom that he knew would consume him sooner or later. All it would take would be one slip, one memory from the depths of his mind and he knew that he would do something stupid. The sun eventually descended beyond the western side of the valley, the shadows of the far ridge eclipsing the light well before it would actually set at this time of year. Colin downed his now bathwater warm beer before heading back inside. Like everything else... there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.

-o0o-

The next few weeks settled into a routine. He would drive the 30 or so miles from the cabin back into Deer Park. There were a few smaller towns in between, but he wasn't in the mood to deal with the groups of paranoid rednecks who were consistently congregating at the general stores and gas stations in all of them. Over the last 15 years, he had spent plenty of time in low end jobs, college degree basically ignored as he and his wife Raina did their best to get by. He knew white trash looking for trouble.

So he went to the bigger town on the main highway to go through the steadily decreasing selection of fresh meat and veggies. Made small talk with the older staff working and commiserated with the complaints about all the high school age help flaking out and ghosting their jobs in town. After the second weekly visit there was a group of men outside the store. One of them had a bullhorn and all of them were open carrying. Colin kept a wary eye on them as they were the definition of "Gravy Seals." None of them were in shape and the trigger discipline they showed told him that everyone was lucky that the safety had been invented.

Once back at the cabin he spent a good three or four hours a day wandering the trails, rain or shine. This had led to three afternoons where he was forced to find shelter from the early summer storms that popped up in the afternoons in and around the valleys of north-eastern Washington. The wind and rain pushing him around seemed to sooth his soul, at least for as long as it lasted. Evenings were slow dinners when he could force himself to eat... which wasn't every night. Grief had tempered his dad bod slightly, though Colin told himself that he was unlikely to ever get back his university six pack. The lack of close contact also resulted in his hair continuing to grow somewhat out of control. Until the start of the year, his habit had been to keep his hair cut quite short. When the lock downs began he had missed the last chance to get it trimmed. The result was a mass of dark red curls that would have made any of his female relatives jealous if he were still in touch with them.

He also hadn't bothered to keep his beard more than trimmed, leaving a surprisingly dense covering of wiry copper across his jaw and upper lip. Raina had loved the look of the beard when they first met, but hated the feel of it. She had quickly convinced him that he would rather have her enjoy kissing than looking. Sitting and watching nature was fine, but after he finished the collection of books he had brought Colin felt restless. He thought back to his family daily. Sometimes he even avoided sobbing or screaming until the echos of his pain filled the valley around him. As he poked through the job listings in his email, he paused over a subscription notification. Raina didn't like reading but loved stories, so she had consumed audio books like no one else Colin had met. She had even teased him more than a few times that he should start recording. He had called her biased. But staring at the account that had expired after Raina's card was declined made him wonder. Could he sustain living like a hermit, away from his pain, if he tried to record books?

Raina had always said that his voice was the first thing that attracted her. They had met in a busy coffee shop where he was laughing with some friends who it turned out also knew her. They had been damn near attached at the hip the whole time since... until she got sick. Colin cleared his throat and shook his head. If he wanted to eat more than beans and rice through the end of time, he needed to find something. And the lockdowns had created a booming gig industry of voice work for anyone willing to put in the investment of time and equipment to record, it seemed like. He went to bed that night after having searched for all of the equipment needed to try his hand at this. Maybe it was yet another pipe dream. But he figured that if Raina and Beth were still watching him, then maybe they would get a kick from watching him try.

-o0o-

July 5th, 2020

Colin sighed as he closed down his laptop. As it turned out, there was plenty of recording work... as long as one didn't object to narrating insipid romance novels or trashy fiction. The microphone, a box with some soundproofing, and some free editing software had yielded plenty of work. The last month had been as much recording as his voice would handle followed by a great deal of cursing while learning the ins and outs of editing on a laptop that was not really up to the task. His work was accepted, however, and enough money to get by was coming in. He had skipped the last two weekly trips into town due to deadlines which meant his supply of fresh food had dwindled rather badly. Now that the holiday was past, Colin figured that it was safe enough to head out without finding crowds of belligerent people bitching about the lockdown restrictions that would prevent big gatherings and getting hammered for the 4th.

After a cool shower Colin headed out into a dusty late morning. The little two lane road was nothing unusual though he absently noted that a number of the operational vehicles from the small farms and trailers on the back road were nowhere to be seen. His usual playlist covering everything from 1960s and 70s rock to more modern pop wafted out the open windows. A lot of these songs had been added by Beth and Raina.

He did his best to suppress any feelings about this fact while he changed tracks.

The store in Deer Park was surrounded by the sulfurous stench of the prior night's fireworks and some discarded flyers for a meet up to protest the lock downs like real Americans. Beer cans, trash, and mysterious stains across the lot showed that there had been some pretty good turn out here in the middle of town. A couple of the attendees even seemed to have passed out at the wheels of their lifted pickups. Colin crossed the lot, hoping that he wouldn't run into any die hards who thoughts that masks meant cowardice.....

And came to a dead stop.

The smell from inside the store had wafted to Colin and he took in the scene again. He moved to the automatic door which opened near silently and allowed a view of the cash registers. A pair of feet could be seen.

He backed off and approached one of the sleepers in a glossy black Dodge Ram. His heart froze as he saw the man in the driver's seat staring out the window from hemorrhaging eyes, the blood already dried on his cheeks. Swallowing back bile, he retreated to his car and parked it as far away as possible while still being in the same lot. Fumbling his phone out, he called 911.

A busy signal.

He knew that trying again would just move him to the back of whatever automated queue the county was using, so he waited anxiously. It took over 10 minutes just to get through. The operator sounded like they had been on the phones for days without a break.

""What is your emergency?"

Colin cleared his throat, "There are at least 3 dead people in and around the main store in Deer Park. We need... well not medics, but someone needs to come help."

"Sir, remain calm. We'll get someone out there when we can, but there are calls from all over about the same thing. We will get a car over as quick as we can, but I need to ask are you sure they're dead?"

Colin stared incredulously at his phone.

"If they aren't dead then they have some fuckin great discipline to let flies walk on their eyes!"

The dispatcher got defensive. "I have had people screaming about their loved ones all night, man. You'll just have to get in fucking line!"

Colin's temper was usually under complete control but the last few months of grief and isolation made him boil. "Ok, peckerwood, look. I get that this shit is happening everywhere but I don't need you being a prick when I'm calling in to let you know you have a fucking plague ward on your food supply. If you won't help, then tell who the FUCK I am supposed to be talking to?!"

The pause on the other end was enough to make Colin think that the dispatcher had muted themselves to have a good swear at him before they returned with a tone of speaking to a child who had whinged themselves into worse trouble after a fight. "Fine. You want to talk to someone else? Sure, sir. I can help you with that."