Free short story!

 Here's a free short story to make up for not posting anything at the beginning of the month. 

The story is called In Cold Isolation, and is a new adult gothic story about living in the age of Coronavirus.

Enjoy!

Janie propped her elbow on the dinner table and rested her chin in her hand. She hadn’t said a word for an hour. Nor had anyone spoken to her. They ordered her to come home. The least they could do was talk to her. Acknowledge me, she wanted to scream. See me. The words she wanted to bawl at her family slid back down her throat to rumble inside her chest. She sighed deeply to ease her indigestion.

Her mother, Diana, sat at one end of the table, blunt-cut hair falling to her chin in golden strands. The woman's perfect smile shone with the gloss of passion city pink, and she gazed at her husband with unashamed adoration.

Janie’s eyes moved to her father, Jonathan Taylor, the undisputed head of the family and seated thus at the other end of the table. Dressed in the latest pin-striped suit trend, he sat rod straight, the fingers of his right hand resting on the base of a red wine glass, his left hand resting on the most recent mobile phone money could buy. With dark eyes that seemed to burn right through you, and dark hair slicked back from his face, his façade was as menacing as his temperament.

Janie thought herself unlucky to inherit her father’s dark eyes and hair, while her sixteen-year-old brother, Stevie, inherited their mother’s fair colouring – and disposition. Stevie sat opposite and nodded furiously at something Uncle Nigel said. Uncle Nigel wasn't their uncle, but their father's best friend and business partner. Janie had known the non-descript man all her life. He was part of the furniture.

Janie sighed heavily and sat back, her gaze moving to the older man who sat beside Stevie. Her father introduced him as Uncle Tony. She wasn't convinced he was even a member of the family. Who's brother was he? Mother was an only child, and Father's only sibling lived on the other side of the world.

So, Uncle Tony, who are you?

‘How’s your business degree treating you, Janie?’ Uncle Nigel asked.

Janie shifted in her seat, uncomfortable with the question. Ever since her father’s company went bankrupt a few years ago, Uncle Nigel funded her business degree, as well as keeping the family business afloat. The business line of study wasn't what she’d thought, so Janie changed majors at the beginning of the year. She now studied criminology and liked the content much more. The problem was she hadn’t told anyone of this minor change.

‘I…ah…’ she began.

‘We told her to come home,’ her father, Jonathan, interrupted. 'Janie doesn't need to be at college during the pandemic. She can do her studies online.'

‘She’s in her second year,’ Uncle Nigel replied. ‘Janie started before the pandemic and should be able to tell me something.’ He looked at her, expectantly.

‘I…ah…’ she tried again. It was getting all too much for her. She didn't want to lie, but she didn’t want to endure long lectures about their disappointment, either. Her father and Uncle Nigel expected her to take over the family business. Although, she wasn’t a hundred percent sure what the family business was.

Suddenly, Uncle Tony coughed. It wasn’t an oops, the water went down the wrong way cough, but a deep, chesty cough that forced the occupants at the table into silence. Uncle Tony raised a wrinkled hand, indicating they shouldn’t worry even though he projected mucus throughout the room. Everyone leaned away from him, including Janie.

Diana paled, and covered her heart with a hand. 'Tony, are you alright, dear?’ she asked.

Tony managed to nod even though his face had turned a bright shade of scarlet. The older man stopped coughing. A husky chuckle left him.

‘I’m tougher than I look,’ he rasped.

‘Maybe you should lie down,’ Jonathan offered. ‘Stevie, show Uncle Tony to the guest room.’

Stevie looked to protest but thought better of it and stood. 'Come on, Uncle Tony,' he muttered.

Janie watched Tony leave the room. Who was he? She caught Jonathan and Uncle Nigel exchange a glance before they both lowered their eyes to the table.

‘Who is Uncle Tony?’ she asked.

‘A friend.’ Her father sipped his wine.

‘Why do I have to call him Uncle?’

Her father’s dark eyes rested on her face. Janie looked away. The topic of Uncle Tony had ended. The sound of coughing came from the direction of the guest room. If he has Coronavirus, we all have it. Janie pulled the small bottle of sanitizer from her pocket and rubbed some onto her hands. Not that it would help now that droplets of Uncle Tony’s saliva had coated them all.

‘I think I’ll have a shower and then head to bed,’ she said.

'Oh, Janie, you just got home. Stay and talk awhile,' her mother said.

‘Okay. What will we talk about?’

Diana twisted her hands.

Jonathan and Uncle Nigel concentrated on their drinks.

‘Great chat,’ Janie mumbled. ‘If you need me, you know where to find me.' She flashed them all a tight smile as she pushed the chair under the table.

She wasn’t sure how long she’d been asleep when hands roughly shook her awake. Opening her eyes, she found it was dark, and her mother leaned over her, the glow of the battery-operated lantern she held illuminating her face.

‘What’s wrong?’ Janie asked. ‘What’s with the lantern?’

‘The electricity is out due to the storm,’ her mother whispered. ‘Darling, Uncle Tony died. The doctor is on his way to test us all for Coronavirus.’

Janie rubbed her eyes. ‘What? Why? Did he die from Coronavirus?’

‘We don’t know,’ Diane replied. ‘Get dressed and come to the loungeroom. The police and the doctor will be here within the half hour.’

Her mother left, taking the light with her. Janie sat in darkness for a few minutes. Lightning flashed. She blinked against the brightness and cringed when thunder rattled the window.

‘Janie.’ Stevie entered her room, blanketed in darkness. ‘Janie. There’s a dead man in the house.’

‘I know. What happened?’

Lightning lit her brother's face. 'I don't know. I heard a noise.'

‘What kind of noise?’

‘Someone in the hallway.’

‘Who was it?’

‘I don’t know,’ Stevie said from the shadows. ‘There were running footsteps in the hallway. A few minutes later the lights went out.’

Janie slid from the bed. She searched for her slippers with her feet. ‘Mum said the storm blew the lights.’

‘Uncle Tony was murdered.’

‘What?’ Janie studied the lines of her brother’s face she could make out in the dim light coming through the window. ‘Why do you say that?’

‘Running footsteps.’

‘That could have been anything,’ Janie replied. ‘You can’t go around saying someone was murdered. You’ll create panic.’

‘I’m scared. Can I stay with you?’

‘Okay. Do you have a flashlight?’

Stevie shook his blond head.

Janie tried her phone. It didn’t turn on. She’d meant to get a new charger and now wished she hadn’t put it off.

‘Where’s your phone?’ she asked Stevie.

‘It didn’t charge, either,’ he replied.

‘Come on,’ she said and led the way into the hallway.

Lightning flashed through the arched window at the end of the hallway, bringing life to the space for no more than a few seconds. Someone stood in the entrance to the guest room. The figure was stooped, arms dangling, silhouetted by the lightning before the hallway plunged into shadow again. Janie stopped so abruptly Stevie collided with her.

‘Who’s there?’ she called.

‘Where?’ Stevie whispered from behind her.

‘Someone is down there.’

After a moment, Stevie spoke. ‘I can’t see anyone.’

Lightning strobed.

The hallway was empty. Janie relaxed her clenched hands and took a deep breath. Her eyes were playing tricks on her. All it took was a death in the house and she was seeing things.

Diana stepped from the guest room, holding the lantern ahead of her. ‘There you are, darling,’ she said. ‘Oh, good, Stevie’s with you. Come along. We should all be together when the police and doctor arrive.’

‘What were you doing in there, Mum?’ Janie asked.

‘Tidying.’

‘Tidying up after a dead man?’

‘Oh, Janie,’ Diana admonished. ‘You say the strangest things.’

'Did Uncle Tony die from COVID? Stevie said he heard footsteps running away from the room.’

‘What are you insinuating?’ Diana whispered harshly. ‘Don’t let your father hear you say such nonsense.’

‘Stevie, tell her,’ Janie ordered.

Stevie shrank behind her, shaking his head. What made her think she could rely on her brother to back her up? Janie folded her arms and pressed her mouth closed as she followed her mother into the lounge room where the rest of the family waited.

Her father and Uncle Nigel stood by the window in hushed conversation. When they saw her, they turned their backs, heads still bowed. Diana sat on the sofa, hands folded in her lap, the silk sheen of her bed robe exaggerated in the lantern light. Stevie sat beside her and she pulled him closer until his blond head rested on her shoulder.

Janie lowered into the winged chair by the hearth and tucked her feet under her. The figure in the hallway unnerved her, and she didn't want to sit with her back to the door – in case the long-armed apparition returned.

The metal knocker pounded on the front doors, the sound resonating with a ringing echo. One…Two…Three. Janie started, digging her fingers into the velvet fabric on the chair’s arms. Diana shoved Stevie away and stood, diamond-clad fingers pressed to her breasts. The knocker struck again. One…Two…Three. Lightning flared. Diana sucked in a sharp breath. Her anxiety was as palpable as the elongated wraiths that filled every corner of the room.

‘Calm down.' Jonathan cast his wife a hooded glare as he passed her to the door.

The visitors exchanged courteous greetings. Two male voices. One female. Her father's deep baritone. Thank you for coming out in the storm. The voices lowered in volume. Janie strained her ears to listen. It was no good. She only heard every other word. Died…Tony…Wuhan

Her eyes opened and she met her mother’s direct blue gaze. Had she really heard the word Wuhan, or was her imagination running wild again? A more pressing question would be, why was her mother suddenly so cool, calm and collected?

Jonathan entered the room with two men and a woman trailing. Blue surgical masks covered their noses and mouths, and clear shields protected their faces. Blue surgical gowns and grey disposable gloves rendered them almost genderless. They looked a little scary in the dim light, like fat blue aliens who had come to earth to probe the human race. Her father introduced the two men as Detectives Roman and Saunders, and the woman as Doctor Grace Wood.

‘What happened to the lights?’ Detective Roman asked.

‘The storm,’ Jonathan Taylor replied. “They went out about half an hour ago.’

The detective produced a flashlight from his pocket, flicking it on, briefly illuminating every face. Even Stevie looked guilty in the glare. After a moment, the detective turned to the doctor. ‘Shouldn’t everyone be wearing masks?’

Doctor Wood nodded and lowered to one knee, searching the contents of her small suitcase. Janie craned her neck to see inside the bag, but the doctor closed the lid and stood before she could make anything out.

‘If you don’t mind,’ the doctor’s words were slightly muffled by the mask. ‘Due to COVID restrictions, you are all required to wear a mask and remain at least one point five metres apart. Once I examine the body and test him for COVID-19, I will return to test you all.’

‘Did he die of Coronavirus?’ Janie asked.

‘I won’t know until I examine him.’

‘He could have died of anything,’ Janie insisted. ‘Why are you testing him, and us?’

The doctor’s answer came slowly. ‘It is simply procedure,’ she said. ‘All you need to worry about is what you will do during the next twelve hours of quarantine until your test results come back.’

‘I don’t want to be tested,’ Stevie protested. ‘I can’t be quarantined. I have a date tonight.’

‘Cancel.’ The doctor nodded to Detective Roman who, in return, nodded to Janie’s father.

Jonathan put his mask on and indicated to the doorway. ‘This way.’

The doctor and Detective Roman followed Jonathan. Detective Saunders chose the winged chair opposite Janie, pulling it until it was appropriately socially distanced, and sitting with one ankle crossed over the other knee. His eyes smiled and the mask shifted slightly to indicate that his lips had also smiled. He looked very handsome.

Diana Taylor lowered to the sofa again, and Stevie moved close. Uncle Nigel still stood by the window, his stature stiff, his expression one of forced indifference.

Detective Saunders started to ask questions. He asked about Tony and how the family knew him. Janie and Stevie both shrugged. Diana looked at her hands. 

Uncle Nigel cleared his throat. ‘Tony Decia helped finance our business,’ he replied.

‘In what way?’

Yes. Janie's full attention turned to Uncle Nigel. How?

‘He…He funded and managed the overseas division of the company.’

Detective Saunders sat forward, pen poised above his pocket-sized notepad. ‘Where overseas?’

‘Wuhan,’ Nigel muttered. ‘A block from the wet markets,’ he whispered.

Janie leaned forward so she could hear the last words. ‘What?’ she demanded. ‘You’re not serious! Wuhan wet markets?’

Diana Taylor sank further into her sofa.

‘Did you know about this, Mum?’

Diana didn’t answer.

Detective Saunders lifted a hand to quieten Janie. ‘We believe Tony Decia is what we call a super spreader of the Coronavirus. We have traced his movements and found cluster infections wherever he visited.’

Janie suddenly felt sick. She felt worse than sick. Her temperature spiked. Wasn’t that a symptom of Coronavirus? No! No! The virus didn’t strike so fast. Only a few hours had passed since she’d met the man. It took at least a week for symptoms to appear. She swallowed to clear the sting in her throat. Wasn’t that another symptom? She rubbed sanitizer into her hands and then adjusted her mask. Damn you, Uncle Tony.

By the time the sun rose, the doctor had tested Janie for Coronavirus. Her nose still tingled from swabs shoved up both nostrils. Both. She’d asked the doctor if the swabs had touched her brain because that was how it felt. The doctor had replied with a firm no, although Janie wasn’t convinced.

The doctor and Detective Roman left just after breakfast, but Detective Saunders stayed to wait for the coroner. Janie liked the handsome detective and chatted with him until the coroner arrived and took Uncle Tony away. As he left, the detective promised to return that night to check on her and give the family their swab results.

Pulling her curtains closed, Janie blocked out the persistent rain and climbed into bed, fully clothed. She was exhausted. Wasn’t exhaustion another symptom of Coronavirus? She sat up to stare at her reflection in the mirror on the back of her door. Her face bore the scars of late-night study sessions, too many energy drinks, and not enough healthy food. When had she last eaten? Maybe a few bites of chicken the night before.

Ignoring the protests that came from every muscle in her body, she left her bed and exited her room. Through the arched hallway window, black storm clouds hung low in the sky. Lightning flared, and in its wake a shadow appeared; hunched, arms dangling, elongated fingers almost touching the floor. Without a sound, the unwanted visitor lurched forward. Jane stumbled, ready to escape into her room if it came any closer.

A crack of thunder made her scream. Lightning immediately followed, the sharp, white flash clearing any horrors from the hallway. Rubbing her eyes, she took a shaky breath, convinced fatigue made her hallucinate. Deciding she needed sleep more than food, she returned to her room and slept for the rest of the day.

Her stomach rumbled hungrily, waking her from a light sleep. Night had fallen, and the block-out curtains cast her room into almost complete darkness. Rain still struck her window with the same constant rhythm as it had a few hours ago. Now, she needed to eat. She was starving.

After making herself a ham and cheese sandwich and grabbing a lemonade from the overstocked fridge, she headed to the lounge room to see if her mother was there. She paused by the partially open door and listened to the quiet conversation going on inside.

‘We were all aware when we decided to bring him here to quarantine.’ It was her father’s deep voice.

‘This is more serious than we thought, Jonathan.’ This time it was Uncle Nigel who spoke. ‘Tony lied on his passenger card. He stated he’d never been to Wuhan.’

Janie gasped. The conversation stopped. Footsteps headed her way and she slipped around the corner, out of sight. Was her father responsible for bringing the pandemic into Australia?

Her first cough came from the chest, sharp and sudden. Then, she coughed again before racing to her room and closing the door, sealing herself in. She tossed her sandwich and drink onto her bed and paced. Temperature. Sore throat. Now a cough. What if she had brought the virus home to her family?

There was a light rap on her door, and she called for whoever knocked to come in. Her father entered. He glanced around her room with his usual disapproval before looking at her. ‘Are you alright, Janie? Last night must have frightened you.’

'I did get a fright,' she replied. 'But I'm okay now. Have you heard anything about Uncle Tony? About what killed him?'

Jonathan shook his head. ‘We are all hedging our bets on this damned virus,’ he replied.

‘Oh.’ Her shoulders dropped. ‘Does that mean we have it?’

‘We’ll soon know. The police will be here shortly with an update.’

‘Oh?’ Janie perked up again.

‘Yes. Make yourself respectable and come downstairs. They will be here around seven.’

When her father closed her door, Janie allowed herself to smile. Detective Saunders was coming to see her.

At 7 pm precisely, the metal knocker struck the door with a resounding blow. Even though Janie expected the sound, she still jumped and let out a breath behind her mask. Diana sat rod straight on the sofa. She fiddled with her hair before folding her hands in her lap. Beside her, Stevie stared at the doorway, blue eyes wide. Even Uncle Nigel’s expression had changed. He looked scared. Each one of them should be terrified. Father had invited the pandemic into their safe space. Tony Decia had entered their home as a trusted friend, and he could have poisoned them all.

Detective Saunder’s voice gained Janie's attention. Wearing full protective gear, he entered the lounge room. His eyes smiled. She was so glad to see him and hoped her eyes smiled back. 

Jonathan Taylor stood beside the sofa. “Well?’ he asked Detective Roman.

Detective Roman held several A4 sized papers in his hands, which he read from. 'Jonathan Taylor has tested…positive.'

The family released a unified gasp. Janie stared at her father, her fingers clutching the chair's arms. The long-armed shadow appeared beside him, stooped and faceless as it seemed to hug him.

‘Diana Taylor has tested positive.’

The shadow now lingered by her mother, stroking Diana’s beautiful face, bending to place a kiss on her cheek. At least that was what it looked like to Janie – creepy affection.

‘Stevie Taylor has tested positive.’

A long, wraithy arm folded around Janie’s brother. Stevie shivered and hugged himself against what he couldn’t see. He was lucky he couldn’t see the monster that now smothered him.

‘Nigel Monroe has tested positive.’

‘Janie Taylor has tested…’

Janie held her breath. The ghoul shifted its black head to stare at her with eyes that weren’t there. Thin, vaporous fingers reached for her.

‘Well,’ Detective Roman said, ‘Janie, you tested negative.’

The phantom's fingers retreated.

‘What?’ she asked.

‘You are the only person in the house to test negative. You can go but you need to self-isolate for fourteen days.’

She didn’t have Coronavirus. ‘How is that possible?’

Detective Roman shrugged and folded the papers he held. ‘All I know is you can leave the house and isolate somewhere else.’

'I…I don't have anywhere else to go.' She still couldn't quite believe the detective's words.

Janie stared at the smoky mass that now surrounded her family, enveloping them within its COVID-19 embrace. The lights snapped on, dispersing the apparition with their bright glow.

‘I have a spare bedroom,’ Detective Saunders told her. ‘You can stay with me.’

‘I don’t even know you,’ she replied.

Her father cleared his throat. ‘He's a policeman, Janie. I'm sure you'll be safe. Go. Get away from this house and the sickness.'

‘Are you sure?’

Jonathan Taylor nodded. ‘Keep in touch. Don’t forget us.’

‘I won’t. We can facetime if you like.’

Diana Taylor nodded. ‘That would be nice, dear. Now, you go with Detective Saunders and stay safe.’

Janie exited the house into the damp evening, pulling off her mask as she went. Light rain cooled her cheeks, and she breathed deeply, drawing in the fresh air. Her family stood at the loungeroom window and waved. She waved in return, pausing when another figure caught her attention. A shadow, stooped and stretched, lurched from the back of the room and her family disappeared into the darkened embrace of the monster.

She paused, ready to run back into the house to save them all but Detective Saunders’ voice stopped her.

‘Come with me, Janie,’ he said. ‘We’ll go into isolation together. You’ll have company then.’

His gloved hand grasped hers and she turned away from the house to smile into his blue eyes, the only part of his face she’d truly seen. Her future suddenly looked brighter than it had for a long time.

Janie settled into the front seat of the police sedan and smiled. She was finally free of her family, of the guilt of changing university courses, of the Coronavirus. It was like a huge weight had been lifted from her chest and she took a deep breath to prove her freedom.

From the corner of her eye she caught movement in the back seat. A black, airy hand reached from the darkness, heavy, arduous in the way the fingers clutched her shoulder.

Perhaps you are not rid of me yet, Janie Taylor.