The Weight of the World

Chapter 3: The Plan

A week after the phone call, Joe finally got a reply. When he'd first called, he'd slipped out of the house just after breakfast, under guise of a run. A very short one, it turned out.

Maybe ten minutes later, he slipped inside, with neither a ruddy face nor drop of sweat to be seen. Instead, his skin looked pale, taut like paper. Breathing heavily, he plopped down on the sofa. Leather squeaked beneath him.

"How'd it go?"

"No answer," he said.

I turned around to face him, brow furrowed. "Did you wait to see if it was just engaged?"

"Of course, I fucking did," he snapped. "I rang about eight times, nothing. Every time, nothing. I sent a text. Left a voicemail. Nothing. Zilch. Nowt. Same as always."

Neither of us spoke for a moment. When I finally did, I was tempered, like a candle in a jar, when you put the lid on. Starved of oxygen, diminishing. "Do you want to try off my phone?"

"Is there any point?"

"Maybe your SIM is just fucked? I dunno, Joe, I'm spitballing."

"Pass it here, then." He vanished upstairs. I heard the bathroom door click shut.

Without realising it, Joe had sat on the remote, leaving the TV tuned to the news. Not a thought in my head, I gripped the remote to change channels when the reporter appeared before a line of flashing police cars and ambulances.

"Violence broke out today amongst quarantine protestors and police. The Quarantine Zone initiative has received extreme backlash, although the Prime Minister stated, 'The zones serve only to contain hotspots of infection. Following precautions will prevent such hotspots developing, and therefore the development of further quarantine zones.' Critics of the decision argue-"

"What's on?" Mike said, crashing into an armchair.

"Nothing," I said, tossing him the remote. He fumbled the catch when Joe trudged back in.

"No luck," he said.

"Shit." I pocketed the phone.

"No luck with what?"

"Joe wanted to ring home, but nothing is getting through," I said. Joe shot me a hard look, which Mike didn't seem to notice.

"Weird. Maybe they've got bad service over there. Try again later, see if you've any joy,"

Later that week, I'd offered to go to the corner shop for the essentials. Mainly to get some fresh air, but also to escape the miasma of misery following Joe around. Of course, he had to accompany me.

As we dipped out of the shop into the street, a figure with a shock of blonde hair, stepped out from the street corner. Too engrossed in my own world, we cracked shoulders, and they dropped to their bum in the street.

"Sorry, I didn't see you th-"

"Watch where you're go-"

I recognised the eyes above the mask. Piercing ocean blue, and bright as a lightbulb. "Sorry," she said again. "I should have been paying more attention."

"No, no, it was my fault," I said quickly, setting the bags down. Extending a hand, I added, "Here, I'll help you up."

The girl seemed to avoid looking at me, instead glancing over my shoulder to Joe. "Wait a minute, you're Isabella, aren't you? And Joe."

"Yeah," I said. "Sorry, Cat, I didn't know it was you."

"Masks, they make these things difficult." She sounded a little flustered, although I could have sworn I heard a smile in her voice.