Damaging Quarantine: A Short Story

By Al Macy

Attorney Garrett Goodlove has a strong bond with his twin sister, Carly. They’re soul mates. Doesn’t mean they always get along. Over the years, Garrett has found that the only way to tolerate his reckless and headstrong sibling is to take breaks from her. Do some social distancing.

But when the COVID-19 pandemic forces them to quarantine together, there’s no way for the soul mates to keep out of one another’s hair. Garrett, wife Jen, daughter Nicole, and Carly are all crammed together in one house, forced to endure the uncertainty of a lockdown with no clear end date.

Worse, a violent, disgruntled former client mistakenly released from prison throws a monkey wrench into this unraveling family situation.

If Garrett can’t learn to appreciate his good fortune, tolerate his fellow quarantine mates, and enjoy the journey even during periods of adversity, the coronavirus might destroy the treasured relationship he has with his loved ones.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Al Macy
• Release date: Jul 14, 2020
• ISBN: 9781005050207

Al Macy

Al Macy's story begins millions of years ago in a cave in Eastern Siberia. Wait. What? I don't have space for that much detail? Now you tell me! So much for the story about the saber-toothed tiger that was a little too friendly.When Macy was a kid, he could never decide what he wanted to be when he grew up. OK, let me interrupt a second. I'll let you in on a secret about author biographies: Most of them are written by the authors themselves. They just use the third person to make it sound like they have some kind of highfalutin public relations team. Unless they are, like, Stephen King or Ernest Hemingway, in which case they actually do have a public relations team. That's especially true for Hemingway, since he's dead.So, just to let you know, while reading this bio, that when it reads "Al Macy did this" and "Macy did that," [whispering...] it's really just me saying that I did this or that. OK?Where was I? Oh, yeah, Al Macy (wink, wink) couldn't decide what to do with his life. He was pretty good at music, but he was better at science and math, so he started studying engineering at Cornell. But then he changed his mind, and finished his degree in physiological psychology. After a PhD in neuroscience at University of Michigan, and a post-doc at UC Berkeley, he changed his mind again, and started writing educational computer games for a living.OK, this is getting boring for me now -- I mean for Al Macy now. I'll skip ahead, and tell you that Macy retired in his early fifties, and switched back to having music as his main hobby. He played jazz trombone and jazz piano in local venues, and, as he puts it, "Worked hard to get bettter before anyone noticed how bad I was."Recently, he started writing books. His goal is to write many books in totally incompatible genres to insure there will never be any carryover success from one of his bestsellers to another. Thus, his first book helps people play the piano, the second book is a story about a bicycle trip, his third book will help people format books, and his fourth will be a science fiction thriller. Get the idea?And that's all you need know all about Al Macy! Isn't he a great guy? Now, about that saber-toothed tiger...

Book preview

Damaging Quarantine

A Short Story

By Al Macy

AlMacyAuthor.com

Copyright © 2020 Al Macy

All Rights Reserved.

Version: RC08 2020/06/10 11:45 AM

THIS IS A WORK of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner.

This book is not intended as a substitute for the medical advice of physicians. The reader should regularly consult a physician in matters relating to his/her health and particularly with respect to any symptoms that may require diagnosis or medical attention.

SOMEONE WAS CROUCHING BEHIND a bush in our yard. Did I imagine it?

I stood by the bedroom window as if frozen by a wizard’s spell. I squinted. The half-moon was bright enough to make the dew on our lawn glisten, yet I wasn’t sure I could trust my eyes.

I’d been awake for an hour—since two a.m.—because I’d been splitting my insomnia pills, taking only half the recommended dosage. Those pills also treated my depression; insomnia and depression go hand in hand like love and sex.

I didn’t really need to do that. The pharmacy was still open and would bring the drugs out to our car, but I’d vowed to avoid absolutely all trips out of the house during the statewide lockdown. I had another twenty pills left, but by splitting them, I could go forty days before needing a refill. Perhaps the pandemic would be losing steam at that point. Or maybe it would be worse. That was a depressing thought.

Once while sitting in the backyard, I’d caught a flash of movement from a neighbor’s window. I was unsure I’d really seen it, but I froze and kept watching. Sure enough, after several minutes, the head of the shy new neighbor slid up into view then snapped down again out of sight.

So I kept watching. If there really was a man out in the yard, he wouldn’t be able to see me. Our bedroom was dark. Silent, too. Everyone else in the house was asleep, and when I held my breath, I heard the