Sympatico Syndrome (Book 1): Infection (A Pandemic Survival Novel) (14 page)

E
lly shook
out the last M&M and looked at it.
Green
. In high school, green M&Ms had some meaning, but she couldn’t recall what it was. Maybe they were lucky. She popped it in her mouth and sucked, making it last as long as possible. She had only a few chocolate mint pieces and a bag of potato chips left from what she’d scavenged. She wasn’t too hungry yet, but water was going to be an issue in the next day or so. She had enough left in the tub to fill the eight bottles she had about three times. That was about two more days’ worth of water after today. By then, she’d be completely out of food and getting really hungry. Did she dare wait until she was desperate? Or would it be better to venture out now while she still had plenty of energy? What if she didn’t find food right away?

When the world had realized what was happening four days ago, the news had reported on the run on grocery stores and showed footage of bare shelves and people fighting over a box of crackers. But surely there had to be plenty of food in a city this big. She might have to risk getting close to contaminated bodies to get it, though.

Last night, the power had gone out and had never come back on. The taps had run dry when the power had cut off. As she looked out at the city in the early dawn hours, there were only a few patches of light— even the roads were mostly dark. Normal power outages would have light from vehicles illuminating the roads, but she saw only a few cars picking their way through the crashed and stalled cars in the streets below.

She still had a charge on her cellphone and had dial-tone when she turned it on. There was only one person she knew. She found Cole’s number and took a deep breath. Was he still alive? She pressed the call icon on the screen and said a prayer.

He answered on the second ring, and she closed her eyes, blinking back tears of relief.

“Elly?”

“Cole…you’re still alive.”

“Yeah. So far.” There was a pause, and Elly swiped at the tears pouring down her face. She hadn’t realized how worried she was that everyone she knew was dead until she heard his voice over the line. At least one friend was still alive.

Elly drew in a shaky breath. “Where are you?”

“We made it to an island my uncle left me in his will. We’re out about a mile or so in Green Bay, just east of Oconto. Where are you?”

She hated the tremor in her voice, but couldn’t stifle it. “I’m still in my hotel room. The power went out last night, and I don’t think there are many people still alive here. They stopped removing bodies from the street two days ago, and I haven’t seen a car moving all morning.”

“Shit. I knew it was bad, but I’ve been so busy we haven’t had much time to listen to the news. Last time I tried, all I got was static, but I didn’t know if it was because we’re too far away from a station or what. We don’t have television or internet out here.”

“There was nothing on TV yesterday. The stations were off the air. I’ve never seen that before, Cole. And now, I couldn’t watch it even if there was anything on, without electricity.” She fanned her face with the hotel’s room service menu. It was getting hot.

“Do you have food and water?” The concern in his voice was almost her undoing.

She shook her head, forgetting he couldn’t see her. “Not really. I have a couple of pieces of chocolate, a few chips, and half a tub of water. I found food in some other rooms on my floor, but there was a crazy lady in one room. I’m pretty sure she was infected. I was too scared to go out again. I have my door bolted and a chair wedged under the handle.”

“Elly, you have to get here. I could come and get you. I have a car.”

“No, you’re safe. You need to stay there with your family. Hunter needs you.”

There came an odd sound over the phone, almost like a grunt or sob. “He’s not here yet. I…I don’t know where he is. His car ran out of gas, and now he’s not answering his phone.”

“Oh, Cole…”

“But he was healthy. I think he’s alive still—in fact, I’m sure of it. I’d feel it if he was dead. He’s just unable to get here. He was camped out and said he caught some fish in a stream, so at least he had some gear.”

Taking her cue from the forced positivity she heard, she agreed. “He’s smart. He’ll make it to you.”

“You will too. Do you have a car?”

“No, and even if I did, the streets that I can see are full of stalled or abandoned vehicles. I don’t think I could get through. The sidewalks are full of bodies. It’s a nightmare out there. Literally.”

“What about a bike? There has to be a bike lying around. It would be quite a ride, but you could do it. I guess it’d be a few hundred miles, though, but maybe the roads won’t be so bad once you get out of the city.”

“That’s an idea. I could try and find one.” A sliver of hope crept into her voice. “How do I get to the island? And are you sure you want me there?”

“Elly, you know you’re always welcome.
Especially now
.” He gave her directions, and she jotted them on the back of the menu. “If power is going out, I expect the phones are going to die soon. I haven’t been able to pull up the Internet in over a couple of days now, but I barely have a signal at all. Just get here as fast as you can. We have food, there are several cabins, and we’re isolated.”

“I’ll need to find some supplies somewhere along the way.”

“Do you still have a way to protect yourself from the virus?”

She looked at her box of gloves and the other one of masks. “Yeah. At least I have that going for me.” It was going to be hell riding a bike with one of the masks on but with luck, out in the country she could take it off. She turned to the window, pressing her cheek against it to look north towards safety. Towards Cole.

There was a lot of city to get through first.

“Also, Elly, try to find a gun. We’ve already had some problems, and that was three days ago. It could be a lot worse now.”

Elly gave a short laugh. “Well, I
am
in Chicago. Finding a gun shouldn’t be an issue.”

“
G
et out of my way
, Sean. I’m going to find my son.” Cole stood on the pier, toe-to-toe with his brother. His goal was the small fishing boat Joe had found in the shed. He glared, his fists balled at his sides. He hadn’t hit Sean since he was thirteen and they fought over something stupid when they were teens, but now, he had a good reason. The best reason. “Let me get to the damn boat!”

Sean pressed a hand against Cole’s chest, balling up his shirt and not letting him pass. “You can’t leave, Cole. You don’t even know where Hunter is. Seriously, what are the chances you’ll find him just wandering around? Elly told you the power was out there, too. Even if you could find him, what about the disease? What good are you going to do Hunter if you catch it and die? Your friend Elly said there were bodies all over Chicago. Don’t you think that the situation is like that everywhere by now?”

“Are you implying my son is dead?” Cole shoved Sean. “You bastard! Hunter’s
alive
—”

“No! I didn’t say he was dead. Listen to me. I meant there’s too much risk now, Cole, with too little chance of finding him. What if you two pass within a mile of each other? How would you know? The phones are out now. The only thing we know for sure is that he’s on his way here. You need to be here when he arrives.”

Cole’s gut twisted at the truth of Sean’s words but every instinct he had pushed him to find his son.

“What are we going to tell him when he gets here, Cole, and you’re not here?” Sean flung an arm towards the mainland. “What if you die out there?”

“Listen to him, Cole. He’s right.”

Cole narrowed his eyes at Jenna then turned the heat of his glare back on Sean. “What if it was Piper or Trent out there? You’d go find them.”

“I
get it
, Cole. I’d be in your shoes right now, and you’d be holding me back and telling me how I need to be here for the kids when they arrive.” Sean bit his lip, his throat working as he blinked hard. Sean’s tone softened. “We love him too, you know.” His voice broke on the last part.

The anger drained out of Cole, but it was all that had been keeping the true fear at bay—that he might never see his son again. “But he’s all alone…”

H
unter pulled
the saddle off the bay mare, setting it out of the way, and brushed her. Horses were something he knew a little bit about from when he had gone to summer camp three years in a row. It wasn’t a riding camp, but they got to ride almost every day, and he always volunteered to work in the stable, preferring that over washing dishes in the kitchen.

The mare was well trained and easy to ride. The other horse, a chestnut, was also good but seemed younger and more excitable. That made him fun to ride, but Hunter hadn’t ridden since last summer. He was rusty and didn’t trust his skills to keep the horse in check if the animal spooked. If he had a few days to feel comfortable, it would be an easy decision, but he didn’t want to hang around any longer than he had to. The knowledge of the bodies lurking within the building not only creeped him out but made him uneasy in regards to the virus. Everything he came into contact with on the farm had the potential to harbor germs and he had used the wipes so much that his hands were red and sore. He just wanted off the property.

As he curried the mare, he glanced out to the pasture at the chestnut. What a beautiful horse. He hated to leave him. For sure he’d leave the gate to the pasture open and let the horse run free so he wouldn’t die a slow death in the barn, but wished he could take him as well.

Then he thought about it. Why couldn’t he? It wasn’t as if anyone was around to stop him. He could take some feed, and there was plenty of grass along the way. He was pretty sure water wouldn’t be a problem either. Creeks, ponds, and lakes were plentiful. He didn’t know how he’d get the animals to the island, but he’d worry about that later. After tending to the horses, he let them out in the pasture, making sure they had access back into the barn and to fresh water. They could come back to their stalls in the night if they wanted to. He was going back to his campsite for the rest of the day. Hunter called out for Buddy before he headed back to camp. The dog came running from under the shade of the large tree in the farm yard. “Come on, Bud, let’s get back to camp.”

He used the camp stove late in the afternoon to cook up a bunch of eggs he’d gathered from the chickens. After tonight, he’d probably have to make wood fires as the propane was pretty much gone. He’d pack the stove in case he came across more fuel, but wondered at the likelihood of finding a tank that would fit his model of stove.

He’d found a good cast iron skillet in the farmer’s kitchen. It was heavy but well worth the extra weight. The only thing that would have made the meal better would have been a few slices of buttered toast, but he didn’t trust the stale bread he’d found in the house. The bag had been opened too, and that was the biggest worry. What if the woman had touched it before dying?

Eating directly out of the skillet, he dug into the eggs. It was the best meal he’d had in several days, and he didn’t know if it was because he’d cooked them just right or because he was just glad he hadn’t had to dip into his stores of packaged food.

In addition to the skillet, he’d taken several knives, a few forks and spoons, and a can opener. He’d almost forgotten that. It would have sucked to have been hungry and unable to open the cans. He’d seen some video on social media a few years ago about how to open a can by scraping it on a sidewalk, but he looked around. Not many sidewalks around here and he his plan was to stay out of towns and cities. The fewer people he encountered, the better.

When he finished eating, he took the skillet to the creek along with a few handfuls of coarse grass and scrubbed the pan, getting all the bits of cooked egg from the sides. The pan was so well –seasoned that the eggs peeled right off better than any non-stick pan he’d ever used. Not that he’d used many. Scrambled eggs, tacos, and spaghetti with sauce from a jar were about the limits of his culinary skills.

The rest of the afternoon, he practiced with the bow. He’d dragged a couple of bales of straw back to his camp working up a good sweat in the process. The effort was worth it when he dug an old red t-shirt out of his clothes, and using mud, drew a crude target then duct taped the shirt to the stacked bales. He paced off about thirty feet or so. His first few shots went low, and he adjusted the sight down a little to bring his aim higher. Even though his circumstances were dire with the fear of the virus ever-present, he couldn’t help enjoying the practice. His muscle memory kicked in, and soon, he was back to form. He inspected his arrows, making sure they were all in good condition before he returned them to the quiver he’d bought as well.

The next morning, Hunter awoke early and packed up his campsite. With it all packed, he pulled his phone out and turned it on, hoping it had dried out enough to work, but it was dead. He shoved it back in his pocket wondering why he even bothered keeping it.

Today he was moving on, and dread filled him. The farm had felt like a safe haven, of sorts, as long as he was careful about wearing his mask and gloves. Now, he had to venture out into whatever the world had come to, and he wasn’t looking forward to it. He made sure he had a couple of masks ready, shoving one in his pocket and put one to hang loosely around his neck. It wasn’t the most comfortable way to wear it, because it wasn’t a flimsy paper mask, but one that was thick and stiff, with a metal nose band. It scratched his neck from time to time, but no way was he going to risk coming into contact with someone who could be sick without a mask handy.

He whistled for Buddy and smiled when the dog responded, bursting out of the brush. He had packed a leash he’d found, but it wouldn’t be practical to use it while traveling. He hoped the dog would keep up on his own, and from the way he followed the horses when Hunter led them to the road hinted that Buddy had gone on more than one trail ride with his masters before.

Leaving the car was one of the hardest things he had ever done. Gas wasn’t his worry—he could siphon it from other cars if he had to, but after what his dad had said about how he too had run into lots of problems with car accidents. Hunter’s own experience several nights ago with the accident and the cop approaching his car made him wary. What if he was trapped in a traffic jam full of diseased people? What if they swarmed his car like something out of a zombie movie? Just imagining it made him shiver, and he wanted no part of it.