“Yeah, just writing it all down.” He sounded scared but calm.
“Good. Don’t freak out. I’m probably way over thinking this and next week we’ll laugh over this.”
Hunter chuckled. “I sure hope so.”
“Hey, while you’re at it, get some camping gear. Heavy duty stuff. Use the card. If there really is an epidemic, the safest place you can be is out in the country, some rural location away from other people. Do you have those portable battery chargers? I gave you one for Christmas.”
“Yeah. Have it right here. I’ll charge it up.”
“Good. Get a couple more at least, to keep your phone charged. Hell, get a solar charger if you can find one.”
“You know all of this is gonna cost a fortune, right? You’re not going to get pissed off when the bill comes, are you?”
“No. It’s okay. I’ll deal with the bills later. Besides, we can always use the camping gear out on the island. There are woods set away from the lake and it would be fun to camp there.” He tried to make it sound like that was the real reason he wanted the camping gear, but his mind was whirling. What if there was a panic before Hunter reached home? What if the trip became dangerous? He wanted his son to have some kind of protection and food in case of an unforeseen event.
“Is this all I should get?”
“Food. Get food. Stuff that doesn’t spoil. Beef jerky, granola bars, water purification tablets. They’ll have those at the same place you get the camping gear. Those packs of tuna. That kind of thing. Powdered milk. And a camp stove.”
“You know you’re kind of freaking me out. All of this for a two-day drive?”
“Like I said, I’m over-thinking. I want you to be prepared for anything, and we can always use the supplies on the island.” Cole heard a faint beep on Hunter’s end.
“Word must be getting out, Dad.”
“Why, are others leaving too?”
“No, but this is the third ‘End of the World’ party I’ve been invited to.”
Cole groaned. “Well, for god’s sake, don’t go.”
“No, I won’t, but it figures I finally don’t have to study, and I still can’t accept the invitations.” He chuckled, and Cole heard his valiant attempt to act like he wasn’t scared. Cole blinked hard and turned his back to Sean and Jenna. “Okay. Well, I’m going to head out and get some supplies too. If you have any trouble, call me. I’ll text you directions on how to get to Uncle John’s island.”
“Okay, Dad. I’ll see you soon.”
* * *
Cole left Sean’s house and headed to a gun shop. He wanted a shotgun and another hunting rifle, plus as much ammunition for them that he could get. It had taken longer than he expected because the shop had been busy.
As Cole listened in on some of the conversations, and it sounded like most of the people there had the same idea he did—to bug out until the crisis was over. While he was glad people were taking precautions, it made him anxious that he could get enough food to last them for six months or longer. What if everyone was thinking the same way?
He called his brother when he finished getting the guns. “Hey, Sean, it seems like the word is leaking out somehow or people are reading between the lines. The gun shop was packed. I think we need to leave tomorrow. I’m heading to the store now to get as much food as I can, but I think it would be a good idea if either you or Jenna made a trip to the store. Probably Jenna. She’ll know what we need.”
“Yeah, she left for the warehouse store on the west side of town. We’re packing stuff here.”
“How did the kids take it?”
Sean sighed. “Trent is a little scared, but he thinks it’s kind of cool too. Like we’re going on a camping vacation. Piper was quieter, but she’s pretty scared. She’s up in her room packing clothes right now.”
Cole stopped at a light as he waited to turn into the Walmart parking lot. He pinched the bridge of his nose. Poor kids. He didn’t have any words of comfort so he told Sean to pack up as much as they could today, focusing on clothes, non-perishable food, kitchen items like pots, pans, and utensils—anything they had that didn’t require electricity. He didn’t know if the island had any right now. Even if the island was fully powered, if the infrastructure broke down, which it could if enough people died, the grids might go down. His first priority was to get several generators. He was hoping he’d be able to get fuel for them, but that was a problem for later.
“I’m at Walmart now. I’ll call you later.”
Cole sat in the parking lot, gauging the people going in and out of the store. After leaving the gun shop and driving across town, he’d listened to the news on the radio. The death toll had risen to over eight-hundred already, but it was confined, so far, to four cities—and it was confirmed that at least some of the initial victims had flown in from San Diego in the last few days. Unfortunately, one of the cities was Chicago.
Even though Cole was closer to Milwaukee, he knew that ninety miles separating the two cities were pretty much negligible. He debated wearing one of his painter’s masks into the Walmart. He still wore the clothes he’d intended to wear to paint a house he was working on, but Elly’s call had canceled those plans. He kept this pair specifically for painting in and few splotches of green paint decorated the old jeans. He reached into the back seat and found the box of masks, and slipped one on, but let it dangle around his neck for now. He could pull this off without causing too much of a stir.
As Cole walked towards the door of the store, he lifted the mask from his neck and started to settle it over his nose and mouth. This was Walmart, after all, and there were internet memes about the crazies who shopped there. Wearing a mask shouldn’t even raise an eyebrow. But then he thought about it. They might take him for a robber, so he left the mask dangling again and used one of the anti-microbial wipes near the front door of the store to thoroughly wipe down his shopping cart.
While swabbing the handle, he created mental lists of what they’d need for an extended stay on the island. He prayed it wouldn’t be more than a month or two, and even more, he prayed that he was wrong. If he were mistaken, Sean and Jenna would be out of jobs. His brother’s business would likely be ruined, and Jenna would be fired from the hospital. Granted, as a nurse, she’d probably be able to find another job, but her references would be shot. He’d do whatever he could to build Sean’s business back up, but it would be tough. The weight of the responsibility threatened to crush his resolve.
What if Elly was wrong? What if his hunches were garbage? Hunter was in college, and he’d probably fail since he’d miss the last three weeks, including finals. Cole pushed that from his mind. So, it was a wasted semester. They could deal with that and Hunter could make it up eventually.
As he pushed the cart through the store, he found that the crowd he’d expected wasn’t there. Sure, there were other people, but fewer than on an average day at this time. Maybe people’s first instincts were to just hunker down at home for a few days? If that was the case, he was grateful for it because it meant less chance of coming into contact with someone who might be harboring the virus. He found himself in the food area of the store and loaded flour and sugar, salt, spices, bags of cornmeal, quinoa, rice, and dried lentils to the cart. He added four large boxes of baking soda, baking powder, cornstarch, and vanilla, cleaned off the shelf of bags walnuts, peanuts, and pecans. He put gallons of cooking oil on the bottom of the cart, hoping they wouldn’t fall off as he pushed the cart to another aisle.
He was glad for his great credit because he didn’t have to worry about cost too much. He had a feeling the bills would never arrive. If they did, it would be a cause for celebration.
The food cart was brimming once he added cans of fruits, vegetables, and as much tuna and salmon as he could find. He parked it in an empty aisle near the underwear and socks, hoping it would remain untouched until he finished getting other supplies. Leaving the cart, he took his second one and headed towards the camping section.
He tallied the projected cost and gave a low whistle. He’d barely even begun and was already hundreds of dollars down.
What would people who didn’t have cash on hand do? Or if they had crappy credit? Then he realized that most wouldn’t be able to stock up on anything because once everyone realized what was happening, riots would break out and looting would run rampant. Shit. He stopped dead in the middle of the aisle as the gravity of the situation slammed into him, nearly buckling his knees. He gripped the blue handle of the cart, his knuckles blanching.
Fluffy towels in every color of the rainbow lay stacked on tables on one side of the aisle, and fragrant candles were displayed on endcaps on the other side. Cole swallowed hard and fought to make his legs work again. The soft clink of glass candle holders drew his gaze to an employee with a cart full of more candles. The young man arranged them on shelves as if it mattered. The scent of pine, vanilla, and some sweet flowery aroma warred with the taste of bile in the back of Cole’s throat.
Had today been the last normal day of his life? Of everyone’s lives? Every customer and employee he passed became a future casualty. He mourned them even as they chatted and laughed while they shopped or worked.
He shook his head. Focus. Cole pried his hands from the handle, gave them a shake, flexing his fingers, then re-gripped the handle, pushing his fear into the recesses of his mind, locking it away until safety and survival were secured. He didn’t have time to give in to fear now. Not if he wanted to save his family. As he passed the shelf of candles, he piled candles of all colors and scents into the cart. The guy stocking them raised an eyebrow at Cole. He ignored him and added several boxes of tapers on top of the jar candles.
In the camping supply area, he selected tarps, most of the mosquito repellent on the shelf, and water purification tablets in case he couldn’t get the well working if the power went out. At least they’d be surrounded by plenty of water in the lake. He added four of the best axes on the shelf. If they had to spend the winter there, they’d need plenty of wood. An assortment of utility knives went into the cart, ropes, stakes, netting, and then he came to the tents. The island had cabins, but he didn’t know what kind of shape they were in. He might not get a chance to acquire a good tent, so he bought two. One for him and Hunter, and one for Sean’s family.
After grabbing six lanterns, five flashlights, including a couple of crank varieties, extra bulbs, and batteries, he got kerosene for the lamps, Googled the supplies needed for a solar oven, then bought enough for three. His cart full, he found an empty cart in an aisle, and not seeing anyone around who seemed to be using it, claimed it for his own, dragging the full cart behind him as he filled the third cart.
Cole already had cast iron pans, but didn’t know if Sean did, so he got several frying pans and a big Dutch oven. He went to the fishing aisle and added poles, lures, nets, and weights. He added a couple of filleting knives, and other items he thought might come in handy.
With the cart rapidly filling, he knew he’d have to check out soon, but he spied the inflatable rafts and realized how handy those could be. He could even tow some of the supplies out to the island in the rafts if he had to. He bought two, and an electric pump to inflate it. Thinking about a power issue, he found a hand pump too, and several patch kits, adding that to the mix. That made him think about duct tape, and soon, he had a dozen rolls, along with various tubes of glue and caulk.
Cole found his first cart, pushed it to the front of the store, hurried back for his other two, and pushed and pulled them to the front as well. He knew that he was forgetting things but hoped he’d still have time to get some necessities tomorrow.
At the checkout, he saw the sticks of beef jerky and dried meat sticks and put all of them on the conveyor belt. Looking at all the food he’d bought, he hoped it would be enough for six adults for at least three months. They could supplement with fish and maybe some hunting, but those were no guarantees. Of course, he figured Sean would also bring some food, but how much would he be able to get? He knew finances were stretched tight for Sean. The recession had hit his family especially hard. Sean had put a second mortgage on his home to pull his business through, and while things had improved in the last several years, Cole had a feeling they were still struggling. What if they hadn’t had enough cash or credit to get the needed supplies? He should have asked them if they needed any money.
“Wow! Going camping?” The cashier eyed the three carts, her eyes huge. She called over a bagger to help her.
Cole snapped out of his musings and fumbled for a reply. “Uh, yeah. Kind of. It’s an expedition for a…an extended stay.” He longed to warn this young woman, but chances were, she’d never believe him and think he was a kook.
“Cool.” She popped her gum and started scanning items.
Luckily, she chatted with the bagger while she rang up his items, and Cole paid, trying not to wince at the final tally. Money wasn’t going to matter soon. And if it did, well, he could always earn more. He’d relish the chance.
Chapter Five
When Cole arrived home, he unloaded his purchases and stacked them in the garage until he got the rental truck, except for the guns—those he’d take into the house.
Hands on his hips, Cole caught his breath as he surveyed the bags of food and other goods. It looked like so much, but he knew it probably wouldn’t last them more than three months. Shit. Why hadn’t he thought to buy vegetable seeds? A year from now, there may not be any grocery stores—they’d have to grow most of their own food.
He wasn’t much of a gardener, and it hadn’t entered his mind. He took out his phone and sent a text to Jenna to bring whatever she had. He knew she usually planted an extensive garden and was always offering tomatoes, cucumbers, and zucchini to him in the late summer. He hoped she had some beans, peas, or corn too.
They’d definitely need the rental truck by the time he had clothes, blankets, towels and other essentials packed. While his SUV was good-sized, he kept the back filled with painting supplies and had a couple of ladders secured on top. It didn’t leave a lot of room for much else. He reached in and cleared out all of the cans of paint and other painting supplies. Then he looked around the walls of the garage and started loading tools he thought he could use. Shovels, a hoe, rakes, a broom, a hack saw and some rope he’d used when he’d patched a few spots on his roof a few years ago to tide it over until he was able to get a new roof.
He bent at the waist, his hands on his knees. Even though he was in pretty good shape, he was running on fumes and knew he didn’t have the luxury of sleeping for hours yet. This morning, it had seemed like it was still early enough in the disease process that getting a rental appeared to be a sure bet, but now he worried. He’d tried to call and reserve one, but the business was closed for the day. What if they didn’t have one?
Cole had figured he had at least a few days before the general public caught on, and even then, most wouldn’t comprehend the scale of the disease. Not at first. Hell, he could hardly believe it was going to get bad, and his whole career, his field of study, was making predictions about diseases.
He hoped the crowd at the gun shop was just the first wave of people preparing. Walmart hadn’t seemed any busier than normal, so that had him breathing a little easier, but he didn’t want to push their luck. They’d have to leave tomorrow.
Cole entered his kitchen through the garage door, grabbed a glass and filled it with water, mesmerized by the simple act of filling the glass from the tap. So many things he took for granted. There had to be at least one well on the island. He prayed it was in good shape. But if they didn’t have power, how would the water pump? What would they need to make it pump? Could they rig something up? Maybe a windmill? Obviously, people had wells before electricity was invented, and he pictured a pump with a handle, but what went on below ground was a mystery. He took his glass to the other side of the counter, where his laptop rested on the breakfast bar.
Opening his browser, he was dismayed to see more new
s stories about Sympatico Syndrome, but they still were pretty far down on the list of trending stories. At the top was some celebrity who was getting a divorce. Cole shook his head in disgust at people’s priorities. A second later, the disgust melted away as he realized he would gladly accept shallow priorities if it meant nobody had to worry about a global pandemic. Yes, society was spoiled and obsessing over the marital status of an actor was a luxury only afforded to those who didn’t have to worry about where their next meal might come from.
When clean water and shelter were things you never had to think about, it was easy to get caught up in inconsequential worries. It was a first-world privilege, and he’d been as guilty as anyone. Sure, he didn’t give a rat’s ass about any celebrity marriage, but he obsessed over sports and what player his team should trade for, what a pitcher’s ERA was, and whether his team had a chance to win the World Series that year. Hell, he’d been discussing that exact thing in a baseball chat room just last week. It was a privilege Cole hadn’t ever acknowledged before. And now he feared that it was a privilege which would soon come to an end for everyone.
His stomach rumbled so he popped a frozen dinner in the microwave since it would soon go to waste if he didn’t eat it. While it heated, he headed to his room and dug through his closet for appropriate clothing, pushing aside the suits and dress shirts, pulling out old camouflage he hadn’t worn in years. He wasn’t sure if he’d fit into it although he was still in good shape. He packed it anyway. It might fit Hunter or even Trent at some point. The clothes were thick and durable. As he looked for sweatshirts, he came across a box with old photos in it. He dragged it out beside the bed and lifted it to sit next to the half-full suitcases.
Cole wondered if they’d have room for the box, but decided he’d make room. He went into the living room and took the framed photos from the mantle above the fireplace, pausing at the picture of Hunter and Brenda. Mother and son both laughed as they looked into the camera. He wished he could remember what they had been laughing about, but was glad to have captured a carefee moment. He added the frames to the box and carted it out to the garage.
Sympatico Syndrome (Book 1): Infection (A Pandemic Survival Novel) Page 4