“I don’t think you’ll have to.”
Sean shot him a look. “Why not?”
“They’re displaying symptoms of the disease. I have a feeling that soon, both will be dead.”
Sean took another peek outside and shook his head. “Shit. They sure don’t look sick.”
“Nope. Apparently, that’s how it goes.” Cole pointed to the hunting rifle. “I just bought that yesterday. Haven’t even taken it out of the case.”
“We could have used this when we were picking up the truck.” Sean sat on the side chair and dug in the box of ammo, loading the rifle.
“Yeah, well, I didn’t think we’d need it so soon. I bought it for hunting deer if we need more meat. Eventually, we might need to protect ourselves, but I didn’t believe it would happen so soon.”
“Me neither, and if you hadn’t come to our house yesterday, we’d have been completely unprepared.”
Cole met his brother’s serious gaze and nodded. He worried about Hunter. Was he in danger of running into people like this? He pulled out his phone to call, but dove for the floor when a bullet came through the window. Glass shattered, the blinds rattled, and Cole swore, coming up to a crouch. He poked the shotgun through the empty square where a pane of glass had been just moments before. He fired off a round, aiming high. Cole didn’t really want to shoot anyone. Not if he didn’t have to. “Elliot, get the hell away from my house! The next round won’t be a warning!”
“Aw, man. We were just having fun.”
Chapter Ten
Cole kept vigil by the front window while Sean watched the back of the house. Elliot had been true to his word about a party brewing as loud music blasted throughout the neighborhood, the beat emphasized periodically by gunfire. It set Cole’s nerves on edge and several times, he had to fire warning rounds at people trying to venture close to the house.
He rose and peered over the edge of the window frame, his blinds bent all to hell to allow him a narrow gap to look through while still providing some cover. His last warning round had been just a minute or so before, and he wasn’t even sure anyone noticed it. Three women, several children, and nearly a dozen men ran around in the street, playing some kind of game. It looked like tag, except that nobody seemed to be ‘it’.
Either they were all drunk off their rockers, or they were very ill. Maybe it was a combination. As he watched, a woman staggered and fell. He waited for her to get up laughing. It wasn’t the first time she’d fallen. All of the partiers had hit the ground at least once but always staggered back to their feet. This time, the woman stayed down. She moved briefly, in a spasmodic way, then became still.
Cole stood and pushed the blind out of the way. Was she struck by the last round? He’d been confident he’d aimed high enough to avoid hitting anyone, but maybe he hadn’t? What if he’d killed her?
One of the kids stopped beside the prone woman, nudging her with his toe. Then the child pulled his foot back and planted a solid kick to her head. Cole started. There was no reaction from the woman. The kid raced away. His laughter sent a chill down Cole’s spine.
Not long after, three more people dropped in their tracks, and nobody seemed to care. Nobody went out of their way to abuse them as the child had, but several were stepped on and tripped over in the course of the ‘game’ of tag. Cole’s stomach churned after a little girl dropped and a woman snatched the child by her long blonde hair, dragging her across the lawn. He was pretty sure it was the girl’s mother from the color of her hair.
“Sean!” Cole didn’t want to shout and kept his voice low, but he needed to talk to his brother.
“You got something?” Sean entered the living room, sending a nervous glance over his shoulder to the backyard.
“No new threats but four people seem to have died in Elliot’s front yard, and nobody gives a shit about them.”
“How do you know they’re dead?”
“Well, I don’t know for certain, but the others have gone up and kicked, stomped, and in one case, dragged around a little girl, and none of the fallen have reacted at all. I’m pretty sure they’re all dead.”
“They dragged a little girl? What kind of monster would do that?”
“Her mother.” Cole turned away and retched into the planter of a ficus tree beside the window.
Reaching over, he grabbed the cover of the armrest from the sofa and wiped his mouth, then dropped it into the planter. “I think we need to plan our escape for early morning. I’m hoping that, even ill, they might be less active at that time.” Or maybe they’d all be dead by then. It was a morbid thought, but just knowing the virus was mere yards away made his skin crawl. Every time a breeze blew through the broken pane of glass and rattle the blinds, he instinctively held his breath. Thinking that there was a slight possibility of the virus floating on the breeze, he pulled his mask from his pocket, where he’d crammed it earlier. He put it on.
Sean’s eyes widened. “What are you doing?”
“Just a precaution but I think we should all wear them until we’re in the car and on our way, and even then, if we run into any other people, we need to have them on. I have extras in the garage.”
“We might have packed them already.”
“Shit.” Cole thought for a minute. “Well, you guys should stay in the basement then. Use the bathroom and what have you, but then try to get some sleep. The sofa pulls out into a bed, and I have the bedding from my bed and Hunter’s bed I can bring down for the kids to sleep on.”
“Yeah, sounds good. But what about you? How are you going to stay awake all night and still drive tomorrow?”
“I’ll manage, don’t worry. Maybe when we get away from towns, we can pull into some little side road, and I can take a nap.”
Sean looked doubtful.
“Look, how about this? We’ll have to take turns guarding the house. I’ll take first watch. I may have another mask stashed away somewhere. Look around my laundry room down there.” He was pretty sure he didn’t have one but wanted Sean in the basement where it was safer.
“Okay, but I’ll go get the bedding. You stay here and keep an eye on those guys.” Sean jabbed a finger at the window, already turning to go up the stairs to the bedrooms.
“Is something wrong, Cole?”
Cole turned to find Jenna standing in the threshold of the kitchen. She eyed the mask on his face. “It’s a precaution, but I only have one mask here. The rest are in the truck already. We’ll have to get them in the morning.”
“Oh. Okay. Well, I’m too keyed up to sleep right now and can get some packing done while the kids sleep.”
“I don’t think we can right now. I’m worried about the virus. I’m not convinced that it could travel this far in the open air, but I just don’t know for certain. I think the basement, with the door closed, will be the safest place for your family right now.”
Her eyes darted to the window. “Okay. Well, I guess we got most of everything boxed up anyway. Where’s Sean?” She pressed a hand to her forehead, before smoothing it back over her hair and blowing out a breath.
“He went to get blankets and pillows.”
When Sean came down, he tossed a blanket at Cole. “Here.”
Cole grabbed it. He didn’t intend to sleep, but maybe he could stuff it in the hole in the glass. “Thanks.”
Sometime towards morning, the shouting and gunfire tapered off. Cole couldn’t tell if everyone had just fallen asleep or if they were dead. The music still played, but he was starting to recognize the songs and realized it was someone’s playlist which repeated every hour or so. Nobody was manning the stereo.
As soon as Jenna and Sean had gone downstairs, Cole had turned off all the lights so he could see outside better. Since then, he’d only had two partiers attempt to approach the house. One dropped on the sidewalk in front and hadn’t moved since, and the other had headed back, apparently drawn by something. Maybe someone had called his name or maybe the music had drawn him back to the party.
&
nbsp; Cole yawned and lifted the mask long enough to rub his nose against his arm and take a sip of the coffee he’d made. He was worried someone outside would smell it, but he had to have something to keep him awake. He settled the mask back over his nose and mouth. The first hint of dawn brightened the eastern sky and birds were starting to chirp. Just a few more minutes until light, then he’d wake up the others.
* * *
“Cole!”
Someone shook his arm, and he bolted awake. “What?”
“Hey, calm down. It’s just me.”
Cole blinked up at Sean, who was wearing a mask. The room was bright, and as he looked around, he saw all of the boxes and bags that had littered the room were gone.
“We got everything packed. You might want to take a walk through to see if there’s anything else you want to take.”
The rifle was leaning against the wall. “Shit. I fell asleep.” He groaned at the stiffness in his back, and he rose to his feet.
“Not for too long, your coffee was still warm when we came up.” Sean pointed to Cole’s mug.
“Oh. Good.” He stretched. “What time is it?”
“Just a little after six.”
So, he’d had about an hour and a half of sleep. It was better than nothing. “How are the kids?”
Sean rubbed the back of his neck. “Freaked out, but they’re holding up. Didn’t give me any trouble when I woke them to help pack the truck.”
“Any sign of life from…?” Cole nodded towards the window.
“Nope. After I got a mask from the truck, I went to the front with the shotgun and made sure nobody was lurking.” His eyes met Cole’s. “It looks like a war zone, though. At first, I thought people had passed out in the street—I mean, it sounded like a helluva party, right? But all of them are dead. Most are lying in pools of blood, but I don’t see any wounds. Looks like they puked it up or something. I took an old sheet and covered the guy on the sidewalk in front. I didn’t want the kids to see him.”
“You didn’t touch anything, did you?”
“Do I look stupid? Of course not.”
Cole nodded. “Sorry. Habit.”
“Forget it. Let’s eat up whatever you have in the fridge and hit the road. Hanging out here with all of those bodies out there is giving me the heebie-jeebies.”
“Yeah, sounds good. I just want to try to reach Hunter.” He’d left his phone on the charger all night, and unplugged it. He hoped he’d see a text or missed call from his son, but there was nothing. His stomach clenched. He tried to call, but the call went right to voice mail. He left a message, but not trusting his son to listen to it, Cole dashed off a text asking Hunter to call ASAP.
Where was he and why wasn’t he answering calls and texts?
Chapter Eleven
Hunter spent the night parked on an abandoned back road, huddled in his pile of clothes and sleeping fitfully. His stomach rumbled, and he dug through his supplies, but he was down to one cereal bar, a pack of peanuts and a bottle of water. No matter the risk, he’d have to stop somewhere soon to gas up and get some more food. As soon as the sky had lightened in the east, he was awake.
His eyes felt gritty, and he’d kill for a shower. It was chilly, but he stripped off his shirt and let the rain cascade over him. The downpour made goosebumps rise, but it felt so good, especially when he looked in the bag where he kept his shaving gear and pulled out a bottle of body wash. He used it everywhere, looking around to see if anyone was watching, then shucked the shorts for a few minutes to get completely clean. With the threat of the virus, he’d felt dirty and contaminated just from listening to the news. He knew the impromptu shower hadn’t lessened his chances of contracting the disease, but at least he felt better.
Pulling the shorts back on for a few minutes, Hunter checked the garbage bag he’d rigged between the car and a guardrail. Duct tape was something he always carried in the car to make repairs, and he’d used it to tape one short end of the trash bag to the car, the other to the guardrail. He angled it so it sloped down towards a small plastic container he’d used to hold snacks in his dorm. The snacks were long gone.
As he noted the several inches of water in the bottom of the container, he grinned, proud of his ingenuity. At first, he’d thought to just set it out and get whatever fell into it, then thought of awnings and how they always dripped water in rivulets. He could make an awning.
His backseat was an even bigger mess when he dumped the trash bag of junk from his dorm onto the floor of the car, but it was worth it now that he knew it worked. The bag would effectively triple the amount of rain that could collect in the container, and he had empty water bottles he could fill with whatever he collected.
He wished he had a funnel. It would make the awning even more effective. Maybe he had something he could turn into one. He rummaged through the mess and came up with another empty bottle. He cut in half and rigged it so it would fit inside the top of the bottle below it. Duct tape would make it perfect makeshift funnel. That would be for next time, though. He had five more bottles of water now. That would last him today at least.
He held off on eating right now. He was hungry, but it was tolerable. Grabbing a towel from his pile of stuff in the backseat, he dried off while sitting in the passenger seat. Hunter reached back and dug through the pile until he came up with a clean t-shirt, another pair of boxers and shorts. Feeling better than he had in a few days, in spite of his hunger, he looked at the maps he’d downloaded and traced a route with his finger that would take him back in the right direction.
Hunter leaned forward to peer at the flashing police lights in the middle of the road a quarter of a mile in front of him. Two squad cars blocked the highway. Steady rain and the reflection of the lights on the wet pavement lent the scene an eerie quality. A few people milled around the wreck, although nobody seemed to be doing anything to either help victims or remove the wreckage. Puzzled, he slowed, coasting to a stop about fifty feet from the first squad car, cringing at the four car pile-up behind the squads. It looked bad, with one car flipped onto its roof, and another had the driver’s side caved in nearly to the other side of the car. Could anyone have survived that? He didn’t see any bodies lying on the road, but they could still be in the car.
Something struck him as off about the scene. Where were the tow trucks? What about rescue squads? The accident must have just happened, and none had yet arrived. The lack of urgency shown by the two officers on the scene he explained away by assuming there were no major injuries. A few people stood around and observed the wrecked cars, hands jammed in pockets or tucked under opposite armpits. One guy threw back his head, appeared to laugh, then leaned over and spit a glob of something on the ground. Hunter blinked. Had that been blood? While the sun was up, the sky was dark with thick clouds, and he could have been mistaken, but he could have sworn the guy had spit blood. He supposed the guy could be a driver and injured his mouth. That was the most likely explanation. They all must be the drivers, and since they appeared uninjured, bloody glob notwithstanding, that would account for everyone’s casual behavior.
Up until now, Hunter had managed to put the weird vibe he’d had from the group he’d fled from yesterday morning out of his mind. He avoided most news stations on the radio, and when he started to get more static than music when he was between stations, he switched to his own playlist on his phone. He knew he should listen to the news to try to get some information, but the few times he had turned on the radio, the reports had freaked him out. Yeah, he was burying his head in the sand, or figuratively sticking his fingers in his ears, but he didn’t want to hear all the depressing news about the thousands who had already died. Listening wouldn’t change anything. Thousands were said to have died already. How had it gone from hundreds to thousands in just a few days?
He scouted for a way around the accident, but between the police cars, glass, and car parts scattered across the two lanes, the only way around was through the median. Hunter took one look and knew that w
asn’t an option. Water was filling the depression between the lanes and he knew it was a good way to get stuck. Crap. The right shoulder was narrow and dropped into tall weeds and brush. For all he knew, it was filling with runoff as well.
Sighing, Hunter put the car in park and reached into his center console for his phone. He studied the map for a moment, trying to decide where to go from here. Route 83 seemed to run parallel to I-80, and he could probably swing north into South Dakota, then hop on I-90 and zip straight east into Wisconsin. From there, he could take a smaller highway to Oshkosh, then get on the main road up to Green Bay.
While he was glad he’d downloaded the map to where he needed to go, he was happy to have found an atlas at a gas station when he’d last filled the tank. His cell phone signal had been spotty, which he remembered had happened when he’d driven his car out to school in the fall, but he’d forgotten about it. He looked for any new messages from his dad, but there was nothing. He only had one small bar of signal, but he decided to try it anyway. It rang and rang, and never even went to voicemail. What was going on? Had his dad caught the virus? Why wasn’t he trying to contact him?
Hunter drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. Uncle Sean would know what was going on. He searched his contact list, hoping he had the number saved, but didn’t. But he had Piper’s number. He held the phone to his ear. Please answer…
“Hello? Piper? It’s Hunter—”
“Where are you?” Piper cut him off. “Your dad has been going crazy.”
Relief swept him, and he rested his forehead on the wheel. “So, he’s okay?”
“Yeah. We’re all okay. You would not believe how crazy it’s been, though. We had to hole up in your basement all night while your dad stood guard—with a rifle! Someone shot out one of your living room windows.”
Sympatico Syndrome (Book 1): Infection (A Pandemic Survival Novel) Page 8