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

by McDonald, M. P.

  “What? Why?” Hunter couldn’t imagine what Piper was describing.

  “I guess they were sick and kept trying to invite us to a party, but your dad kept them away.”

  “Let me talk to him.” He longed to hear his father’s voice. Needed to hear it.

  “I can’t. He’s driving the rental truck. We packed it with a shitload of stuff.”

  “Where are you?”

  “We’re in your dad’s car, following the rental truck. My dad is behind us in his truck. We’re like a caravan.”

  It hadn’t occurred to him that things were moving so fast at home. He’d envisioned his dad sitting in the living room watching television or playing on the computer while waiting for Hunter to get home. Then they’d all go up to the lake together. Sure, he had the map, but thought that was just a precaution. “Oh. Okay. I’m stuck right now somewhere in Nebraska. There’s a big accident on the road, and I can’t get through. Hold on…the state trooper is waving to me…what the hell?”

  “What’s happening?”

  “It’s weird, he’s grinning at me and waving to me to come out. Hold on.” Hunter rolled his window down, made a move to put on his mask, but hesitated. Hiding behind a mask when faced with a cop didn’t sound like a good idea. But as Hunter studied the cop’s strange grin, the hairs on the back of his neck rose. It reminded him of the look from the group in the last town he’d been in the other day.

  His heart knocking against his ribs, Hunter lifted the mask and slid the window back up. He wasn’t taking any chances. He’d expected several tow trucks to come along and maybe a rescue squad or two as he didn’t see anyone who fit the bill. The people he’d thought had been victims of the accident started laughing, and one started doing a jig—right in the middle of the highway. Hunter ignored Piper’s questions coming through his phone. He didn’t know what was going on, but he knew it couldn’t be standard procedure for a traffic accident. Scanning the road, he calculated the chances of getting around the crash versus doing a u-turn and driving the wrong way until he got to a place where he could cross the grassy, flooded median.

  The cop’s grin faltered and turned to a scowl as his eyes settled on the mask Hunter wore. He took another step towards Hunter’s car, but when the other police officer called to him, he turned away.

  Hunter locked the doors. “Hey, Piper, I have to go. This cop is creeping me out. Tell my dad I’ll try to call later, okay? I downloaded the map to the island, so I guess I’ll see you guys there in the next day or so.”

  He didn’t wait for her to answer because now both police officers were approaching. Each cop wore the same, crazy, shit-eating grin Hunter had only seen on stoned students at parties—never on a policeman’s face. A few cars had pulled up behind him, and he saw another in his rearview mirror. If he didn’t do something fast, he would be trapped.

  Chapter Twelve

  Cole calculated it should only take them about three hours to get to Oconto, where the boathouse was located. That was the closest town to the island, located about a mile offshore in Green Bay. He vaguely recalled riding down a river for a little ways before they reached the bay and then the boat trip had been longer. He supposed that the boathouse might have been on the river. It made sense.

  Worried about losing Jenna or Sean, he kept darting glances at the side mirror. They all had the directions written down as well as the map on their phones, but after the ghoulish night, he was paranoid about anyone coming into contact with someone carrying the virus. It only took one of them to catch the virus for them all to be at huge risk. He just prayed they hadn’t already been exposed, either when getting the truck or shopping the day before. He’d worn a mask and Jenna said she had as well. Thank god she was a nurse and had the foresight to take the precaution before he had mentioned it to her. The kids hadn’t been around anyone since Cole had delivered the bad news a few days ago. Chances were, they were safe as long as they stayed away from anyone until they got on the island.

  Traffic this morning was heavy, but he peered into other cars and noticed most contained families, and belongings were piled high. SUVs had bikes, canoes, and luggage carriers attached to the top, many pulled pop-campers or were RVs. It seemed like other people had the same idea—to get away from people. Was Wisconsin big enough to put enough room between all the people? The number of Illinois license plates made him aware that many out-of-staters who owned cabins up north were probably heading up there. If they could afford a cottage, they could afford to prepare for something like this. What about those left back in the towns? Those who didn’t have cabins or islands to retreat to? Guilt crept into his heart, and he tried to push it aside. He had to take care of his family. He couldn’t do anything for others until they were safe.

  Cole took a moment to check his phone. No messages from Hunter. Damn that kid! He dialed the number, but it never rang, just went straight to voicemail, but the voice told him the mailbox was full. Probably full from all the messages Cole had left. He tossed the phone on the passenger seat.

  To keep calm, he reminded himself of the bad cell phone service he and Hunter had experienced when he’d followed him out to Colorado last August. They were constantly in and out of dead spots. That was probably what was happening now.

  His phone rang, and he answered, unable to take his eyes from the busy highway to see who had called, but hoping desperately to hear Hunter’s voice on the other end of the line.

  “Hey, Uncle Cole, Hunter just called me.” Piper, not Hunter, but her words had almost the same effect as if it had been his son. Cole sagged in relief, his foot slipping off the gas for a moment, causing the truck to lurch. He winced when he heard Jenna swear in the background of Piper’s call and knew he was the reason. He pressed the gas again, watching Jenna in the mirror. She gripped the wheel of his SUV and shook her head as though she knew he was watching her. Cole grinned. “Tell your mom sorry about that. My foot slipped. What did Hunter say? Why did he call you? Where is he?”

  “Whoa, hold on. He’s okay. Stuck on a highway somewhere in Nebraska, and he tried calling you but couldn’t get through.”

  “Just now?”

  “I guess so.”

  “Damn, he was probably calling me at the same time I was calling him. Okay, so what’s this about him being stuck on the highway?”

  “Oh, there was an accident, and the police had it blocked off. But, he didn’t say anything more because the cops there were freaking him out.”

  “What were they doing?”

  “I’m not sure, he didn’t really say, but said he had to go and to tell you that he’d meet us at the island.”

  “Okay.” Cole blew out a large breath, breathing easy for the first time in days. His son was safe for now, although the cop thing niggled at the back of his mind. He hoped Hunter was being cautious. “So, how are you all holding up? Think you can make it another…” he glanced at the dashboard clock, “hour and a half without a bathroom break?” He really hoped so because he didn’t want to take the chance of running into anyone if they didn’t have to.

  “Yeah, we’re all good here.” There was a muffled voice in the background and then Piper’s squeal. “Gross!”

  “What’s going on?”

  “Trent said he has to go, but he’ll just take a whizz in an empty water bottle. So gross, Trent!”

  Cole smiled. “Well, if he has to go, that would be the safest alternative.”

  “Whatever.” She didn’t quite use the tone he’d heard her use with her own parents, but it was close. He chuckled, glad for the only bit of normalcy they’d had in the last few days.

  The rest of the ride was uneventful, and when he spotted the exit to the town, he signaled well in advance and made sure Jenna and Sean exited behind him. Now, to find the boathouse.

  * * *

  The car in front of Cole suddenly swerved left, hit another vehicle, and both crashed into the cement median. Braking hard, he managed to avoid hitting either of the cars, but the wheel crunche
d over something. He coasted and glanced in the side mirror to make sure Jenna and Sean had come through the mess okay. Both of their vehicles looked like they came through unscathed. His instinct was to see if the victims needed help, but he fought it. The way the car swerved in front of him made him leery of the reason for the accident and even with a mask, he didn’t want to risk exposure to the virus. He gunned the engine, hoping the other two would take the cue and follow as well.

  They both did, but Cole’s cell phone rang, and he saw Jenna’s name flash on the screen. He answered it.

  “Cole! We can’t just drive off and leave them!”

  “We have to. We can’t risk it. Just opening the door near another person could allow the virus into your car. Granted, it’s a small risk, but it’s there. I drove behind the car that caused the accident, and the guy driving looked like he was having a grand old time. He was dancing in his seat, his arms flailing. Frankly, I’m surprised he managed to keep from crashing five miles ago.”

  “Do you think…”

  “…he had the virus?” Cole finished for her. “Yes, I do. I feel sorry for the occupants of the other car, but it’s too risky.”

  Jenna didn’t say anything; she just clicked off and followed the truck.

  It wasn’t the last accident they saw. In fact, the longer they drove, the worse it became. Cole had never seen anything like it in his life—not even when the roads were covered in snow and ice in the middle of a blizzard.

  By the time they got to the middle of the state, the good news was that most of the traffic had disappeared, but the bad news was that they had to pick their way around accidents and Cole worried about glass causing a flat tire. If one of them had a flat, they’d have to abandon the car. He just prayed the truck would make it through.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Cole matched the address to what he had and what Google Street View had shown him. This was the place. It was an empty lot along the river—empty except for a gravel road leading up to a boat ramp beside a decent sized boathouse. He exited the truck and waited for Jenna and Sean to park beside him.

  “This is the moment of truth, I guess.” His whole plan hinged on there being at least one boat in the boathouse. There had to be. How else would Uncle John have returned from the island the last time he was there? He studied the keyring he’d received with the paperwork. Some were labeled with bits of paper taped to the metal, but the tape was wearing off, and the paper was dirty and yellow. He held the key at arms-length. He was just starting to need reading glasses and reached into his shirt pocket to get his, settling them on his nose. “Main house, one, two, three, four…” he sorted through the keys, assuming the numbers were for the guest cabins his uncle had on the property. With any luck, a few were still standing. “Ah, here we go.” He found several labeled boat, and one boat H. He strode up to the door of the boathouse and tried the key. It didn’t fit. Shit! He jiggled it. “It’s not fitting. Is there another door somewhere?”

  Sean jogged to the left to look, and Trent took the right side and shook his head. Sean said, “Just on the river.”

  “Here, let me look.” Piper took the keyring, and flipped keys, before settling on an unmarked one. “This looks about the right size.” She put it in the lock and it turned easily.

  She pushed open the door and gasped.

  Cole’s heart sank at the sound until he followed her in and discovered a pontoon boat. It was perfect! It was raised on a lift, and he’d have to figure that out, but taking all of their gear out to the island would be much easier on a pontoon. The flat deck would make loading and unloading simple.

  Sean came in and gave a low whistle. “Sweet!” Then he turned to Cole. “Does it have gas?”

  Piper and Trent entered, with Trent walking along the pier beside the boat. “I know how to work this.” He pointed to a small box on the ground between the two boat slips. One slip was empty, but the other held the pontoon up out of the water. “It’ll lower the boat into the water if you turn this lever,” he kneeled and pointed a yellow-handled lever, “and turn it on here.” He pointed to something else on the box.

  “Good, Trent, because I’ve never done that before. If you have any other tips, feel free to share.”

  Jenna approached, crossing her arms as she watched her son eye the pontoon boat. “I’m sure he will, Cole. He spent a month at his friend’s cabin up north the last two summers. They have two or three boats, I think.”

  “Does he know about gas? I’m at a loss here. I don’t know if there’s gas, and if there isn’t, what kind and where to get it. I’m assuming there isn’t any gas in it now.”

  “All of you, come out of there now with your hands where I can see them!”

  Cole shot a look at Sean. It hadn’t occurred to him to have someone keep watch outside. Damn it. “I’ll go out. You guys stay here.”

  Sean shook his head. “No way. I’m going with you.” Cole hadn’t even been aware he was carrying, but after their experience getting the truck and last night, he should have expected it. Sean had given a second handgun to Jenna, and from the way she was bending to get something from her ankle area, he guessed she had one too. And his gun was in the truck. Perfect place for it. He should have carried it with him. Cole vowed to never make that mistake again. Things were different now.

  “I’m not asking you again! Get out now before I come in shooting!”

  “I’m coming out. Calm down!” With no time to argue, Cole stepped through the doorway, squinting into the bright sunlight after the darkness of the boathouse. An older man, probably sixty or so, balding and wearing a dirty t-shirt, stood twenty feet away, a shotgun aimed right at Cole.

  “What do you think you’re doing? Here to steal something?” The man snarled the question, his finger on the trigger.

  Cole shook his head. “No. I own this boathouse. That’s my boat in there.” He jabbed a thumb back towards the boathouse.

  “Bullshit. I know the owner and you ain’t him.”

  “You knew my Uncle John? John Evans?”

  The man hesitated, the end of the shotgun sliding to the right, away from Cole. “I know John. You say you’re his nephew? What’s your name? And if I don’t recognize it, you and whoever you got back in that boathouse better pack up your stuff and get the hell outta here.”

  “I’m Cole Evans, and my brother, Sean, is in there…with his wife and kids.” Cole didn’t know if he should give that information away, but he sensed this guy wasn’t generally hostile.

  His eyes narrowed, and he raised the end of the shotgun, aiming at Cole’s chest. “Why didn’t John call me and tell me you were coming up? I got a feeling you’re trying to steal his boat to get away from the sickness. Already had a couple of people show up trying to break in, but I chased them away.” He spit on the ground. “Damn thieves. I can’t wait to be rid of them. Just waiting for John to show up—then we’re heading out there.”

  Cole had trouble forming a coherent thought while staring down the barrel of a shotgun but he managed, “I’m sorry to tell you that he’s not coming. My uncle passed away.”

  The news startled the man. His eyes widened as pain and disbelief flashed across his face. The end of the shotgun tilted towards the ground. “John’s dead?”

  Cole nodded. “I’m sorry.”

  “The sickness got him?”

  “No. He passed just before Christmas. Heart attack.” Cole slowly lowered his hand, palm spread. “I have the papers from his lawyer right here in my pocket. They prove what I’m saying is true.”

  The barrel inched up, but not as it had before. The man hesitated. “Nobody told me he died. I’d have gone to pay my respects.” The man blinked hard. Cole felt sorry for him.

  “I’m sorry, sir. His wishes were cremation and no fuss. We had a small memorial in January. If I’d have known, I would have called you.”

  “Wait a second, if you’re his nephew, you’d know his birthday.”

  Cole’s mind went blank. “I can show y
ou my driver’s license. That proves he has the same last name as me, and the papers will prove that I own this boathouse.”

  “Maybe you are who you say you are, but a nephew should know his own uncle’s birthday.”

  Then it came to Cole. His uncle had died just before his sixty-seventh birthday. The memorial had been the day before his birthday. “January fifth. He would have been sixty-seven this year.”

  The man appeared to deflate, his bravado escaping in a large sigh. “Yeah. I missed him this year. He always came up unless there was a snowstorm or something. I just figured he decided to go someplace warm this year. He used to joke about that all the time. Why the hell he was spending his birthday freezing his ass off in an ice fishing hut instead of lying on a beach in the Caribbean.”

  Feeling as if the danger was diminished, Cole held his hands wide, then raised the mask he’d taken to leave around his neck when he was alone. “Just a precaution—to protect both of us.” He pulled the documents from his pocket and extended them. “Here’s a copy of the paperwork.”

  The man barely glanced at it. “Nah, that’s okay. I believe you.” He stood, as if in a trance, his gaze on the boathouse, but it looked like his mind was a million miles away.

  Cole had an idea. “Listen, sir…what’s your name?”

  “Joe. I’m Joe Miller. John never mentioned me?”

  “I’m sorry. If he did, I don’t recall. I’m afraid I wasn’t an attentive nephew and didn’t see my uncle often over the last few years.”

  “John sometimes talked about you and your brother. Said you two and your kids were his only family. He told me all about you having some fancy degree and your brother having his own business. Electrician, right?”

  Cole nodded. “That’s right. I think we have some distant cousins, but nobody close.”

  Joe’s eyes swept the boathouse and out to the river. “We used to spend almost every weekend in the summer on the island. I’m gonna miss that.” He gave a sad shake of his head. “Anyway, I stocked the island up some. Got the generator all ready, and the boats are gassed up. Even got some extra fuel stored in the shed there. I know that’s not a good idea, but circumstances.” He shrugged. “You’re welcome to it. Might as well not let it go to waste.”