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

by McDonald, M. P.

  Trent’s gaze darted between his dad and Cole, his shoulders straightening. “It’s okay, Dad. We all agreed.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Hunter shifted in the saddle as the horse crested the small hill, his thighs protesting a second long day in the saddle. He drew back on the reins and Red slowed and stopped. Stroking the mare’s neck, he promised her that he’d find a new stream for her to drink from very soon. He was tired, and he was sure the horses were tired too. None of them were used to riding all day long. Even Buddy lagged behind. While Hunter couldn’t imagine leaving the dog to fend for himself, he also worried how he’d feed the animal once his supply of food ran out. At least the horses could graze, but last night, he’d dismissed all of his second thoughts about Buddy’s presence.

  As he’d tossed and turned, every noise had pulled him from the brink of sleep. What if someone sneaked up on him in the middle of the night? What if the horses were stolen? He’d staked them as close to the tent as he dared without worrying about the animals treading on the tent, but someone could creep up and lead them away without him ever knowing, but then he’d observed Buddy. The dog had curled up with his head at the entrance to the tent, his head on his paws and not long after Hunter had settled in, the dog had stood, his ears pricked. It had turned out to be just an opossum passing through the camp, but it made Hunter realize that he had a watchdog. Buddy would let him know if anyone came near his camp. With that knowledge, he’d slept better than he had since his last night in his dorm.

  One problem solved, but another surfaced. He was lost. Was he in Iowa or Minnesota? He was sure he wasn’t in Wisconsin because he hadn’t had to cross the Mississippi yet, but that was the only thing he was certain of.

  He had never really found out where he was when he’d abandoned his car. Why hadn’t he at least checked the mail at the farmhouse? He could have narrowed where he was from the address on an envelope, but it hadn’t occurred to him to look. He’d been focused on supplies.

  He had ridden east yesterday, but today was overcast, and he wasn’t sure of his direction anymore. If only his phone worked. He had an application that showed direction, stars, and everything. Of course, if his phone worked, he could just call his dad.

  His riding experience had been on a few trails near his friend’s small farm and in their paddock. They had never paid attention to how many miles they’d covered so he had no frame of reference to calculate the distance he’d traveled since he’d started his trek the morning before. Hunter twisted and dug a bottle of water out of his saddlebag. He eyed it and grimaced. Half-full. It was the last bottle he’d filled at the farm. As he sipped it, he surveyed his surroundings. From the rise, checkerboard fields stretched in every direction, a white farmhouse or red barn dotting a few of the squares.

  He’d skirted around all other homes he’d come across so far, but he might have to stop at one to find water. The last stream had been muddy and slow moving, and he hadn’t trusted drinking from it. He’d had enough water at the time to hold off, but now if he didn’t find a house with a working water source, he’d have to take his chances with the purification tablets and straining the water through an old t-shirt.

  In the distance, he spotted a winding ribbon of highway and debated whether he should try for it. A highway meant signs and mile markers. He could figure out where he was, but a highway also meant people. He squinted, trying to determine if there was movement on the road, but he couldn’t make a determination from this distance. Would it be worse to find it devoid of life or to find it full of people who might infect him? He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the grime and sweat. What he wouldn’t give for a real shower with hot water.

  Hunter didn’t just feel lonely, he felt alone. Two weeks ago, he wouldn’t have known there was a difference, but now he knew. Loneliness sprung from being among other people but not feeling connected. Alone meant zero human contact and no opportunity to make a connection. He drew a deep breath. He was tired of being alone—completely and utterly exhausted. It was as if the face of the Earth had been swept clean of human beings except for him.

  Up until a few hours ago, he’d followed a stream that twisted and turned, but he’d managed to keep the sun in front of him in the morning or behind in the afternoon. The stream had petered out, so he was forced to abandon it.

  It freaked him out that he had seen absolutely no signs of human life since spotting the single set of headlights his first night on the farm. What if everyone was dead? Then he confronted his worst fear. What if his dad was dead? His gut knotted. No, his dad was safe, and he’d keep everyone else safe too. That’s what he did. Convinced he was right Hunter banished the thought to the deepest, darkest crevice in his mind.

  Instead of dwelling on the doom and gloom, Hunter had conjured up a fantasy that everything was fine. It was based on silly hope, but what if the disease had been contained and everyone was going about life as usual? He grinned as he imagined his dad’s reaction to his solitary journey through the countryside. His cousins would laugh at him, and he’d chuckle right alongside them. Then he remembered the farmer and his wife and the grin faded along with his hopes.

  Nobody had noticed their deaths. If they had been dead only a day, he could understand, but he was pretty sure they had been dead at least two before he’d arrived and he’d been there a couple of days. So, four days they had been gone and nobody noticed? None of the farms he’d passed had shown any activity either. Hunter hadn’t seen a single tractor crawling across a field, not even in the distance. Periodically, he checked the sky for contrails or the flash of a plane high above, but the sky had been a blank, blue, expanse broken only by occasional clouds until today. It looked like rain was heading his way.

  Hunter took one more sip, screwed the cap on and tucked the water back in his bag. He could try to rig another water catcher if he couldn’t find water. His dad was too smart to be dead. He knew about diseases and how to take precautions. Growing up, Hunter had been teased by friends for his washing his hands so much. Some had even suggested he suffered from obsessive-compulsive disorder, but Hunter had laughed it all off and reminded them that his bedtime stories had consisted of tales of scary diseases run amok.

  Of course, his dad never told him those kinds of bedtime stories, but he had pressed home the point of thorough hand-washing to the point it was ingrained into Hunter. Especially after his dad had become so sick just before he got out of the Navy. He had said he forgot to wash one time and almost died. Hunter thought there was something more to it than that, and when his dad finally came home, he had looked terrible—pale and thin. It had taken him a year to get back to normal.

  Hunter glanced around. The horses had taken the opportunity to grab a few tufts of grass, and Buddy had flopped onto the ground, his tongue lolling as he waited for Hunter to decide what to do. “Come on, Buddy.”

  He gave the mare a light kick and pointed her in the direction of the highway.

  * * *

  Elly raced down the street, vaulting bodies on the ground. Dragging her case over the corpse, she made a mental note to wipe down the whole case with a homemade wipe made from paper towels, bleach, and water. She’d been careful so far, but now, there wasn’t time to be careful. Something was coming. She ducked behind a stalled car. As she caught her breath and her heart slowed, she strained to hear. Since leaving the hotel, she had seen no one alive—just bodies. Everywhere, bodies. The stench penetrated the mask and filled her sinuses. She didn’t think she’d ever get the stink out of her head. But, she’d grown used to it and had picked her way through the streets, heading for the lake.

  She’d downloaded a map to her phone before ever coming to Chicago and had just enough juice left in the phone to consult it. Sheridan Road would take her as far north as Racine in Wisconsin. It was the most direct route north. If she had a car, the highway just west of Chicago would be her best bet in normal times, but now, it was the worst solution. Every street was clogged with bodies and cars. There
was no way she’d be able to navigate to the highway, and even if she risked taking one of the multitudes of cars abandoned everywhere, and made it to the highway, she figured it was probably as choked with cars and bodies as the city streets.

  The clacking sounded louder now. What the hell was it? She made sure her mask was firmly in place and inspected her gloves for any holes. The rhythmic clacking grew closer, then it stopped. She held her breath. It had sounded mere feet away.

  After what felt like several minutes, but was probably only thirty seconds or so, Elly couldn’t stand it. She had to look. Rising up on her toes while still crouching behind the car, she peered over the trunk.

  She hadn’t known what she was expecting. Maybe some gruesome cadaver come to life or a pack of wild dogs, but what she found was a teenaged boy on a dirt bike—the kind of bike kids used with ramps to perform various tricks. It might be good for stunts, but it wasn’t the best for long distance biking, but perhaps the teen wasn’t planning on going far.

  His back was to her as he scoped out the intersection. When he looked left, Elly noted the bandana tight across his nose and mouth. He’d taken precautions, even if the measures weren’t the most effective. That gave her hope he wasn’t infected because she hadn’t encountered a single dead body wearing a mask or gloves. That led her to believe the infected hadn’t been worried about catching anything. Maybe they had before symptoms started, but since the symptoms were so different from any other illness, most never even realized they were sick. The last thing the virus would want was for its host to take precautions.

  He wore studded leather bands on his wrists, black leather driving gloves and a knit cap on his head. She’d seen the caps before but never understood why anyone would wear a cap in the middle of summer, but what did she know of fashion? Blond scraggly hair escaped the back of the cap.

  Other than the bandana, he sported a tattered black t-shirt and ripped jeans. The tough guy image was spoiled by the Sponge Bob backpack. It hung low on his back, bulging with whatever he had in it. The backpack might have made her smile, but when he stretched up on his tip toes to see farther down the road, she spotted a gun tucked into the waistband of his jeans. It gave her pause.

  The boy lounged on the seat as he used one hand to steer the bike into a circle. It was then she realized the clacking had come from a playing card stuck between the spokes. Why would he have that in there? She ducked back down before he had completed his turn.

  Should she wait him out and hope he went away? Or should she try to make contact with him? He had a gun and could take her supplies without a fight, and she needed everything she had. Silence was the best option. Now, if only he would go back the way he’d come.

  The clacking, slow and intermittent now, crept closer. He was at the end of the car. Damn it. Of all the cars she had to dive behind why had she chosen this one? She should have gone farther down the street and hidden behind one of the others.

  And then suddenly, he was right there. Even though she knew he had been close, his appearance at the end of the car caused her to start. But if she was surprised, he was so shocked he almost fell off his bike.

  “What the fuck?” He staggered sideways as the bike tilted, then he regained his balance. He straddled the bike, facing her, but he didn’t reach for his gun. Instead, he eyed her with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension.

  She rose, holding her hands out to show she meant no harm. “Hi.”

  He rolled back a few feet and nodded, his eyes flashing to her suitcase. She pulled it close, stepping in front of the case as she leveled a hard look at him. “Don’t even think about it.”

  His eyes widened, but then he must have grinned behind the bandana because a dimple dented his cheek. “Don’t worry, lady. I don’t want your shit.” He swept a gloved hand out. “The city is full of stuff. Everything you could need or want. You just have to be careful to avoid the stiffs.”

  “Okay. Good to know. Well, I’ll be on my way.” She backed away, but he followed her, pedaling just enough to keep the bike from falling over.

  “Where are you going?” His tone wasn’t threatening, but not only was she wary of telling him her plans, she wondered if it was just a casual question or if he was becoming friendly due to the virus. She edged away from him.

  She increased her pace. “Why do you want to know?”

  He kept abreast but remained several feet away. “Look, lady. You’re the first person I’ve seen in days who wasn’t either dead or partying like it’s 1999.” He shrugged and gave a whistle like a plane spiraling out of the sky, his thumb pointing towards the ground “And then they’d die. I’m curious is all.”

  She glanced at him as she marched down the road, skirting right of a body while he went left. “I’m meeting some friends.”

  He skidded to a stop. “You mean other people survived too?” There was a note of wistfulness in his voice that brought her up short.

  Had Cole survived? She was counting on it, but she didn’t know for sure. “I don’t know. Possibly.”

  “Where?”

  She resumed walking, more slowly now. “Why do you want to know?” Two could play the question game.

  “I just thought maybe there was a town or something, where everything was normal still.” There was a catch in his voice, and she did a double take. The kid looked tough on the outside with his studded wristbands, and she noticed a bar through his right eyebrow, but he’d sounded like a little boy for a moment.

  She was too wary to let down her guard completely, but she gave him a sideways look. “What’s your name?”

  “Jake.”

  “Hi, Jake. I’m Elly.” Last names weren’t necessary.

  “Nice to meet you, Elly.”

  “Yeah, same to you. Sorry to be rude, but I really need to get a move on.” She doubled her speed. She was almost to Michigan Avenue and from there, could hook up with Sheridan Road.

  “Why are you walking?”

  “Because I don’t think I could drive a car through all of this.” She gestured to the cars and bodies littering the street.

  “Grab a bike. They’re all over the place.”

  The idea had occurred to her but thought dodging the bodies might be more trouble than it was worth. “Too many obstacles in the road. Besides, I have all of my supplies in this.” She rattled the handle of her case.

  “Yeah, but if you take the alleys, most of them are clear. And I bet you could find a wagon to hitch to your bike. Or maybe one of those baby trailers. Check the Lincoln Park area. Those people are always pulling their kids in those contraptions. I used to love scaring the shit out of the parents, racing up as close as I could before skidding sideways. It was hilarious.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I’ll bet. Sorry, I missed it.”

  He must have caught her sarcasm because he shrugged. “It was fun to mess with them, but I never actually hit any of the trailers.” His voice hardened. “I don’t hurt little kids.”

  “I’m sure you don’t.” She thought about what he’d said about a bike, but decided that dragging a trailer behind one wasn’t much better than a car. It would be hard to navigate around all the obstacles. As they avoided two more bodies, both in advanced states of decay, she averted her eyes from what was left of the corpses. “How come you don’t have a trailer?”

  “I do, but I didn’t bring it. I’m just out scouting for more stuff.”

  “How do you navigate around all of the—” she swallowed hard and gestured to another pile of bodies, “dead?”

  “Like I said, I stick to the alleys. People were dancing in the streets, not the alleys.” He chuckled. “Sorry, just my sick humor.”

  “Yes, I figured that out.” She didn’t hold his twisted sense of humor against him. It was a coping mechanism.

  She hadn’t looked in an alley, assuming they were as bad as the rest of the streets. “Really? The alleys?”

  “Yeah. The rats are even gone. They’re all out here now.” He nodded to a couple g
nawing on the leg of what had probably been a young woman. She grimaced and looked away.

  “Maybe I’ll do that. Thanks.”

  “No problem.”

  He continued to tag along. She didn’t feel threatened, but it made her nervous all the same. Finally, she halted. “Are you planning on continuing to follow me?”

  He straddled the bike, his feet planted on the asphalt. “I could help you get wherever you’re going.”

  “How do you know you could help? I haven’t even told you where I’m headed.”

  “Because I’ve been riding around the city for the last three days. I know where the sick are still running around and could help you avoid them.”

  She had assumed almost everyone was dead. There had been no signs of life except in the streets for the last couple of days. At least, none that she had seen. “Why would you do that?”

  “You mean, what’s in it for me?”

  She met his eyes and nodded.

  He tipped his chin at her mask and gloves. “I don’t want to be the last person in Chicago, and you look like you might survive, too.”

  * * *

  Jenna tried to push past Cole. “Let me by, Cole. He’s my son!”

  Cole took her by the shoulders. “I know. I’m sorry, but he has to stay in isolation.” He’d taken charge and already put Trent in the building and locked the door. Trent had been in shock and hadn’t protested, but Cole had told him he’d be back with some blankets and a blowup mattress. It was all ready to go and had just been sitting on the porch of the house waiting for Hunter to arrive. Nobody thought they’d need it before then. As Jenna glared at him, Cole tilted his head. “It’s for all of our protection. We all agreed, remember?”

  “Yes, for Hunter! Not for my son!”

  At the mention of Hunter’s name, Cole felt a stab of pain in his chest. He only hoped the day would come when he had to deal with putting Hunter in isolation. She tried to shove him out of her way, but he held on tight, searching over his shoulder for Sean, but his brother was standing at the end of the pier staring out towards the lake.