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

by McDonald, M. P.

  Elly shook her head. “God, no. And Jake, I would be happy to have you as first mate.”

  He grinned. “Awesome.”

  She looked at her watch. It was almost three p.m. She wanted to check a few things first, see what was onboard, get more fuel to have on hand, and check out some of the other boats for anything that might come in handy. “I think we should spend the rest of today getting ready and head out first thing in the morning. See if we can get some more fuel. I don’t like the idea of carrying it onboard, but it’s not like we can call the Coast Guard if we run out of gas in the middle of the lake.”

  “Right. I’ll get our bags, then I’ll check some of the cars around here and look for gas cans in the trunk. If I can’t find any, there’s a gas station about a half-mile up the road. Normally they’d have some.”

  “Yes, well, I wouldn’t be surprised if they were snatched up by those looking to flee the city, but maybe you’ll find one.” Now that she had decided he could come with her, she worried about him and didn’t want him going too far away. “Just don’t go too far. If we need to, we can switch boats at another marina, right? Maybe try a sailboat.”

  “Good thinking.” He started to leave, but turned to her, his expression conflicted. “It feels so wrong to just take a boat.”

  “Yeah. I know.”

  He nodded at her then took off.

  She yelled after him, “Use your bandana!” He waved over his shoulder. She shook her head at her tone. She’d sounded like the kid’s mother.

  For the rest of the day, Elly scoured the marina, hopping on and off boats, finding more than she’d expected. She looked at her haul and tried to find a place to stash it all. Her biggest finds were fishing poles, nets, and a tackle box, but she was also glad to find thick gloves, cans of mosquito spray and sunscreen, three boxes of crackers, a jar of peanut butter, and one bottle of fine, expensive scotch. She’d save that for when they reached Cole’s island.

  Jake was gone longer than she’d expected and she started to get worried when he showed up. He had traded bikes and had a child trailer attached. The dock wasn’t wide enough where the boat was to bring the trailer.

  “You won’t believe all the stuff I got, Elly. I found three gas cans, and two were already full!” He unsnapped the trailer and carried the gas over. “And I found a metal garbage can to store it in. What took me so long was cleaning the can.” At her alarm, he waved his hands. “Don’t worry, it was just full of grass clippings, but it stunk, and I had to do something. I took it to the pool outside one of those fancy condos and cleaned it in there.”

  “Good thinking.”

  He dropped his backpack. “And I got some cans of food. They were in the trunk with the gas cans. And don’t worry. I washed the cans too, just in case they were contaminated.” He pulled the cans out of his pack and frowned. “Shit. All the labels came off.” He reached farther into the bag and pulled out a handful of soggy paper labels.

  “It’s okay. We’ll be surprised every time. It’ll be kind of fun.”

  He nodded but looked worried.

  “What?”

  “I didn’t know if I should say anything because I could be wrong, but…” He faced west, blocking the sun with his hand. “I thought I heard someone yelling. I didn’t see anyone, what if they saw me? I took a couple of turns, taking a roundabout way here to make sure nobody saw where I was headed, but to be on the safe side I think we should load up as quick as we can.”

  Elly scanned the shore, but all was still. Of course, that didn’t mean there wasn’t someone out there. “You’re right.”

  It took them five minutes to get everything to the boat and stored. Just as they got the gas cans in the trash can, a loud shout, more like the whoop of a fan cheering on their favorite team, echoed through the marina. Elly ducked. Jake froze, his eyes locking on hers.

  He whispered, “I have to get rid of the bike and trailer.”

  Elly rose and scouted the area. “I don’t see anyone. Sound carries over the water, and there’s no background noise to drown it out. I don’t think whoever made the noise is as close as they sounded.”

  “Yeah, but they could be coming closer.” Like a cat, he leaped onto the dock, barely making a sound, and he crept to the bike and trailer on the end.

  The shout came again, a little closer, maybe. Jake unhitched the bike and lowered it into the water without a sound. Then he looked around for a place to dump the trailer. She thought he’d dump that in the lake and worried about a splash, but he lifted it and set it in the back of a large yacht. He threw a tarp over it.

  Just as he stepped back onto the cruiser, the shout came again.

  Elly motioned for him to get into the cabin, and as soon as he did, she shut and locked the door. Her heart raced. She whispered, “Don’t move too much. We don’t want to set the boat in motion.”

  Jake gave her a thumbs-up and peered through one of the tiny windows. “Someone’s coming.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “Mom! I wanna go home!”

  Trent’s voice carried to the house, wrapping around each of them as they picked at the tuna casserole for dinner.

  Jenna, ramrod stiff, stared at her plate. She hadn’t even lifted her fork. The noodles clumped into a congealed mass of pasta.

  Sean shoved back in his chair and turned towards the changing house two hundred feet away on the beach. It wasn’t visible from the table in the kitchen, but Cole knew Sean saw it anyway as if the walls of the house didn’t exist. His brother’s hands balled into fists on his thighs. He looked coiled—ready to fight for his son. If only he could.

  Piper’s fork clinked against her plate as she poked listlessly at her dinner. She had her elbow on the table, her head resting in her hand.

  All day, they had listened to Trent calling out. Sometimes he wanted to go home. Other times, he begged to see his friends. For a while, he sang at the top of his lungs and seemed happy when Sean stood outside the changing room and played the guitar a little, but Sean could only do it for an hour before he broke down and retreated to a work shed. He said he had to work on the water pump.

  Trent hadn’t seemed to mind when his dad left. He continued his singing until his voice became hoarse. Occasionally, the singing had been punctuated by moments of manic laughter. He’d called out to Piper and his parents to join him. Once, he even asked for Hunter to come out and play with him and Cole was reminded of all the times Trent had made the same request at family gatherings.

  Cole slid his plate away, his appetite gone. He propped his forehead against his palms, elbows splayed on the tabletop. A pea from the casserole had escaped from his plate, and he stared at the green and cream colored glob.

  When Hunter had been twelve and Trent eight, his son had complained about it—how he was too old to play with little kids, and Trent had overheard. Dejected, he’d trudged to the backyard. Cole had been about to scold Hunter but held back when his son had followed Trent, apologizing. Not fifteen minutes later they were engaged in a water gun fight, laughing and whooping with glee. If—when—Hunter arrived, the news of what happened to Trent was going to devastate him.

  “Mommy…please?”

  Jenna drew in a sharp breath, a hitch in her voice. “He hasn’t called me ‘Mommy’ since he was five.” She closed her eyes, tears tracking down her face, dripping onto the table. “I’m a nurse. I should be able to do something for him.” Then she stared at Cole. “If we hadn’t come here, he never would have come into contact with those guys in the boat.”

  Cole flinched. She was right. The fact that he probably would be dead already, along with the rest of them, didn’t matter. Unfortunately, they couldn’t undo the past and take a different course of action.

  Sean put a hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged it off. Cole had heard them arguing the night before over the isolation imposed on Trent. Sean glared at Cole, then stood, stalking to the window and braced a hand on either side of it.

  “Uncle Cole, are you
sure that Trent has it? That he has the virus?”

  Cole felt the weight of his family’s gaze, but he couldn’t meet their eyes. They wanted him to deny it and how he wished he could. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. They knew the truth but needed him to confirm it. He looked at Piper, feeling her pain like it was his own. “I’m afraid so.” There was no gavel to bang, but he still felt as if he’d issued a death sentence.

  Silence. Even Trent had paused in his singing.

  He stared at the table. All the plates were untouched, the food wasted. Not that he cared. He lifted his gaze, but they were no longer watching him. Jenna’s lip quivered, Piper stared at her mother, her eyes red and watery. Sean leaned against the wall, his shoulders slumped, eyes vacant.

  “Mommy…I’ll be good.”

  Piper jumped up from the table. “You guys have to do something! Mom! Dad! You can’t just let him die!”

  Jenna crumpled, her shoulders heaving as sobs poured out. Sean pushed away from the wall, moving to Jenna, his arms wrapping around her. This time, she leaned into him.

  “That’s it?” Piper looked from her parents to Cole.

  His mouth dry, his throat tight, Cole wanted to offer comfort, but had none to give.

  With a cry of anguish, she bolted to the counter where Cole had left the key to the changing house after delivering Trent’s dinner. She grabbed it and dashed out the door.

  Cole, numb from despair, didn’t process her sudden departure, but as he pieced it together, he jumped to his feet, his chair toppling as he raced after his niece.

  “Piper! No!” He flung open the door and took the three steps in one bound, moving faster than he knew he could as he raced after her. He caught her as she fumbled with the lock on the door. He closed his hand over hers.

  She turned on him, pounding her fists against his chest, one fist cracking along his jaw, the key in her hand gouging along his cheek.

  “I have to let him out! I can’t let him die in there alone!”

  Trent’s voice, just on the other side of the door, encouraged his sister. “Piper? Is that you? Why am I locked in here? Let me out!” He sounded almost normal, and Cole felt a moment of hesitation. Maybe he was wrong? What if Trent was fine?

  Then Trent whooped. “Come on, sis. We’ll show them we can’t be treated like this. Stupid ass parents treating us like shit! I got friends we can go party with. They’ll like you.”

  His tone and insinuation made the hair on the back of Cole’s neck stand up. Trent never spoke like that. Not the real boy.

  Piper froze, staring at the door. She covered her mouth, her eyes wide in horror as she backed away, her body trembling. “Oh, Trent…”

  Cole reached for the key, and she relinquished it without a fight, her body trembling. Piper looked at him, searching his face…seeking hope? But he couldn’t give it to her, and she bent, burying her face in hands as she sagged to her knees.

  He blinked hard, swiping his face on his shoulder as he stood beside her, unsure of what to do. She was his niece, but almost like a daughter to him. He couldn’t love her any more if she were his own. And Trent—being the youngest of the group— always held a special place in everyone’s heart. His chest ached as he watched her, even as Trent hummed on the other side of the door. Cole took a knee beside Piper, draping his arm across her shoulders and giving her a gentle squeeze.

  * * *

  Hunter peeked around a poster in the window of the gas station. Three guys and a teenaged girl were approaching the horses. He swore softly, wondering what they wanted. If they wanted the horses, it didn’t make a lot of sense. There had to be plenty of other horses out there that they could find.

  The horses snorted, and Red stamped the ground as the men approached. One guy stayed back, his hand gripping the girl’s upper arm. Hunter didn’t know if he was trying to protect her from the horses or if he was keeping her from bolting. Her body language said she wanted nothing to do with him.

  Buddy growled low in his throat, and Hunter tried to quiet him. The dog gave Hunter an anxious glance, obviously wanting to please him, but the animal obviously sensed something with the group that he didn’t like. Hunter wished the dog could talk.

  He scanned the mini-mart for a weapon, hoping the store owner had a gun. His skin crawled as he pushed open the door to the cashier’s area, hoping to find a weapon stashed under the counter, but he didn’t see one. His stomach churned from the stench and sight. He backed out as fast as possible.

  There wasn’t much left in the store, and what was left was scattered on the floor, not neatly arranged. None of it was worth losing the horses. Most of his supplies were on the horses, including his ax. To protect it, he’d rolled it into his sleeping bag. He cursed his stupidity for not carrying the ax on his belt. He hadn’t thought of it as a weapon but as a tool. He had his hunting knife, but the ax would have been better if he had to get close. And of course, there was the bow, but while he’d practiced, he’d never shot anything living before, let alone a human. And if they had guns, the bow would be paltry protection against bullets. His only advantage would be surprise and silence.

  He looked around for a place to stash the pack, not wanting to be burdened with it, but not wanting to lose it to these guys either. A large stack of large Styrofoam coolers lay on the floor, he righted the stack, stuffing the pack in the cooler in the middle, and leaned the stack against the shelves. He wanted the coolers to look undesirable, so he grabbed a bottle of mustard on the floor, and squirted it over the coolers. Ketchup would have been better, but he didn’t see any.

  He adjusted the tension on the bow, and drew an arrow, notching it but holding it loosely. Looking around, he noted a backdoor, and moved towards it, remembering the carwash on that end of the lot. He could circle it, bringing him closer to the guys. Besides worrying if they were armed, what if they had the virus? The possibility gave him pause. Should he just abandon the horses, get his pack, and take off across the field behind the gas station? He was pretty sure he could find more horses although he hated to give them up. They were more than just transportation to him.

  Hunter made sure his mask was in place and decided he’d get a closer look before deciding anything. For all he knew, the strangers were friendly. Maybe they could help each other.

  Then the girl cried out in what sounded like pain. Hunter stiffened. One of the men yelled at her to shut-up, or she was dead. That answered his question about the men’s intent, and his decision was made. He had to face these guys and get the horses back.

  The guys probably suspected someone was nearby because it was obvious the horses hadn’t been tied up for long, but that was assuming the men noticed the absence of manure and the health of the animals, but these guys didn’t look too bright. They’d made a lot of noise, for one thing. Hunter crept to the corner of the gas station. There was a twenty foot gap between the station and the car wash he’d have to cross. Only part of the gap would be visible to the strangers, but if one of them happened to be looking, they’d see him. But, if he crossed it, he could come up behind them to within fifty feet before they’d see him.

  Hunter took a deep breath, darted across the gap. Buddy came with him, thankfully, not making any noise. When he reached the cover of the car wash, he stroked Buddy’s head, then crept around the back of the car wash, taking care not to kick anything on the gravel-strewn blacktop. Weeds grew out of cracks as the asphalt gave way to the grass that surrounded the lot.

  When he reached the corner, he whispered and motioned for Buddy to lie down and stay. The dog obeyed, his ears perked as he watched Hunter.

  Crouching behind the air pump, he watched the men circle the horses. The mare shied away as far as the rope would let her go while Red snorted and took a few quick steps towards the strangers. The men backed off, throwing suggestions to each other.

  Hunter looked to see if they had any weapons, but if they did, he couldn’t see them. It was then he noticed that the girl’s wrists were tied together in
front of her. He was close enough to see a bruise on her cheek. Anger rose in him. Just because there was nobody around to enforce the laws didn’t give the men the right to do anything they wanted to another person.

  He watched for several more seconds not seeing any weapons, but he had a feeling they were armed. Guys like that probably had a whole arsenal. They just didn’t see a need for it now.

  Out-numbered, and his only weapon a bow and arrow, he wasn’t sure what his next move should be.

  The girl yelped, raising one foot and that’s when Hunter noticed she was barefoot. The guy holding her arm, shoved her forward, laughing when she fell to her knees. Her shoulders shook, and although Hunter didn’t hear her, he imagined she was crying.

  The one who had shoved her pulled a gun from behind his back and aimed it at the girl.

  “I’ve had about enough of your crying. I think it’s time I put you out of your misery.” He turned to the other men, who watched Red, their hands out as though to calm him, but apparently neither had any experience with horses because their sudden lunges for his halter only made the horse more skittish. “You guys care if I get rid of her? I’ve had all I can take of her crying.”

  The tallest guy shrugged. “Whatever. We’re kinda busy now. Do what you gotta do.” Red snorted, and both men backed off, cursing the horse.

  The one with the gun grinned and leveled it at the sobbing girl’s head.

  Hunter didn’t think; he just reacted, letting the arrow fly and notching another before the first had even reached its target. His hours of studying speed shooting videos on Youtube and practicing the techniques paid off. At the time, he’d pretend he was in a video game, shooting at imaginary foes, but these guys weren’t imaginary, and this was no game.

  The gun went off, but Hunter’s shot had hit the man in the chest, and he’d pulled his arm back reflexively, his aim at the sky when he’d fired.