He ate four of the ten biscuits and felt guilty because she only had two, saying she’d save the rest for breakfast in the morning. He should have given her one of his so it would be even, but she waved off that suggestion. “I’m full. Those guys weren’t too good about sharing their food with me.”
“All the more reason to give you one of mine. It’s not like you have any extra weight to lose.” He eyed her slim figure, then felt his cheeks heat when she caught him.
While she had splashed her face with water and washed her hands, her clothes were still dirty and her hair matted.
“How much water do we have?”
Hunter thought about it. “I have a couple of two-liter bottles outside, and I think there was still one in your stuff. Plus, about a half-dozen smaller bottles. Why?”
“I would love to heat up some of it and wash. I feel so dirty.” She shuddered, and he had a feeling she meant more than just physically dirty.
“Yeah. Go ahead. I’ll run out and get two of the big bottles. I was looking on a map, and there are several lakes and streams coming up. Refilling shouldn’t be a problem.” He left and returned to the house. He found her on the far side of the house, outside beside the grill. She had every pot and pan he had, cleaned and ready to be filled.
She smiled. “Thanks. One more thing…and I hate to ask, but I don’t suppose you have any clean t-shirts I could borrow, do you? And maybe a towel, or even just an old rag I can use to dry off?”
“Yeah, hold on, I have other stuff, too. Be right back.” He dashed out to the garage again and dug through his supplies. He’d bought extra toothbrushes, deodorants, and other items from the dollar bins at the store. He found a toothbrush, a stick of deodorant—it was guy-scented, but he didn’t think she’d mind—and a trial-sized shampoo plus conditioner.
He wasn’t sure if he had an extra towel because he couldn’t remember what he’d taken from the backseat of his car, but he found one of his old towels from college in the bottom of one saddle bag. He raised it to his nose. It didn’t smell too funky, so he set it beside the other supplies.
As he searched through his bags for a t-shirt, he looked down at himself. His own shirt was dirty and stained. He hadn’t bothered to change it in days. He was sure he wasn’t all that fresh smelling either. Why bother with deodorant when there was nobody around to smell you? He grabbed a couple of his T-shirts. They were clean. Probably. He knew none of his jeans would fit her, but he had an old pair of sweatpants. They had a drawstring, and she could probably get them to fit that way. He rolled everything for her up in the towel, keeping one of the shirts out for himself.
When he returned, she had cleaned the plates and was stoking the grill with a few more briquettes of charcoal. He handed her the towel. “I left the rest of the things inside. I had an extra toothbrush—new—and just other stuff you might want to use inside.” He backed away, rubbing his hands on his jeans as she used the towel to remove one pan from the grill. “I was going to wash up out here, but the mosquitoes are getting bad.”
The house had four rooms, but no doors on any of them and the bathroom was disgusting, as was the kitchen. Rodent droppings and dead bugs covered the floors and counters. The only decent room was the living room. The hardwood floor, while dusty and scattered with paper, was relatively clean. It was apparent the rodents had left it alone with nothing to eat and nowhere to nest. When Sophie carried the water into the living room, Hunter headed out the back door to give her some privacy. “I’ll make sure the horses are okay and take a look around before it gets dark.”
He wandered out into the yard to see if the horses needed anything. He’d filled the one bucket he’d brought with water for them. The horses were grazing and content. The grass was long, and they had plenty to eat. Hunter gathered the two liter bottles he’d used to fill the bucket and returned them to the garage to take with them tomorrow. Behind the yard, the ground sloped up to a hill so he climbed it. The sun was setting, but it was still light enough to see the area.
When he reached the top, he looked east. It was more of the same. Lots of farmland, but it seemed like it was becoming a bit woodier. They had traveled due east, following roads for the most part. The wrecks he’d found on the big highways were fewer on the side roads, and he thought most of them he could navigate around if he had to, but getting across the river by car would probably be impossible on the bridges. He was pretty sure they would have been packed with vehicles—even worse than the regular highways.
For now, they’d stick with the horses, cross the river, and see about switching to a car, or better yet, a truck. There had to be some horse trailers they could find. He didn’t want to abandon Red or Princess. He had never pulled a horse trailer before, or loaded horses, but they could figure that out. Otherwise, he’d have to turn them loose, and he worried about them surviving. Winter would be harsh, and these horses weren’t used to being on their own. He knew some horses would survive and become wild, but others would starve or freeze, and the thought of that happening to either of the horses worried him. He didn’t know what he’d do with them on the island, but that was also a problem for another day.
When he felt enough time had passed, he went back into the house, knocking on the door as he did. “Am I good to come in?”
“Yeah, all clear.”
Hunter entered the living room and stopped dead in his tracks. Sophie sat cross-legged on the floor wearing his sweats and t-shirt that had some comic book hero on the front, dragging his brush through her wet hair. Her face, marred only by a few scratches and a fading bruise on her cheek, shone clean and fresh. Her hair hung wet, but brushed off her face, falling on either side. Even wet, it was lighter than he expected. It felt as if his tongue knotted as he gaped. She was beautiful.
When she looked up at him, she got a tiny crease in her brow. “What’s wrong?”
Trying to shake out the knot, he managed, “Nothing. It’s just…you look…different.” He wanted to say gorgeous, beautiful, or fantastic but didn’t want to freak her out. She’d hinted at how the men had treated her and had been skittish anytime he came too close. She bit her lip, her expression unsure so he clarified, “You look nice. And the bruise around your eye looks like it’s fading.”
Her expression relaxed, and she smiled at him. “Thanks for letting me use all of this.” Sophie waved at the bottle of shampoo, and other personal items. She ran her tongue over her teeth. “Especially the toothbrush. My teeth felt so fuzzy, I couldn’t stand it anymore.”
“Yeah, you’re welcome.”
She pointed with the brush towards the side of the house. “I left some clean water for you if you want to wash up. It’s still on the grill staying warm.”
“Thanks. I do.”
After Hunter had cleaned up and returned to the living room, he dropped to sit cross-legged on his sleeping bag she must have unrolled for him. He stretched. “That did feel great. Thanks for heating the water and for getting my bag out.”
“It’s the least I could do.” She eyed him, her mouth quirking.
“What?”
“You look…different…too.” Then she averted her eyes and lay with her head on her arm and pulled her blanket up. “Goodnight.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Elly gripped the wheel, her knuckles white as the waves hammered the boat. “Jake!”
About a half-hour ago, she’d sent Jake down into the cabin to take a break from the sun and get a nap. The kid had been at the helm all morning, except for a brief respite when they had to refuel around Milwaukee, and that couldn’t be considered a true break. Their gas siphoning skills were improving so it hadn’t taken as long as it had, but it still wasn’t a quick fill-up.
They had spent the evening before moored in Kenosha harbor and had found some unopened bags of chips, a box of energy bars, and a six pack of beer in nearby boats, along with a good, sharp, fillet knife. Better still, they caught two nice-sized walleyes and fried them up on the stove in the cabin, so f
ood hadn’t been an issue and water was all around them. Before docking, they had been far enough in the lake that Elly felt it was safe to drink the water with just a t-shirt to filter it.
The main worry was running out of fuel. Looking on the map, there would be a stretch where it might be more difficult to find a harbor. They’d have to keep their eyes peeled. There was always the chance of a private dock with a boat already fueled up.
Driving the boat wasn’t difficult, especially in calm waters, and Elly had enjoyed it once Jake had given her a quick rundown of how this boat operated. She maintained an even speed and kept her eye on fuel gauges, but also on the engine temperature. It had run a little hot for a while, and neither of them knew why. However, it had cooled off now, and the boat skimmed along the lake.
Sitting behind the wheel cruising the lake took her back to her college days and boating in the Gulf. It looked different up here—the water was a deeper blue, and colder. A lot colder, but the air was warm and the motion of the boat over the waves the same. Jake had assured her the water warmed by the end of the summer
She lifted her face to the sun, basking in the warmth, feeling almost guilty about the pleasure the simple act gave her. She was alive and healthy and despite her sorrow about the deaths of so many, she couldn’t help feeling thankful that she was still alive.
A shiver shook her when the warm breeze turned into a cool wind. She turned around, scanned the sky and swore. The sun, so warm and gentle a moment before, dimmed when an ominous black thunderhead swallowed it.
Their general direction was northwest as she followed the shoreline but kept about a mile out to avoid any shoals. The storm bored down on them from the southwest. It had come out of nowhere, and it came fast.
A blast of wind pitched the boat to the right. Elly put a hand out, catching the rail circling the boat as the craft then rocked to the left. It felt as if the lake had become alive and reached up to slam against the hull and toss waves over the bow. Drenched, and shivering, Elly tried to keep the boat from capsizing.
The door to the cabin flew open, and Jake paused, his eyes widening at the roiling water. “What the hell?” He grabbed the wheel, and Elly was happy to relinquish it.
Jake scanned the shore as he turned the wheel to the left. “We’re going in. Look for a place we can tie up and ride out the storm!”
He angled the boat towards shore as Elly clung to the rail and sought a place they could seek protection. They had already passed Milwaukee earlier in the morning and for the last hour, the western shore had been short rocky beaches and trees. Not a single dock in sight.
A bolt of lightning crackled through the air, only a second ahead of the booming thunder. Elly jumped and turned to Jake. “Go faster!”
“I’ve got it full throttle now. We’re burning through our gas like crazy!”
When one wave threatened to send her over the side as the boat pitched, she ducked into the cabin and grabbed a life jacket for each of them. She clipped hers on and then helped Jake with his, clipping it for him so he could keep both hands on the wheel.
She returned to the side of the boat, searching the shore. Rain pelted them, coming down in sheets and she swiped at her eyes. For a minute, she wasn’t sure if what she saw was just white caps on the water, but after another swipe at her eyes, she made out a breakwall not far ahead. Beyond it, sailboat masts tipped in the gale, bobbing from the massive waves.
“There! A harbor!” She didn’t know what harbor it was, but it didn’t matter. Any harbor in a storm, wasn’t that the saying?
“I see it!” Jake struggled to keep the boat on course. “The waves keep trying to push us the other way!”
Elly turned to see if he needed help when the boat pitched to the left then dived into a swell. Her hand slipped off the wet railing, her head cracking on something on the way down. Light burst in her vison, then darkness engulfed her.
* * *
Hunter drew back on the reins at the top of a hill, pulling Red to a halt.
Sophie and Princess stopped beside him. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I’m just trying to decide where to cross.” He reached into the bag he’d attached to the saddle horn and pulled out a bottle of water, tilting it. It tasted warm and flat. A month ago, he would have spit it out, but today, he just made a face and swallowed it. The water had come from a water barrel they’d found on the side of a farmhouse. He’d added purification tablets, but it still tasted funky. He hoped it didn’t make him sick, but there hadn’t been another option. The streams they’d crossed had been murky and smelled bad. They had tried the taps in a few homes where the occupants were deceased, but with no electricity, water didn’t pump. After they had left the third home, they found the rain barrel, but later, Hunter remembered that there might still be clean water in the hot water tanks of a lot of homes, stored before the electricity cut off.
Buddy and the horses didn’t seem to mind drinking from the streams, but he and Sophie waited, hoping to find something better. They had enough to drink today if they were careful. He saw farm homes in the distance, but he’d wanted to make it to the river as soon as possible. He itched to get back into Wisconsin, even if the journey to find the island was far from over. Just being in his home state would be a relief. It was just wishful thinking, but he felt as if things would be better when he was on home territory even though as far as he knew, this virus had swept the whole country and beyond.
“There’s the bridge right there.” Sophie swept a few locks of hair out of her face and pointed. The sun highlighted the golden strands. She hadn’t ever ridden a horse before two days ago, but she was doing well. Granted, Princess was an easy horse to ride, but she hadn’t complained of being sore, even though Hunter knew she had to be feeling the effects of hours of riding. He was, and he at least had experience.
Red danced to the left, stomping a leg, and swishing his tail to get rid of a persistent horse fly. Hunter shooed another one circling his own head. “Yeah, I know.”
He almost gave her a ‘duh’ look but held back. Her observation was more of a question than a statement. Instead of sarcasm, he explained his hesitation, “But look at all the cars. We’ll have to pass close to some of them to get through.” He sighed “There’s no telling how many corpses we’ll come across.” After seeing so many, he should be immune to his gut-reaction of wanting to vomit every time he saw one, but he still had to avert his eyes and try not to think about the putrid state of the bodies he’d come across.
Below them stretched a long span of bridge over the Mississippi. Like he’d feared, cars jammed the bridge. They’d have to use precautions against the virus the whole crossing. He glanced north, tempted to find another less crowded bridge, but chances were, all were just as bad. It didn’t make sense to add miles when the horses showed signs of fatigue. He was certain they had never been ridden so many miles a day for days on end. Just like people, horses had to work to get fit. With proper food and rest, Red and Princess would be great trail horses in a month or two, but right now, they plodded forward. It didn’t make sense to add distance only to have to deal with the same problem twenty miles up the river.
In Hunter’s trek across southern Minnesota, he’d given a wide berth to most of the roads, staying at least a hundred yards away. However, he had to cross some no matter what, and when he did, he couldn’t believe how many cars he saw in ditches, crashed into trees, pile-ups and other cars just abandoned. The dead bodies littering the roads showed where those who had abandoned their cars had ended up. A few managed to make it into the brush and corn fields before succumbing to the disease. More than once, Buddy had given them warning of a body. His nose would hit the ground, and he’d whine. Hunter would have to call him close and make him stay near, or the dog would try to investigate the body.
One thing that struck Hunter was how many people had been on the move when the illness hit, either trying to flee to safety, as he had done, or driven by an apparently irresistible urge to be
around other people. He shuddered, wondering how he’d managed to avoid catching the virus so far. He guessed he could thank his education struggles for saving him. In his determination to pass his classes, he hadn’t had time to socialize for the last month. He’d also had a bad cold that had kept him in his dorm room except for classes. He wondered if some of the victims of the accidents had been healthy, but killed when a sick person crashed into them. The chances were pretty good. Or they were killed in food stampedes. He’d heard about some of them on the radio the day after he left. Everyone had tried to stock up on food, but the stores didn’t have enough stocked. Thank god his dad had given him an early warning. What a shitty way to die.
Hunter pulled his face mask from the bag and realized that Sophie didn’t have one. He had a few extras packed with his other gear. “Hold on.” He dismounted and rummaged through his gear until he found the box of respirator masks. “Here.” When she looked perplexed, he showed her how to get the bands placed on her head. “This mask will filter everything. So far, it’s worked.”
“I never had one of these, and I didn’t get sick.” Her voice emerged muffled from the mask. She slid one of the elastic bands higher on her head and squeezed the metal bridge against her nose.
“I guess you’re lucky. Or maybe you’re just immune. My dad said that some people have some kind of genetic mutation that resists HIV. Maybe you have something like that to resist this virus.”
“Are you calling me a mutant? Like a teenage turtle?”
He shrugged. “If it means surviving this, I say turn me green, slap a shell on my back, and mutate me.”
As he remounted, he heard a muffled chuckle, but she had already moved ahead of him down the hill. He took a deep breath and urged Red forward.
It hadn’t rained since Hunter had left the farm, and each day had been warmer than the last. The stench of decay mixed with the smell of swamp and mud saturated the air. The mask helped a little, but he didn’t have masks for the horses, and they balked at crossing the bridge.
Sympatico Syndrome (Book 1): Infection (A Pandemic Survival Novel) Page 21