2
Where could they go? Elly said seclusion and he knew better than most the safety in proper isolation and quarantine, but he couldn’t exactly stick a quarantine sign on his house and expect anyone to abide by it. If Elly’s predictions came true and things got really bad, food could become scarce. How could he keep hungry people from breaking down the door and taking whatever they wanted?
He had one gun, but it was a hunting rifle which he’d had since he was a teenager. It had been a gift from his grandfather on his fourteenth birthday. He turned off the television—the news couldn’t tell him anything more dire than what Elly had already revealed. He tossed the remote on the coffee table and scrubbed a hand down his face. “Shit.” He needed a cup of coffee to get his brain working.
While he waited for it to brew, Cole stared from the kitchen into the living room. It was more of a great room, separated from the kitchen only by an island and a kitchen table.
The house was comfortable, but it wasn’t a fortress. There was no hidden room in the basement, not that he could imagine living in one small room for at least a month. He and Hunter would probably be at each other’s throats inside of a week.
Thinking of Hunter, his stomach twisted. How was he going to break the news to his son? How could he tell them that he had to leave college and get home as soon as he could? School was a thousand miles away. Hunter had never made the drive alone. Late last summer, Cole had driven with him and had then flown home. At Christmas break, Hunter had flown roundtrip. The weather was too unpredictable in January to risk driving, but now Hunter would have to do it alone. Cole thought briefly about flying him back, but the thought of his son cooped up on an aircraft with other passengers who could possibly infect him set Cole’s heart racing.
Hunter would have to drive. Or maybe he should go get him? But by the time he drove there and they headed back, at least four or five days would pass. If Hunter got a few supplies and left tomorrow, he could drive it in a little over two days. The sooner he spoke to him about it, the better.
That still left the problem of what to do when Hunter arrived home. Would he be any safer here than in Colorado? In his mind’s eye, he saw them trying to defend their home from a horde of diseased neighbors. Scenes from a popular television program popped into his mind. He shook his head. Dragging a hand down his face, he wiped the image of defending the house from zombies out of his mind. He needed to focus on what he could do to secure their safety, not conjure up far-fetched images of flesh-eating zombies.
Cole thought of his brother’s family— Sean, Jenna, and their two children. They were the only family he had left since their Uncle John had died a few months ago. Sean’s kids were Hunter’s only cousins.
Brenda’s family had been scattered, and it was possible his late wife’s brother might have some children by now; Cole hadn’t seen Kevin since Brenda’s funeral, but he hadn’t heard anything. Kevin had been only about twenty at the time of Brenda’s death and hadn’t been close to his sister.
Cole had never met Brenda’s father as he’d died of cancer a few years before he’d met her, but her mother had lived until a couple of years ago. He and Hunter had attended the funeral, but Kevin hadn’t been there. Cole couldn’t recall the reason. Active duty maybe?
He poured a cup of coffee and took a sip, then made a face. Maybe one day he’d learn how to brew a decent cup. His cell phone buzzed on the counter, and he glanced at it. Hunter. Crap. He hadn’t had time to decide how he was going to break the news. How could he tell his son that the world as he knew it could be coming to an end?
Cole decided he didn’t have to blurt it all out right away. A warning would suffice—for now. He’d try to play it down until he had some kind of plan in the works.
He cleared his throat. “Hey, Hunter! How’s it going?”
“Hi, Dad. Things are good.”
They made small talk, caught up on how Hunter was doing in his classes, and Hunter let slip that he’d accidentally spilled a drink all over his laptop.
Cole’s usual response would have been an annoyance. Today, he only said, “Oh. Well, we’ll have to get you another one soon.”
Hunter’s silence let Cole know his reaction was unexpected. Well, there was nothing he could do about it now. A computer would probably be next to worthless in a month.
“Uh, okay, Dad. Did I tell you that I’m pulling a B in chemistry?”
“That’s great.” He had tried to force some cheer into his comment, but it was no use. He was too busy trying to figure out how to broach the subject of the disease. Hunter could have told him that he was failing every class, and it would have garnered the same response. His mind was so busy trying to form an escape plan that he responded with words that he hoped were appropriate.
“And, Dad, I wondered if I could take some friends up to that island this summer?”
“Island?” Had he missed some crucial part of the conversation? The last thing he remembered was Hunter saying something about hiking in the foothills.
“The island Uncle John left you. You said you were going to sell it, but I wondered if, before you do that, I could go there for a few days. A couple of the guys here were talking about coming for a visit, and there’s nothing to do at our house. I thought it would be cool to camp out on the island. So? Could we?”
Cole couldn’t speak for a moment as his thoughts raced. “Hunter, you’re a freaking genius.”
“Huh? Why?”
He yanked open the drawer where he’d stuck the large manila envelope with the information about the island, found it and dumped the contents on the counter. There they were—the deed and a ring of keys. Also included was a report from the lawyer who had handled Uncle John’s will. Another sheet of paper listed the buildings and a brief inventory of the contents, ending with miscellaneous. He pulled out two more sheets of paper that were titles to two boats. One a pontoon, the other some kind of fishing boat. He didn’t recognize the make of it and made a mental note to do an internet search. He wondered if they were in working order. Had his uncle prepared them for winter?
“Hello? Dad? Are you still there?”
“Yes, hold on a minute. I’m looking at the information about the island.”
“That’s okay, you don’t have to give me an answer right this minute. A week or so will be fine.”
“I know, hang on a sec, okay? I’m trying to think something through.”
“Do you want to call me back later?”
The island would be perfect. He’d received the paperwork around Christmas time, and he and Hunter had talked about a little camping excursion before he sold it, but now, instead of selling it, he could make it their refuge.
“Yeah, sure. I’ll call you back soon. Keep your phone handy.” He wondered if the buildings on the island were habitable. Cole pulled his mind from the island to the present and the disease, catching his son just before he hung up. “Wait! Hunter? Could you do me a big favor today?”
“Yeah, I guess so.” He sounded puzzled.
“I’ve been seeing stories on the news about a new bug floating around and for the next day or two, think you can skip the socializing a bit?”
“Well, it’s not like I’m mister popularity here, Dad. I spend most of my time studying anyway.”
Cole sighed. He was a smart kid, but he found focusing on schoolwork difficult. “Are you still taking your meds?”
“Yeah, Dad.”
The eye roll was practically audible over the phone, but Cole wanted to make sure Hunter was able to focus on what he was about to say next. “I’m serious, Hunter. I want you to stay in your room until I call you later today. I have some important things to do, but I’ll get back to you today. Meanwhile, make sure everything is charged up and maybe pack your clothes and stuff.”
“Pack my clothes? What the hell is going on, Dad? I have a class in an hour.”
“I can’t tell you until I know more, but I’ll let you know as soon as possible. Just…just don’t
talk to anyone. And about your class today—skip it.”
“You want me to skip my class? Now you’re freaking me out.”
Hunter clicked off the phone but stared at the screen for a few moments as he tried to fathom his father’s odd request. Stay away from everyone? But what about getting the computer? And why hadn’t his dad given him grief over the broken computer?
He’d heard the spiel more times than he could count.
Be more careful, Hunter.
Take better care of your belongings, Hunter.
These things aren’t free, Hunter.
He tried to be careful, but he wasn’t programmed to be neat and tidy. His room was always a disaster, his notes a chaotic mess, and on a good day, he managed to find matching socks. He glanced down at his feet and wiggled his toes. Both socks were white but had different colored stripes on them. Close enough.
College had been both a relief and a nightmare. He no longer felt the constant pressure to keep his room ready for a surprise inspection—as his father used to call it—but on the other hand, without that pressure, he’d let things get out of control. He told his dad that a soda had spilled on the computer, which was bad enough, but the truth was, he’d stepped on the laptop by accident when it was buried under a pile of dirty clothes.
He glanced around his now neat room. Too little too late. He’d pay his dad back someday. If he ever graduated from college. That was a big if at this point. Even with all of the studying he did, he usually forgot some paper or did it, then forgot to turn it in.
Hunter flopped onto his bed and turned on the TV, flipping through channels. If he was going to be stuck here, at least he could find something to watch. He didn’t mind skipping class, especially since his dad had sanctioned it, but he didn’t want to be bored out of his mind either. With the laptop reduced to a big paperweight, there wasn’t much to do in his dorm room. He eyed his books and briefly thought about studying, but only for a moment. He wasn’t that bored yet.
He paused as he scanned channels. Some morning talk show was interviewing a celebrity who looked familiar but whose name he couldn’t remember. It bugged him and he was hoping they’d flash the woman’s name on the screen or say it, but the host never did. Instead, he practically cut the celeb off mid-sentence and switched to the anchorperson at the news desk.
Hunter zoned out for a moment as he thought about the trip to the island and why his dad had called him a genius. It didn’t make sense, but he wasn’t about to turn down praise even if he wasn’t sure what he’d done to warrant it. He hoped he’d be able to go now that he’d already brought up the trip. His grade in calculus was borderline, and if he failed, he’d have to repeat the class in the summer. His fall schedule was already full.
The other problem would be paying for the class. His father paid for most of his college, but he had flat out stated that any classes he had to retake were not going to be on his dime. Hunter groaned. He loved his dad, but why did he have to be such a hard-ass at times? No way he’d tell his dad he’d flunked calculus. Again. He’d already taken it in the fall. What he’d hoped to do was squeeze it in somewhere along the line, maybe take it as an online course over the summer, but then he’d stepped on his computer.
Shame made him squirm. It was so embarrassing. Most of his friends had taken the class in high school, and here he was taking it in college.
Would his dad ever get it through his head that he was too stupid to graduate from college? It had to be obvious by now that he hadn’t inherited the brainiac gene.
Did he take after his mom? He often wondered. She was only a hazy memory, but what he remembered, he treasured. His clearest recollection was cuddling with her while she read him stories before bedtime. She’d feather his hair with one hand, and he’d turn the pages for her while she held the book with the other.
What would his life have been like if she hadn’t driven to school that day when he was six to bring him the lunch that he’d forgotten? Logically, he knew it wasn’t his fault. It was the fault of the drunk driver who had worked the night shift, went out after work at a local pub that opened early, and drank for a few hours before getting back behind the wheel.
She had gone to college, though, so she had to have been smarter than him. In fact, his dad always told him how brilliant she had been. So, if she was smart, and his dad was practically a genius, how come he was so stupid?
Hunter glanced over at his desk and the ruined laptop. He envisioned himself still taking classes when he was fifty, his hair gray or gone, as he tottered around campus, his back bent and twisted from lugging a bag of books for thirty years.
He had barely even been accepted to this school and had a feeling his dad had pulled some strings. How else to explain his acceptance at his father’s alma mater when his grade point average had been a C-plus at best?
The only reason it was even that high was because of the shop classes he’d taken every year. He liked woodshop best and one time his class had volunteered a Saturday to work with Habitat for Humanity. That had been a fantastic day. Now that his dad had retired from the Navy and was buying houses, doing some work on them and flipping them for profit, why couldn’t he just help with that? He was good at that kind of thing, and he liked it. He wouldn’t need college for that.
“…and so what does that mean for us here in the U.S.? Is there any danger of the disease spreading beyond the island?”
Hunter focused on the television as the question cut through his thoughts. He turned the TV up and swung his feet off the bed, sitting on the edge.
“Not really, Barbara. As you know, there’s a Navy base here, and they have everything buttoned down. All non-essential personnel are restricted to their quarters. MREs have been distributed, enough to last them at least a week, if need be, but the official word is that is all precautionary, and the restrictions will probably be lifted in the next few days if cases don’t increase.”
A woman, apparently Barbara, occupied the left side of the split screen and the reporter she spoke to appeared on the right side. He was in front of a hotel. Palm trees framed the scene and so Hunter relaxed. Whatever was going on, it was a long way away from him.
“It seems the situation has deteriorated rather quickly. Are they telling you what is going on inside the base?”
Hunter cocked his head. The reporter was saying one thing, but his movements didn’t jibe with his words. He looked nervous. Jumpy. Sweat trickled from his forehead as the reporter pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and swiped his face.
“How are you and the crew holding up, Roger?”
Roger shrugged and looked past the camera, presumably to his cameraman and whatever other crewmembers were out of camera shot. “We’re great. As soon as we’re done with this report, we’ve been instructed to return to our hotel rooms until further notice.”
“Do you have to eat MREs too? You’ll have to give us a review of them when this is over.” Barbara smiled, but it looked forced.
“We actually haven’t heard how we’ll be eating. Most of the local shops have already closed down either by order or because of fear. We picked up a few items yesterday, so I guess we’ll just have to raid the mini-bar. As long as the network is picking up the tab.” He gave a weak smile.
“Okay, well, you all get to safety, and we’ll check back with you later. I’ve learned that we have arranged to keep in contact via phone.”
Roger nodded, already packing up his microphone as the feed cut off.
Hunter pulled his phone from his pocket to call his dad. This must have been what he’d been talking about. But it was way out in the middle of the Pacific. He didn’t get why his dad was freaking out. Maybe he didn’t know it was so far away. He really couldn’t afford to miss a class. If he did, he’d never catch up.
Then he thought about his dad and about the disease on that island. There must be something else going on. His father had been concerned about Ebola long before it hit the national news. No. If anyone were up to date o
n this, it would be his dad. It was one thing to withhold the outcome of his calculus grade, but it was another to go against his advice about something like this. His dad wasn’t prone to panic.
He reached under his bed and grabbed his suitcase and backpack and began packing.
3
Sean Evans clicked through the tax forms. Damn taxes. He’d envisioned a relaxing Saturday watching basketball, but he had to get this done before the deadline.
“Jenna? Do you have a receipt for that donation we made to the soup kitchen? I really wish you’d be more organized about this stuff.” As an electrician, he ran his own business, and most of the time, enjoyed it, but he hated tax time, and his accountant had called, said he was sick and wouldn’t be able to do it this year. At least he’d let Sean know before he drove across town to deliver all the documents.
His wife appeared at the door to the office. “I put everything I had in the folder. If it’s not there, I have no idea where it is.”
“Jeez.” Sean sorted through the tiny scraps of paper. Why didn’t they make receipts full-sized? These sticky-note sizes were a pain in the ass to copy and fax, not to mention they fluttered all around the desktop. He spotted the one he was looking for. He sighed. A hundred bucks. It was hardly worth claiming.
He glanced up when he saw Jenna watching him, her arms crossed. “What?”
“No apology?”
“For what?”
She crossed her arms, her eyebrow arching.
“Listen. I’m sorry. I’m really stressed. You know how much I hate dealing with all this crap.”
She approached the desk. “I know.” She circled behind him and began kneading his shoulders. It felt wonderful.
Sympatico Syndrome Trilogy Box Set Page 2