Sympatico Syndrome Trilogy Box Set

by McDonald, M. P.

  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 gnawing 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.

  “We can put some chairs outside of the quarantine, and you can sit and talk to him through the doors—as long as you’re wearing your mask.”

  Tears coursed down her cheeks, and Cole felt like an asshole enforcing the rules, but he had to stand firm. “It’s only three weeks, okay? I know that sounds like a long time, but it’s really not so long. And we’ll deliver food, and he has a bathroom. We’ll stock him with some books and magazines. It’ll be almost like a vacation for him.” He tried to smile, “He’ll be thrilled not to have to work in the garden for a while.”

  “He hates the garden.” She sagged against him. “But he’ll be all alone, and you’re locking him in.” With a sniff, she pushed away. “And what if there’s a fire and he’s trapped in there?”

  “There’s not going to be a fire. The walls are cinderblock.”

  Jenna swiped at her eyes and glared at Cole. “Fine, but just wait until your son is in there. Then you’ll know what it feels like.”

  Cole knew she didn’t mean to be cruel. She was just scared and lashing out at him. He didn’t point out that he already knew her pain because he was living it every day that they didn’t hear from Hunter. First thing every morning, Cole took the boat to the mainland. He’d dock and check around the area, praying that he’d find Hunter waiting to go to the island. If his son made it this far, he’d see Cole’s vehicle and know he was in the right place. He was smart—he’d know they’d come for him.

  20

  Hunter approached the highway, but the horses balked, Red tossed his head and Hunter had to take the lead in his hand instead of just having it secured to the back of his saddle. “Come on, Red. It’s okay.”

  The mare, while reluctant, was easier to handle. He coaxed them forward, his voice low and encouraging as they neared the highway. He needed to see what the road was like. Maybe driving a car the rest of the way was an option after all although he didn’t want to give up the horses. With most places abandoned, he could probably find a horse trailer without too much effort. The back roads, while dotted with occasional wrecks, made him re-think his strategy. Finding a car to drive wouldn’t be an issue. What he wanted was one that wasn’t potentially contaminated.

  The on ramp was devoid of vehicles and had apparently been closed at some point, the gate still lowered, blocking vehicles from entering, but he and the horses simply went around it. Halfway up the ramp, the horses’ ears flattened, and they became skittish, even the mare. Hunter had all he could do to get them under control.

  The smell of death permeated the air and Hunter secured his mask around his face. He didn’t know if dead bodies could still spread the disease, but he wasn’t taking any chances. Flies swarmed, and their buzz was like something out of a horror movie. Buddy trotted ahead, the scent didn’t seem to bother him, but Hunter didn’t want him too close. He whistled, and the dog halted and looked over his shoulder at him.

  “Come, Buddy. We don’t need to take the highway.” Maybe the horses’ reluctance had rubbed off on him, but Hunter decided he didn’t need to go all the way up to the highway after all. The signs leading up the ramp had given him enough information, along with a sign on the highway, visible once he was partially up the ramp, that told him the distance to the next towns.

  He backtracked to the base of the ramp, turning onto a frontage road, following it. He’d discovered that the highway was I-90, and the signage over the road said that Austin was nine miles east so he was definitely in Minnesota. Dismounting, he let the horses graze in the median while he plotted where he was on the map. A slew of fast food restaurants and gas stations lined the road near the entrance and exit ramps.

  Deciding to check out a few of them in case they contain something he could use, he headed towards the nearest one—a gas station. It had a good-sized mini-mart and housed a burger chain as well. He stopped in the parking lot, ignoring the cars at the fuel pumps and the dead bodies inside and outside the cars. He was leading the horses, which was a good thing as the mare snorted and threw her head when an empty potato chip bag skittered between her legs. “Easy, girl.”

  Red shied again, so Hunter tied them to a light pole on the edge of the station, letting them graze in the grassy strip between the station and the road. He untied the bow and the quiver, draping the quiver across his body. He thought about leaving his backpack, but he’d decided early on that he would never let it out of his sight. He kept the lighter, matches, jeans, some food, a water bottle, and his water purification tablets inside it. It contained the basics he needed to survive, and while the station looked deserted, he wasn’t going to assume that it was. He looped the bag over his o
ther shoulder and carried the bow in his left hand. It would only take seconds to drop the backpack and grab an arrow if he had to.

  He grimaced at the trashed appearance as paper towels blew across his path. A trail of crushed cheese curls led to one of the cars at the pumps where the bag had spilled into a pile of what was now an ant-infested pile of orange crumbs. A body hid half the spill, the bag trapped beneath what was left of an arm.

  Hunter averted his eyes and swallowed hard. He was already getting used to seeing corpses, but that didn’t mean he liked it.

  One look inside the gas station and he almost backed out. The attendant must have died in his plexiglass cubicle, and if he’d thought the smell had been bad on the highway, it was ten times worse in the building. He wasn’t the only body, but the windows and plexiglass must have acted like a greenhouse, and the inside of the secure cubicle dripped with condensation. Hunter turned away. It was all he could do not to gag. He kicked through some of the items on the floor. Most were just crushed bags of snacks, but his toe hit a disposable lighter, and he grabbed it but looked for somewhere to stow it, unwilling to put a possibly contaminated item in his pocket. -

  He grabbed a package of baby wipes off the shelf. The items on this shelf had been undisturbed. Apparently, nobody had worried about the babies. One of the items was a box of little bags to refill some kind of diaper disposal contraption. Hunter wasn’t sure what it was, but he opened the box and thought they looked a bit like mini-trash bags. They were perfect for what he needed. He tore one off and popped the lighter inside.

  He searched the shelves for anything more, brightening at two bags of dog food and some doggie treats. Hunter snatched them, tucking the bags inside his backpack. He could barely close it. He carried it by the straps. Looping the quiver over one shoulder with his bow, he stuffed some flea collars in his pocket, along with some pouches of doggy treats. He held one pouch up for Buddy, who’d trailed him inside. “Look what I got you!” Buddy sat down and scratched behind his ear, showing no signs of excitement. Hunter shook his head with a smile. “Ingrate.”

  In the health area, he found a jar of petroleum jelly. He wasn’t sure what he’d need it for, but it seemed like a good item to have. If nothing else, it would help a fire burn. A roll of medical tape and a package of adhesive bandages joined the other small items in his bag.

  It wasn’t just dead bodies, but rotting food and rancid lunchmeat at the small deli counter.

  The shelves had been ransacked, and Hunter wondered when that had occurred. All the snack items were gone or destroyed. Not a single bag of chips or pretzels remained. All the candy was gone too. He supposed the infected people had looked for party food. That’s what they seemed to want to do, so it was no wonder all the snack items were gone.

  Suddenly, Buddy growled and gave a soft bark, his ears cocking. Hunter froze, watching the dog’s reaction, then crept towards the door.

  One of the horses neighed. Then he heard voices.

  “It looks so peaceful.” Elly sat on the dock, her feet dangling as she listened to the cry of the seagulls and the soft slap of waves against the hulls of several dozen boats. With the city and all the dead behind her, for just a moment, she could pretend that everything was fine. A soft breeze blew in from the lake, and she lifted her mask, allowing it to perch on top of her head. She’d risk it for a few breaths of clean air.

  Jake dumped his bike on the pier and plopped down a few feet away. Boats bobbed in the water, masts moving side to side like aquatic metronomes. Elly had been drawn to the lakefront because of the beauty and serenity. She desperately needed this—a dose of normalcy even if it was false.

  While there were still dead here and there, for the most part, people had fled to the streets, not the lakefront. It was crazy to think that just a few weeks ago the owners of these boats had probably just taken them from dry docks or garages, and put them in the water, anticipating a lively and fun boating season.

  Jake braced his hands on the edge of the wood and hunched forward, studying the water inches below his sneakers, before his gaze swept the marina. “Do you know how to sail a boat?”

  She shrugged. “Sort of. I sailed a bit in my teens and twenties. Never by myself, though. Why?”

  “I just thought it might be a good way to get away from all of that.” He motioned behind them. “Get out on the water for a while. No more germs.”

  “Yes, that’s a good idea, but I don’t know if I could manage it.” She thought of Cole. “That’s what my friend is doing. Well, except he’s not sailing a boat, but living on an island. I’m going to try to get there, but…” She thought of all the miles between Chicago and Green Bay. Streets were impassable for all practical purposes. There were stretches of open road, but then there would be a pile-up, and there had been nobody left to clean up the mess.

  She wondered how many people had survived the virus. Did anyone catch it and live? Or were the only survivors those who never caught it? She itched to get blood samples from herself and Jake, and anyone else still alive to see if there were antibodies to the virus. The CDC hadn’t come up with a definitive test yet—there hadn’t been time, but there had to be some markers. Given just a little more time, they would have nailed it.

  Elly sighed and glanced over her shoulder at the high-rises behind her. Chances were survivors were hiding out, waiting for the danger to pass. It was unlikely that she and Jake were the only survivors in the city—because what were the chances they’d run into each other? No, there were pockets of survivors. There had to be.

  “Where’s the island?” Jake pulled his bandana down around his neck. She considered pulling her mask up again if he was going without the bandana but didn’t bother. He didn’t seem overly social, just lonely. He was a good looking kid and not nearly as tough looking now that she could see the lower half of his face. In fact, she thought he probably belonged in this upscale area of Chicago.

  “Up around Green Bay.”

  He did a double-take. “You were planning on walking all the way to Green Bay?”

  “I hoped I’d find a car to use along the way. That was before I realized how bad the streets were.”

  “Ah.” He nodded, then waved at the selection of moored boats. “Why don’t you take one of those?”

  “A sailboat?”

  “Sure. Or maybe a power boat. Shit… take one of those yachts.” He laughed and pointed to the biggest boat in the marina. “I doubt the owner will miss it.”

  She gave a wry chuckle. “No. Probably not, but I have no idea how to steer a yacht.” She nodded to a small sailboat. “That’s more my speed.”

  He eyed it, his expression doubtful. “That’s too small. It would be hard to sail all the way to Green Bay on that thing.” He pointed to a good-sized Sea Ray. “There you go. Now we’re talking.” He grinned at her.

  She took in the cabin cruiser, tilting her head as she wondered if she was up to the task. It was bigger than any boat she’d ever attempted to skipper. “You’re out of your mind.” She shook her head but smiled. “Even if I could manage a boat that big, we don’t have the keys and how would we get gas? The electricity is gone, so no pumps.”

  Elly noted several boats that would be up to the task of sailing up the lake. She had only been out on the ocean, close to shore, not on one of the Great Lakes, but she knew there were differences. Could she do it? Most of her experience was with small sailboats, but her grandfather had a motorboat, and she used to take it out a lot before she became more interested in sailing.

  “I bet I could siphon some gas. Same as what you would have had to do with a car.” Jake bit his lip as he studied the cruiser.

  “That still leaves us trying to hot wire it, and I don’t know about you, but I’ve never hot-wired anything before.”

  Jake gave her a sly smile but didn’t admit to anything. “I doubt we’d have to hot wire one. People are stupid.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You take that side, and I’ll take this one.
I bet you a hundred bucks that at least one of these boats has the keys right in the ignition.”

  She shook her head. “No way.”

  Jake jumped to his feet. “If I find keys, I get to go with you.” He grinned like it was just a game, but she heard a note of desperation.

  They had only met a few hours ago, and it was crazy to trust someone so quickly. In normal times, there was no way she’d travel alone with some teenage boy she’d just met, but these weren’t normal times.

  “You’re on.” She hoped they found a set of keys.

  Jake took off down his side of the dock, jumping on and off boats like he knew a thing or two about them. Elly cocked her head, watching him for a minute. He knew right where to look and didn’t waste time. As he leaped onto the dock and on to another boat, she gave a wry chuckle, envying his youth.

  She had to climb a few steps to get to the first boat she came to checked the ignition. Nothing. She glanced around, hoping it was stashed somewhere, but if it was, she didn’t see it. She tried a small glove box but found only a map. She started to put it back, but changed her mind, tucking it in the string bag. She returned to the dock and checked the next three boats with no luck. She skipped the sailboats, not confident enough of her sailing skills to try a long distance trip. She was about to try a small cabin cruiser when Jake shouted to her.

  She turned and spotted him on the deck of a medium-sized boat. It was a beauty, and she looked over her shoulder, as a wave of guilt washed over her. This boat cost someone dearly, and here she was thinking of stealing it without a moment’s hesitation. There were cameras mounted high on light poles and ordinarily, they would be a deterrent to theft.

  Striding around to Jake’s side of the pier, she hopped in the boat. “You found one?” She really hadn’t expected they’d find a key. Who would leave a key in a fifty-thousand dollar boat?