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This one is for you, Mom. Love you!
I’d also like to dedicate this one to my brother, Dan. We miss you.
Also by M. P. McDonald
The Mark Taylor Series
Mark Taylor: Genesis
No Good Deed: Book One
March Into Hell: Book Two
Deeds of Mercy: Book Three
March Into Madness: Book Four
CJ Sheridan Thrillers
Shoot: Book One
Capture: Book Two
Suspense
Seeking Vengeance
Sympatico Syndrome Series
Infection: A Post-Apocalyptic Survival Novel (Book One)
Isolation: A Post-Apocalyptic Survival Novel (Book Two)
Invasion: A Post-Apocalyptic Survival Novel (Book Three)
1
He’d killed his nephew. Cole gripped the bible, his knuckles white. He hadn’t intentionally killed Trent, but the teen was dead and it was Cole who had convinced his brother, Sean to bring his wife, Jenna, their daughter, Piper, and son, Trent, to the island. He’d stressed the safety of being over a mile offshore in Green Bay. He’d pressed the point of how it would be perfect with space enough for all of them, thanks to an old resort on the island.
Would Sympatico Syndrome have killed Trent anyway? Maybe, but all he knew for certain was Trent was dead—infected with the lethal virus when Cole had promised his brother the island would be safe.
Cole drew a measured breath as he sought to organize his thoughts. Fresh dirt covered the pit Joe had filled it earlier, and Cole tried to muster a nod of thanks to him for the scattering of wild flowers strewn over the grave. Joe tilted his chin in response then lowered his head. The older man had been a rock. Steady, dependable, and willing to do whatever was needed. Cole wondered if they could have survived without his knowledge. Thank God they hadn’t shot each other when they’d met on shore.
As beautiful as the flowers were, their aroma couldn’t mask the stench from the makeshift cremation they’d had to perform to prevent the spread of the disease.
Cole’s son, Hunter, eyes red-rimmed stood on the left side of the grave, his hand resting on Buddy’s head. The dog leaned against his thigh as though offering solace. It had been only an hour or so since Hunter had arrived and Cole’s chest swelled with emotion. Joy, that his son still lived, but sorrow that his nephew did not, and mingled with both, guilt for his good fortune of reuniting with his son while his brother’s family stood before him devastated at their loss.
He drew a deep breath as he struggled to push the guilt aside. Here and now wasn’t the time to deal with it. He had a job to do. Somehow, he had to transform the rag-tag band gathered at the grave site into a cohesive group—a community. It was their only chance at long-term survival.
The task seemed impossible. Cole studied the gathered mourners. His initial group had consisted of just his close family. When he’d conceived of the idea of taking refuge on the island, it was his intention for only his brother, Sean, his wife, Jenna, and their two children, Piper and Trent to join Hunter and him. But now, even with Trent’s death, their group had grown to nine.
On Hunter’s trek from his college in Colorado to Green Bay, Wisconsin, he’d met a young woman, Sophie, and Cole had a million questions about how Hunter had survived and how he’d met Sophie, but he hadn’t had a chance to ask any of them yet. When Hunter had learned of Trent’s death, his face had drained and he’d staggered a few steps until Sophie had stepped forward, taking some of Hunter’s weight as Cole had steadied him. It was clear that Hunter’s story of how he’d survived the cross-country trip would have to wait for another day.
Sean stood straight and tall, an arm wrapped around Jenna’s shoulders. He’d been struggling to be strong for his wife and daughter, but Cole knew he was anything but okay. Jenna clutched one of Piper’s hands in both of hers. The poor girl had almost collapsed upon seeing her younger brother’s grave, and even now looked pale and shaky.
At the other end of the gravesite, Joe, hands clasped and clutching his baseball cap, waited for the service to begin. Elly, Cole’s colleague from his days as an epidemiologist, and a young guy who had shown up with her— Jake—he thought Elly had said, waited, heads bowed, for Cole to begin the ceremony. Sophie stood beside Hunter. As newcomers to the island, Elly, Jake, Hunter and Sophie all wore masks to protect the rest of them. Elly had concurred that their chances of being infected or spreading the infection, were low given all four of them had used precautions en route to the island, but for now, precautions would be taken until everyone’s risks were discussed in detail.
Jake looked uncomfortable, his feet shuffling. Sophie’s gaze barely left Hunter, and Elly dabbed the corner of her eye. She caught Cole watching her and took a deep breath, holding his gaze before giving him a tiny nod of support.
Cole cleared his throat. “I was going to read from the bible, but… ” He flipped through the pages, shaking his head. “I think first I’d just like to speak about Trent… ”
He recounted his favorite memories of his nephew, incorporating stories he’d heard from Sean and Jenna as well as his own anecdotes. A few of the stories brought a ghost of a smile to Jenna’s face even as tears streamed.
Finishing up, Cole’s throat locked briefly when he spoke of how Trent had matured in the short time they had been on the island. And how he had seen signs of the wonderful man Trent would have become. After a brief pause as he reined in his emotion, he invited others to speak.
Sean stepped forward. “He was our son, and he wasn’t perfect. He drove me nuts sometimes, but he was the best son a man could ask for.” He started to say something else, but choked up, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and fingers. Jenna leaned into him.
Cole opened the Bible to a passage he’d marked earlier. He hoped it was appropriate, but he wasn’t religious and had to draw on memories from other funerals he’d attended. He drew a deep breath and prepared to speak.
“I’d like to say something.” Hunter took a step closer to the grave. He glanced at Cole, his face twisted with grief and something else. Anger? “He was my cousin, but I always thought of him as a little brother, and I just don’t understand how he’s gone and I’m here. It’s not fair.” Hunter shoved his hands into his pockets, then turned to Sean, Jenna, and Piper. “I’m sorry.” He glanced at Cole, his gaze stricken. “I… I can’t… ” He gestured to the grave and then took off into the woods.
With his throat still tangling into a tight knot, Cole couldn’t speak. Sophie met his eyes and tilted her head towards where Hunter had disappeared. He nodded, and she slipped away from the service, following the broken path Hunter had created in the foliage. Cole had only just met her but already he felt the connection she had with his son.
Cole barely remembered the verses he read, and the service ended with Joe presenting Sean, Jenna, and Piper, bouquets of wildflowers for them to place on the grave.
Thank God for Joe. Cole wouldn’t have thought of flowers and certainly not to end the service. They seemed to offer some closure to the family as they knelt by Trent’s burial site and placed the flowers on top.
Joe offered Cole a small bouquet and even had a few left for Elly and Jake. Elly crossed herself, her lips moving as she laid the flowers on the dirt. Jake held the wild daisy, then dropped it on the mound of dirt, jumping back as if he’d been bitten. He looked as if he wanted to be anywhere in the world but where he was. Cole didn’t blame him.
He longed to go after Hunter, but he couldn’t leave his brother’s family yet. Elly moved up to him, her arm going around his waist. “I’m so sorry, Cole.” Then she approached Jenna, kneeling beside her. “My deepest condolences for your loss. If there’s anything I can do… ”
Jenna simply nodded.
Elly rose and headed towards the dock. Jake followed her.
Confused, Cole wanted to find out where they were going but glanced back at his brother. Joe caught his eye
, indicating he’d stay with Sean.
Cole jogged after Elly. “Where are you going?”
“Just back to the boat. I thought it best if Jake and I slept on the boat tonight and then maybe head back to the mainland.”
“You’re not staying?”
She glanced at Jake, sending some silent message to him. It was apparent they’d discussed their plans. “I don’t know if that would be a good idea, Cole.”
He didn’t want them to leave. There was strength in numbers—especially now—but it was more than that. Seeing Elly again had been the only bright spot since the infection had struck. “Please stay. We need you.” He included Jake in his look. “We need both of you.”
After a brief hesitation, she shrugged. “We’ll sleep on the boat tonight to give your family some privacy. Tomorrow we can discuss it.”
Cole had already allotted a cabin to Elly and Jake. It was cabin three and sat between the big house and Joe’s cabin, number two. He hadn’t figured out where to put Sophie yet but he supposed she and Hunter could stay in three instead of Jake and Elly. It would be better initially while they did a modified quarantine.
“Okay. But, promise me you’ll be here in the morning so we can hash this out. We’ll all have a greater chance of survival if we stick together.” There was a flash of disappointment in her eyes, but she agreed.
He headed back to the grave but saw Sean, Jenna, and Piper standing beside it, their arms around each other. He paused, unwilling to intrude. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Joe ambling along the waterline, so Cole followed his lead and left the grieving family alone.
Where was Hunter? Should he go after him? Or wait for him to return on his own? Cole opted for the second choice. The last few hours had to have been overwhelming for his son, and as much as Cole wanted to talk to him, it could wait a bit longer. He turned towards the house. At least he could be useful and get the meal prepared.
Before the service, Jenna had put a pot of baked beans in the oven. They had been trying to save the propane for the winter, but today, they needed some comfort food. In addition to the beans and the cake, they had fresh fish provided by Joe. He’d caught a half-dozen brown trout and eight good-sized yellow perch. The fish were already cleaned and in several large Ziploc bags floating in a cooler full of cold water. He grabbed the bags from the cooler and decided to marinade them right in the bags. Each bag received a dose of olive oil, lemon juice and a couple of cloves of crushed garlic. It was simple and tasty, although he wondered what they would do once the lemon juice was gone. Jenna had brought three large bottles, but they had been eating a lot of fish, and this was going to finish off the first bottle. She had planted garlic in the garden, so he thought they’d be okay on that for the foreseeable future. Who knew you could take a plain old garlic bulb and plant the cloves in dirt? He had never given a thought before to where his garlic came from, but Jenna had shown him how simple it was. She already planned to plant more in the early fall.
He quartered potatoes and threw them in a big cast iron pan with a sprinkling of salt, herbs and a drizzle of olive oil. He moved the beans over in the oven and set the potatoes beside it.
A bowl of fresh greens from the garden sat on the counter, and he didn’t know if Piper or Jenna had picked it but imagined it was Jenna. The garden had become her refuge while Trent had been ill.
He tossed the greens with a blackberry vinaigrette and thanked all the cooking shows he’d taken to watching the last year since Hunter had gone away to college. They had been his guilty pleasure, but now he knew so much more about cooking.
As he popped a blackberry in his mouth, he couldn’t help remembering how thrilled Jenna had been to find several blackberry bushes on the east side of the island. She had made a pie the night before Trent’s fatal encounter with the other boaters and Trent had raved about it. Cole smiled as he recalled how Jenna had scolded the boy for sneaking a piece in the middle of the night.
Cole studied a berry, but in his mind, he saw Trent giving his mom a cheeky grin, not at all contrite about the pie. She had told everyone the story the next morning, making them all laugh. Juice stained Cole’s fingers as he crushed the berry. Hunter had been right—it wasn’t fair that Trent had died—but he had been wrong to think there had been some choice between him and Trent. There hadn’t been. The circumstances sucked. That’s all that could be said. He flicked the berry into the sink and rinsed his fingers in the dishpan of water.
“Hunter? Where are you?”
Hunter sat on the trunk of a fallen tree and rubbed his eyes, sniffing. He wanted to be alone for a moment so refrained from answering. Sophie would find him soon enough. It wasn’t as though he could hide for very long on the island.
Hunched over, arms braced on his knees, he studied the ground, digging a toe into the soft, sandy soil. Mushrooms sprouted from a half-buried, rotted, tree limb at his feet. How could Trent be dead? It didn’t make sense. The island was supposed to be safe—that’s what his dad had promised. Okay, maybe he hadn’t exactly promised, but he was supposed to be the expert. How could he have been so wrong?
While Hunter had seen more death in the last few weeks than he had ever seen and had felt soul-crushing sorrow when he’d encountered bodies—especially those of children—they hadn’t affected him personally. He hadn’t known anyone who had died from the virus. Even as he thought of that, another wave of grief crashed over him. The death toll from the virus was so devastating, he must know victims; it was only that he hadn’t learned of their deaths yet. The chances of him ever knowing for sure were slim. Who was left to pass along the information? If anyone was still alive, they were probably in isolation too, but even knowing that the majority of the people in the world had died didn’t make it any easier to accept Trent’s death. It was the one death that mattered to him.
Instead, it made him wonder about his friends. He hoped some still lived. It was too much to think that all of them were dead. Had his roommate, Chris, survived? Hunter recalled leaving a brief note for him before he had embarked on his road trip back home. Had Chris ever read it? Had he taken Hunter’s advice to also get away from school? Chris had invited Hunter to a party the night Hunter had learned of the virus from his dad. Could that invitation have meant certain death? Chris may already have been infected since it was unusual for him to go to parties mid-week.
Hunter drew a long, shuddering breath and kicked the mushrooms, sending the heads flying several feet across the forest floor. He longed for reasons why this had happened but then told himself it didn’t matter how or why. Not anymore. Now it was just a matter of surviving.
“There you are.” Sophie pushed the branch of a pine tree out of the way and entered his temporary sanctuary.
She eased down on the trunk beside him, both of them starting when the wood shifted, but when it didn’t move again, she clasped her hands in her lap. “Are you okay?”
He shrugged, not trusting his voice yet.
“You were close with Trent?”
He nodded. After a moment, he cleared his throat. “He used to follow me around when he was little, and sometimes, it would annoy the crap out of me. I’d tell him crazy lies to get him to stop.”
“Crazy lies?”
Hunter chuckled at a memory and turned to Sophie. “Yeah. When he was about five, he was terrified of the Joker—you know, from the comic books? I told him that if he didn’t stop pestering me, I’d stick a Joker card beneath his bed and that would signal the Joker to come and take him away to his Joker lair.”
Sophie shook her head and slanted him a wry smile. “A Joker card? Really? Those don’t even look like the Batman Joker.”
“Yeah, but he didn’t figure that out for a few years.” Hunter smiled as he remembered Trent’s wide-eyed look at the threat. He had a feeling the kid had never truly been afraid. “Besides, Trent stopped pestering me and got to be kind of fun to have around.”
It had taken those few years for Hunter to recognize the hero worsh
ip in Trent’s eyes. Once he did, his little cousin hadn’t seemed so annoying. “He looked so hopeful that I couldn’t tell him no. I just made him be quiet.” His voice caught. “Why was I so mean? He was just a little guy.”
“You weren’t mean—you were a normal kid, and it sounds like you guys were really close.”
He bit his lip and stared at the pale remains of the mushrooms poking up through the moss and weeds. His vision blurred, the moss and stems swirling into a green and tan watery shadow. He blinked hard until they came back into focus. “I thought this place was safe but it’s not. I’m sorry I misled you.” What if Sophie became sick because she had come along with him?
“Hunter, listen, I figure every day is a bonus. I didn’t expect to still be alive, and for a while, I didn’t want to be. What was the point? But now I have a little hope for the future. Your family seems nice. I know I only just met them, but even with all that is going on now, they still welcomed me.”
“Yeah, they’re good people.”
“Why don’t we go back and see what we can do to help your dad?” Sophie stood and held out her hand, and Hunter took it, giving her hand a squeeze as he rose to his feet.
“Are we really going back to the mainland, Elly?” Jake lay on his side on the bench. With the table removed, the bench seat turned into a comfortable bed.
Elly shook out a blanket and let it settle on the bed in the front of the cabin. “Maybe. I haven’t decided.”
“Is it because the kid died?”
She shot Jake a sharp look. “Trent. His name was Trent.”
Jake ducked his head, plucking at a loose thread on his pillowcase. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it to come out that way. I feel really bad for his mom and dad.” He shrugged, his head still bent. “I know how they feel.”
Sympatico Syndrome Trilogy Box Set Page 28