Elly lifted a hand. “I would be willing to go.”
Jake’s hand shot in the air. “Me too!”
Cole smiled at the boy’s enthusiasm. “I appreciate the offers, but I was hoping someone would head to the mainland and see to the horses.”
“We’ve been doing that every day,” Hunter said.
“Yes, I know, but I have a pile of sawdust that needs to go on over.”
They had found a roll of chain link in a shed on the property and had strung it across the driveway, anchoring it to the house on one side and tree on the other. It allowed the horses to come and go into the garage they’d converted to a stable, of sorts, as they pleased. “With cold weather right around the corner, the stable needs a thorough cleaning with fresh sawdust laid down.” They needed more of that as well, and he mentally added it to the list, along with hay and straw.
“Why do we even bother with the horses?” Sean had never seen them, so Cole guessed he had no attachment to the animals. “We’ve wasted an awful lot of gasoline going back and forth to the mainland—not to mention risking exposure to the virus—just to take care of animals that we can’t even use.”
“Come winter, we’re not going to have any transportation except our own two feet.”
“There are vehicles we can use, and once the bay freezes, we can even drive them across to the island.”
“That’s true, but who’s going to plow the streets? Hell, we may not even be able to find the streets under a foot or more of snow.”
Sean conceded the point. “I was just concerned about resources going to the horses that we might use ourselves, like the oatmeal.”
Cole had asked everyone to leave the plain old-fashioned oats for horses and goats, and that hadn’t set well with his brother. Of course, if things got tight in the winter, they’d eat the oats themselves, but if they couldn’t find enough hay, and the snow was too deep to allow the horses to forage on whatever dried grass was around, he’d hoped to supplement with the oats. “I understand your concern, but here’s another point—if we run out of food… ” He lifted his brows and left the thought unspoken, ignoring the look of horror on all the women’s faces.
“Ah. Got it.” Sean sat down beside Jenna.
“So, I thought the horses would be a good job for Elly and Jake. We also need more people familiar with the care of the animals. We should really rotate through chores anyway.”
“Cool.” Jake seemed fine with the job he’d been assigned.
“As far as the trip to the mainland, I was planning on going—”
“What about me?” Hunter’s gaze challenged Cole.
“I was just about to say, ‘with Hunter.’”
Hunter’s guarded expression faded as a slow smile stretched across his face.
4
Hunter tightened his mask before he opened the door to the rental truck. One thing he hadn’t missed while on the island was wearing the stifling masks and gloves that made his hands sweat, but they only wore them outside of the truck. He glanced at his dad and nodded. “I’m ready.” He grabbed his gun and made sure the safety was engaged before shoving it into the back of his jeans.
His dad’s eyebrows rose as though he was about to say something, but instead he nodded. He’d been surprised when Hunter had insisted they bring it, but had gone along with the idea and had armed himself as well.
Hunter met his dad in front of the vehicle, feeling the weight of the weapon odd and not nearly as comforting as it should be. A holster might help him get used to the feel of carrying a gun and he made a mental note to look for one in the sporting goods area. He surveyed the big box store, surprised at how rundown it already appeared. Weeds waist high sprouted from around all the cart corrals and between every crack in the asphalt. Flies and yellow jackets buzzed everywhere. He knew they were always worse this time of year, but he’d never seen so many at one time. He waved his hand in front of his face, ducking when a yellow jacket buzzed his ear.
His dad moved forward, motioning for Hunter to follow. “Flies and yellow jackets thrive around rotting meat.” He pointed between two cars, one whose wheels were all flat—the other had a rusty stain trailing between the rear tires. Hunter flinched at a pile of bones, some flesh still clung to what was unmistakably a human skull as a few strands of blond hair fluttered. Flies buzzed lazily over the body, and yellow jackets darted to and fro. He wondered where the insects were going and decided he probably didn’t want to know.
They moved cautiously, stopping to listen for anyone else. While they hadn’t seen any other survivors up close, at the top of a hill they had seen another vehicle moving on a country road across a wide stretch of fields. They had decided to head south around the outskirts of Green Bay, only stopping to siphon gas from a minivan in a ditch. With what they already had, they were good for maybe a hundred miles. That was as far as they would risk going anyway.
His father carried a crowbar, and it was Hunter’s job to watch his back as he worked on the door. He felt like a criminal as he scouted the area, one hand resting on the butt of his gun as he scanned the parking lot and beyond.
Prying the door open, his dad staggered back, startling Hunter.
“What is it?” He pulled his gun, searching for the threat.
“Oh God, the stench!” His dad gagged, retching behind his mask.
Then the smell hit Hunter and he turned away, moving off to the side, but he’d taken a precaution his dad hadn’t. One he’d learned from Aunt Jenna when he’d told her one of the worst things about his trek home had been the stench. She’d told him a trick nurses had learned, and so he’d prepared his mask this morning, rubbing a dab of toothpaste on the inside of his mask. He’d offered his dad the small tube when he was done, but his dad had waved it off. Hunter was glad the mask hid his smile.
“You want me to go in first?”
His dad leaned against the building, his eyes watering. “Sure. Guess I should have taken that toothpaste.” The corners of his eyes crinkled.
Hunter grinned. “Ya think?”
Straightening, his dad drew in a deep breath. “Just give me a minute to get used to it—eventually my olfactory receptors will acclimate.”
“Is that fancy-speak for you’ll get used to it?”
“It sure is.” He motioned towards the door. “After you.”
Hunter scanned the parking lot one more time. It would be terrible to be caught inside. He remembered the men who had captured Sophie. The only living things besides themselves were the flies, yellow jackets and crows. Hunter drew in a deep, mint-scented breath of fresh air before crossing the threshold. “We should find another exit in case we need one.”
His dad nodded agreement and shone his flashlight towards the left. “There should be a garden center that way, and,” he moved the beam straight ahead, “a back exit by the docks as well as an emergency exit along the wall.”
He paused beside his father, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dim interior. The doors let in some ambient light, but they’d need to use their flashlights. He hoped they’d find some batteries because he wasn’t sure how long his flashlight would last. They had a spare set in the truck, but when those were gone, they’d be without until they found more.
Trash littered the interior of the store and the sound of scurrying and squeaking as they approached let them know that they had rodent competition. Hunter swallowed hard. He wasn’t afraid of mice, but he wasn’t eager to fight a rat over a couple of carrots either.
The area near the checkout counters was a mess of plastic bags, loose change, open packages of candy, gum, dried, sticky soda, and clothing that had been trampled. But none of that compared to the bodies clogging aisles and checkout lanes. Like the others they’d seen outside, these were in advanced stages of decay. Hunter let his gaze skim over them. He thought he’d be used to it by now, and while he didn’t gag anymore at the sight, he did his best to avoid looking directly at the corpses.
Hunter aimed his flashlight ac
ross the checkout lanes. Some of the supplies they needed were probably in many of these carts unless someone else got to them first. He made a pass over one cart, blinked, and returned the light to the front of the cart. At the sight of a half-decomposed infant, he turned, willing his stomach to settle. He couldn’t risk lifting his mask here. Hunter bent, his hands on his knees as he brought his stomach under control.
“Deep breaths, son.” His father’s hand settled on the middle of Hunter’s back.
Straightening, he nodded. “I’m okay.”
It wasn’t the first dead baby he’d seen, but this one took him by surprise and was far more decomposed than the baby in the car he’d seen on his trek to the island.
“All right. Let’s go.” His dad motioned to the cart corral. “Grab a couple.”
Hunter was surprised there were still carts in the cart corral area, and he wondered about the person who had last rounded them up from the parking lot and put them there for shoppers. Had they known that would be the last time they’d ever perform that task? He grabbed one and rolled another to his dad. “Here. Should we divide and conquer or stick together?”
“Stick together, definitely.” His dad navigated around a body and pointed at the stained floor surrounding it. “Be sure to avoid stepping in any of that. We don’t know how long the virus will survive on surfaces.”
Hunter nodded, giving the stain a wide berth. They had come prepared with a full set of replacement clothes and had covered the bench seat and floor of the truck with old sheets. Those would be discarded when the mission was completed. They glanced at the women’s clothing, hoping to find winter jackets, but the disease had hit in late spring and the only clothes they found were summer weight. The floor was knee-deep in dirty, torn clothes, and racks lay on their sides. Some had bodies decomposing within the material.
Hunter found a long metal bar, probably from one of the shelves and used it to probe the floor ahead of him. Hitting a body produced a unique squishy feeling, and he avoided those areas. They had some luck when they found a few pairs of jeans that were still crisply folded in their cubby holes. They weren’t the exact sizes they had on their list, but close enough. Even if they had been wildly off, they’d have taken them just for the durable material. The t-shirts weren’t of interest, but they found a clearance rack tipped on its side and splayed out on the floor were thick sweatshirts with hoods. Employing the bar, Hunter determined there were no bodies hidden beneath the sweatshirts, so they shoved about eight of the hoodies in Hunter’s cart.
One area that appeared almost undisturbed was the underwear section. His dad pointed to a shelf where packages of three bikini panties were bundled together. “Stick to the intact packages.”
“Wait… you want me to grab them?” Hunter gaped at the shelves. What was the difference between hipsters and briefs? Or bikini and boy shorts? “I don’t know anything about ladies’ panties!”
“Jeez, son, nobody is around to see. Just get them all.”
Hunter sighed and snatched every package he could find that wasn’t open. He paid no attention to size because he had no clue what size any of the woman on the island wore and just thinking about it made his cheeks burn. For payback, he pointed to the bras and said, “You better get some of those, too.”
His dad shot him a look, but fumbled for a few packages, tossing them in his cart. “They didn’t give me their sizes… and I didn’t ask.”
Hunter grinned behind his mask.
“Quit smirking.”
Hunter shot him a surprised look. “How can you tell?” He reached for his mask to make sure he hadn’t somehow removed it without thinking. Nope. It was still firmly in place.
“I’m your dad. I just know these things. Remember when you were little and I told you I had eyes in the back of my head? You believed me.”
Hunter nodded and chuckled. “Yeah, until I figured out you were looking at the reflection in the window.”
“Yes, you figured it out. Anyway, you shouldn’t start smirking yet because you still have feminine hygiene products to find and load up on.”
“Tampons?” His voice cracked and he cleared his throat.
“You got it.”
They decided to zip through those aisles as quickly as possible. The array of pink, black, and white boxes looked untouched—as if they had just been stocked the night before.
“What kind should we get?”
His father just shook his head, apparently as confused as Hunter. “Hell if I know.” He flicked a hand at the cart. “Just start stacking them in there.”
Socks were easier, and they loaded up on them then moved over to the men’s department, finding similar items for themselves, Sean, Joe, and Jake.
Next, they hit the shoe department. Their original carts had filled up, and each was on a second cart. Empty boxes clogged the aisles, but there were still plenty of shoes remaining. Hunter contemplated all of the sneakers and thought it ironic that people fleeing for their lives didn’t think about getting running shoes. Of course, he hadn’t bought any either when he was doing his stock up shopping. It felt like a year ago rather than just a little over three months.
As he loaded the shoes, tossing aside most of the boxes, but keeping some so they could be utilized for storage, he wondered how much all this would have cost before. It was strange that they didn’t have to worry about price. It felt wrong, but there was nobody left to pay.
Hunter reached the top of the shoe rack for the last pair of sneakers and spied hiking boots too. As he pushed a pair of women’s high heels out of the way, he knocked a pair of tiny boots from a shelf. Out of habit, he bent to pick them up and return them to the shelf. Pausing, he studied the miniature boots, thinking about the age of the small child they were meant for. Suddenly, his eyes welled. The emotion caught him by surprise, and he blinked furiously as he tried to breathe past the lump in his throat.
“What do you have there?” His dad tossed neon green water shoes into the cart.
Hunter shrugged, keeping his gaze fixed on the boots. Both fit in the palm of his hand.
His father reached out and took the boots, his eyes locking on Hunter’s. He didn’t question Hunter and ask him if he was all right, for which Hunter was grateful. Instead, he looked at the footwear for a long moment and then said, “I remember when you used to wear this size. It hardly seems like that long ago.” He turned to set them on a shelf but stopped, his head cocking. “You know, I was thinking the other day about shoes and how they’re another thing we need that we can’t just run out and buy.”
“Yeah. I know.”
“And if we can’t get them, neither can other people who are still left alive. These could come in handy at some point.”
“You mean for future kids on the island?” Hunter couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to bring a child into this world. What kind of future could they have?
“Well, yes, but I was also thinking that shoes and other items could be used for barter.”
Hunter swept his gaze around the department. There were plenty more shoes for kids. His dad was right. They could be used for trade. Not just shoes, but plenty of other things, too. The question was, who was left to barter with?
They loaded up another cart with every pair of shoes that would have value, leaving the dress shoes, but taking boots, sneakers, slippers and water shoes.
The hardware department was close to the shoes so they explored that next, dismayed to find it picked over. It reminded Hunter of seeing news reports of how a store looked just before a hurricane hit, as homeowners scrambled to protect their homes. Had people barricaded themselves into their homes? After combing through the shelves and sorting through the garbage, Hunter was relieved to find more than he expected and they had a nice haul of hammers, and screwdrivers of every sort along with all the nails and screws they could find.
Hunter lifted a cordless hand-drill. “What about this?”
His dad sighed, eyeing the cart as though weighing whether it was
worth adding. “We don’t know when or if we’ll have any way to charge it… but Sean wanted us to look for solar panels. He thinks he can rig something up so we can get electricity that way. Maybe he can figure out how to make a solar charger for that, too. We’re not going to find panels at this store, though.”
Hunter added the drill plus extra bits. He found a nail gun and shrugged—might as well take that also. Their carts were almost full and hard to maneuver in the littered aisles. “Hey, Dad, I think we should take this first load back to the truck.” He needed a drink too. The store was hot and humid and even though he had become used to the stench, he longed for a breath of fresh air. It would be a relief to take the mask off for a few minutes.
“Yeah. Okay.” They headed towards the front, passing the toy aisles.
His foot sent a stuffed dog sliding across the floor, where its black button eyes seemed to glare at him accusingly. He looked away from the dog. It was crazy to think that four months ago, this store would have been full of shoppers. Kids would have been hanging on to carts, pestering their parents for toys or candy. His depressing reverie was broken when his dad stopped suddenly. The cart was heavy and he’d gained momentum and had to pull back hard to keep from running it into his father’s back.
“Batteries!” His dad shone the light on several packages of batteries strewn in the aisle. It was the first they’d come across, and they whooped as if they’d struck gold. They spent a few more minutes making sure they didn’t miss any, then took the carts out to the truck, unloading them.
Hunter sat on the edge of the floor of the truck and took a long pull out of the Thermos of water. His dad did the same with his own Thermos, and they rested for a few moments, their masks dangling around their necks. A cool breeze plucked at Hunter’s t-shirt, and he sighed in pleasure. He poured a small amount of water on his hand and wiped it over his face and into his hair. It felt cooling and cleansing—as if he’d washed off the stink of death.
His father twisted as though working out a kink in his back. “Guess we should get back to it.” He scanned the area, his eyes full of sorrow. “It’s surreal. Familiar and yet… so foreign.”
Sympatico Syndrome Trilogy Box Set Page 31