“Yeah. I never thought I’d miss the sounds of traffic or other people.” Hunter had always had trouble in crowds. He found it hard to focus when there was a lot going on around him, and so he should have been in his element here; should have reveled in the quiet and solitude, but all he felt was the silence pressing in on him. “It feels so wrong.”
“On the island, it’s sometimes easy to forget that the world as we knew it, is gone. I guess that’s a benefit of being isolated. We can almost pretend that everything is normal on the mainland, but after what happened to Trent, I’ll never think of the island as a safe haven again.”
Hunter nodded, unable to speak.
His father pulled on a fresh pair of gloves and gave Hunter a pair, then clapped him on the shoulder. “Come on.”
5
Cole lifted the cart by the handle as he muscled it over a loaf of moldy bread lodged in a back wheel. They had hit the fabric section, loading bolts of cloth, grabbed patterns, pins, needles, tape measures and lots of thread. Who knew bolts of cloth could be so heavy? Neither of them had a clue about sewing, but Elly had mentioned it, so Cole did his best to get everything they might possibly need and it was one of the few areas of the store that was relatively unscathed from the onslaught of what must have been panicked shoppers.
“Buttons—we should get some of those.” Hunter pointed to a wall with packages of buttons, zippers, hooks and other closures.
“Good eye. I never would have thought about that. We’d have had to tie our clothes on with a piece of rope.” He was kidding at first, but then he realized it would take years—maybe generations—before manufacturing came back to the level it had been before the virus. He gazed around the craft section, overwhelmed with how much he had taken for granted. Everything from the rivets on his jeans to the little metal eyelets on his sneakers were manufactured and shipped to where they were needed in other factories. The whole infrastructure was gone now.
Of the people left on earth, how many knew how to make zippers? Sure, they could probably figure it out from studying a zipper, but they didn’t even have the equipment necessary to make one—not without electricity. They needed a forge or something to melt metal. He didn’t even want to think of all the secrets to metallurgy that could disappear.
He sighed. He sure hoped a lot of people who were good with their hands had survived. He looked at his own. Three months ago, they were soft. Sure, he’d fixed up a few houses, and he could paint a wall or hammer a nail, but he’d never been a true handyman. Now, his hands were calloused from shoveling dirt and chopping wood. Could he learn a new skill at his age? He thought he could, but who could teach him? Were there any blacksmiths around? At some point, the horses would need new shoes. What would they do then?
He made a mental note to find a library and stockpile as many books as they could to preserve knowledge. If they didn’t, they might never be able to figure all of this stuff out.
It made him realize how they needed to not just conserve what they had, but recycle everything. A worn out pair of jeans would become shorts. The discarded cloth at the bottom of the jeans could become something else, perhaps a patch for a quilt, or potholders.
“You okay, Dad?”
Cole shook his head. “Sorry. Just thinking about things.”
They hit up the sporting goods area next. The guns were all gone—the glass cases destroyed, but they managed to get a few boxes of ammunition for the rifles they already had by taking a sledgehammer to a locked cabinet. Cole piled them in the basket, one less worry off his mind. What they’d found should get them through the winter easily, even with a lot of hunting.
“Hey, Dad!”
Cole spun from the basket, his hand resting on his sidearm, but Hunter wasn’t in peril. He held up a large hunting bow.
“Can you believe it? I can’t believe nobody took this!”
By the tone of his voice, Cole knew his son was grinning beneath the mask. It made him smile, too.
Hunter pretended to aim the bow and made a noise that was vaguely similar to the twang made by releasing an arrow. “This feels great. It reminds me of the bow I had in high school—only better.”
“Hey, I got what I could afford.” Cole pretended to be offended, but Hunter took a glance at him, and shrugged, his eyes smiling, then they widened and looked past Cole.
“Oh wow! Check out those arrows!”
Cole left him to load up his treasure as he found a few more hunting knives, compasses, new filleting knives, and extra heavy fishing line. He dug under some debris and found a cute, pink fishing vest. It looked like it would fit Elly and he couldn’t wait to give it to her. He chuckled when he realized he was thinking of fishing gear as a gift in the same light that he would have considered a pretty necklace or fine earrings.
This particular store had a vision center and Cole noted it was virtually untouched. Nobody on the island wore glasses. Sean had had corrective laser surgery, and he thought Jenna had as well, but reading glasses would probably be necessary for all of them in the next few years and when he saw the display of readers, he tossed dozens of pairs into the cart between bolts of cloth.
That led to sunglasses, then contact lenses. Even if they didn’t need them, somebody would eventually. They could be great for barter. He cleaned the shelves of everything including the solutions and cases.
Cole caught Hunter’s eye and gestured towards the other side of the store. “Let’s see if there’s anything left over in the grocery side.”
He’d left it for last because he didn’t think there would be much remaining. When panic had set in, food and water were the items everyone bought. He had stocked up early compared to most, and even then, when he’d last been in a store, the shelves had been emptying quickly. At the time, he felt like he’d bought enough to last a year, but he’d taken inventory and was stunned to see how much they’d used already.
As he’d suspected, many of the shelves were bare, but they were able to find undamaged cans on some top shelves or very bottom shelves, all pushed to the back. The selection stunk, but they couldn’t afford to be picky. Some cans were too damaged to bother with, but they found several cans of oysters, tins of herring and, in the gap between the bottom shelf and the floor, two cans of turkey. Cole threw them into the cart. “We can save those for Thanksgiving.”
Hunter looked at the tiny cans and raised an eyebrow. “A bite each?”
Cole chuckled and pushed the cart down towards where there used to be canned fruit. He found one tiny can of fruit cocktail. He crunched over broken glass, his shoes making a tacky sound from the sticky residue from what had been in the jars. He nudged a large shard of glass to the side and suddenly recalled that he needed to look for canning jars. His shoulders slumped. Shopping had never been high on his list of favorite things to do, and even though he didn’t have to pay for the items, he was eager to be done with this chore. Drawing in a deep breath, he scanned signs above the aisles, wondering where he’d find the canning supplies.
“Hey, Dad… I found flour!” Hunter lifted two packages.
They weren’t in the right aisle for flour. “Are they intact? No tears or leaks?”
Hunter examined the bags and shrugged. “Not that I can see. One says bread flour, the other is almond.”
They weren’t big packages—the bread flour looked to be about four pounds and the almond, half that, but it was better than nothing. He hoped there were more in the baking aisle, but he couldn’t forget to look for canning supplies either. Jenna would kill him.
The baking aisle was even worse than the canned fruit one with flour and sugar all over the floor. Rodent droppings were everywhere and the packages left on the shelves were torn with droppings too close to be safe. The only untouched items were boxes of baking soda, baking powder, and vinegar. Those all came as a nice surprise. He wouldn’t have thought to get them, but since they were here, he realized how handy they could be. The vinegar, gallon jugs of it, made a good sanitizer and could be
used in pickling some of the vegetables. The baking soda could be used for both baking and cleaning. Baking powder would help with biscuits although Jenna had created a sourdough that they were all becoming partial to for biscuits and bread and they didn’t have to have baking powder for that.
What they did need was some kind of fat. Cooking oil would do, but he hoped to find something solid. They had been eating lean fish and vegetables all summer. All of them had lost weight, which hadn’t been a bad thing at first, but Cole knew they needed to increase their intake if they could. Now that their bodies’ fat stores had diminished, they’d feel the pinch of hunger this winter if they didn’t find a way to get a little more fat into their diet. He hoped they’d be able to bag some deer in the coming weeks.
He pushed aside garbage and hit pay dirt with a large can of lard and three packages of shortening in sticks, three gallons of vegetable oil, several bottles of olive oil, peanut oil, and even grapeseed oil. He wasn’t sure what they’d use it for, but he took all of it. Even the containers, once empty, would come in handy for something.
“Before I forget, I’m going to make a pass down the pain reliever aisle, and see what medical supplies we can grab.” Cole grimaced when a wheel ran over the hand of what might have been a little old lady judging by the gray hair and the small, but sturdy shoes in the vicinity of the feet. Part of the hand tore away from the rest of the body and bile rose in his throat. He coughed and tried to push the image from his mind.
Hunter pointed to a sign hanging from the ceiling that said ‘Pick Up Prescriptions Here.' “Hey, there’s a pharmacy. Think there’s anything we can use in it?”
They were able to get more bandage tape, gauze, and a few tubes of antibiotic ointment but most of the pain relievers, and all of the cold medicine was gone. Cole kicked an empty box of cough syrup. When people had heard about a flu outbreak, they must have thought of typical flu symptoms of a cough, sore throat, and fever. He spotted some allergy medication and took that. It was better than nothing.
Cole boosted Hunter over the high counter, but all of the prescription pain relievers, antibiotics, and the antiviral medication for regular influenza were gone or trampled on the floor. He was able to salvage some steroid packs and high blood pressure pills, along with random other medications. Cole eyed the bottles and boxes, unsure of the uses for some, but tossed them in the cart anyway.
“Let’s go back to the other side to see if we can find the canning supplies, then head towards the pet supplies.”
“Oh yeah! Dog food for Buddy.”
“Yes, that’s something we need, if we can find it, but I’m hoping we can find some antibiotics with the aquarium items since we missed out on any in the pharmacy.”
“Antibiotics? For fish?”
“They’re all basically the same. They sell it for aquariums, but in times like these, we can adapt it for human use. I have a good idea of dosages, and I’m pretty sure Elly and Jenna would as well.”
“Sounds good.” Hunter avoided a body in the main aisle, his shoulders slumping a little and Cole worried how he was dealing with all this death. He knew Hunter had seen a lot on his trip to the island so knew he was getting used to it, but as a father, he wanted to protect him.
It wasn’t fair. His son was only twenty years old, and the rest of his life would be spent just trying to survive. Every dream Cole had for him had died along with their way of life when the virus hit. He hadn’t had too much time to reflect on it, and when he did have time, he tried not to think of the future. It was just too painful. His thoughts didn’t go beyond making it through the winter. He hoped by then, they could travel more extensively on the mainland and see what had survived—if there was any civilization left. With luck, people would gather and start new towns and cities, with enough people who had enough skills to get electricity going again. Once they had that, the rest of it would come, eventually.
The fish antibiotics were almost picked clean. “Damn it.” Cole plucked the label from the edge of the shelf and swore again as he flung it away. “Someone must have thought the same thing I did. All it would take is one or two people to start grabbing it for others in the vicinity to follow their lead.” He did manage to scrounge up a few packages from the floor.
They had better luck in the housewares section. Although it was moderately picked over, most people had been thinking of getting through a few weeks, so they had been thinking short-term. It explained why easy to cook prepackaged meals were all gone. People hadn’t been looking to stock up on anything for the next three months, let alone the winter. Those who had never canned before wouldn’t have started when the virus hit—it wouldn’t have occurred to them. Luckily for them, Jenna had canned before and had thought of it. Otherwise they’d be in worse shape than they already were. Since the stores were still taking money when she stocked up, she hadn’t been able to get as much as they actually needed.
When they got to the aisle, Cole sighed. “Guess we better sort through it.”
Hunter held up a set of rubber-coated tongs. “Are these something we need?”
Cole shrugged. “Probably.”
Hunter put them in his cart. They found a case of canning jars and other cases that had been smashed. They were able to salvage another dozen jars from those cases. Amongst all the supplies strewn over the floor, they found other items they thought might be useful and added them to their carts.
They each had two carts, and both were full, so they took everything back to the truck and loaded it up.
“I think we’re about done here. Now we have to look for a hardware store. Uncle Sean needs some parts to get the windmill running.” Cole had a list in his pocket.
“What about the back?” Hunter locked the door and looked at him.
Cole had worked much harder on the island, but the combination of pushing the carts through trashed aisles and the strain of trying to avoid bodies combined to make him feel like he’d put in sixteen hours of hard labor, rather than about three hours of moderate exertion. “The back? Of what?”
“The store. There might be supplies there that never made it out to the shelves.”
He rubbed a hand over his forehead and sighed. Sweat dripped down his back, and even the cool breeze barely took the edge off. “Yeah, I guess we should. Let’s go in the back entrance though. I don’t want to have to cart everything through the store again.”
So, Cole drove the truck around to the back, and pried open a door and propped it open with a chunk of concrete lying in the lot.
Just as they entered the back warehouse, he heard wheels crunching over rough pavement. At first, it didn’t register as danger. The summer spent on the island had dulled his senses a bit. When it hit him that it was a sound he should be wary of, he called out, “Hunter! Someone’s coming!”
6
“Sophie! The goats have been in the garden… again!”
Elly swept the last bit of fish guts into the scrap bucket with the side of her hand and stuck her head out of the fish cleaning shed. She grabbed the clean, damp towel off the rack, and, wiping her hands, made her way up to the main house. “Jenna? Anything I can do to help?”
Jenna, gardening gloves black with dirt, pulled her head from inside and let the door slam behind her as she turned to face Elly. “No, thanks. Those damn goats ate the tops off a whole row of carrots.”
“Are the carrots still good?”
With a shrug of her shoulders, Jenna sighed. “Yeah, I’ll just have to dig them up instead of pulling them, but that isn’t the point. I don’t know why Cole let them bring those animals onto the island. They’re pests, and we’ll have to feed them all winter.”
“But we might get goat milk, and eventually, a fresh source of meat.” Elly swiped a stray scale from the underside of her left arm, then tossed the towel over her shoulder. “I wish we had more goats. And the horses would be safer here. I’m worried they’ll be stolen.”
“I don’t know if I could eat goat meat.” Jenna scrunched
her nose. Dirt smudged her cheek and tendrils of hair clung to her forehead.
“It’s a staple in more than half the world—or it was.”
“Yeah, I know, and when it comes time, I guess I’ll be happy to have it, but right now I’m just pissed about the garden.” She gave Elly a wan smile.
Elly nodded. She didn’t know how Jenna was before the virus and before it took her son from her, but if the laugh lines bracketing her eyes were any indication, she had probably been quick to smile and fun to be around. The situation was difficult for everyone, but Elly felt an extra dose of sympathy for Jenna—especially when she’d learned the woman was a nurse and had been forced to stay back and not have any contact with her son when he’d contracted the virus. “I’m done fishing for the day and would love to help in the garden. Just tell me what to do.”
Elly had never had a garden in her life. She had spent what little spare time she had reading. While she had been somewhat prepared for emergencies and had kept supplies back home, most of it was packaged food meant to last years, water purification tablets, weapons and that kind of thing. Her condominium association hadn’t allowed more than a few flowers in the flower beds near the front door. She’d planted marigolds. Not only were they hardy, they had some medicinal qualities that made her feel they had a purpose instead of just being pretty.
Jenna nodded. “Sure. Let’s see… there are potatoes to dig, pumpkins, squash—“
Elly held her hand up. “Just point me in the right direction and tell me what to do. I’m afraid if I hear more I might realize that we need more fish after all.” She grinned to show she was teasing.
Sophie burst through the door before Jenna could respond. “I’m so sorry, Jenna. The gate to the pen hasn’t been latching right.” She twisted her fingers together, eyes wide. “I tied it with a bit of rope, but Lila keeps chewing through it.”
Sympatico Syndrome Trilogy Box Set Page 32