“Maybe… but I read some stuff on the Internet—”
Cole tilted his head and raised an eyebrow.
Hunter rolled his eyes and shrugged. “Hey, I did more than just post on social media. One time there was a story in my feed about viruses and how they’re in our DNA… I can’t remember how, but it said they made us smarter?”
“Not exactly—there are some endogenous retroviruses that may play a role in brain function, but research was just beginning… ” A heavy feeling washed over him as he considered all of the research in so many fields that had just come to a dead stop with the devastation wrought by Sympatico Syndrome. Who knew when or if it would ever reach the same level? “I guess we’ll never know how they affected us.”
“Okay, yeah, but I still think something about the virus made it seek out good people. You said victims acted as they did because the virus made them behave socially as a means of spreading more quickly—but what if you have it backward? What if friendly people were targeted because they were more likely to spread the virus? What if something about them made them vulnerable?”
Cole cocked his head as he thought it over. Who knew, there could be some truth to what Hunter posited. “That’s a not a bad theory, but I don’t think we’ll ever get to test it.”
The truck rocked a little as Hunter sat beside him. “Yeah. That sucks.” He looked around. “Anyway, this morning proved others survived. But where are they? I’d guess those guys live near that store. Maybe we should mark that area on the map and try to stay away.”
“Good idea. I suppose they’re like us… a small outpost of people, and they’d considered the store as theirs.”
“Was it? Did we steal from them?”
If he could have, Cole would have shrugged. “No. With so few of us left, everything out there is fair game. I mean, I wouldn’t barge into their house, but with so many stores and so few people left, I think of it as scavenging, not stealing. Besides, we didn’t even know they were around, and there were no signs the store had been touched in months, or we wouldn’t have found so much there. I say finders’ keepers.”
“Me too.” Hunter motioned for Cole to move so he could close the back of the truck. “If I hadn’t scavenged on my way to the island, I wouldn’t have made it.”
“One of the reasons I chose the island wasn’t just to isolate us from the virus, but also from anyone trying to take what we have.”
“Yeah, and now I’m feeling anxious to get back—not just because of your shoulder but to let the others know to be careful and look out for other survivors who shoot on sight.”
Hunter swore when he looked at his gas gauge. It rode the red line. It was just his luck that this stretch of road was devoid of any stalled vehicles, but as he scanned ahead, he spotted several a half-mile down the road. What he wouldn’t give to just pull into a gas station, insert his card, and pump the gas in. Instead, he had to find an abandoned vehicle, pry open the door to the gas tank, siphon the gas into a jug, then finally, add it to his truck’s tank. He hated siphoning gas. The smell permeated his sinuses for hours, making everything taste like gasoline.
Hunter wanted to get back to the island as soon as possible. It had taken him another hour at the house to load up tools and equipment from the garage.
His dad had fallen asleep, which Hunter was glad about, but he didn’t look good. His cheeks were flushed while his lips and fingernails were pale. He normally wouldn’t even notice something like that, but he’d glanced down at his dad’s hand resting on the seat, and had done a double-take at the dead white color of his father’s fingers. That couldn’t be a good sign. He’d driven way faster than he should have, especially with a fully loaded truck. His speed had caused the truck to suck too much gas, and now he was forced to get more or be stuck somewhere miles from the boat to the island.
Hunter stopped the truck, and gave his dad a gentle shake. “Dad?” It took a couple more shakes before his dad opened his eyes.
“What’s wrong?” He shifted as though trying to get comfortable, grimacing with the effort.
“Nothing, I just have to hop out to get some gas. Be right back.”
“Yeah. Okay. Be careful.”
“I will.”
The first car Hunter approached had been completely abandoned. There weren’t even any bodies inside. When he tried to get gas, he realized why the car was empty. The tank was dry. Crap.
The next vehicle, a pick-up truck, sat with its nose in a ditch between the opposite lanes of the highway. He managed to get a couple of gallons from it. Would it be enough? Probably, but it wouldn’t hurt to get a few more if he could. A red sedan was on the far side of the highway so Hunter scrambled down the ditch and up to it. He circled the car first, his mask dangled around his neck, but his gloves in place. The steamy, slimy appearance of the window told him that at least one body was within the car. He lifted his mask and tightened the elastic. He’d just have to snake the tubing under it to his mouth to get the flow of gas going. It wasn’t ideal because it would ruin the seal from the mask and probably render the mask useless, but he couldn’t bring himself to take it off. He pried open the door to the tank, unscrewed the gas cap, and dropped the tube into the tank.
At first, there was nothing so he drew in harder. Suddenly, he had a mouthful of fuel. He tried to pull the tube out and get it in the open gas container, but it got caught on the mask. Fumbling with the hose, he finally managed to get it out of his mouth into the container, but not before he swallowed some and a little got in his left eye. It burned like hell as his eye watered. He only got about another gallon because he couldn’t wait any longer to rinse his eye.
He stumbled back to the truck, set the container down and opened the door to the cab, grabbing his water bottle, upending it over his eye. The relief made him sag against the side of the truck. The water was warm, but it still felt good. He stopped only long enough to take a sip from the bottle. Should he make himself vomit up the gas? The taste in his mouth was awful, but he decided he’d live. Jake had told him how he’d swallowed some and it didn’t hurt him—just made his burps taste like gasoline for a day or so. He made a mental note not to burp around the grill. He was more worried about his eye. Hunter shook the bottle, frowning. There was only about another four ounces of water. He used half of it, then swiped his eye against his upper arm and blinked. His eye still burned, but not like it had.
Taking a small sip and leaving just an ounce in the bottle, he tossed the bottle back in the cab, then emptied the fuel container into the truck. When he climbed back behind the wheel, his dad awoke and wrinkled his nose. “What did you do? Bathe in gasoline?”
Hunter glanced at his dad as he shifted into drive. “Not quite. Drank a little though, and splashed my eye.”
His father straightened. “Are you okay? You didn’t inhale any, did you?”
Alarmed at his dad’s tone, he shot him a look. “I don’t think so, why?”
“It’s bad for your lungs.”
“Well what about my stomach? Will I be okay?”
His dad sank back against the seat. “Yes, unless you drank a lot of it… ”
“No. Just a little bit. I couldn’t help it.”
“And your eye? Did you rinse it out?”
“Yeah, but I’m almost out of water.”
His dad patted the seat in a searching manner then found his bottle in the cup holder built into the side of the truck door. “Here, take mine.”
Hunter shook his head. His dad needed that water. He wished they’d brought more bottles. He’d considered using the canning jars, but one peek in the back of the truck and he set aside that notion. It would take him an hour to find them amidst the other items. “No. I’ll be fine until we get back to the island. Shouldn’t be more than forty minutes until we get to the boat, then it’s just another fifteen minutes or so.”
Fighting nausea and a burning, watering eye, the forty minutes seemed like forty hours, but finally, they made it back. He glanced at
the garage with the horses. “Dad, I’m just gonna check on the animals—be right back.”
When he opened the door, he noted the fresh sawdust on the floor, a pile of hay in a corner, the full water buckets. Relieved, he turned to leave when he noticed several orange feathers on the floor. He wondered if a bird had come in at some point and glanced around. He hoped there weren’t any stray animals bothering the horses. They hadn’t thought of that, but he’d heard dogs in the distance when he’d been siphoning the gas, and at other times since the pandemic had raged. As much as he loved dogs, he wasn’t anxious to meet a pack that had turned feral.
12
“They’re coming!” Jake pointed out towards the bay then jumped up from the table, sprinting to the dock.
Elly grabbed her glass of water to keep it from spilling and then started to rise to follow him, but sat back down when Lucas tugged on her sleeve.
“Are you sure it’ll be okay that we’re here?” Lucas looked on the verge of panic, the fabric of her sleeve balled in his little fist. The kids had eaten in the cabin where they were to be isolated, but had brought their dishes out to be washed. She was impressed that both had remembered to wear their masks outside of the cabin.
Elly put an arm around his shoulders. “Of course it is. Don’t worry.”
“But that other lady didn’t like us.”
“That’s not true, Lucas.” Elly could understand how the boy might have thought that. Jenna had helped clean the children, applied ointment to their sores, and examined them for signs of illness. While receiving her care, Jenna had been quiet, her manner professional, but not warm. Elly knew why, but didn’t know how to explain it to an eight-year old. Both children were required to wear the masks at all times, and neither liked the rule, but Jenna had stressed how important it was to keep anyone from spreading the virus.
Lucas shrugged. “I think it’s true. She was mean.”
Elly sighed and looked around to make sure Jenna was out of earshot. Spotting her washing dishes at the stump table, Elly said, “I know it seems that way, but Jenna is just very sad. She had a son who died in the summer. He was infected by outsiders so now she’s afraid that other outsiders will come and infect the rest of us.”
Lucas scooted closer to Zoe and turned to watch the approaching boat. With his scrawny shoulders squared as though trying to protect his sister. His gaze flicked from the boat, to Elly, then back to the boat. With his voice barely above a whisper, he said, “We’re sad, too.”
“I know, sweetie.” Elly gave the back of his neck a gentle squeeze.
She didn’t share Jenna’s fear of these children. Luckily, the kids had been with Jake checking out the cabin they would stay in until they were out of isolation and heard Jenna voice her concerns about the children living on the island. The main argument was the possibility the children had the virus, but Elly had pointed out that the children didn’t show any symptoms. The kids had hidden, not coming out until forced to. That behavior contradicted the actions usually exhibited by victims
Elly had thoroughly questioned Lucas on the way to the island, and other than walking across the street and through the field and beach to reach the shore for fresh water, the children hadn’t been out of their home since their mother had locked herself away.
It seemed their mom had also warned them about the virus and how if they stayed away from people, they would be okay. From the sounds of it, the woman had been somewhat of a prepper and had prepared her children as much as she could before she succumbed to the virus. Elly admired the woman for her selfless act of locking herself into the bedroom to protect her kids. She must have done it at the first signs of illness and may have even committed suicide. Lucas had mentioned hearing a gunshot at some point. He didn’t know when, but said it was when the lights still worked and the water still came out of the faucets. That would have been in the first week or so of the pandemic.
The only thing Elly thought the woman might have done differently was to leave the house altogether, but then perhaps the children would have searched for her. With her in the room, and never leaving, the kids would know where she was and it seemed they knew their mother was dead, although neither had said so. Little Zoe didn’t speak at all, which was testament to how traumatized the isolation had been for the poor girl. Lucas told of how one time they were forced to hide in the weeds all day when some people came through their neighborhood. Lucas said they’d acted drunk, the boy had the survival instincts to stay hidden until they could safely return home. The time frame and how the group acted raised Elly’s suspicions that the group could have been the same one that had infected Trent out in the bay.
Hunter pushed the boat to full throttle, cringing as the hull slapped against the choppy waves as though bouncing on cement. He glanced to where his father sat on the floor of the boat, wedged between the side of the boat and the bench. He’d tried sitting on the seat, but the rough water was too much and Hunter had stopped the boat and helped him slide to the floor. Hunter couldn’t tell if he was conscious or not as his father’s eyes were closed.
An especially big wave splashed over the edge, dousing his dad and his eyes flew open at the shock, so at least Hunter knew he was conscious. Getting his father back to the island was his first priority, so he’d left everything they had gathered except what he could reach of some of the bandages and other medical supplies. The rest would keep until morning when he and Jake would return and load up both boats. He figured they would need to make a couple of trips to the island to get all of the supplies and hoped there was enough fuel for both boats to make the trips. A slit of daylight lay on the western horizon and he strained to see the island as he sped east. Any later and they would have had to wait until morning to reach the island.
Hunter wished again that they had taken the cabin cruiser when they charged into another large wave that caused the boat to dip and roll. Elly had suggested last night that they take her cabin cruiser but his dad had declined, saying he didn’t want to leave it unattended. It was one of their greatest assets even though they were constantly scrounging for fuel. He hadn’t wanted to risk it, so had decided to take the small boat for today’s trip.
The island was mostly in shadow, but a few lanterns were out on the picnic tables and he saw Jake waving to them. As soon as he was close enough, he shouted, “Get Sean and Joe! My dad’s been shot!”
Jake shook his head and put a hand behind his ear. “What?”
Hunter cut the engine back as they approached the dock. “My dad’s been shot! We’re going to need help getting him up to the house!”
“Oh shit!” Jake turned and hollered over his shoulder for Sean, Joe and what sounded like Jenna.
Good. She was their hands on medical expert. Elly had skills too, and so did his dad—not that he was any help today. A minute or so later, as he eased up to the dock he was bombarded with questions from everyone who had gathered either on the dock or right on the shore.
“I’ll give everyone the whole story later.” Hunter did a double-take when he spied two little kids standing beside Piper but didn’t have time to ask about them. While Jake secured the boat, Hunter sat on the bench and eased behind his dad as best he could. The brief awareness after the water dousing had been short-lived. His father hadn’t moved since and didn’t seem to realize that they were back at the island. With one hand under his dad’s good shoulder, Hunter wedged his other arm behind his dad’s back, and eased him forward. His dad groaned and made an effort to stand. He might have been successful on solid ground, but in the boat, with the side to side rocking motion, he couldn’t attain his balance. He managed to sit on the bench though, and Hunter let him get his breath.
Jake made a move to get in the boat too, but Hunter held his hand up. “I’m not sure if that’s a good idea. This thing is rocking like crazy.”
“Well, how are we going to get him out then?”
Hunter sighed. “Good question. Maybe I should pull the boat around to the beach and bring
it on shore.”
“No!” His dad straightened. “You might damage the engine.”
“But, Dad—we have to get you out of here some way.”
Jenna approached, holding a large piece of cloth. “This might help.” She unfolded it and Hunter saw it was really an old bedsheet. “I was going to use it as a bandage if we needed one, but if we fold it lengthwise and put it beneath Cole’s arms, around his back, it’ll act as a sling, of sorts, helping us take his weight.”
Joe took the sheet and folded it as Jenna had suggested. “That might work. Great idea, Jenna. Jake and I will take the ends, and with you behind him, we should be able to ease him up to the dock.”
His dad protested he didn’t need help but everyone ignored him, and within ten minutes, they had him in the house, stretched out on the kitchen table. Jenna had overridden his protests about that as well, saying it was to save her own back, and that she couldn’t work on him with him lying on a soft bed.
Hunter washed his hands in the basin on the counter, drying them on a towel as he watched Jenna cut his father’s shirt off. Elly helped, and put a folded blanket under his dad’s head. Hunter blinked when she smoothed a hand down his dad’s cheek, her expression concerned.
“How long has it been since he was wounded?” Jenna tossed the ruined clothes in a corner and went to work on the bandage Hunter had fashioned.
“It was before we got the windmill parts, so I think about six hours? Maybe a little more or less.”
Jenna paused, scissors poised over the last strap of bandage. “You didn’t come right back to the island?”
“Uh… no. Dad said we had to get the parts first.” Hunter looked to his dad for support, but his eyes were closed, his face slack. He’d get no help there. He draped the towel on the rack and edged toward the door.
Sympatico Syndrome Trilogy Box Set Page 37