Loosely tying the handles in a knot, Hunter caught up to his dad. “What are you doing?”
His dad held the plants up. “Watercress!”
“Wow! Really?” He’d heard of the stuff, but wasn’t sure if he’d ever eaten it before. A girl he’d dated in high school had mentioned something about a cucumber and watercress sandwich she’d had to eat at a bridal shower, but it didn’t sound appealing to Hunter.
“Don’t make that face. It’ll be good with the tuna.”
“Sure. If you say so.” He was so hungry now he’d eat the clams raw and not think twice at this point.
They trudged through the ravine bottom, finding a few more clams and then climbed out of the ravine.
“The wind is blowing from the south, so if we make a fire, the smoke should blow away from the compound and I think we put enough distance between us and it for a fire to be safe.”
Hunter spotted a driveway so choked with weeds that they almost missed it. “Why don’t we check out what’s back there?” The drive wound through the woods. “There hasn’t been a car down here for months. Look, a branch fell and blocked the drive. There’s so many leaves on top of the branch that it must have fallen before the leaves did, so a couple of months, at least.”
His father looked around, checked the directions, and finally agreed. “Just remember the compound is due south, along the east side of this road. We don’t want to get turned around.”
Cole held the rifle at the ready as they made their way up the long, twisting drive. The home was large, all wood and glass and when he caught sight of a family of fake deer in the front yard, he almost lifted the rifle. It was probably a good thing they were fake as a gunshot would most likely be heard at the compound.
They checked out the garage first, and found it empty. No cars. A spot on the driveway caught Cole’s attention. Four wooden blocks almost buried in leaves were off on an apron. When he kicked off most of the leaves, the blacktop was darker than the surrounding asphalt as though something was normally parked there. “I think they had a boat or a camper here, but whatever it was, it’s gone now, and probably has been since before October.”
Hunter nodded. “Yeah, I found empty boxes behind the garage. They’re pretty faded and warped from rain, but one was for a camp stove. I couldn’t make out the writing on the second, but there was a picture of a tent on it.”
“Okay, let’s check out the house. Keep your eyes open—someone could be here even if the owners left.” Cole rounded the back of the house. It seemed undisturbed. All the windows and doors were intact. He trotted up the steps of a deck, motioning for Hunter to stay back and keep watch. He tried the door. It was locked. He’d assumed it would be, but figured it couldn’t hurt to try the knob. A large sliding door opened from a walkout basement, so Cole tried that next, and when it didn’t open, he looked around for something to break the glass with, unwilling to risk the stock of his rifle against the glass.
“I saw a shepherd’s hook in the patch of dirt next to the garage.” Hunter ran and got it, tossing aside a plastic planter with dead flowers hanging in it. Cole stood back and let Hunter bash in the glass while he stood watch. Hunter knocked all the sharp edges from the frame, and cracked, “I’m getting mad skills at breaking and entering, Dad.”
Cole rolled his eyes, but smiled as he motioned for Hunter to raise his mask to be ready when they entered. Even through the mask, he detected a dank and musty odor—but it lacked the smell of death. He glanced in the kitchen—empty—and passed it by for now. If the house was empty, they could come back to it.
The first floor consisted of a living room, dining room, kitchen, and a large den. No signs of life, and even more of a relief, no signs of death. They headed up the stairs, and Cole raised his hand for Hunter to pause at the top of the steps. They listened, and when only the distant sound of bird calls floating up from the broken window met their ears, they explored the rooms. As expected, they found nobody.
The place was a mess, but it was the kind of disarray that could have resulted when people packed in a hurry. Closet doors stood open, the floors were strewn with discarded clothes—suits Cole was sure cost four figures had been tossed aside. Dresser drawers were dumped on the floor, the contents picked through. All of the beds were stripped of bedding. A pink bedroom with white lacy curtains had a couple of forlorn looking stuffed animals and dolls abandoned on the carpet. Cole picked up a dog with floppy ears, a tag still attached to one ear. He stuffed it in his pack.
“What are you doing?”
Cole shrugged. “Christmas is next week, and I thought it would be nice for Zoe and Lucas if Santa Claus left them a few presents.” A black bear with a red bow tie sat on a shelf in the corner. It too, looked brand new. He stuffed it in the bag next to the dog.
He braced for teasing from his son, but instead, Hunter merely looked at him, his eyes wide. “Yeah. Good idea.”
His voice gruff, Cole nodded and said, “We need to get back and figure out a way to get Jake and Sophie free. We’ll cook up the food we found, and get close enough so just before first light, we can get in and get them.” Cole wondered if they should go back to the island and get help, but that would add another day and he didn’t know what would happen to Jake and Sophie in the meantime.
They found a grill in the backyard that still had propane in the tank and found a pan in the kitchen. Using the water from the bag, they steamed the clams open, and set a cast iron pan found buried in a pots and pan cupboard beside the stove, on the grill, heating up the tuna and watercress. The house had been sealed up so tightly, there were no signs of rodents, but most of the food was gone. The family hadn’t left much except a can of black olives high on a shelf and a bottle of yellow mustard. Cole took them. The mustard was something they didn’t have much of on the island and the olives would be a decent breakfast.
While the clams steamed on the grill, they combed the house for anything useful. In the past, the home would have been a goldmine for thieves with expensive art, cameras, and electronics, but now, it was all useless clutter. Cole rummaged through a junk drawer, more out of curiosity to see who had lived here, finding old bills, outdated cell phones and a dozen pens and pencils with logos printed on them. He took them as they were useful and easy to carry. In the back corner of the drawer, surrounded by rubber bands, ponytail holders, and old receipts, he found a ring with a couple of keys on it. They tried them on various locks in the house but they didn’t fit. Cole held up the keys. They were small and looked barely used. Probably copies kept for safe keeping.
In the garage they found only a few items of any use. An old canteen hanging from a nail, and a couple of bright blue, but filthy tarps.
“We can use them as a tent.” Hunter held one up. He started to brush the dirt off it, but Cole stopped him.
“The dirtier, the better. That blue is so bright, someone could spot it from a distance unless we camouflage it with a little mud.” He took the other tarp and examined it. “We’ll need a rope or something to tie between trees to drape it over.”
Hunter scanned the walls and then reached for a long extension cord coiled on a hook. “This would work.”
“Good.” Cole rummaged through the drawers of a tool cart, finding some metal stakes in a small canvas bag. He’d had something similar when he’d bought a pop-up canopy a few years ago. He glanced around the garage. If there had been a canopy to go with the stakes, it was gone now. He took the stakes though. They would be perfect to keep the edges of the tent from flapping around.
A cold rain began so they took the cast iron pan into the house. The kitchen table was covered in junk that had apparently been considered by the homeowners for taking with them, but had been left behind. Mostly spices, dishes and boxes of photos.
Hunter wrinkled his nose at the musty smell given off by the boxes. “Let’s go in the living room to eat.”
Cole and Hunter sat on the sofa, the pans ruining the finish of what had probably been an expensive co
ffee table. They ate right from the pan, each sliding half closest to his side of the pan. As Cole chewed, he noticed a photo album on a shelf beneath the table forgotten in the occupants haste to leave. Bored and curious, he flipped it open, finding dozens of photos of the family who had left. Immediately, he felt bad for breaking the window and ruining the table. Maybe they could find something to tape over the window—another tarp—to keep the weather from damaging too much.
The album contained photos of the family at various campgrounds, a fancy recreational vehicle in the background of some pictures. Two children, a girl, probably the stuffed dog’s owner, and a teenaged boy, were the subjects of most of the images. In one, they were at Disney World, and Cole felt his throat tighten and he had to work to swallow the bite in his mouth. He blinked hard at the unexpected emotion. He didn’t even know these people. Coughing to cover the moisture welling in his eyes, pretending some food had gone down the wrong way, he returned the album to its spot on the shelf. His sudden sadness wasn’t so much for the family because he hoped they were safe somewhere, but for the world that was lost to them forever.
“What’s wrong, Dad?” Hunter scraped the last bite of watercress and tuna onto his fork, popping it into his mouth.
Cole shook his head and cleared his throat. “Nothing. Let’s get going.”
20
Cole gave Hunter’s shoulder a shake and leaned in close. “Wake up. It’s time.”
Hunter had taken the first watch and had slept about four hours while Cole had taken the second watch. He blinked gritty eyes, then rubbed them to no avail. Only a solid eight hours of sleep would cure his problem. Good thing that as dawn approached his body had released a jolt of adrenaline into his blood. His muscles felt jumpy, like he needed to go for a long run. Drizzling a few drops of water on his hand, he smeared it on his face and in his hair, gasping as the cold water dispelled any last shreds of fatigue and some of the grittiness. He shook his head like a dog exiting the water.
“Whoa, Dad. Thanks for the shower.” Hunter held his hand out, flinching away from the spray of water.
“Glad I could help.”
His son gave him a look, and Cole hid a grin as he handed Hunter the can of olives he’d opened. “I already ate my share.” He’d eaten about a dozen and wished for more. After their meager dinner the night before, they needed something to fortify them and it was all they had. They could fill up later, once Jake and Sophie were safe.
“Did you find a way in?” Hunter tossed a few of the olives in his mouth, then took a sip of water. Under cover of darkness, they’d been able to replenish their water supplies at the beach before finding a spot for their makeshift tent just around a bend from the compound. They had the extra canteen now too.
“Yes, there’s a spot with a gap beneath the fence, where the ground dips down. They covered it with a log and some dirt. It looks almost as if it’s part of the hill, but the dirt hasn’t had time to harden. I think with sturdy levers, we can roll the log out of the way.”
“Like a stick?” Hunter held up the can of olives. “Want some more?”
Cole shook his head. He was still hungry, but Hunter needed it more than he did. His son gave him a long look, but then upended the can, letting the last few tumble into his mouth. “Yes. I found a couple of thick branches that seem strong enough for the task.”
“Okay, let’s go.” Hunter tossed the can in his pack. They had learned to be careful what they threw away. The can could become a little cooking pot in a pinch.
They opted to leave the packs in the tent for now so they could move more quickly and quietly, carrying just their weapons and their levers.
A line of dark clouds over the lake made it seem earlier than it was, but a faint streak slashed across the eastern horizon slightly lighter than the water. Cole estimated they had about thirty minutes before true dawn and they had to get the log moved before they lost the advantage of darkness and surprise.
It took them only moments to reach the log, and working silently, they each wedged their branch beneath it. The first effort only managed to loosen it, but after they each repositioned their branches, getting them farther beneath the log, Cole gave the signal and they pushed down.
Just as the wood shifted, Cole’s lever broke, cracking like a shot in the darkness. He stumbled, his hand scraping across the jagged edge of the branch.
Hunter rushed to Cole’s side, but Cole waved him beneath the gap. “Go!” The whispered command sounded as loud as a shout. Dammit. The element of surprise had been lost. Hunter, flat on his belly, checked both directions, then pulled the rest of his body through.
Cole handed the rifles into Hunter then dropped to his stomach and wriggled through the gap. The log they’d moved rolled back into place, catching his foot in the process. He yanked it free, and struggled to his feet and took his rifle back, his breathing loud in his ears. If they hadn’t heard the crack of the branch breaking, for sure they heard him breathing like a bull about to charge.
Hunter leaned in and whispered near Cole’s ear, “Which way?”
Cole pointed towards the beach. It was the last place they’d seen Jake and Sophie, and there was a sliding door from a walkout basement beneath the deck affording them entry to the house if necessary while the beach offered an escape route. Going to the front of the house was akin to entering a blind canyon. They would be trapped.
The ground was uneven but Hunter took the path down in with the agility of a mountain goat, while Cole struggled to descend without tumbling head over heels. At the bottom of the hill, there was just enough light to see shadows beneath the deck. Some of the dark lumps were discernable as chairs and two were clearly picnic tables. Each table had a darker lump on top. The one closest to them shifted.
Cole raised his rifle. The sliding door rattled at the same time. “Hunter! Door!” The time for silence had passed. He stepped forward and prodded the lump on the table. It felt like a body. “Show your hands!”
Hunter, on Cole’s right, pivoted, bringing his rifle to bear on the slider just as two men stepped through onto the cement beneath the deck. “Freeze! Drop the rifles!”
There was a clatter as the men did as they were instructed.
The lump let out a muffled answer, and Cole prodded harder against a blanket that covered whoever it was. The response sounded like a strangled yelp followed by, “Ko!”
“Dad, it’s Jake!”
Cole spared a glance at Hunter who covered the two men with his rifle. Someone lit a light from within, illuminating the silhouettes of the men like a spotlight. Probably not the best strategy but he wasn’t going to complain. The lump from the second picnic table grew smaller.
Reaching out, Cole pulled back the blanket covering the first lump, finding Jake struggling to move from his right side to a kneeling position. His hands were bound behind him, and a gag tied in his mouth. His left eye was swollen shut and dried blood crusted his eyebrow and nose.
Cole pulled the gag down. “Jake, how many of them are there?” He cast a frantic glance at the men in the doorway, then around to see if anyone was coming from the other side of the house.
“Eight or nine, I think.” Jake gasped the words. “Untie me.”
Cole set the rifle down but withdrew his handgun from his holster. Keeping it in his right hand, he took out his knife and awkwardly sawed through the rope around Jake’s wrists.
“Dad! Watch out!”
In the split second it took Cole to follow Hunter’s gaze where it locked on the deck above them, a bullet whistled past Cole’s head and ricocheted off the cement sending a chunk grazing his thigh.
Shit! Someone had tried to shoot him through the deck. He shoved the barrel of his revolver into a knothole and fired a couple of rounds. He didn’t know if he hit anyone, but whoever was up there scrambled to the far side of the deck.
Slicing the last strand of rope, Cole pushed the rifle at Jake and rushed to the second lump. He flung the blanket off, finding Sophie curled i
n a ball and shaking, either with fear or cold. Maybe both. He tried to reassure her that everything was going to be okay as he cut through her bindings, but she didn’t respond. It wasn’t until he removed her gag that she made eye contact, and threw herself in his arms. Anger coursed through him at the fear in her eyes. Prying her arms from his neck, he made sure she could stand. He’d kill the bastards if they touched a hair on her head.
“I need you to listen to me, Sophie.” He gave her the knife, wishing he had another handgun. Hunter did, but now wasn’t the time to have him hand it over, but there was no way he could let her be unarmed.
“Who are you?”
The voice came from in front of Cole. He shoved Sophie behind him and looked at Hunter, who still had the two men in his sights. Jake held Cole’s rifle, aiming towards where the voice had come from.
“We came to get our people. Back away and we’ll be on our way. No harm, no foul.”
One look at Jake and it was apparent that there had been some ‘harm’, but the kid was upright and conscious, so Cole was willing to walk away. With one arm around Sophie, he edged towards the front of the deck. He didn’t like these close quarters. “Hunter! Jake! Beach!”
“Hold it!” A man stood, the light from the rising sun behind him casting his face in shadow.
Cole recognized the voice from the one who had stood guard over Jake and Sophie yesterday. “No. We’re leaving. In five minutes, you all can go back to whatever it is you’re doing here.”
“Not with our possessions, you aren’t.”
“We’re not taking anything of yours. We just want to leave. We’re not intending to hurt anyone.”
“The boy and the girl are ours.”
“Bullshit!” Jake shouted, he sighted down the barrel, his face twisted into a mask of rage Cole had never seen him wear before. It took a lot to rile Jake, and seeing him like this caused the hair on Cole’s arms to stand up.
Sympatico Syndrome Trilogy Box Set Page 44