He urged Red to a trot as they crossed farmland, casting an anxious eye to the west as the sky darkened. A steel gray line of clouds threatened an ominous change in the weather. A minute or so later, a blast of wind hit him and he cursed when he smelled fresh snow in the air. The field rose, giving him a good view of the surrounding countryside. There was no sign of the deer. Cole swore. He’d been sure when he topped the rise that he’d see the deer somewhere ahead, even if they were only specks in the distance. All that met his eye was miles of open fields broken up by patches of woods. With only about forty-five minutes of light left and the weather turning, he debated abandoning the chase. He found the trail leading off to his right, the tracks heading for a thickly wooded area.
The stand of woods didn’t seem large, probably only a few acres before it opened onto another field on the other side. The whole area was mostly farmland before the virus hit and he noted a red barn to the east. He might have to make that his shelter for the night if it was suitable. Where there was a barn, there should be a farmhouse, but he was leery of approaching anyplace that might have people after what had happened with Jake and Sophie. Better to avoid houses as much as possible.
He pulled his water bottle out, glad for its vacuum, and took a long drink. It was guaranteed to keep cold drinks cold for days but it worked both ways and kept whatever was in it from freezing for a long time as well. He’d filled his with weak tea, using Jenna’s left over teabag. He wasn’t looking for much flavor, just something to make the hot water taste better.
For the horse, he had a couple of gallon zipper sealed bags three quarters full of water. Elly had fashioned an insulated length of cloth with pouches on either end. When draped over the horse, a thin strap went beneath the horse like a girth strap, with Velcro fasteners to keep the pouches snug against the horse. A couple of shoestrings secured to ties to the saddle to keep the whole thing from slipping. She’d explained that in theory the horse’s body heat should keep the water from freezing. So far, it had worked, and when he rolled the edges of the bag down a few inches, it formed a bucket, of sorts.
Cole gazed over the wooded area, debating what to do next. It wasn’t thick forest, so if he entered, he wasn’t worried about getting lost. He decided to track the deer through the woods if that’s where the trail led but if it changed course and led away over into another field, he’d give up. If he didn’t bet the deer were getting ready to bed down, he’d turn back now.
He picked up his pace, hoping to catch up to the deer before they outdistanced him. Maybe he should have just built a rough stand in a likely spot and hoped deer would wander by. While he had tracked deer a few times, he was definitely no expert tracker, but coming across the tracks and following them had seemed a no-brainer a few hours ago. He’d ridden Red for most of the way, the tracks were that easy to follow, so he knew he had a chance of catching up if he didn’t run out of light first.
At the first tree he came to, he dismounted and threw the reins around a low branch to secure the horse. He could move more quickly through the woods without leading Red.
Cole took a moment to adjust the power of the scope on his rifle, setting it at its lowest power. If he found the deer in here, they would have to be close for him to hit one. He crept between trees, scanning the underbrush for places a deer would go if it wanted to bed down. Racking his brain for every scrap of hunting knowledge he had, he stopped several times, thinking a patch of snow in a bush was the white tuft from an ear, or a dead branch, stripped of bark, was an antler.
He lost the tracks at one point, but picked them up again off to the side. He squatted and tested the edge of one track, finding that the snow still felt soft and powdery around the edges. Staying in a crouch, he studied the area ahead of him where the tracks led. The wind whipped through the trees and he wasn’t sure if it was snowing or just blowing snow from the branches, but the air thickened with snow, easing between blasts of wind, and picking up again moments later.
Branches creaked and some broke, and he realized that one advantage he had was that it would cover the sound of his approach if he did spot one of the animals. He crossed a small clearing about ten yards wide, picking up the tracks on the other side, then he stopped. Was that another branch or was it an actual antler? He raised his rifle, using the scope to get a better look. He still wasn’t sure. Lowering the scope a fraction, he looked over it to widen his perspective. The branch/antler seemed to rise in front of a log. A tree made the log appear too short to be the back of a deer, but what if the rest of the deer was on the other side of the tree?
He waited, his toes going numb. Cole resisted the urge to stamp his feet to get his circulation going and sighted just below and behind what he thought was an antler or branch. Even if it was just a branch, he was pretty much at the end of the line. The light was fading fast. He decided his odds weren’t good whether he kept pressing forward until the next field, or stopped here and waited to see if it was a deer. If it was, it would move… eventually.
Time passed in slow motion. His nose ran from the cold, his fingers felt stiff on the trigger guard, and his feet… well, he couldn’t even tell for sure they were still attached to his ankles. He hoped they were.
Blinking to clear snowflakes from his eyelashes, he focused through the scope. He’d give it another minute or two, then he’d head back and find Red.
When the antler moved, he flinched, so surprised that it was actually the buck and not his imagination turning a branch into what he wished it to be. The antler rose as the buck stood. Cole held his breath as the animal seemed to look right at him. Without pausing to see what he’d do, Cole aimed. He’d been taught to go for the heart and lungs, but he knew that often left the deer alive long enough to run away. He couldn’t chase a wounded deer through the dark. If he didn’t kill it immediately, he likely wouldn’t get the meat. A headshot was his best chance at an immediate kill. He was no sharpshooter, but he was focused and the deer was close. He squeezed the trigger, aiming for the middle of the forehead.
The deer dropped as the doe sprung up from somewhere nearby. She was gone in a flash, but he didn’t care. He cautiously approached where the buck had gone down, ready to put another round through him if necessary. An injured buck could be dangerous.
He prodded the animal with the toe of his boot, primed to pull the trigger if the deer so much as twitched.
The buck was dead.
Cole sagged, his breath suddenly ragged as adrenaline pumped through his system. Then he grinned and did a fist pump, threw back his head and gave a primal yell of triumph.
After a minute or so of celebrating, he realized that he still had a lot of work ahead of him. He’d have to get the deer back to the island. Dragging the buck by the antlers through the woods had Cole sweating inside his parka while his feet felt like bricks. He prayed he wasn’t getting frostbite but there was nothing he could do about it now even if that was the case.
Following his own tracks was more difficult than he’d expected. With the blowing snow and near darkness, he lost his way a few times. He had a flashlight, but couldn’t aim it and pull the deer at the same time. Fallen logs and thick stands of trees forced him to deviate from his own trail twice. On the way in, he’d been able to dodge through narrow openings between trees, but when he tried to pull the buck through one, it became wedged and he was forced to shove it back and go around.
By the time he found Red, Cole was almost spent. He leaned against the horse, his breath coming in great gulps. Red side-stepped, his ears back. He must have caught the scent of blood on his clothes. They hadn’t used the horses before because they wanted to keep a low profile, not be easy to pick off by someone who wanted their supplies and especially the horses. Besides, with only the two horses, it didn’t make sense. Whatever they killed was just as easily carried between two people on a pole as secured to a travois.
“It’s okay, Red. Nothing here to hurt you.” Cole tugged off a glove and fished in his pocket for a carrot. He�
��d stashed a few for the horse as a reward, and gave him one now as he murmured encouragement and thanks for being patient with him. “There ya go. I know it’s late and we’re both wiped, but we just have a little bit more to do, then I’ll get you somewhere warm. How does that sound, Red?” He stroked the horse’s neck until he settled down.
Cole hoped the horse wouldn’t freak out when he actually had to pull the travois loaded with the deer. He hadn’t thought about how the horse would react to pulling a dead animal. Cole shook his head at how proud he’d been of himself for thinking through using the horses to bring kills back and packing poles and canvas to use as a travois. He and Hunter had tested it back at the island and Red had been fine pulling it when it was tethered to the saddle, but that was only when it was filled with logs.
Well, the horse would have a few minutes to get used to the scent as Cole field dressed the deer. It was one job where his years of science and biology had paid off in that gutting the animal didn’t faze him. He’d dissected more animals than he cared to remember in various labs, in addition to his moderate experience hunting. In fact, he remembered his dad had thought he was a little weird about how clinical he’d been when gutting his first deer.
“Damn it!” Cole examined his hand to make sure he hadn’t cut himself when the knife had slipped from his grasp. He fished it out of the snow and made his final slices to release its organs. The intestines and the bladder hadn’t leaked, and that was the most important thing. The rest might not be so neat and tidy, but the meat would be good. He made sure to get the liver and the heart. Both could be eaten and the liver was full of nutrients. He made a mental note to make sure Sophie ate some. She was probably a little anemic with the pregnancy and its resulting lack of appetite. When he’d hunted in the past, they never bothered with those organs because nobody wanted to eat them.
It normally only took him only twenty minutes to field dress a deer, but he usually had help, and he didn’t tend to hunt in January. Cole fumbled with the knife, his fingers clumsy from cold. He made a fist and blew into it a few times hoping to bring some sensation back to the numb digits. If he sliced one off, he wasn’t even sure he’d feel it. Snow whipped in swirling curtains of white in near blizzard conditions and his eyes watered from the frigid wind.
He’d secured his flashlight across the saddle, aiming it downward so he’d be able to see what he was doing, but Red was so skittish, it had been like performing surgery under a strobe light. One second, it was there, the next, gone. Cole blew out a deep breath. All he had to do now was tie up the carcass and secure it to the travois. He’d already assembled the travois, thank God. It took him another five minutes to wrestle the deer onto the canvas, secure it, and then give Red another carrot. He only had one more, so he sure hoped the horse would get used to his burden sooner rather than later.
Cole attempted to climb onto the saddle, but he was so cold he couldn’t grip the saddle horn to pull himself up. He worried about over-burdening Red, so he wrapped the reins around his fist and led him in the direction of the barn he’d seen earlier.
Shining the flashlight ahead of him, Cole struggled through drifts up to his waist in some places. Where the hell was the barn? It seemed he should have reached it already. He paused to catch his breath, directing the beam around, but the light reflected off the snow and he felt like he was trapped in a snow globe. He turned the light off, hoping he’d see better without it, but it was too dark and too snowy. Since it didn’t matter one way or another, he left it off to conserve the battery. He had a spare set on him, but back on the island there were only a few more batteries that fit this flashlight.
What would he do if he couldn’t find that barn? It was the only building he’d seen for miles. He was sure there were other farms around, but he could stumble within fifty yards of a farmhouse or barn and never realize it. Before the power went out, most of them would have had a light burning somewhere in the farmyard—he’d seen plenty from the road at night and had never given them a second thought. If he didn’t find the barn or any other kind of shelter, his one option was a tiny tent he’d brought along. The wind would make it a challenge to set up and it didn’t provide any cover, so it really wasn’t much of an option. He had to find shelter, even if it was just another stand of woods.
Hunter awoke, disoriented for a moment. He’d just become accustomed to sleeping in the smaller cabin with Sophie before the flu hit. With Jenna also under the weather, but also the person who was trying to take care of everyone, they had temporarily taken up residence in the house again. It was too cold to go between the house and the cabin for Jenna, and Sophie had begun spotting. Jenna wanted to keep a close eye on her. Jake was feeling a little better and was keeping an eye on Joe.
Sophie had taken the sofa and he slept in the old, ratty, recliner. He glanced in her direction, discerning the pale outline of her white comforter curled on the couch.
The house was quiet. Had his father returned so silently that nobody had awakened? Hunter couldn’t believe he would have slept through his arrival. He pulled the handle to sit up and scrubbed a hand down his face. His muscles were stiff and sore as if he’d just played a game of football. A cough shook him, making his throat feel as if he’d swallowed glass. He glanced at Sophie, glad he hadn’t awakened her. The dull ache behind his eyes let him know he still had a fever. He leaned over Sophie, planting a kiss on her forehead. Was it cooler? It was difficult to tell when he was still running a fever himself.
She stirred. “Hey, babe.”
“I’m sorry I woke you up. I was trying to be quiet as a ninja.” He smiled, and she gave him a half-hearted one in return.
“It’s okay.”
“How are you feeling? Are you still… ?” He directed his gaze at her lower abdomen, eyebrow raised. The spotting had scared him half to death. It wasn’t until he thought they might lose the baby that it became real to him. Jenna had tried to reassure them both, and Sophie was taking it better than Hunter, but they were both terrified.
“I’m not sure. I’m afraid to check. Still some cramps, but not as bad as before. I think.” Her voice, small and afraid, cut him to the quick. She turned onto her back and scooted higher on the sofa. “What time is it?”
Hunter glanced into the kitchen. The lamp was turned down. That must mean his dad was back. They had kept it turned up all the way to help his dad find the island out of the vast expanse of snow-covered frozen lake. He sat on the end of the couch, bringing one of Sophie’s feet into his lap, and began rubbing it absentmindedly. “How long ago did my dad return?”
“He’s back?”
“The lantern is turned low.”
Sophie sat up and looked into the kitchen. She reached for a cup on the coffee table and brought it to her lips, then lowered it, looking puzzled. “I’ve only been asleep a little while—the tea is still warm. I’m sure I would have woken up if your dad came in. Maybe he just went directly to the cabin next door?”
He set her feet aside and grabbed his boots on a mat beside the door, taking a moment to tug them on. “I’m going to check.”
As soon as he opened the door, the wind tried to whip it away from his grasp. Grabbing the handle, he shut it firmly and bowed his head against the storm. It scared him to think of his father out in this, alone. He wouldn’t survive. Hunter waded through fresh snow that reached higher than his knees, grimacing as clumps fell into the top of his boot. A good fifteen inches had fallen on top of the eight inches already on the ground.
He threw a prayer to the sky that his dad had made it home without him noticing it but the prayer died on his lips as he rounded the corner and found the snow unblemished. “Shit!” Hunter turned and scanned the surrounding area. No new tracks led up to the small porch. It was possible that they had already been covered by drifting snow, but he didn’t think so. There should have been a depression left, especially close to the door where the area was somewhat protected by an overhang.
A huge drift had formed in the mid
dle of the porch and he had to wade through it to get into the cabin. Like the house, the cabin had a lantern glowing in the window, but the thick, blowing snow made it nearly invisible until Hunter was beside the window. Seeing the feeble light barely illuminate the porch beneath the window made his heart sink. There was no way it would serve to guide his dad home. So much for keeping a candle in the window.
He opened the door of the cabin. The fire in the stove was banked, giving off little heat. The bedroom doors were open to gain what little warmth they could and he moved to the left where his dad had been sleeping the last few nights. He pulled out a disposable lighter and flicked it. The bed was empty.
Hunter raced out of the cabin and back to the house. “Elly!” He stomped his feet, not caring who he woke up.
Elly’s door opened and she came out dressed in sweats, thick socks on her feet. “What is it, Hunter?”
“Dad’s not back.” He left his coat on, unsure what to do. His gut reaction was to charge out into the storm to find his father.
She glanced at the hook where his father’s coat usually hung. “Did you check the cabin?”
He nodded.
“He just came back from there.” Sophie moved to the kitchen and put a pot of water on the stove, stirring up the coals in the belly of the oven and adding a few more sticks of wood.
Elly bit her lip then turned to look over her shoulder as Sean and Jenna left their room.
“What’s all the commotion?”
“Cole’s still out there.”
“My dad’s out in the blizzard,” Hunter answered at the same time as Elly.
Sean moved to the window, wrapping his hands along the sides of his face to peer outside. He drew back and rubbed the steamy pane. “I can’t see a damn thing.” He tried again, but shook his head.
“I think we should go look for him, Uncle Sean.”
Sympatico Syndrome Trilogy Box Set Page 49