Hunter leaned forward and circled the heel of his palm on the dusty window, squinting through the marginally cleaner pane. He blinked. No way. The plume of white moved to within a mile or so of the town limits and headlights sliced through the cloud of snow.
“Oh, shit!”
27
Cole entered the outskirts of Oconto and crossed the highway west of town. The only way he knew he’d crossed was because of the road signs, and the ditches on either side of the lanes.
He wished he had a set of binoculars but then remembered the scope on his rifle and took it from the scabbard he’d rigged for the saddle. He’d ridden through a gap between low hills east of the highway, and climbed the slight rise on his left for a better view. Lifting the rifle to his shoulder, he peered through the scope to check on the location of the caravan. All of the vehicles were close enough for him to see clearly, but with the scope he could pick out the number of people in some of the vehicles.
His pulse sounded in his ears and his mouth went dry. He hadn’t seen this many people together since the early days of the pandemic. It was odd how a year ago seeing five vehicles on the road wouldn’t have meant anything to him, but now all he could think about was wondering if they posed danger to his family.
Each pickup was crammed with at least six passengers. The windows were tinted on two of the other vehicles, but the third had at least six more, possibly seven but he wasn’t sure if he counted one head twice since the people moved at times, leaning forward, or turning.
If the trucks were packed to the gills, then it made sense for each car to have at least six people each—otherwise what was the point of cramming so many into the trucks? His rough estimate came to thirty people, probably a few more. Cole put the rifle away and urged Red forward. He didn’t want to be seen, but counted on the cover of the snow cloud created by the vehicles to hide him.
He tried to shake off his feeling of impending doom, but over the last six months, he’d learned to listen to his gut instincts.
Cole put himself in another survivor’s mindset—it wasn’t at all difficult. Food is running out. Where would he go and what would he do? He glanced back at the deer gliding along on top of the snow. There was his answer, but he only had the deer because he’d misjudged the weather. If he’d have suspected a blizzard was going to hit, he’d have held off hunting.
What if this group couldn’t hunt? He imagined some folks who survived the virus lacked survival skills. They may have socked away food and other supplies, or been lucky and found supplies after the virus hit. He thought of the fire that had destroyed their storage shed and wondered if they had suffered a similar calamity. Sometimes shit happened even when you thought you had planned for everything.
While he’d bagged the deer, he considered it mostly luck that he had stumbled across the deer tracks when he had. He hadn’t seen any other signs of wildlife. Just like people, animals tended to hunker down in storms.
Cole knew if he was hungry and hunting was out of the question, he would scavenge every house, barn or store in the area. The odds were very good about finding stashes of canned goods, and depending on storage methods, even sugar and flour were a good bet. He’d planned to do a house by house search come spring. In fact, he’d counted on the search to provide most of their food between early spring until they were producing enough on their own via fishing and farming. He scanned the nearly empty landscape. If that was the goal of this group, they would be looking for a town.
Cole glanced at the water tower. It might as well be a blinking neon sign the way it gave away the location of their town. He shook his head. When did he start thinking of the town as theirs?
They hadn’t even had a chance to fully explore what they could get from the homes and stores. There had been too many dead bodies decaying in the heat in the summer and fall, but by spring, most of them would be reduced to skeletons. As morbid as that thought was, skeletons were easier to deal with and not infectious.
But, just because he would head towards town didn’t mean the caravan would go there. While large by comparison to surrounding towns, it was still little more than a village. Better pickings would certainly be available in larger towns along the shore of Lake Michigan, or even inland towards Oshkosh.
The caravan could be heading anywhere—perhaps Milwaukee, or even Chicago. Or, they could be making a run for Texas or Florida, for all he knew. It would make sense. Cole had considered it for next year if the rest of the group agreed. Gasoline should still be readily available from stranded vehicles, or maybe they could somehow get a few of the pumps working at gas stations. If they waited much longer, gasoline would degrade to the point of being unusable.
The pickup trucks slalomed around mounds created by stranded vehicles. Cole barely noticed them anymore, they were such a common sight. At times, he was certain the caravan left the road entirely, plowing at odd angles across the fields. With the snow, and the ground frozen hard as concrete, it didn’t matter too much. Nobody was going to chase after them and write them up a ticket, that was for sure.
The people in the compound were the only people he knew for sure lived nearby—and they’d had vehicles. He hadn’t paid much attention to what kind, having been more concerned about Jake and Sophie, but he also knew that they hadn’t seemed to have much food on hand, according to the teens.
Once the caravan passed him, he urged Red forward again, keeping an eye on the vehicles as he made a beeline for a county highway that took a direct route into town. The road the caravan was on swung west a mile or so before it gradually turned back in. They had disturbed the snow so much that he was pretty confident that anyone looking back wouldn’t see him.
“Come on, Red. I know you’re tired, but we’re almost home.”
The town was southeast of him and he angled towards it. He figured another twenty minutes, and he’d be inside the town. Then it was just another half-hour across the ice to the island. He’d added a little time to account for Red being burdened with the travois, but he could stash the carcass in the garage barn if he had to. He didn’t want to though. They needed this meat and anything could happen to it if he had to stash it away from the island. Dogs, rats, or even people, could all find it.
The caravan was almost a mile down the road when Cole reached the freshly plowed trail they’d created. He turned onto it, deciding that getting back to the island as soon as possible outweighed the risk of being spotted. Although the snow had settled where he was, the caravan still kicked up enough to keep him hidden from their sight.
When the caravan turned left, toward town, Cole’s sense of impending doom moved beyond a mere feeling, to outright fear. Who were they and why were they heading into town?
Cole pressed forward but reined Red in when he spotted an open garage door. At first, he thought someone was inside then he realized it was a large cardboard cutout of a famous actor. He’d seen similar cutouts at movie theaters. The floor of the garage was littered with leaves, snow, and debris. He’d thought about stashing the deer at the garage barn, but the weight was slowing the horse down. The home appeared abandoned, but short of exploring the house, there was no way to know for sure. He’d just have to take a chance that no one lived there, and the odds were good.
With time of the essence, he slashed the leather straps with his hunting knife and dragged the travois into the garage. He spotted the emergency release for the electric door, and pulled down on the handle, disengaging the door from the track so it would roll all the way down. Mission accomplished, he exited through a side door, glanced at the house number and made a mental note of the street name so he could return to get the deer tomorrow.
Red’s breath blew out in great billowing clouds of vapor as Cole remounted. The poor animal had already done more than a full day’s work, and now Cole was asking even more of him. He had to get to the island before the caravan did. “Come on, big guy. Just a few more miles.”
Cole searched for the plume of snow. It was no longer
north of him, but due west. Soon, they would hit the part of the highway that swung back towards town. Dammit! They were closer than he’d expected. He’d hoped that taking the shortcut down the county highway would get him ahead of the caravan since they had stuck to the main expressway on the outskirts of town. Even weaving around abandoned cars, they had made better time than Cole would have thought.
Over the past months with various hunting and scavenging expeditions, both on horseback and by vehicle, he’d become familiar with the layout of the town, and he knew the caravan still had to navigate around a massive traffic pileup where the highway exited into town. Vehicles traveling in both directions had crashed, either as a result of sudden death of the drivers, or panic-stricken drivers driving too fast. Cole didn’t really know what had caused it, but over the summer, he’d learned to take the backroads and county highways. There were wrecks on those roads too, but Cole and Sean, with Hunter and Jake’s help, had spent a few days clearing a path all the way through. It wasn’t hard, but took some muscle and use of a few larger vehicles they were able to find keys for. They hadn’t had to move them far, only pushing the vehicles into ditches.
Cole almost pitched over Red’s head when the animal faltered when they were a block from the edge of the frozen bay. Cole clung to the saddle by sheer willpower. The horse didn’t appear injured, but he was too exhausted to go much further. The bay was close, though. The flat expanse of snow and ice spread out less than a quarter mile away, but the barn garage was even closer—just a few blocks. He decided to leave the horse there and take his own vehicle.
Cole unsaddled Red and emptied all of the water that he had from his canteen and bottle he’d carried for Red into the bucket. “I’ll be back for you as soon as I can.”
He rummaged through his pack for his ammunition, loading it into his right coat pocket where it would be handy.
Cole felt in his other pocket, then patted the pockets at the front top of his jacket. He’d thought about starting the vehicles while on the mainland to keep the batteries from dying, but had he actually grabbed the keys? A lifetime of habit paid off when he felt them where he used to keep them before the virus. He always reserved his right side pocket for his phone and got tired of the keys scratching the screen.
He still had to pray the SUV would start. The vehicle had been parked for over a month, but at least they had moved all of them into empty garages. It wasn’t just to protect them from the weather, but also to keep them from any other strangers who happened by.
Once out of the barn, he sprinted, such as it was, to the garage. He plunged his hand into the snow and felt around for the handle. They had disengaged this door from the track assembly just as he’d done the other one. Raising the door only took a moment.
Cole jumped in the vehicle and turned the key. “Come on, baby.” He pounded his left fist on the top of the wheel when it failed to start the first time. He blew out a deep breath and tried again. After a brief delay, it struggled to life. As much as he wanted to gun his way out of the garage, he waited a moment until he was sure the engine wouldn’t die again.
Cole checked the gas gauge. A little less than half a tank. That would be more than enough to reach the island, even with the four wheel drive engaged. He only had to go a few miles.
He pushed the button, and plowed through the drifts out to the road.
His knowledge of the shore came in handy because he knew the best places to get onto the frozen water without having to deal with ditches or bluffs. It was the same way he’d come through on Red.
Once on the bay, he opened up and raced towards the island, but deep snow prevented the car from going as fast as Cole wanted to travel. His hands clenched on the wheel, both out of frustration and out of the need to keep the car from spinning out. The sun had dropped low on the horizon and when he checked his rearview mirror, he couldn’t spot the plume of snow. Had they continued on, bypassing the island? Was he panicking for nothing? He slowed the vehicle, feeling silly for abandoning the deer, and considered turning around to retrieve it.
Did he have enough time before full darkness hit? He could always return for it in the morning, but what if his deer was discovered? But that garage looked like it had been untouched since the pandemic began. He debated. With the vehicle, it wouldn’t take him more than forty minutes to return, get the deer, and head back to the island. He almost pulled around, but then thought that everyone must be wondering where he was. The least he could do was let them know he was fine, then go back and retrieve the deer. Maybe Hunter was feeling well enough to help him.
Movement to his right caught his attention. The caravan, coming from the south was either heading towards the island, or crossing the bay. What reason could they have to head to the other side of the bay? He supposed there were plenty, but why wait and cross this far south? They could have crossed a few miles north around the area of the compound where the land was more even with the bay. With no stranded vehicles to maneuver around, the frozen bay was a wide open highway. It could have been that they hadn’t thought of it before now, but he didn’t think so. There had to be a reason the caravan was heading to the island
Cole pressed the gas. He needed to get there first, but it was going to be close. The caravan had plows while his vehicle had to slog through several feet of snow. Halfway to the island, he spotted something dark moving on the ice. He slowed. What the hell was it? It was too small to be a vehicle, but too large to be a deer.
28
Hunter leaned low over Princess’s neck, urging her to go faster through the snow, but the poor little mare’s flanks heaved as she fought through the drifts.
He spared a glance for the cars and trucks speeding over the ice towards the island. Shit! The group would reach the island before he would. Should he fire his gun as a warning to those at the house? Would anyone even hear it? The snow muffled everything and made sounds difficult to locate. He doubted it would do any good. There was no way someone in the house wouldn’t see the bright headlights speeding across the snow. He could only pray he’d get there in time to help them if the people proved hostile.
The house was on the southern side of the island, towards the western edge. It protected them from the worst of the elements, but now it made it impossible for him to reach the house before the people in the cars did. He spotted the fire he’d built earlier, the embers glowing like a beacon through the deepening dusk.
He didn’t trust strangers anymore. Not after his journey across the country and after what happened to his dad, Jake, and Sophie. They couldn’t afford to sit back and wait to see what the intruders’ intentions were. The northern edge of the island was only about a thousand yards away, but venturing on over land out of sight of the cars—tempting though it was—would take too long. The woods and hills would slow him down. No, it was better to head straight to the house.
The boom of a rifle report sounded simultaneously with a burst of snow from the ice in front of Hunter and Princes. Startled, Hunter ducked as Princess shied, her hooves scrabbling on the ice beneath the surface. Struggling to hang on and worried Princess had been hit, Hunter didn’t hear the vehicle coming up from behind him until it gave a short beep of its horn.
Hunter glanced over his shoulder. Another car? What the hell? Snow dusted the roof, hiding the color. Flustered and feeling like a sitting duck trapped between the oncoming group and one car approaching from behind, he turned Princess to the left, straight at the embers. Maybe the fire would stop a car from crossing that narrow bit of beach. It was the only place on the western side of the island that had a beach. Every other bit of shoreline rose out of the water five to ten feet and would be impossible for a car or horse to climb directly. Of course, a car could just go around to the south side with its wide expanse of beach—exactly where the group of cars were heading now.
The embers glowed only a few hundred yards away. The car behind wasn’t moving as fast as the group ahead and to the right of him, but it still closed the gap far
more quickly than Hunter anticipated.
The horn tapped again, and Hunter drew his gun. He didn’t expect to hit anything at this distance with a handgun, especially on horseback, but maybe it would give the driver pause.
Just as he leveled it, the horn sounded again; two short toots and one long blast. It triggered a memory. When he was a little kid and his dad would return from travel for work, he’d use that same sequence to announce his return home. He drew back on the reins and straightened. The vehicle’s headlights flashed in the same sequence as the horn. Could it be… ?
Hunter checked the location of the group coming across the ice. They were going to make it to the house ahead of him.
The vehicle came closer and he realized it was an SUV. The window rolled down as it closed the gap. Despite the dire situation, Hunter grinned. “Dad! ”
He wanted to ask him where he’d been and where was Red, but there wasn’t time. He pointed to the small beach. “I have to get back!”
“I know. Get in! I don’t know what the hell those guys are planning, but we need to be there.”
“But what about Princess?”
“Take out the bit and let her go. She’ll head back to the stable on her own.”
Hunter dismounted and did as his dad said, grabbing his rifle and pack from the back of the saddle before slapping the horse’s rump to get her moving. He leaped into the passenger seat. “I have my handgun and rifle.”
His dad nodded to the hunting rifle. “Good. Sean has the rest of the guns except what I brought with me. I just hope he’s up to helping us defend the house.”
Hunter checked to make sure all the weapons were loaded and lowered the window, propping his rifle on the ledge. The caravan had slowed as it drew near the beach and his dad sped up, turning to where the western edge of the sand would be if it wasn’t buried. A stand of birch trees marked the northern border that divided the beach from the rest of the grounds. The cars in the group slowed to a crawl, a couple of them turning in a wide circle.
Sympatico Syndrome Trilogy Box Set Page 52