The crackle of wood in the fireplace drew Cole’s first gaze and he noted a pot hanging over the fire. Steam rose from it as a mouth-watering aroma greeted them. He’d had worse welcomes, but he didn’t let the homey atmosphere lull him into letting his guard down. Hunter stood beside him, also appearing to ignore the food as he looked at the men sprawled on the couch, the floor, and on a mattress that must have been dragged into the room. That made sense, it being the warmest room and all.
A short, stocky guy brought in a couple of kitchen chairs and set them near the fire, gesturing to them. “Be our guest.”
“Thank you, but we’re not staying long.” Cole looked at the blond man. “I’m Cole, this is Hunter. We just wanted to update you on one of your own. Mike was doing fine this morning when Hunter checked him, isn’t that right?” He glanced at Hunter, who nodded.
The blond man tipped his mug by way of greeting. “I’m Neil. Glad to meet you, Cole. And thanks for helping out our buddy.”
Cole nodded. “He seems like a good man.”
Hunter’s gaze held steady and his voice was firm. “Good to meet you, Neil.” Cole noted how Hunter was nearly as tall as the other man. His shoulders were wider and though his beard wasn’t quite as thick, not that much of it was visible with the mask stretched across Hunter’s face.
A hint of pride tinged Cole’s thoughts as he observed his son. Anyone looking at him for the first time would not dismiss Hunter as a young kid, and the wariness Cole noted in the other men when they looked at him was based not just on his size, but the way he carried himself. In this group of men, his son fit right in. They were all survivors. It was the first time Cole had seen him in this light. Not as his son—still a kid in his mind— but as an adult. He’d not just filled out, he’d grown up.
After being introduced to the other men, who wandered in and out of the room, the stench of unwashed bodies almost over-powering the aroma of whatever was cooking in the pot, Cole just wanted to give their update and get out of there.
“Mike’s a great guy. He might look like a big oaf, but don’t let his act fool you. I’ve worked with him for years and he’s one of the best.”
“… best? At what?”
Neil laughed. “Sorry. He’s a machinist. His dad was one too. It’s like, in his blood.”
“So you’re one also?”
“Sure am. Fifteen years now.” Neil motioned to the stocky guy. “And this guy here, Tony, is Mike’s cousin. He’s a plumber. ”
Tony nodded but didn’t step forward to speak to them. Instead, he turned and stirred the contents of the pot on the fire. When he lifted the lid, the aroma wafted through the air, pushing out the stink from the men and whatever had been in the house before they had moved in.
Cole could have sworn he heard Hunter’s stomach growl, but his son didn’t say anything about the food, but said to Neil, “I saw Mike this morning, when Jenna—she’s the one treating Mike’s hand— checked on him. She said the redness and swelling have gone way down, and he told her he’s feeling a lot better, too.”
“That is so awesome to hear!” Neil grinned and waved towards the pot. “Are you guys hungry? We have plenty.”
The offer was tempting, but Cole turned it down. The other men weren’t wearing masks and eating with them would necessitate taking off their own. “We have to be getting back. From what I understand, the treatment for Mike will take several more days. He’s getting some I.V. antibiotics.” He wondered, as soon as he’d said that, if he should have offered that information. Medicine was valuable now, but Neil just nodded.
“Well, we intend on sticking around for a bit. With all of the feed corn left standing in the fields, we intend to stock up on venison before we head south.”
If the weather hadn’t turned when he’d gone hunting, he might have had an easier time finding deer in the corn fields. Cole wasn’t thrilled that they were going to stay and hunt, but there wasn’t anything he could do to stop them. “Steve will probably be out here in the next day or so—he’s been helping out with Mike, but is there anything you’d like me to tell him?”
“Nah, we’ll see him soon.” He scooped a ladle of what appeared to be stew into a bowl. “You’re missing out.” He set the bowl on the table, then rummaged through a box on the floor.
“Yes, it sure looks that way, but thanks for the offer.” Cole turned but paused. “So, you’re heading south?”
“Yeah. Florida or Alabama. Someplace warmer and near the ocean. Wisconsin is great in the summer and fall, but too damn cold in the winter. I’ll go stark raving mad if I have to deal with this cold another winter.”
“People managed a hundred years ago without central heat and indoor plumbing.” Cole made the comment to hear their response more than because he felt differently.
Neil chuckled. “That’s true. My own great-great grandfather was a farmer back in the 1800s. He had a dozen kids, but only seven of them made it to adulthood. It kind of makes the odds of surviving here a little longer than I care to bet on.”
Dipping a rag in a bucket of questionable clean water, Neil used it to wipe out another bowl he’d pulled from the box, then slopped another ladle full of stew into it. It looked as if they’d dodged a bullet in refusing the offer of stew earlier.
Continuing his story, Neil looked over his shoulder as he set the bowl on the table. “Three babies died before they were two, and the other three died from accidents—two at one time when they fell through the ice while cutting blocks to send East. I’m not sure how the other one died, but I wouldn’t doubt it had something to do with this god-awful cold.”
His story was a sober reminder and Cole thought of Sophie, and saw from the stricken look in Hunter’s eyes that he, too, was thinking of her and the baby. “Well, we have to get going. If there’s any change in Mike’s status, I’ll come by to tell you if Steve can’t for some reason. If I don’t see you again, have a safe trip.”
Neil nodded, holding a spoonful of stew near his lips as he blew on it. “Thanks. If we’re up this way again, we’ll stop by and say hello.”
Cole paused. “If we’re not here, we’re thinking of checking out Vegas.”
Hunter shot him a look. It was a combination of why-did-you-tell-him and are we really going.
“You feel like gambling?” Neil laughed at his own joke, but it was good-natured laughter.
Shrugging, Cole explained. “Nah, not much of a gambler, but we have some ideas about—” He was going to mention the Hoover Dam but decided to keep that info to themselves. “It’s a lot warmer than here. Anyway, if you find yourselves that way, ask around. Maybe we’ll be there.”
Neil set his spoon in the bowl and thrust his hand out. “Thanks. I’ll keep it in mind. I’m not sure about the other guys though. Some have family in Florida…or they did…” He resumed eating, “But if things don’t work out, maybe I’ll go that way myself.”
Cole motioned to Hunter and they left, the deceptively tantalizing scent of the stew clinging to him even after he was in the car. “Damn. I wish we could have stayed for lunch. But, then again—that bowl.”
Hunter laughed. “Right? Nasty.”
Cole laughed and removed his mask. “I can’t wait for the day we’ll have time and resources, and not have to take precautions before we can hang out with other people again.”
Hunter plucked the gray cat off the back seat and held her on his lap. “Yeah, it sucks having to always be on guard.” He sighed as he scratched the cat under the chin.
5
“More mouths to feed?” Sean jabbed a potato and pointed his fork, potato and all, at Hunter. “What was your dad thinking? We barely have enough for ourselves and now we have to give some of it to those cats?” He devoured the potato as if it was personally to blame for the arrival of the cats. The orange cat, named Pumpkin by Zoë, wound around Sean’s ankles as he ate, probably hoping for a scrap of food to drop.
Hunter narrowed his eyes. “They’re good mousers. You saw all the mice
on the mainland. We don’t want to lose a shitload of food to them once we head out on the road.” He didn’t normally swear when speaking to his uncle, but it slipped out, not that he really cared at this point. Sean swore a blue streak, especially when he was working on some project or another.
Sean lifted one shoulder, his jaw working a mouthful of fish. “Who said we’re going out on the road for sure? Besides, even if we do, are they going to save more than they will end up eating? We already have the chickens, goats, and Buddy to give scraps to. Now we have cats too?” He devoured his last potato and looked up, sighing as he met Hunter’s gaze. “Look, Hunter—I don’t hate cats. Believe me, a year ago if Piper asked for a kitten, I’d have considered it, but times have changed. We don’t have the luxury of keeping pets.”
Hunter knew for a fact that Sean had refused to let Piper have a kitten when she was little, recalling his cousin venting to him about it a few years ago. Her dad hated cats and said they smelled and were useless, but now he was saying he’d be okay with it if the world was back to what it was? Hunter didn’t buy it but held his tongue in order to keep the peace. Living in close quarters with his uncle was difficult at times, but they all had to make allowances to get along.
For Sean, they had to ignore his outspokenness. It was just the way he was. At least, that’s what his dad had said. Hunter didn’t agree—he thought his dad allowed his brother to ramble on because his dad still felt guilty about Trent. It was pointless to feel guilty for something that probably would have happened anyway. The only reason any of them were alive was because of his dad and Elly giving them an extra day’s notice and their excellent advice on precautions to take.
When Sean looked as if he was going to try and make another point, Hunter pushed away from the table and quickly soaped and rinsed his plate. “I’m going to see if I can catch a few fish—it won’t be such a waste when I can feed the guts to the cats.”
Drying his hands, Hunter glanced at Sean to see if he’d noticed his sarcasm, but Sean was slipping a bit of fish to Pumpkin. Hunter hid a grin.
Before he went out on the ice, he checked with Sophie to see if she needed anything, and when she mentioned wanting to make a baby comforter, he ran down to the storage cabin and grabbed some bolts of cloth and other sewing items she’d asked for.
On his way back, he almost ran into Mike as the other man came around the corner of his cabin. Hunter hadn’t seen the man except from a distance and worried that neither of them were wearing a mask.
He took a few steps back on the shoveled path, hoping the distance was enough to keep him safe. Instinctively, he held the bolt of cloth cross-wise in front of him, as though it would protect him from contamination. The snow piled on either side of the walkway prevented him from easily stepping aside. Hunter nodded. “Good morning.”
Mike smiled. “Thanks. Same. It’s Hunter, right? You look different without the mask.” He raised his uninjured hand, encased in a thick glove and held it over his nose and mouth. Hunter relaxed. He didn’t know if that was sufficient protection, but at least Mike was aware of the danger. “Sorry. I know I’m not supposed to be out but Jenna left her glasses on the table. I thought she might need them.” He held up a pair of glasses.
“I think they’re just readers, but thanks. I can take them back for you.” He reached for the proffered glasses, noting the thick bandage on Mike’s other hand.
Following Hunter’s gaze, Mike tapped a finger against the back of the bandage. “It feels so much better. I think I might even be able to hold a hammer again.”
At Hunter’s raised eyebrow, Mike added. “I was a machinist before. I was only supposed to be on the fishing trip for the weekend before starting a big job.”
Not knowing exactly what a machinist did, Hunter hadn’t connected the hammer comment with his profession. “That’s great—about the hammer thing and feeling better.” Hunter smiled. It felt good to have some positive news for a change. “Jenna’s a fantastic nurse.” He remembered how bad his dad’s gunshot wound had been and how Jenna had treated it. She’d said the wound wasn’t too serious, but Hunter knew better. There had been a lot of blood.
“She’s awesome. I owe her a lot. I mean, even before the sickness, things were dangerous, but now? I thought for sure I was a goner. I had a cousin who got blood poisoning once and ended up losing a finger because he didn’t see a doctor soon enough. I could have lost my whole hand or worse.”
“Glad it worked out,” Hunter tipped his chin up towards the house, “but I gotta get back with this stuff before I head out fishing.” He hefted the bolt a few inches and tucked it beneath his arm. Mike was friendly, but not over the top so. His behavior didn’t set off any warning bells.
“Ice fishing?”
Hunter glanced at the frozen bay. What other kind of fishing was there at this time of year? Before he could reply, Mike shook his head and chuckled. “Duh. Of course. I always ask stupid questions when I’m nervous.”
“Nervous? About what?” He shifted the bolt to the other arm.
Mike scratched his beard with his good hand and shrugged. “Just talking. I’ve never been much for chit-chat before. Give me a fishing pole, or a hunting rifle and point me towards the woods and I’m a happy camper—literally.”
“Yeah.” Hunter understood where Mike was coming from. School had never been a good fit for him, although he got decent grades. His dad always told him he was smart, just not applying himself but Hunter had always felt as if he never quite fit in with the other smart kids. Grades didn’t mean a lot to him. He was good at sports but wasn’t especially competitive. He’d rather compete against himself, and that’s how he’d excelled in archery. It was just him, the bow, and the target. Hunter started to edge around Mike. “Well, it’s great that you’re feeling better.”
Mike lifted his injured hand. “Oh yeah. Sorry to keep you. I…uh…I just wanted to ask someone if there was something I could do to help out. Just sitting in the cabin is driving me crazy.”
Hunter glanced around as he tried to think of a response. What could Mike do to help? Joe shuffled from his cabin over to the main house, a little slower than his usual pace, but it was great to see him up and about. Jake was down in the goats’ pen feeding them a mix of food scraps. He had another bucket on the ground outside of the pen and Hunter guessed it contained more scraps for the chickens. Nothing was wasted anymore.
Jake didn’t need help and Joe, while he was forced to be idle from more difficult work, was tending to the hides they had accumulated since they had begun hunting in the fall. He knew how to treat them and had been teaching Hunter and Jake about it. They planned to work on them later this afternoon, which was why Hunter had to hurry if he wanted to get some fishing in now. Maybe that was something Mike could do. “You want to come fishing with me?”
Another fisherman was always welcome. It seemed they never had enough fish to put aside for later and if they really were leaving the island in the spring, having some set aside for the journey would be necessary.
“I’d love to fish.” Mike lifted his bandaged hand. “I better get the okay from Ms. Jenna though.”
“Oh yeah. Sure. And you should grab a mask if you have one. If not, ask Jenna. She has one she can give you.”
Cole studied the atlas and laid a thin sheet of paper over the map, tracing several routes to Las Vegas. He didn’t want to mark up the only real roadmap he had. They might find another—probably could if they explored a library—but no sense in marking up the one he had right in front of him.
When he had the roads traced and labeled, he went through and marked the names and locations of towns along the way. He wanted to know of any places that might hold danger and be ready for it. He rubbed his chin and then leaned his head on his hand, his elbow propped on the desk he’d found at the house with the cats. At the last minute he’d tossed it in the SUV when he and Hunter had left.
It was one of the few items in the house that hadn’t reeked of cat urine since it
had been sitting in a room that had been closed off to the cats. While the living room was crowded already, he justified the desk because he needed a workspace where he didn’t have to evacuate it several times a day in order for someone to cook.
Already he had a stack of books piled on the floor beneath the desk, with several he’d most recently consulted sitting at his elbow. Even with such a high stack, it was a drop in the bucket compared to what they needed. They were sorely lacking in information on how to perform tasks that hadn’t been common for a hundred years. They had been lucky to get houses with septic tanks for sewage and the windmill running. Was leaving the island the right thing to do?
What if they left and made it to Las Vegas only to find the dam completely shut down? The weather there was arguably more brutal than a Wisconsin winter. Without irrigation, crops were unlikely to grow and no power meant no air conditioning. It wasn’t a complete necessity, but it would make life a lot more bearable. At least here they would have the summer to plant and gather more food.
Cole tossed the pencil down and raked both hands through his hair, resting his head against his palms for a moment. Was having electricity really that important? Sure, it made life easier, but mankind had lived and thrived for most of history without it. Was it worth taking the risk of crossing the country just for the chance to have it?
Communication would still be compromised because telephone companies took a lot more than one person to run and he was pretty certain they weren’t self-contained to one city. Perhaps they could get it up and running if they found someone with experience. And that was the root of the problem. Everything was still here. The factories, the utility companies, and the healthcare facilities—there just weren’t enough people alive to keep any of it running.
Perhaps if instead of going to Las Vegas, they simply went south? That would solve the winter problem and if they salvaged solar panels along the way or once there, they could generate enough electricity for their own needs.
Sympatico Syndrome Trilogy Box Set Page 58