Sympatico Syndrome (Book 1): Infection (A Pandemic Survival Novel) (20 page)

Jake swept his arm out. “Dude, you have your pick of boats. Well, almost. Check them out. I bet you can find something more suited to living in. That’s what we did. The keys were just sitting there.”

“You’re stealing a boat.”

Elly dipped her head as her cheeks burned but Jake laughed. “Really? What are the chances that the owner is still alive? He’s not here now, is he? And if he or she comes looking for their boat, they can just pick one of the others instead.”

“True.” Tony looked at some of the nearest vessels, his expression speculative.

“Oh, but we already checked most of the boats here, but this is the first pier we tried. I’ll bet you find a good boat on the next one over.”

“Thanks. I guess I owe you again.” Tony stood with his hands shoved in his pockets. “Are you just planning on sticking around here? Things might get dicey.” He tipped his head toward the bodies. “Those guys were my buddies at the fire station.” His voice broke, and he paused before clearing his throat. “We were the last three. I don’t think I caught anything, but I don’t want to take a chance on contaminating either of you.” He looked out over the city, took a deep breath, then met Elly’s eyes. “Will you promise me that if you see me acting like those guys that you’ll shoot me, too?”

Stunned, Elly could only nod. “But we’re leaving tomorrow. I hope you’re okay. I’d invite you along, being as this is pretty much the end of the world, but it’s not my place…”

Tony waved away her offer. “That’s okay. I want to stick around. I’m hoping I’ll find some more people alive. With any luck, someone I know.”

The conversation had given Elly a chance to bring her emotions under control, but her hands still shook as she entered the cabin of the boat and slumped back against the window.

Next thing she knew, Jake was handing her a shot glass brimming with scotch. “Here you go. I thought you could use one.”

Elly took the shot. “Thanks.” She downed it in one gulp.

H
unter checked
the horses to make sure they hadn’t hurt themselves in their panic. Both looked okay, just drenched in sweat. Murmuring assurances, he untied them and led them over to where the girl still hugged Buddy, only now she watched him over the top of the dog’s head. Her hair, dirty blonde, hung over her eyes with leaves and twigs matted in the mess. One eye was blackened with a raw scrape beneath, while her bottom lip sported a split on one side. He guessed her to be about his age.

“Hi. I’m Hunter.” He started to put his hand out, but not only were her hands still bound at the wrist with her arms wrapped around Buddy’s neck, but the customary greeting wasn’t a good idea these days. He hadn’t spoken to anyone in about a week, and the last time he had, the world had yet to completely collapse. He was hungry for conversation. “Are you okay?”

She nodded, not meeting his gaze. Struggling to her feet, she released Buddy from her hug but still stroked his head. Buddy’s tongue lolled as he stared at Hunter, his tail wagging.

When the girl didn’t speak, Hunter asked, “What’s your name?”

“Why?” She finally met his eyes, hers showing a wary defiance.

Taken aback at the question and the hostility, he shrugged. “Uh, because calling someone ‘
hey you
’ gets awkward real fast.” He cocked his head to the side, stroking his chin as if thinking hard. “My other option is choosing a name for you.”

Her eyes narrowed, but she still didn’t give up her name.

Hunter threw his hands up. “Fine. I’ll call you Gertrude.”

The girl’s nose wrinkled even as the corners of her mouth turned up. “Eww! No way.”

He hid a smile. “Sorry, but I think you happen to look like a Gertrude, and I’m getting good at this naming thing.” He pointed to Buddy. “I named him Buddy and he seems to like it.” He turned to the horses. “And this big guy here now goes by Red.”

She studied the horses for a moment, then tipped her chin at the mare. “What’s that one’s name?”

“Oh…well, I just think of her as
the mare
. I was stumped. What can I say? I’m new to this naming game.” As he’d hoped, she was losing some of her wariness.

She lifted an eyebrow at him and gave a slight roll of her eyes. “She’s beautiful. I’d call her Princess.” The hostility was gone and in its place was a note of wistfulness as she looked at the mare.

Hunter didn’t know if he could ride a horse named Princess but if naming her that would make the girl happy, he’d do it. He nodded. “Great. Then that’s her name from now on.”

Her eyes flew to his. “Really?”

“Sure. Why not?” He tugged on Princess’s rope. “Do you want to pet her?” He was keenly aware that her coming close would put him at risk if she had the virus, but so far, she had just seemed like a normal, scared girl.

She nodded, her eyes lighting. As she reached for the horse, Hunter saw the ropes around her wrists, and without thinking, withdrew the knife in his belt.

She recoiled with a strangled cry, tripping over Buddy, and landed on her side. The gun she’d taken from the gunman clattered across the pavement, sliding several feet in front of her, literally at Hunter’s feet. Her eyes flew to it, and then to his face. Seeing her fear, he used his toe to slid the weapon over to her, then turned his attention to the horses—praying she didn’t put a bullet in his back.

The horses, still skittish, pawed the ground, snorted and tried to retreat. It took him a few seconds to calm them again before he could turn to the girl. She’d turned to sit, scooting even farther away from him. “I am so sorry. I was only going to cut your bindings. I should have asked you first.”

Her breathing ragged, she clenched the gun in her hands, but he was thankful that she kept it pointed down. He held the knife, holding it like one would to cut a piece of meat, not to stab anyone. He raised his eyebrows, asking permission.

She studied his face for a long moment, then extended her hands to him.

He sawed through the thick bindings, his jaw clenching when he noted the raw skin beneath. She had to let go of the gun with one hand as the rope parted and he could have taken the weapon from her then if he’d wanted. He hoped she realized that. Then again, she could have shot him at any time since she had acquired the gun, but hadn’t.

As the bindings fell away, she snatched her hands away, rubbing her wrists. Seconds later, she scrambled to her feet.

Hunter sheathed the knife, and turned to the dead men and choked down the bile in the back of his throat. He’d always loved action movies with plenty of shootings, but facing real-life results of such a scene didn’t give him a thrill. It sickened him.

He needed his arrows back though, and didn’t know if he had the stomach to remove them from the bodies. Circling the guy Gertrude had shot, he reached down and tugged the arrow. It was more difficult to remove than he anticipated. He cringed when it made a squelching sound and released the arrow. He’d make do with what he had.

Gertrude strode over, reached down, yanked the arrow free, wiped it on the thigh of the dead man, and handed it to Hunter. “Here. It’s not super clean, but I don’t think any of them had the virus—they were just mean.”

Hunter nodded and slid the arrow back into the quiver, making a mental note to wipe it with bleach when he got a chance.

She moved to the first man Hunter had shot and put a foot on his chest, tearing out that arrow, too. She cast about for a place to wipe it, finally settling on the lower leg of the man. She extended it to Hunter. “Sophie.”

He took it with a thank you on the tip of his tongue but did a double take when it registered what she’d said. “Excuse me?”

“Sophie. That’s my name.”

Her eyes were blue. Dark blue. He didn’t know why he noticed that now, maybe because they fit the name. “I guess that’s a little better than Gertrude.”

“Just a little?” Her voice held a hint of amusement.

Hunter shrugged, glancing over his shoulder as he secured the bow to the saddle. “I’m heading to Green Bay. If you want to come with me, you can.” He hadn’t even thought about the idea until the words flew out of his mouth. He was almost as surprised as she appeared.

“Green Bay…in Wisconsin?”

Was there another one? He didn’t say that, but his look must have conveyed the feeling because she made a face at him. Hunter nodded. “Yeah, that one. My dad was heading there. Not the city, but the actual bay. He owns a little island in it with cabins and stuff. He thought it would be a safe place to avoid the virus.”

Sophie glanced at the dead men with pure loathing in her eyes, but she let out a deep breath. “I guess. I don’t have anywhere else to go.” Tears welled before she bent her head. “My family all died.”

“I’m sorry.”

She scuffed a high-topped rainbow colored sneaker along the blacktop and shrugged. “They’re probably the lucky ones.”

E
lly dozed in the seat
, listening to the splash of the water, the hum of the engine, and music Jake played through an mp3 player connected via a Bluetooth. It was strange that cellphones were no longer usable, electricity was gone, but Bluetooth still worked as long as the player got charged up via the boat battery.

The sun warmed her, and it didn’t take much to pretend this was a pleasure cruise. Even the scent of the sunscreen she’d found in a drawer inside the cabin added to the illusion.

“We’re going to need more gas soon.”

She opened her eyes and sat up. “What? So soon?” The tank had been full when they’d left after Jake had siphoned several gallons from neighboring boats and, topped off their boat.

“This is one thirsty baby.” Jake patted the helm and grinned at her. They had abandoned the masks, in her case, the bandana in his, as soon as they’d left the harbor, not even wearing them around their necks anymore.

“How far do we have to go?” She stood, and shading her eyes with her hand, scanned the shore on her left. They were out a good mile or so to avoid any shallows, but still close enough to head for shore if they had to. So far, they hadn’t seen any other boats, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t.

“Oh, we still have a long ways to go. We’re not even to the border between Illinois and Wisconsin yet. But there are several of harbors coming up. We can tie up at one and see about getting more gas.”

“Damn. I hate going anywhere there might be people.”

Jake shrugged. “We can try some private homes. There are mansions with slips on the lake. We could go in closer and see if we can find gas there, but that means we’ll use more gas as we follow the shoreline. We won’t be going in a straight line.”

She sighed. “Yeah. I guess that’s not smart, especially since the chances of finding a boat all gassed up is slim compared to finding one in a harbor full of boats.”

Jake pointed to smoke stacks rising in the distance. “I think that’s Waukegan. They have a pretty big harbor. We could try there, or keep going. We could probably make…” he traced a line on a map he’d taped to the side of the windshield, “…Winthrop Harbor, but we’ll be running a risk of running out by then.”

“That wouldn’t be good. It’s not like we can just call up the Coast Guard.”

Jake glanced at her, frowning. “I tried the radio a little bit ago when you were sleeping. I hoped somebody might be out there, but nobody answered. I didn’t even hear any chatter.”

She wished she hadn’t made the comment about the Coast Guard. References like that weren’t necessary and just reminded them of the horror of the last week. She almost wished she could forget her past life. It wouldn’t be so painful then. There would be nothing to miss.

“Well, we already saw one survivor, so I’m sure there are others. And there’s you and me. We made it. If we did, others did too. Things won’t ever be the same, but there’s a lot left that we can work with.”

He gave her a skeptical look. “You think so? A lot of people died. You saw all the bodies too.”

She crossed her arms and watched the smoke stacks get larger as they neared them. “Yes, I saw the bodies, but most things will work if they have power.”

He snorted. “Yeah, but what are the chances that the people left alive know how to run a power plant? Or can mine coal? What about the power lines? A few good storms snapping lines with nobody to fix them is going to add up.”

Elly hadn’t even thought about the infrastructure required and felt chagrined that this teen had thought of it first. “I guess it’ll take a lot of work, but it’ll happen. People like you will make it happen.” That was one thing she was sure of.

“People like me?”

“Most of those who will have survived will be resourceful and smart. And you’ll have a head start since you don’t have to imagine these things. You just have to get them working again.”

Jake’s gaze drifted to the horizon. “I’d work on electricity first. Maybe get some solar panels. Then try to get some kind of internet going again so people can find each other. Communication is going to be key.”

“See? You’re already thinking like a visionary.” She was only half-joking.

He gave her a sheepish grin, obviously pleased at her comment. Then he lifted one shoulder. “I’m no visionary. I’m just not sure how I’ll survive long-term without my cellphone. I’m mean, I’m pretty sure I’m rocking the pirate look, and I can’t even post a selfie.
Priorities
.”

She laughed, shaking her head, and pointed. “Is that the opening to the harbor up there?” It was still a good distance away, and she wasn’t sure if it was a harbor or something else. She wished she had binoculars.

Jake consulted the map. “Yeah. I think so. I’m hoping we can make it to Milwaukee or just north of there if we can fill up here.”

“Now I know why I never had a boat—I couldn’t afford one!” Elly shook her head as she circled behind Jake and peered at the map. She tapped it. “I hope we can get enough fuel here, but if not, do you think we can make it to Winthrop Harbor?”

Jake glanced at the gas gauge. “Probably. It can be our back-up.”

“Sounds good. Besides, look at all those boats. Some of them must have enough gas to siphon.”

Jake turned the boat slightly so it was heading closer to shore. “I don’t know this area at all. I know the coast near my dad’s house in Florida, but this is totally different.”

Elly tensed as they entered with the engine as low as possible. If anyone was around, they didn’t want to attract their attention.

Jake pointed to an empty slip not too close to shore. They’d decided to try to stay as close to open water as they could.

Elly nodded and readied the tie rope. Jake cut the engine as soon as they were near enough, letting their momentum carry them the rest of the way. Elly caught a post on the pier, and looped the rope over, making a knot she could undo quickly if she had to.

Using gestures only, they agreed on a boat to check first. It was bigger than theirs, and Jake had two five gallon gas cans, and Elly had two more. They would have to fill them several times to get to Milwaukee. It wasn’t going to be a quick job.

“How are you going to know if it’s diesel or gasoline?” Elly whispered.

“The opening for the tank should be a little different—and smell.” Jake unscrewed the cap for the boat, inserted the hose he’d used back in Chicago, and took a deep breath, exhaled, and then put the hose in his mouth, his cheeks drawing in as he sucked in. He suddenly pulled his mouth away, spitting and the acrid scent of gasoline filled the air.

Elly grabbed the hose from him and shoved it in one of the cans she held. When it was full, she passed it to Jake. They were able to get ten gallons from the boat before the stream of gasoline turned to a trickle.

It took them almost two hours to get enough gas to fill up the tank, and both of them felt a little sick from the fumes, and in Jake’s case, from probably swallowing trace amounts. After the first time, Elly ran back to their boat and retrieved a water bottle for Jake so he could rinse his mouth after siphoning. She was kicking herself for not bringing it along to begin with. She hoped he didn’t suffer any ill effects. She had tried to take over for him, but he insisted on doing it and pointed out that his germs were already all over the end of the hose.