Sympatico Syndrome (Book 1): Infection (A Pandemic Survival Novel) (22 page)

He glanced at Sophie, wondering what her story was, but he hadn’t broached the subject yet. He’d tried to ask her about the men who had her captive, but she ignored the question, said nature was calling, and headed behind a bush. Hunter hadn’t mentioned it again.

His gaze caught on a car seat in the vehicle they were passing. The remains of a baby lay strapped into the seat. The only clue it had been a human was the tuft of blonde hair. Blood dripped down the window. At first, he thought maybe the person inside had just recently died, but then he noticed the condensation on the inside of the windows, and he knew what caused it. He swallowed hard to keep his stomach in check and averted his eyes.

It wasn’t fair. What had that little baby done to deserve death when his life had barely begun? As he rode on, he imagined how the last day had played out. The parents would have strapped him or her into the seat, never aware that it would be the last time they would ever hold their child. What had the child had for a last meal? A bottle? Chicken nuggets from a drive-thru or had restaurants already closed?

His knowledge about babies could be written on a postage stamp with room left over, but he knew there would have been a last diaper change, a last time the mother had guided a little hand through a miniature sleeve, and a final time she would have tied tiny shoes onto baby feet. Or maybe the dad had done those things. He knew firsthand that dads were capable of doing all the things mothers did for their kids. That train of thought led him to his father, and his chest tightened with longing to see him again. What if he got to the island and they were all dead?

“Hey, Hunter. Hold up a second.”

He twisted in the saddle, drawing Red to a halt. “Something wrong?”

“I think so. Princess is walking funny.”

He observed the mare, noting she was favoring her left rear leg. Shit. They couldn’t stop here for long. He’d have to look her over once they were clear of the bridge. He had one foot out of the stirrup to dismount, but then had an idea. “Here, you can ride behind me. Maybe Princess is just tired.”

He took Princess’s reins from Sophie and removed his foot from the stirrup so she could wedge her foot in. With a firm grip of her hand, he helped her swing up behind him. “Do you have enough room back there?” He had saddle bags, but the bow was behind the saddle, almost on Red’s rump so that should be out of the way.

“Yeah, I can deal with it for a little while.” She wiggled a bit.

Trying to ignore her movement as she tried to get comfortable, he handed Princess’s reins to her and decided that as soon as he found a good location, they’d stop and rest. Let the horses graze and check both of them over. He worried about the cause of Princess’s irregular gait

Sophie wrapped her arms around his waist, and he didn’t mind that it was hot out, and she was pressed up against his back.

“
I
’ll do it
.” Cole blocked Sean from leaving the kitchen. “You shouldn’t have to see Trent like that, Sean. I’ll go. I’ll take care of…his body. Joe said he’d help me.”

Trent had become silent in the middle of the night, and this morning, they opened the door of the quarantine and found his body in a puddle of blood. Jenna had to be physically restrained by Sean from going to her son’s side.

The commotion had drawn Joe from his cabin, and he’d offered a couple of codeine pills left over from a dental procedure and insisted he no longer needed them. Sean had managed to get Jenna to take them, and she now slept, with Piper curled beside her.

Sean’s eyes closed and his throat worked. “He’s my son. I should be the one to bury him.”

“I’m sorry, Sean. It’s too dangerous. You’ve never had to handle contagious bodies before.” Unfortunately, Cole had become proficient at the task in Africa.

Sean pushed at Cole’s chest in an attempt to get past. “I don’t give a shit if I get sick, don’t you understand?”

Cole grunted as he struggled to keep his brother from getting by. “Listen to me! I get it. You don’t care what happens to you now. I feel the same way, but we have to think about Piper and Jenna. What if we die? What’s going to happen to them? For
any
of us to survive, we all have to do our best to stay alive—even if we don’t want to.”

“
What the hell do you know about how I feel?
It’s not
your
son lying out there in,” he made finger quotes, “’quarantine’! It’s not your son’s blood staining the floor and swirling down the drain!”

“You’re right.” Anger and his own fears about Hunter fueled Cole’s strength as he shoved Sean, sending him staggering back a few steps. Cole advanced, stabbing two fingers against Sean’s chest. “I know how you feel because the chances that Hunter is still alive are pretty much zero.”

Cole stood nose to nose with Sean, his chest heaving as he fought to control his emotions. He was losing the fight and losing it fast. “Hunter is out there somewhere,” Cole flung an arm wide, “and I don’t know if he’s dead or alive.
That’s
how I know how it feels. I want to keep hoping, but…” He swallowed hard and retreated, allowing his brother to pass if he chose. “You still have a wife and child who need you.” He drew in a deep breath and met Sean’s eyes. “I don’t.”

Sean held Cole’s gaze for a long moment before he shifted it, looking beyond Cole towards the beach. Finally, he nodded, his shoulders slumped.

“We’ll have a funeral, Sean. We can do that much.”

“But you said you have to burn his body.” There was a hitch in Sean’s voice.

“We do, but afterward, we can bury his ashes and make a marker. Joe says he can do a little bit of stone work if he has the right tools. We’ll get him those tools, somehow.”

Cole's heart ached for his brother, and when tears pooled in Sean’s eyes, he felt helpless to comfort him. After several hard blinks and a swipe at his eyes, Sean turned and plodded back to the room he shared with Jenna. “I’m going to see how Piper and Jenna are doing.”

Sighing, Cole gathered the supplies he’d need and then knocked on the door to Joe’s cabin. “If you’re still willing to help…”

“Of course.” Joe took one step out but then reached down to lift the mask he kept around his neck up and over his nose. “Sorry. I should have put it on as soon as I saw you at the door.”

“Don’t bother. Just wear it when we’re taking care of Trent. If you haven’t shown symptoms of the disease by now, I don’t think you’re going to. Not unless you have a new exposure and all of us are at the same risk for that.” Cole didn’t think they had become contaminated this morning because he hadn’t allowed anyone into the room nor to touch anything. They had all worn their masks as well.

Joe fell into step beside him as they headed for the work shed where the gardening tools were kept. “What about the exposure while we take care of your nephew?”

“I have some gear for that, and I’ll be doing most of the risky stuff. What I need you to do is help me dig a pit and build a really big, hot fire and keep it going. Once we have Tre—the body burning, we can make another fire to burn all the gear that can’t be decontaminated. Basically, all the paper or disposable stuff, and everything that was in the quarantine with him like blankets and pillows.”

Cole handed Joe a shovel and ax and took the same for himself. He headed for the beach, intending to build the fire there because of the proximity to the quarantine, but Joe put a hand on his shoulder.

“The wind is blowing from the southwest.”

Puzzled, Cole shrugged. “Yeah? So?”

“Right into the house.”

Then it dawned on him what Joe was getting at. “Oh. Shit.”

Sean’s family didn’t need to smell that. Not if they could help it. He took an abrupt left turn towards a small, rocky beach on the east side of the island and north of the house. “We’ll have to move him farther, but you’re right. Thanks. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“It’s a wonder you’re able to think at all. You’ve done a great job keeping us all safe, Cole.”

Surprised, Cole stopped and looked at Joe. The last thing he thought he’d done was keep everyone safe. Trent was dead, and it was partially his fault. “I wish I could accept that praise, but it’s kind of hard when my nephew died because of my decision.”

“It wasn’t your fault. Nobody could have predicted that boat would come out of nowhere.”

“I should have predicted it. It was my job to predict scenarios like that.”

Joe gave him a skeptical look. “Well, that’s neither here nor there. It was a different world then. It’s nobody’s fault Trent got sick. Not yours, not his, not Sean’s and not even the kids who infected him. You know none of them are in their right minds when the sickness hits.”

Cole shrugged but didn’t reply. If it helped Sean and Jenna deal with Trent’s death, he’d take all the blame.

“I’m gonna miss the kid, though. He helped me in the work shed a few times—always with masks and gloves—I wouldn’t risk contaminating anyone. Anyway, bright kid.”

Cole made a sound of agreement, but he was surprised at the sentiment. Joe had kept mostly to himself, but had shared what he had, and in return, Cole and the others had also shared everything. Joe had turned into an asset with plenty of mechanical knowledge. He and Sean were close to getting a windmill working. However, with Joe somewhat segregated in a modified quarantine, the rest of them didn’t get too many chances to speak to him.

Cole chose a location at the edge of the grass before the beach began. It was far enough away from the house, but not too far. There was a large boulder that must have been deposited eons ago, perhaps when glaciers receded. It would probably remain in the same place for eons more. There was something comforting about that idea, and he hoped Sean and Jenna felt the same. He envisioned them sitting on the boulder to be near Trent as they gazed out over the bay.

“This is a good spot.” Joe looked at Cole, his weathered face solemn. He rested his hands on the shovel, leaning on it. “His folks can come and visit him.”

Cole nodded, glad for the confirmation, but his tongue felt too thick to speak. He dipped his head and used all of his strength to jam the shovel into the sandy dirt.

It didn’t take long for them to dig a deep enough hole. It didn’t have to be deep enough to keep animals out since they were cremating Trent, but it had to be deep enough to start a fire, place Trent on top, and add more wood on top. Cole didn’t know how he was going to be able to lay his nephew in the fire.

As if reading his mind, Joe said, “You know, after we get Trent here and everything…” He cleared his throat. “After we get the fire going, I’ll stay and make sure it doesn’t burn out. As bad as this is, it would be worse if the job was only partly done. Do you want me to cover the hole when it’s done?”

Cole swiped his forearm across his brow. He hadn’t given it that much thought. The epidemiologist side of him had taken over, wanting to stem the chances of contamination from the body. He didn’t know how contagious victims of the disease were but opted to assume they were at least as contagious as Ebola victims had been after death.

“I’ll have to ask Sean and Jenna. I’m not sure if they want to see him that way.”

Joe nodded and started chopping up a dead tree near the hole. Cole went a little deeper into the woods and found another tree that had fallen long ago. As he swung the ax and it bit into the wood, he tried not to think of Hunter. It was so hard to cling to hope after so much death.

They set the wood and doused it with some precious gasoline. Cole piled more logs next to the dirt that had come out of the hole. He walked to the water line and squatted, rinsing his hands then scooping a handful of water to splash on his face. Joe did the same, then both men stood and looked out over the sun-kissed bay.

Cole entered the women’s side of the changing room which was now the store room for protective gear. He had kept several complete suits, including the respirator masks that offered even better protection than the hepa filter masks they had been using. All of it was left over from his days of battling Ebola but wished he had even more.

He had stockpiled the gear, more to placate Hunter than because he thought it would be needed. When Cole had gone to Africa, Hunter hadn’t taken his absence well. He’d been caught drinking and smoking some weed at a party. When Cole left, Hunter had to stay with Sean and Jenna with Sean having to take on the role of disciplinarian. It had strained the relationship between Sean and Hunter.

When he returned from Africa, Cole had a long talk with Hunter, expressing his disappointment and it was then that his son had confessed his fears that he’d had while Cole was gone. He worried about being left alone—about being left an orphan. Even though he was almost grown by then, he confessed he still needed his dad. And there was nothing Cole could say about that because there had been a risk and Hunter’s fears weren’t unfounded.

That was when he decided to retire. Hunter only had a few more years at home before college and Cole didn’t want to miss any more of it. Now, he was thankful for that time they’d had and could only pray that he’d have more time still.

In addition to the full suits, as a precaution Cole had bought several boxes of large lawn-sized trash bags and multiple rolls of duct tape. When the protective suits ran out, if they ever did, they could make suits out of bags and duct tape. It wasn’t ideal but miles better than no protection at all. They still had plenty of masks as well since Joe had added his to the stockpile. He only had two sizes of gloves, large and medium. Piper really needed small gloves, while Jenna could make do with medium, she really should have had small gloves to prevent them from slipping off.

He had already prepared several five-gallon buckets with mixtures of bleach and water. One bucket had a top and a pump with a short hose and sprayer. They’d use that bucket for spraying the ground anywhere they had walked. Another bucket was to throw the rubber boots and the heavy rubber gloves to decontaminate. They didn’t have an endless supply of them and would have to re-use them if, god forbid, they ever had to do this again.

The suits, made of plastic that was about the thickness of a tarp, would go into a trash bag Cole had rigged to stay open. There had been a wheeled trashcan cart, and he’d used the frame of it to tape two trash bags, one inside the other. That was the burn bag. Disposable inner gloves would also go in there as well as all the tape used to seal the openings around wrists, neck, and ankles.

“Here, take off your shoes and step into this.” He handed Joe a bright yellow suit with a zipper down the front. “Pull it up to your waist, but don’t zip it all the way yet. You’ll have to put on your boots and tape around them, and it’s a pain in the ass to do it with the suit already zipped.”

He showed Joe how to layer the protective gear and told him how they would remove it when they were finished. “We’ll have to watch each other to make sure we never touch any unprotected part of ourselves with the contaminated gear.” As he emphasized his points and explained the procedure, Joe crossed his arms, his expression bordering on boredom.

“Listen, Joe, you have to know how to do this, and how to do it correctly.”

“I think I can manage. I’ve been dressing and undressing myself for a long time.”

“It sounds obvious, but people screw up all the time without thinking. Their nose itches and they reach up and swipe their gloved hand across it,” Cole pantomimed the action, “and,
boom
. They’ve just contaminated themselves. Even when they’re paying attention, they might accidentally take the gear off in the wrong order.”

Joe waved his hands. “I got it. Sorry. Just seems so obvious.”

“Good, because not only will I be spotting you when you remove your gear, but you’ll be watching me, too. Just because I’ve done this many times doesn’t mean I don’t need a second pair of eyes. More than once, I’ve had that second pair of eyes catch me just before I contaminated myself.” In Africa, it had often been Elly who had been his buddy when he took off the gear. He hoped she was hunkered down safe somewhere.

“
E
lly
! Wake up!
Please
wake up!”

Water poured on Elly’s face, and she coughed and rolled over. “Stop it!” When she tried to get to her hands and knees, the floor pitched, and she landed hard on her side. Disoriented, nauseated, and her head pounding, she struggled to her feet. A bolt of lightning dropped from the sky a hundred yards away, the thunder instantaneous. It all came back to her. One hand clenched around the grip rail and the other pressed to the side of her head, she moved to Jake’s side.

“How close are we to land?” She had to shout to make herself heard over the sound of the waves, wind, rain, and thunder. Looking left and right, she strained to see land. Just before the storm hit, it had been just off to their left. It had looked like an easy run to get back if they needed to. But now, it was impossible for her to determine in which direction the shore lay through the torrential rain. She wasn’t even sure what direction they were heading.