Sympatico Syndrome (Book 1): Infection (A Pandemic Survival Novel) (7 page)

“
B
ut I need
to get back to Atlanta…that’s where all my data is. I need to compare—yes, I know I can look some of it up on the computer, but the Wi-Fi here is unreliable. I’ve been booted from the system four times in the last five hours.”

Elly paused and listened to her boss at the CDC tell her how she was needed in Chicago and there was nothing he could do to help her. She knew everyone was stretched thin at the office and didn’t mind the work, but she felt handcuffed.

“Sure. I’ll keep doing the best I can.” She got another call coming through, so she said goodbye and switched to the next call.

“Elly Jackson.” She rolled her eyes. Frank, from FEMA. Perfect. “What do you need, Frank?”

The guy was competent, but he was as frustrated as she was. She’d been sent to Chicago, while others in her office had been dispatched to New York, Los Angeles, Houston and other major metro areas. They were to work with FEMA to coordinate emergency management efforts and to make sure all proper precautions were taken when setting up quarantine centers.

“No, you can’t compromise on the N95 masks. The surgical masks aren’t adequate for airborne precautions.”

She waited as he explained that they’d been sent ten cases of surgical masks and only one of the N95 respirator masks. “I don’t care how tightly you tie it, it’s not going to stop the virus from getting through. It’s not meant to filter airborne contaminants.”

“Did you get enough food for the centers?” That was the other thing. The trucks laden with food had been delayed. One truck had been delayed by the death of the driver and the other when it was hijacked by a man earlier in the day. Nobody knew if the first truck was safe for another driver or even the cargo. The driver had helped to load it, so now the contents were considered compromised.

With all the setbacks, they were scrambling to set up the centers. Initially, they were only for people with late signs of the disease, but since those folks perished quickly, the agenda had changed to those who had close contact with someone who had already died. It was meant to contain the disease the best that they could.

So far, only two centers had been set up, but three more were planned. The problem was that several of the workers had already succumbed to the disease, and now she worried about the others contracting it as well. How do you quarantine the people who are responsible for running the quarantine centers?

Elly stared out the window at the lake. Any other day, she’d have been mesmerized by the waves sparkling in the sun, the deep blue of the water and how it contrasted with the lighter blue of the sky. It was gorgeous. Serene. A couple of puffy clouds floated in the sky, and if she focused on them, she could imagine for a moment that all was right with the world. Even a few days ago, when she’d arrived, there had been a dozen sailboats out on the lake, but today, in spite of the unseasonably warm weather, there were no boats of any kind.

She stepped closer to the window and looked down at the chaos in the streets below. Even she hadn’t predicted things would deteriorate this quickly. It seemed like days ago that she had spoken to Cole and warned him. Afterward, she almost called him back to say she’d probably exaggerated the situation. The only reason she hadn’t was that her phone had been ringing off the virtual hook.

It was either the CDC or news stations calling to set up interviews with her. Everyone wanted her to tell them that this disease would run its course in a few days and then it would be back to life as usual. She gave them the truth; this disease had spread faster than any disease she had ever encountered or even heard of, and that no effective treatments had been found yet. Victims succumbed so quickly that even diagnosing the disease was a post-mortem task—ERs were getting swamped with people who thought they had it, but real victims didn’t realize they were even sick until it was too late. Meanwhile, they were spreading the disease far and wide. The media outlets chose to either edit her interviews or not air them at all.

Her phone rang yet again. Her boss. Hoping he’d changed his mind, she quickly hit the ‘accept’ button. “Yes, Ross?” Her jaw set as she listened to the latest news.

“But…how can they shut down everything? What about people stranded far from home?” Like me, but she didn’t voice the thought. Surely she’d get special permission to travel. She had nothing here. Just one suitcase full of clothes. At least at home, she had some food and provisions set up in her cellar. She’d learned to be prepared for an emergency, but none of that preparation did any good when she was stuck so far from home. “So, what about me? How am I supposed to eat? If everything is shut down, things are going to get even crazier.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose as he rambled on, then shook her head. “What do you mean
, say a prayer
? That’s it?
That’s
your advice?”

He hung up. She stared at the phone in disbelief.
Asshole
.

Elly clicked off her cell phone, clenching it in her hand. “I can’t believe it!” She fought the urge to fling the phone across the room. She hadn’t left the hotel room since yesterday morning, subsisting on what was in the mini fridge and some snacks she’d packed in her suitcase and purse. She’d dealt with most matters by phone since traveling the streets was next to impossible. Besides, she didn’t even have a car. She’d taken a cab from the airport to her hotel. Now she wished she’d have rented a car.

Her stomach rumbled, and her throat was raw from so much talking on the phone. Just thirty minutes ago she had hung up after talking to someone at FEMA. They had been slow to deploy, and now she feared their efforts were too little too late. What needed to be done was a full-scale deployment. She flipped through the channels on the television. Two news feeds showed reporters at the scene of a riot in Los Angeles. It looked even worse than what she saw outside her hotel, but the virus had hit there a few days earlier. It was working its way in, although it was already well-established, thanks to air travel.

Even as she watched, someone in the background of the shot, an older man, his head topped thinning gray hair, crossed behind the reporter, and suddenly staggered, collapsed and began convulsing. After thirty seconds or so, he stilled.

The reporter looked over his shoulder for a moment and then returned his focus to the camera. “That’s at least the tenth person I’ve seen who dropped dead in their tracks.”

At least the live reporter was wearing a respiratory mask, not some flimsy paper mask. She just hoped he had been wearing it the entire time he was on assignment.

“Carl, how do you know he’s dead?” The news anchor looked horrified as she asked Carl the question.

“Diane, just be glad his face is turned away, but I guarantee that if he faced us, we’d see a pool of blood around his head. That’s how it’s been with all of the others. They drop, begin convulsing and vomit up massive amounts of blood. That’s it. It’s how they die. One second, they’re walking and talking, the next…” He made a spiral motion with his finger along with a whistling sound reminiscent of a falling missile. He shook his head.

Suddenly, all of the televisions flashed a Special Report screen. The scene shot to the familiar podium in the White House press room.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the President of the United States.”

E
lly’s hands shook
.
Martial law
? She had wanted precautions but not this. She thought back to what the President had said. Martial Law wasn’t going into effect until midnight two days from now. That meant she had two days to get out of the city. She had no food and no way to get any more up here. Room service had stopped delivering yesterday. A precaution, she’d been told, to keep contact to a minimum. She couldn’t blame the hotel, but it left her in a predicament. She was down to a tiny pack of peanuts she’d received on her flight here. She had nothing to drink except water, and she wondered how long the infrastructure would hold up. When too many people died, there would be too few left to work, or those who were left were too afraid to show up for work out of fear of catching the virus. Then, society would break down completely.

She had been warning them for weeks, ever since the first three sailors had died out on Aislado. She’d asked if it was a bioengineered virus that had escaped from the lab, but the Navy had remained tight-lipped. If they created the virus, they should have an antidote or treatment for it, but apparently, they didn’t. Or if they did, they weren’t sharing it with the public.

Where could she go? She thought about the people she’d worked with while out here and tried their numbers. Some calls never made it through, and the others weren’t answered. She went down her list, trying everyone in the area, hoping she could seek shelter with one of the FEMA people or some official in Chicago would tell her where she could ride this out. There had to be some kind of provisions made for those trying to combat the spread of the disease, but she was finding out that wasn’t the case.

It seemed as if everyone was already in full survival mode, and if she wanted to survive, she had to make plans. Now.

C
ole turned
onto his street and slammed on the brakes. “
Holy shit
!”

Yellow barricades like police used when trying to hold back mobs of demonstrators blocked off the street. Three men with guns manned the roadblock. Cole tensed as one of the men approached his vehicle.

Sean was right behind him with the truck and Jenna and the kids following Sean. He hoped his brother wouldn’t jump out and start waving his handgun around. He was grateful for Sean’s forethought to bring the weapon, but it was three against one, and now Jenna and the kids were around.

Cole rolled his window down a crack, squinting at the man who was backlit by the sun and wearing a baseball cap pulled low. “What’s going on? I live on this street and need to get home.”

“Do you have proof of residence?”

Cole glared. “Since when do I need proof that I live in my house? My key is proof, now get those barricades out of the street and let me through.” He had his license, of course, but that wasn’t the point. He jabbed his thumb over his shoulder. “The two vehicles behind me are family. Let them in, too.”

“Cole, is that you?”

He blinked up at the face. “Who wants to know?”

The man pulled off his cap. “It’s me. Jerry Keeling.”

“Doctor Keeling?
The dentist
?” He’d taken Hunter to the guy a few times after their regular dentist had retired. He’d also spoken to him at the annual block party, but he’d never had the impression the man would become militant in a situation like this.

“Yeah. We’ve had outsiders trying to seek shelter in the neighborhood. They think because we’re upscale here, that we’re safe.”

Cole bit back a retort. Their neighborhood, while nice enough, was hardly upscale. “Look, Jerry, I just need to get home. It’s only going to be for a few hours, then we’re leaving.” Crap. He probably shouldn’t have said that.

Jerry scratched his cheek, his gaze wandering to the other two men as if seeking permission. “Okay, I guess I can let you pass, but the truck and the other car will have to stay out. Only residents allowed.” He smiled as if he was doing Cole a favor.

Cole fixed Jerry with a hard stare. “Listen, Jerry, that’s my brother in the truck and his family in the red Ford. Now, unless you’re going to
shoot m
e, they’re coming, too.”

Jerry glanced back, his grip shifting on the hunting rifle. He cast a nervous look at the other two men still on the other side of the barricade. “I don’t know. We’re only supposed to let residents through—“

Cole had had enough of this. He put the car in park and opened his door. He looked at the other two men, their rifles pulled closer to their bodies as if they were ready to aim them. He spread his arms, palms out. “Listen, I live here. Right over there, in fact.” He pointed to his house. “We’re coming through here, getting my belongings and then leaving. We’re not stealing anyone’s stuff, and we want to keep all contact to a minimum. I don’t even want to be this close to any of you. I’d recommend that you keep back from anyone trying to approach the barricade and get yourselves some good masks.”

“Who the hell are you to tell us what to do?” One of the men circled the barricade. He was taller and heavier than the short, slim dentist, and he shouldered Jerry out of the way. “We say who comes and who goes.”

Cole narrowed his eyes and straightened his shoulders. “As it happens, I know a thing or two about diseases since I’m an epidemiologist. I worked with the CDC for many years and even went to Africa to help manage the Ebola outbreak. Do you have better credentials?”

The man’s mouth dropped open.

“Yes, that’s what I thought.” He turned sideways, jabbing a finger at the truck and the Ford. “These two vehicles behind me are my family, and they're coming in. Get those barricades out of the way.”

The man grunted but waved at the other man to move the barriers. “Yeah, okay, but this is the only time.”

Cole rolled his eyes, but let the man keep his dignity and didn’t press the issue. He only needed this one time. Retreating to the car, he put it into the drive and drummed his fingers on the wheel while the barricades were moved. He gave a curt nod to Jerry as he passed. He sure as hell hoped neither men had Sympatico Syndrome because they’d been within three feet of him. That was closer than he felt was safe. He wanted to maintain at least a six-foot buffer zone, preferably even bigger.

He kicked himself for not having his mask on already. He hadn’t counted on hostile encounters, but he wouldn’t be caught unprepared again.

The first thing he was going to do was instruct everyone to wear a mask whenever they might possibly come in contact with someone outside of their group.

C
ole held
his hand up in a stop motion. “That’s good, Sean. We need room to get the ramp down.”

Jenna crossed the front yard, the kids trailing behind her. “Cole, is everything okay? What was going on with those men?”

Piper darted a look at the men. “Why did they have guns?”

“Were they going to shoot you, Uncle Cole?” Trent’s voice held a note of excitement and Cole gave him an incredulous look.

“Were you hoping they would, Trent?” He smiled to soften the accusation. Trent was just at the age where something like this seemed incredibly exciting, and the danger was secondary.

“No, but man, they had rifles and everything! It was crazy!”

“Yes, it was insane, I’ll grant you that, but they were just protecting the neighborhood. I guess some outsiders were trying to come in, thinking they would be safer here for some reason. The first guy with the gun, he’s a dentist. He’d never shoot anyone. He’s only dangerous when he has a drill in his hands.”

Trent’s face fell, and Jenna shook her head with a wry smile.

The truck door slammed, and Sean approached. “Good job dealing with those guys, Cole. What did you say to them?”

Cole shrugged and faced the keypad for the lock on his garage door. He keyed in the code and stood back as the door lifted. “Nothing. Just told them I lived here. I knew the first guy. He’s Hunter’s dentist.” Cole didn’t want to get into too many details with the kids around.

“No kidding? Jeez.”

“Yeah, anyway, we have a lot to do.” He pointed to the supplies he’d left in the garage. “All of that has to be loaded, and I have more stuff in the house.”

The kids groaned but Sean sent them a stern look, and they began carrying the boxes to the truck.

Jenna said, “I’m going into the house and see if I can organize it.” She left the garage.

“Sorry, guys. I know you’ve already worked hard today, but once we get settled in the cabins, it’ll be like a great vacation. There’s fishing and a beach. Kayaks—”

“Kayaks? Cool! Will you show me how to use one, Uncle Cole?”

“Sure will. And when Hunter gets there, you guys can learn together.”

“Hunter’s cool.”

Cole smiled. Trent had always followed Hunter around like a little puppy, worshipping his older cousin. “Yeah, he thinks you're kind of cool too.”

Sean started arranging the boxes, and when Cole went to help load, Sean waved him away. “We got this. You go and help Jenna in the house.”

“Okay. If you see anything in here you think we’ll need, pack it in. We have plenty of room.” He waved a hand towards the tools hanging on the wall.

As he entered the house, he sighed as he smelled something cooking. Something good.

He turned into the kitchen to find Jenna stirring something on the stove. “I hope you don’t mind, but I saw some pot pies and frozen chicken breasts in the freezer. And this,” she pointed to the pan, “is something that was labeled ‘soup’. I think it’s split pea’.”

“Oh, yeah. I made that about three months ago. I made way too much since Hunter wasn’t here and froze it. Just be warned—I’m no gourmet cook.”

She smiled. “It smells good. I figured I’d cook as much of it as I can so we can eat it now and save some for later. Otherwise, it’ll go to waste.”

“Good thinking. Get the kids to drink up the milk and juice and anything else you find in the fridge. I have some ice and a cooler so we can take some of the frozen items, as long as we cook them when we get to the island.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask, how are we getting to the island, exactly?”

Cole rubbed the back of his neck. “Um, well, I’m assuming the boathouse has a boat in it. One is listed in the will as part of the holdings, so I hope it’s in working order. Since Uncle John did, apparently, still use the island, I’m assuming he had to get there somehow and would have a boat in the boathouse.”

“Will it be ready to go?”

“I guess we’ll find out.”

“I’m not sure I like the sound of that.”

Cole pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. Fatigue and stress tapped against the inside of his skull. “Look, Jenna—I don’t like this any better than you do, but do you have a better idea? You saw what’s happening out there.” He flung his arm out, pointing to the front door. “Do you think it’s going to get better?”

She set the spoon down on the spoon holder, and her shoulders sagged. “I have no idea. I feel like this is all some kind of bad dream that I’ll wake up from any minute.” Her eyes welled, and Cole shoved his hands in his pockets, uncomfortable with the display of emotion. He willed Sean to appear in the kitchen, but he was still out supervising the loading, so Cole gave Jenna’s shoulder an awkward pat then moved past her to the get some bowls out of the cupboard.

“I have some cold cuts in there too, for sandwiches. Those need to be used up. I’m going to go see what else I can find to bring. I might have something useful in the basement.”

Cole trudged to the basement and opened the storage closet. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d looked inside. It contained mostly boxes of old clothes Hunter had outgrown as a child and Cole had intended to drop off at the Goodwill but never got around to it, and old pieces of furniture that Hunter might need for an apartment of his own. He shoved past all of that but took the card table and folding chairs and set them aside. Those were easy to transport and could always come in handy.

He found a box of old tools—hammers, screwdrivers, loads of different size screws and four boxes of nails. Most of it had been left-over from when he’d finished off the other side of the basement ten years ago. Building supplies might come in handy on the old resort, so he put the box beside the card table and kept digging farther back in the closet.

He found a vacuum sealed package that looked to contain quilts and blankets. He smiled when he remembered Brenda buying some late night infomercial gadget that promised to revolutionize storage closets everywhere. You put the items into the bags, attached the vacuum device and sucked all the air out so the package was easier to store. He had to admit, it had worked well, and they had stored all kinds of things until they ran out of the special bags and never got around to order more.

The back of the closet contained six of the bags. He squinted at one that showed a familiar logo through the plastic. So
that’s
where his heavy duty winter coat had gone. He vaguely remembered looking for it the winter after Brenda had died and just assumed she must have dropped it off at some cleaners and had been killed before she had a chance to pick it up. But here it had sat for all these years. He picked up the stiff plastic bundle. To think that the last person to touch this had been Brenda made his breath catch. It had been a long time since he’d felt such a wave of grief. He swiped the back of his hand across his eyes and set all the bundles he found beside the tools and card table.

S
ean barreled into the kitchen
. “We got a problem, Cole.”

Cole took the last of the non-perishable items from his pantry as Jenna handed it to him, and tossed it into the large plastic bin and snapped the top on. “What?”

“A couple of those guys who tried to stop us this morning are trying to get in.”

“Get in? They tried to enter the
house
?”

Piper and Trent rushed in behind their dad, with Piper heading straight to Jenna, wrapping her arms around her.

“Yeah. I locked up the truck as soon as I saw them heading our way and got the kids in the house. They’re acting like maniacs—shouting and laughing as though they’re drunk. One pretended to take aim at us.”

Cole dashed to the front door, keeping out of sight in front of the living room window, and looked through the peephole.

“Evans! Come on out! We’re gonna go hunting! Wanna come?”

Cole recognized him from across the cul-de-sac, his house was several doors down. The guy had three girls. Where were they now? He tried to spot anyone else moving around in the neighborhood, but his vision was too limited by the peephole.

The man had been one of the men guarding the gate earlier. Cole tried to remember his name. Elliot or something like that. He observed their behavior, flinching when Elliot fired off a shot, luckily the barrel was pointed skyward and not aimed at anything in particular, but he crawled over to the window, dropped the blind and drew the curtains.

“Sean, get the curtains in the kitchen and den. Jenna, take the kids to the basement.” The windows there were covered by plastic bubbles to deflect rainwater. That should make it harder for anyone to shoot inside.

“Aw, come on, Evans. We know you’re leaving, and we wanna give you a going away party!”

He didn’t bother answering and from the manic way the men were acting, he didn’t think either was drunk.

“Bring your whole family. We don’t care. My wife is loading up the grill.”

“Yeah, you’re all invited. Everyone is gonna be there! Join the party. We’ll have a blast!” The second man added his plea, shooting his gun off to punctuate his request.

Cole swallowed hard. It was just as Elly had described. They seemed euphoric, as though they really wanted to have an impromptu block party.

Glad he’d brought his guns in the house, he found the cases in the mess of his living room and dug through the paper bag for the ammo.

Sean entered. “I got them in the basement. Piper is shaking like a leaf.” He stalked to the front door, peering through the peephole. “I’m ready to kill those assholes.”