Invasion
Sympatico Syndrome: Book Three
M. P. McDonald
Also by M. P. McDonald
The Mark Taylor Series
Mark Taylor: Genesis
No Good Deed: Book One
March Into Hell: Book Two
Deeds of Mercy: Book Three
March Into Madness: Book Four
CJ Sheridan Thrillers
Shoot: Book One
Capture: Book Two
Suspense
Seeking Vengeance
Sympatico Syndrome Series
Infection: A Post-Apocalyptic Survival Novel (Book One)
Isolation: A Post-Apocalyptic Survival Novel (Book Two)
Invasion: A Post-Apocalyptic Survival Novel (Book Three)
For my newest grandson, not yet here, but already I love you, little Fox.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Afterword
About the Author
Chapter One
Cole Evans stood on the snow covered beach, eyeing the white pickup truck as it approached over the ice-covered bay. During the daytime, the truck would have been almost invisible, but at night it looked like a moving block of snow with headlights.
He shivered and stomped his feet, wondering if it might have been better if he hadn’t eaten and washed before meeting these guys. He’d become used to the cold and wind and now had to become accustomed to it all over again. At least he wouldn’t be outside for long and Hunter had already started Cabin Three warming.
The pickup had a plow attached and, assuming it was Steve driving, Cole appreciated that the guy had effectively plowed a route back to the mainland. That would make things easier in the morning if the wind didn’t pick up again. It had died down in the last hour and the thick layer of clouds had thinned. Above him, patches of black sky shimmered with stars. Occasionally, the moon peeked from behind a cloud to bathe the scene in an ethereal white glow.
Flashlight in hand, he directed the driver to pull up onto what was the beach in the summer. When the truck parked, and the engine cut off, Cole remained on the beach, the reassuring weight of his firearm in his right jacket pocket. He’d already secured a mask across his face, both to protect from the deadly Sympatico Syndrome virus, if the others were infectious, but the mask served a second purpose of keeping his face a little warmer. Steve had seemed sincere when he had sought help for his friend, Mike, but Cole had to be absolutely certain these guys weren’t up to something sinister before he let down his guard.
“Step out slowly!” Cole shined the light in Steve’s face as the man exited the driver’s side. Steve squinted, but didn’t protest and held his arms out to show he was unarmed.
“We appreciate this, Cole.” Steve nodded to the other side of the truck. “Mike’s really hurtin’.”
“Save your appreciation for now. I don’t even know if we can help or not.”
Cole flicked the beam towards the passenger side as that door opened. The man who exited was huge, standing at least six-five, a bushy, brown beard covering the lower part of his face. He squinted into the light, raising a hand to shield his eyes as his other hand remained cradled against his belly.
“Step away from the truck.” Cole kept the light focused towards Mike’s eyes to keep him disoriented. He assessed the injured man, alert for any danger.
“Do what he says, Mike.” Steve sounded calm, his tone somewhat reassuring Cole, and from the way Mike’s shoulders eased down, him as well.
“I am.” Mike extended his left hand out to the side and winced as he tried to the same with his right.
Cole nodded, satisfied the guy wasn’t faking an injury, and lowered the light to the snow before pointing it towards Cabin Three. “That’s where we’re going.” He motioned with the flashlight. “After you.”
Inside, after they had all stomped snow from their boots on the porch, they shucked their coats. Cole directed Steve to add another piece of wood to the stove and set a pan of water to heat while he lit a second lantern. Someone had already lit one and started the stove while he had been changing clothes so at least they weren’t fumbling for matches.
He spotted the box of medical supplies on a bookshelf beside a few books having to do with first aid.
Someone knocked on the door as Cole looked rummaged through the box. Between what Cole and Hunter had taken from the store, and what Jenna had brought, they had a decent supply and had divided it into a couple of boxes—one for the main cabin and one for storage. That way if there was another fire or other catastrophe, their chances of losing all of it was lessened. “Who’s there?”
Elly poked her head in. “Jenna and I came to see if we could help.”
Cole had expected Jenna but not Elly. His initial reaction was fear for her safety, but he set it aside. They were always in danger, to some extent. Elly had proven herself more than capable and he simply waved them in, noting the sag in the front of Elly’s parka. They all carried weapons whenever they left the island and he recognized the weight of a gun in her pocket.
Jenna bustled in after Elly, taking charge and issuing orders for all of them. Cole abandoned his search in the box of supplies when Jenna plopped a smaller box down on the table. She glanced at the men her gaze locking on Mike’s protectively hunched shoulders, his hand clutched against his chest.
“Hi, I’m Jenna.” Cole’s sister-in-law pulled out a chair from the kitchen table and patted the back of it. “Have a seat.”
“Hello Jenna. I’m Mike.” He staggered a little when he took a step towards the chair. “Sorry. I was drinking.” For all of his size, he looked like a guilty schoolboy caught imbibing in the bathroom.
Jenna nodded and pulled a blood pressure cuff from her box. “That’s okay. I’m going to do a quick set of vital signs to see where we stand, then assess your injury, okay?”
Elly moved forward and helped Mike get his jacket off, easing his injured hand out of the sleeve.
Jenna’s professional tone and Elly’s quiet competence were exactly what was needed. Steve stepped away from the table and took a seat on the ramshackle sofa. Cole indicated to Elly that water was heating and then moved over to the beat-up armchair beside the sofa. He couldn’t suppress the sigh that escaped when he sat. He couldn’t ever remember being so tired or sore. It had been a long day and it wasn’t over yet.
“So, did you find a house to bed down in?”
Steve nodded. “Yep. We found one with a wood-burning fireplace and a pile of wood by the garage. There was a body in the basement, so we avoided that and the other guys got a fire started. They were heating up venison when Mike and I left.”
“You didn’t stay to eat?” Cole wondered if he should offer food. Manners bred into
him over a lifetime dictated that he should offer a meal, but food was precious.
As if reading his mind, Steve shook his head. “No, but I brought some supplies of our own. They’re out in the truck still.”
“Well, you’re welcome to use the stove and there are some old pots and pans in the cupboard.”
Steve nodded, smiling. “I’ll be right back.” He still wore his parka, but stopped to zip it before he headed out to his truck.
Cole stood and watched through the window until he was sure that the truck was Steve’s true destination then turned to Elly, who, with gloved hands, gathered soiled bandages, tossing them into the stove. “How’s it look?”
Elly brushed her hands together. “Not good.”
He peered over Jenna’s shoulder, wincing when he caught sight of Mike’s hand. A gaping wound sliced through his palm, opening the meaty heel part of his hand almost to the opposite wrist bone. The skin surrounding the gash seeped pus and the whole area appeared swollen. A dark red line trailed from the wound up the man’s arm, disappearing into his sleeve where it was rolled up to just before his elbow. Cole caught Elly’s eye and she nodded, her expression grim. The man already had sepsis setting in. The infection had reached his blood stream. It wasn’t necessarily fatal, but in this setting, the prognosis would be guarded, at best.
What would happen if Mike died while they were helping him? Would they be blamed? Doubts about the wisdom of offering care raced through his mind. Should he send them packing? Then Jenna probed, gently, the area around the cut, and Mike hissed, swearing. Immediately, he apologized for the crude language. Damn it. Why did Mike have to seem like such a nice guy? It would be a lot easier to kick him off the island if he was an ass. As he wavered, Jenna caught his eye.
“Cole, could you go fill that big bowl with snow? And then set the pan from the stove into it to cool off the water? It’s already been boiled, but it’s too hot to use.”
He completed the task as Jenna cut strips of tape, hanging them from the edge of the table where she could grab them easily. “While the water cools, I want to explain what’s going on and how I’m going to help, okay?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
There was a faint knock on the door. Cole stepped over, opening it. Steve stood on the porch with a large box in his hands. “Thanks. I couldn’t get the door handle.”
“No problem. Set it over there on the counter.” The kitchen was tiny, but a short counter provided a little workspace. He watched, curious, as Steve unloaded the box. A can of beets, another of asparagus, a hunk of meat, presumably venison since that is what he said the others were cooking, a can of mixed fruit and a can, of all things, brown bread.
Cole had only eaten it once and it had been years ago. He couldn’t even remember where he was, but thought his uncle had served it. His uncle hadn’t been much of a cook and a lot of his meals had come from cans, but Cole remembered the bread as being delicious with a rich, slightly sweet taste. Steve took a can opener from the box and raised an eyebrow at Cole then nodded to the can, apparently noticing Cole’s interest. “You’re welcome to have a slice. It’s the least I can do.”
Even as his mouth watered at the idea of a thick slice of brown bread, Cole shook his head. “I appreciate the offer, but I ate already.” There wasn’t enough for everyone and he wouldn’t eat something if there wasn’t enough for everyone.
“Go on. I have another can in here. You can take that one if you want.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. We have some stores of food and I’m sure we’ll find more as we travel south.”
Cole nodded and took the can. “Thank you. I’m sure everyone will be happy to have a slice.” If they cut it thin, there should be enough for everyone, or they could save it for the little ones as a treat.
Mike grunted in pain and Steve glanced at him, his forehead creased. “You okay?”
Between clenched teeth, Mike managed a yes. In an effort to take Steve’s mind off his friend, Cole asked, “Do you have a specific destination in mind?”
Steve shrugged. “Not really. Some place warm. I don’t want to have to spend another winter in Wisconsin if I can help it. Don’t get me wrong—I love snow and cold weather—or I did—but it’s not quite the same without central heat.”
Cole chuckled. “True. It’s been quite a challenge.”
“Why don’t you guys head south with us?” Steve opened the can of beans and dumped them in a pot he’d dug out of the cabinet. He started slicing the venison, adding pieces to the baked beans. It was a novel combination to Cole, but he supposed it would almost act as a barbecue sauce for the meat.
Cole took the pot from Steve and made room for it on the stove, setting the boiled water Jenna had used aside. “We’re thinking of heading west.”
“Yeah, I guess it’s warmer there, too. What about going to the coast?” Steve checked the oven door. The small stove had been jerry-rigged out of a barrel and the oven, such as it was, had a rack. He put the brown bread, whole and wearing indentations from the can, into the oven to heat.
“Maybe eventually, but we haven’t decided where we’ll settle yet.” He was mulling the idea of Las Vegas after Hunter had mentioned it earlier tonight, but they hadn’t had a chance to discuss it in depth.
“The coast would be nice. Plenty of food, I would think.”
“Yes, you’re probably right.” But Cole worried about the mountains. Fuel could be an issue. Running out of it at the top of a mountain would be disastrous. Not to mention, who knew if the roads were even passable? The chances were good that vehicles would be blocking most of them. It was one thing to drive off-road on the relatively flat terrain of Wisconsin, but another to drive around a pile-up on a mountain pass.
“If not the coast, then where?” Steve opened a drawer and found a spoon and made a face as he stirred the chopped bits of asparagus. “I love the fresh stuff, but I guess I can’t be too picky, can I?” He shook his head and shuddered. Even so, he put them in a tiny pot Cole had found in the back of the cupboard.
Elly left Jenna’s side and moved to the sink. She looked around, her hands up like a just scrubbed surgeon, and guessing she wanted to wash her hands, he plucked the pan with the still warm remains of the snow he’d melted for Jenna, and poured it into a wide bowl. “Here.”
“Thanks.”
Returning his attention to the other man, Cole said, “To answer your question, Steve, we haven’t decided where we’re going yet. We still have time. Spring is still at least six weeks away.”
“You gotta make a plan, man. Build up your supplies.”
Elly leaned back against the counter beside Cole, drying her hands on a dish towel. “We have some ideas but we’re still discussing them.”
Cole appreciated that she didn’t give up where they might go. It wasn’t as if it was some huge secret, but if Hunter was right about the power still running, he didn’t want to have to fight Steve’s group for the use of it. Of course, that was supposing some other people hadn’t already claimed possession of the dam. He imagined survivors would already have it figured out.
Elly yawned and pushed away from the counter. “I’m heading back to the house. Wake me up if I’m asleep when you get back.” She ran her hand down his arm and he gave her a smile.
“I will.” It seemed like a week had passed since he last had a chance to really speak with her, not just a couple of days. “I’m going to check in on Joe before I head to the house.”
“I can do that. I checked on him just before you got back and had brought him some stew. He said he was feeling a little better. Chances are, he’s sound asleep.” She waved at Jenna, nodded to the other men, and left.
Cole watched Jenna re-bandage Mike’s hand, leaving a small wick in the wound— to drain—she said. The beans and venison concoction was starting to smell good, and Cole filed away the recipe, such as it was, for some future meal.
“Okay. I’ve done as much as I can do.” Jenna took a bowl of dir
ty water and emptied it outside. “Now, we just have to wait and see.” She had rigged up an I.V. using supplies they had found at a veterinarian’s office. A plastic bag of fluid hung from a coat tree beside Steve. “I mixed up the antibiotics and hung them. He’ll have to keep the I.V. in for a few days so I can give him several more doses, but I can cap the I.V. in between.”
Steve moved over to his friend and put a hand on his shoulder. “How are ya doing, bud?”
“Like I never want to do that again.” Mike’s cheeks, above his beard, had a waxy pale sheen, dotted with sweat. He made a weak attempt to smile. Cole was glad he still wore his mask even though he was almost certain that Mike’s condition wasn’t contagious.
“Steve, come on over.” Jenna waved her hand as she moved back to Mike’s side. “I’m going to show you how to cap this. You just have to keep an eye on the bag. When it’s empty, do this.” She showed him how to disconnect the tubing and put a small cap on the part still in Mike’s arm. “Got it?”
“Yeah, I guess—but I thought you would take care of that.”
Jenna shook her head. “This isn’t a hospital. Maybe one day we’ll have a clinic set up again, but for now, people are going to have to do a lot of things for themselves and each other. I’ll be by early in the morning to check on him and give him another dose.”
“So I have to stay up and watch the bag? When do I get to sleep?”
Invasion: A Post-Apocalyptic Survival Novel (Sympatico Syndrome Book 3) Page 1
