Invasion_A Post-Apocalyptic Survival Novel Page 4

  The cats slowed them down as one of them had to stay with them in the SUV while the other loaded, but they took turns and soon, they were on their way to check on Steve’s group.

  “How do you suppose they survived so long?” Hunter cuddled the gray cat while the orange one lay in a makeshift container created from an open plastic bin with a light blanket over the top.

  Cole grabbed his sunglasses from the holder on the roof of the car, squinting as the sun glinted off the snow. “When I went downstairs to look around, I saw what was left of a huge twenty-five pound bag of food in the only dry corner of the basement. I think they ripped into it and ate that.” He remembered the frozen patches of ice on the cement floor, but not all of it was frozen—there was a little bit of water melting around the edges. Even unheated, the basement wouldn’t be as cold as the outside. The ground would add some insulation. “I think the basement suffered a flood recently—probably during one of those big storms we had last fall—they must have survived on that.”

  “I bet they caught a few mice too.”

  Cole nodded. “You’re probably right. I guess we can thank them for some of the items we were able to salvage today.”

  Hunter scratched the gray cat behind the ears and the animal appeared to love it. Their former owners must have taken excellent care of them for the cats to have survived ten months in the house on their own. “These little guys definitely have used up a few of their nine lives, that’s for sure.”

  Chapter Four

  Cole wished he had Google maps available, or at the very least, a paper map of the town, but with roads choked with snow, vehicles, and now, the occasional downed tree limbs, he probably wouldn’t be able to follow the directions anyway. He chuckled as he imagined the voice re-directing him over and over every time he adjusted his course. Instead, of Google, he had Hunter, who did his best to remember what streets they had come down.

  “Dad, why don’t we just follow our tracks back to the lake and pick up the tracks from the vehicles Steve’s plow? They had to have left a big-ass trail.”

  “That was my plan originally, but I got turned around going to collect the deer. I’m not sure which way the path went.” Cole checked out the street names, wishing he had paid more attention to the layout of the town. They’d designated areas more by what sector of town they were in rather than names. They had explored the areas closest to the lake and knew where most of the stores were located because those were the first places they had looked for supplies in the fall but since homes usually contained bodies of the dead, they were mostly avoided except for a few that were carefully explored. He’d wanted to make sure all were unoccupied before breaking in; not just to avoid the virus, but out of respect for possible survivors.

  According to Steve’s directions, his group was staying at a place halfway between the highway west of town and the lake. He backtracked to where he had followed Steve’s plowed path up onto the mainland, and turned onto it. The street wasn’t perfectly clear, by any means, with the plowed path winding around accidents left abandoned months ago, but it was close to appearing similar to how it would after a major blizzard when there were often cars left in ditches even in the best of times.

  These glimpses of familiarity were both comforting and disturbing. He knew life would never be like it had been. That world was gone, but the glimpses allowed him to momentarily forget about their current circumstances. For some reason, that was comforting.

  He followed the path around a corner onto a street that ran parallel to the river for a short way. The homes that backed up to the river were slightly bigger than the surrounding homes and it was in front of one of them that he spotted several vehicles that he vaguely recognized from the night before. More importantly, they had definitely been driven recently with snow cleared from windshields and ruts in the snow leading up to them. He pulled in behind one.

  As he scanned for any danger, the gray cat nuzzled his hand, hungry for attention. Absently he scratched under its chin, and glanced at Hunter, who stroked the orange cat’s head. “I guess we need to put these guys in the back for now. I don’t want them dashing out when we open the doors.”

  Hunter nodded and twisting, set his cat on the floor behind him. Cole handed him the gray one, and they both exited as quickly as they could. Cole hesitated. He had his sidearm as did Hunter, but he considered grabbing the rifle too. Then he shook his head. These guys could have killed him last night and hadn’t. He did fish a mask from his pocket though, and nodded at Hunter when he did the same.

  They cut across the lawn to reach the front door, and Cole pressed the doorbell. Nothing happened. Duh. No power. He pulled his glove off and knocked instead. While he didn’t hear anything, he had the distinct feeling that they were being watched. Just as he hadn’t actually seen any of these men before, they would have only seen him bundled up, so he called out, “It’s Cole. I just came to update you on your friend, Mike.”

  A voice came through the door. “Yo, dudes. Leave your weapons on the porch.”

  Hunter looked at him and mouthed, “Do we do it?”

  Cole shook his head. “No.” Louder, he replied to the voice, “No dice. We’re only here as a favor to Steve and Mike but …” He shrugged and motioned for Hunter to head back to the car. The guy’s tone hadn’t sounded threatening, but they had no real reason to trust him either.

  What a waste of time. They could be back to the island by now if he hadn’t searched around, wasting precious gasoline, just to find these guys.

  A sound from the porch made him turn, one hand on his gun. The door opened and a tall blond-haired man with a bushy beard stepped out. “Wait! Come on back. I’m sorry about what my cousin asked you to do. We want to hear about Mikey.”

  Cole turned but studied the man, noting his stance and demeanor then swept a gaze over the house for any signs of deception. A face parted the curtains in the living room window, the man beckoning them to come in too.

  “All right. Let’s talk to them, but stay alert.”

  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 transferred the steaming mug he held in his right hand to his left hand, offering a greeting. “I’m Neil. Glad to meet you, Cole. And thanks for helping out our buddy.”

  Cole clasped the hand in a firm grip and nodded. “He seems like a good man.”

  Hunter also shook the man’s hand, his gaze steady and his voice 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 ste
nch of unwashed bodies almost over-powering the aroma of whatever was cooking on 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 shake either of their hands. 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 four 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 two 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 yourself 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.

  Chapter Five

  “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 Zoe, 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.