Survival Instinct (Book 5): Social Instinct

by Stittle, Kristal

  Back inside, Crichton, Harry, Angela, and Ki-Nam were up and getting ready to go.

  “I set aside some breakfast for you,” Crichton told Misha as he pointed it out. There wasn’t much, but at least it was something.

  “We’ve decided to follow the edge of the bay more closely,” Harry informed him. “We all have clothing we’d like to rinse off, plus it’d be good to refill our water supplies, and we might be able to catch some fish.”

  Misha nodded, although he doubted they would catch any fish. They didn’t have the proper gear for it, as it was all with fishing teams that had gone out even earlier than everyone else, and there was certainly nothing they had that could be used as bait. Besides, they had probably already over-fished the bay.

  “We’ll just graze the horses and then head out,” Crichton informed them all.

  “We should actually wait, and graze the horses a little later,” Misha advised. He told them about his walk, and how there was a possibility that something was on the roof. While it was unlikely a threat, no one wanted to take chances, so they agreed to hook up the horses and leave right away. Misha ate while the horses were made ready, giving a little bit of his food to Rifle even though he didn’t really have enough for sharing. The other dogs could hunt quite well for themselves, and weren’t against eating infected rats, but Rifle wasn’t as quick as they were. Misha couldn’t bring himself to eat while his brother went hungry, and so neither of them got enough.

  After bringing the dogs back outside, Misha watched the roof while Ki-Nam drove the cart out. There was no sign of anything up there, and the dogs didn’t act unusual in any way. As they began walking, with Misha and his dog pack taking the lead, he couldn’t help but glance over his shoulder a few times. There was something that kept making the little hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

  8: Evans

  5 Days After the Bombing

  The ether didn’t last very long. When Evans came to, he was still being dragged to wherever it was they were taking him. His head pounded, and it was difficult to focus either his mind or his vision. He could hear Moe walking nearby, and he guessed the other rattling of leaves was Gerald being dragged in the same manner that he was. It was hard to tell just how many silent ones had hold of Evans’ arms, and he had no way of knowing how many were walking around him.

  As his lower legs passed over the sharp edge of a rock, it was impossible not to grunt. His forward motion was immediately stopped, and another rag was pressed to his face. The darkness came creeping back.

  ***

  Evans woke two more times to find himself still being dragged, and each time he was knocked out again by a rag placed over his mouth. When finally he awoke to discover that he wasn’t moving, he was left in peace.

  As he opened his eyes, Evans had a terrifying moment when he thought that the ether had made him go blind. After a few heart-pounding seconds, he came to the conclusion that he was just in a place without light. It seemed the silent ones hadn’t been dragging him to the edge of their territory to dump him, but had, in fact, kidnapped him.

  Trying to sit up, Evans instantly learned that it was a bad idea. His head was still swimming, compounded by the disorienting and all-consuming blackness that surrounded him. After a single attempt, he lay flat on his back once more. The fact that he could lie flat was something. The stillness of the air informed him that he wasn’t outside, and the dense, dry scent of concrete made him guess it was a basement, but at least it wasn’t one with an earthen floor. By slowly sweeping his hands along his sides to his head, he could feel no imperfections, nor did it feel like the floor wasn’t level, although that wasn’t easy to determine what with the lingering effects of the ether. If pressed, Evans would guess that he was in a basement, in a house somewhere in town.

  His right hand touched something near the apex of its arc. With only the tips of his fingers, he couldn’t quite make it out. Gritting his teeth, Evans rolled slowly onto his stomach, turning in the general direction of what he had felt. As he did so, he noticed that his boots were loose. It seemed the silent ones had decided to let him keep his footwear, but not after what was undoubtedly a most thorough search.

  What he ended up grasping was another boot. Based on the weight, there was a foot in it.

  “Gerald,” Evans whispered, partly because of the dark and partly because his throat burned. “Gerald, wake up.” He shook the boot.

  A low moan came from the body.

  Evans pulled his hand away so that he wouldn’t be accidentally kicked. “Gerald, it’s Evans.” He didn’t know if the teenager would be able to recognize his voice in its current state. His throat felt like crumpled up sandpaper.

  “Evans?” Gerald croaked, confirming that it was indeed him and not some other person. “Where are we?”

  “I don’t know, I just woke up.”

  “My head is killing me.”

  “I know. Don’t try to sit up; it only makes it worse. I’m going to crawl around a bit, see if I can learn anything.”

  “See? I can’t see anything.”

  “Neither can I. Just stay where you are so that we don’t crash into one another.”

  “Sounds easy enough.” Gerald’s throat rasped as badly as Evans’.

  Evans picked a random direction and started crawling, cracking the dried mud caked to his clothes. He moved slowly, sliding one hand over the floor as far as it would reach, and then waving the other about to make sure there was nothing held up off the floor in some way that could collide with his face. Moving was hard, both because of the spinning and because his legs were killing him. The silent ones hadn’t cared at all about what they dragged Evans over, resulting in multiple contusions. The wound on his forearm was also throbbing again, and his shoulders ached from having the weight of his body hanging from them.

  After crossing a short distance, Evans’ hand found a wall. He got close and swept both hands all over it, making sure it wasn’t just some object he was mistaking for a wall. It wasn’t.

  “I’m at a wall,” he reported to Gerald. “It’s concrete, like the floor. I’m going to follow it around. Don’t be alarmed if I brush against you.”

  “Understood,” Gerald croaked.

  Working his way around, Evans didn’t bump against Gerald, but he guessed that he came close. It unnerved him a little bit, making him wonder if there was something else in the middle of the room that he hadn’t yet come across. No, not a room, a cell. As he followed a wall, his way forward was impeded by a set of bars built into a metal frame that was flush with the concrete. The bars were thick, and spaced far too closely together for him to attempt squeezing through. He followed them as he had the wall. Periodically he stuck his arm out through the bars to confirm that there was still nothing but more floor beyond them. At one point, he came across what must be the door. Rattling it proved the lock was secure. He reported all of this to Gerald, his throat feeling a tiny bit better.

  Once he believed he had completed his circuit of the cage, Evans carefully propped himself up against the wall. His head had started to swim less and less as he had explored. He figured that if he sat for a little while, it should return to normal, and then he’d be able to stand and investigate the door more thoroughly.

  “What do they want with us? Why are my boots untied?” Gerald wondered.

  “I don’t know, and they most likely took your boots off to search them.” Having been reminded of his own boots, Evans thought he might as well tie them back up. It wasn’t that easy to do in the dark; the dried mud added another layer of difficulty.

  “I’m coming toward you,” Gerald said.

  Evans listened to the scraping on the concrete as Gerald crawled, sliding his own leg back and forth so that he could track the sound to him. Gerald grabbed his leg, causing an involuntary flinch, and then made his way to the wall where he proceeded to sit beside Evans.

  “So what do we do now?” Gerald asked once he was settled.

  “I suppose we wait. I don
’t think they would put us in here just to let us die. If they wanted us dead, they had plenty of opportunities to kill us.”

  “How long do you think they’ll make us wait?”

  “I have no idea. We might not see them until tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?” Gerald’s voice took on its whiny tone. Evans didn’t bother to say any more.

  It turned out that it wasn’t tomorrow when they received visitors. Evans was guessing that only twenty or so minutes had passed when a light finally appeared. There was a brief sliver that washed across the room, from a doorway at the top of a set of stairs opening and closing, and then a shrouded figure carrying a lamp descended. The lamp was dim, yet it was still hard to look at. That might have been caused by sitting in the dark for so long, or it might have been another after-effect of the ether. Evans studied what the light revealed of the room. It did appear to be the basement of a house. The bars crossed the space, as Evans had determined, preventing him and Gerald from reaching the dormant furnace and fuse box, the stairs, or any of the high, covered windows. The far side of the room had some wooden framework. Whoever had once lived here had been in the process of fastidiously finishing the space, but hadn’t gotten much farther than smoothing out any rough patches in the floor.

  Gerald managed to keep his mouth shut as the figure stepped up to the bars, definitely a newer construction than the wooden framing.

  “Are you the one I spoke to earlier?” Evans asked, unable to tell from the heap of rags. If it was, she had covered her face once more.

  There was no response, merely an unseen stare, for the figure’s eyes were cast in shadow.

  “I’m guessing you don’t plan on killing us,” Evans continued. “If you did, we’d be dead already. Whatever you want us for, or want us to do, we’d be better at it after a drink of water. That ether of yours packs an unpleasant punch to the back of the throat.”

  After a few seconds passed without any response, Gerald leaned over to Evans and whispered, “I don’t think they’re listening to you.” He then added some sarcasm. “Maybe you’re not being polite enough.”

  Evans didn’t bother to whisper back, figuring the silent person had heard Gerald just fine. “I never say please to anyone who’s drugged me and put me in a cage.”

  The figure suddenly turned and walked away, heading back toward the stairs.

  “No, he didn’t mean that!” Gerald called after them, moving away from the wall to half-crawl toward the bars. “I’ll say please! Please, leave the light! Please!”

  But the lamp was carried away, disappearing into the brighter beam that flashed across the room from the door at the top of the stairs.

  “Look what you did,” Gerald seethed once they were plunged back into darkness.

  “I didn’t do anything. They were going to leave anyway.” Evans got up carefully, using the wall to support himself. While his mouth and throat still didn’t feel great, his head wasn’t spinning nearly as much as it had been.

  “What are you doing?” Gerald whined, suddenly afraid again.

  “Looking for anything I missed the first time.” He didn’t bother to elaborate further. He had now seen the room, so he did another circuit in order to feel it. All the walls were solid, unlike another prison where he had once found himself. There would be no escaping this one in the same manner. The locks, too, were of good construction. Three heavy bolts held the door closed: one near the bottom just above where he had explored earlier, one in the middle, and one at the top. All three bolts were kept shut with heavy-duty padlocks. On the other side of the door, the hinges matched the placement of the bolts. They were on the outside, so the door must swing outward. This was advantageous for them should they try to rush the door when it was opened, but Evans got the sense that the silent ones would have a method for subduing any such attack. The hinges were as thick around as the bolts, and there was no way to get the pins out. The pins had rounded tops, and hung down lower than the hinges. Those lower sections had holes bored through them, from which hung more padlocks, albeit smaller ones. They seemed unnecessary to Evans, since without any tools, the pins were likely impossible to remove.

  By the end of his study, Evans’ hands were slick. All the moving parts on the cage door had been either oiled or greased. While not much noise would ever escape this basement, the silent ones were thorough. He wiped off what he could on his shirt, which had less mud than his pants and got in better around his nails. He then sat back down, unable to think of anything else to do.

  “What do you think people like them would want with people like us?” Gerald asked.

  “I honestly can’t say.” He didn’t think the silent ones were cannibals, keeping them temporarily alive as a way to store the meat for a little while, but it was a possibility. It would mean that their captors had succumbed to some sort of group madness, possibly a damned religion, as this area of the south tended to provide enough food for those who looked for it. And the silent ones were definitely smart enough to find it.

  The door above eventually opened again. A brighter lantern accompanied three people down the stairs. One of them carried a tray with food and water glasses on it. So these people weren’t starving. The other two were guards, with weapons held at the ready.

  The tray was placed on the floor, out of reach. The silent one who had carried it sat down beside it. Evans moved himself to sit as close as he could. Gerald lingered farther back, away from the light casting barred shadows across him. The silent one gestured for him to come closer. Gerald didn’t move, continuing to eye the guards.

  “Just come sit down,” Evans told Gerald, motioning to a spot beside him.

  Gerald didn’t take the spot Evans had suggested, however, he did sit. He refused to place himself against the bars, and instead chose a patch of floor just behind Evans’ right shoulder. The silent one deemed this acceptable. He, or perhaps she, picked up one of the two plastic water cups and held it out. Evans reached through the bars and took it, passing it back to Gerald. He was then given the second cup, which he emptied in one go. There were two more cups on the tray, and there was no reason to assume that they weren’t also for him and Gerald. Before more water came, the food was passed through. It consisted of an apple, a tomato, a small block of cheese, a slice of tough bread, and a strip of meat; all food groups were covered. There was one apiece for each of them, and Evans was pleased to find that the meat was beef. He had worried that it was a strip off of Moe when he’d been handed it, but long ago he learned to tell the difference between most meats. After both he and Gerald finished eating their offerings, they were handed the last two cups of water. Evans’ throat was feeling much better.

  “Thank you,” he said, raising his second cup slightly.

  “So you won’t say please but you’ll say thank you?” Gerald said snidely behind him.

  “When appropriate,” Evans told him without taking his eyes off the silent one. “So what is it you have us in here for?” he cut to the chase. “We have no reason not to co-operate with whatever it is.”

  The silent one on the floor turned to one of the guards and made some gestures. That guard turned away to go back upstairs.

  “I think he said something about getting a notebook,” Gerald said.

  Evans had forgotten that everyone at the container yard knew sign language, including Gerald. Had he remembered, he would have had the teenager teach him while they travelled, for it was a useful skill in dangerous situations. And, apparently, for somewhat startling silent ones.

  “What notebook?” Evans asked their host.

  The host pointed to him. Evans didn’t need a translator to understand.

  “Do you need me to help you read it?” Evans wondered. His notebook wasn’t a traditional journal like so many others he had come across, but consisted mostly of bullet point notations. It contained lists of people he had travelled with, supplies he’d had, trades he’d made, points of interest about various camps he’d visited, and any other useful ti
dbits he had picked up along the way. Some of his notes involved a bit of shorthand notation he had developed, and with the way information was sometimes jumbled together, it could easily be confusing for other people attempting to read it.

  The silent one said and did nothing in response to his question, merely waited.

  “You have a notebook?” Gerald asked instead.

  Evans gave Gerald the same answer that their host had given him.

  The second guard promptly returned, with Evans’ leather bound notebook in hand. He gave it to their host, and then resumed his protective stance. Their host flipped to a particular page, then held it toward Evans while pointing at a section.

  Curious as to what these people were specifically interested in, Evans took the notebook and read through the section.

  “What about this camp?” Evans wondered. It wasn’t too far away, somewhat farther than the camp to which he was taking Gerald.

  With hooded face pointed toward Gerald, their host signed something. If this person could speak, they were choosing not to, now knowing that they didn’t need to.

  “He said go there,” Gerald translated.

  “You want us to go there?” Evans wondered.

  “Pretty sure that was we want to go there,” Gerald translated the next batch of signs.

  “You? As in your group? Why would you want to go here?” Evans pointed to the page. They seemed to be doing just fine on their own where they were, and the camp they wished to visit had nothing special about it.

  There were a number of signs after that.

  “Hard to get a direct translation,” Gerald admitted. “Their sign is a little different than ours, and usually we rely on facial expressions and mouthed words to help us out. But I think I understood the gist of it. It’s not the whole group that wants to go there, just some of them. They’ve never travelled before though, and are afraid. They want a guide, basically you, to take them there.”