Survival Instinct (Book 5): Social Instinct

by Stittle, Kristal

  “Get in the water and go,” James commanded the moment everyone looked ready. “If you have to ditch something to survive, then ditch it.”

  He scrambled up onto Moe’s bare back. Katrina climbed onto Spark beside him.

  “Can you handle this? Have you ridden a horse in the water before?”

  Katrina nodded. Not the most confidence inducing response, but it would have to do. She may not have been the most experienced rider, but Katrina had insisted that taking care of Spark was her duty, which meant being the one to ride him across the river. James felt the same way about Soot, and tried to recall everything he had learned during his one experience with riding a horse in water. That time had been long ago, back when vacations were still a thing.

  Everyone got into the river and began swimming. James wanted to give them a head start, to make sure the lions weren’t going to follow them. The horses could run if the lions showed up, but the rocks wouldn’t provide great footing. At least they had the spears, that they had temporarily traded for the rifle and bullets.

  “There’s the big boy,” Katrina commented, pointing up toward the road.

  The male lion stood with his front paws on the guard rail, looking down on his escaping prey. His golden eyes swept over to where James and Katrina sat on the horses, his muzzle red with White’s blood.

  “You think they’re far enough out?” James asked, not taking his eyes off the big lion.

  Katrina kept twisting about, watching both the swimmers and the rest of the road for more of the beasts. “I have no idea.”

  Soot and Spark were both agitated, terrified of the lions. They knew their protection was currently swimming away.

  “It’ll have to be. Let’s go.” James kicked his heels into Soot’s side. One foot was bare, the other wrapped in bandages he would need to change after they crossed.

  Soot wasn’t too eager to go into the water. He walked slowly, not trusting the rocks. Beside him, Spark was bolder. The younger horse splashed his way in, kicking up plumes of water. Once it reached his belly, however, he slowed.

  James let Soot enter at his own pace, turning to watch the road. There were several lions gathered up there now. A couple of the lionesses had even moved beyond the guard rails and were pacing back and forth at the top of the rocks.

  Just as Soot got deep enough to start swimming, one of the lionesses charged. She rushed down over the rocks, her large paws kicking up the smaller pebbles. As her lithe body hit the water, Soot started to kick harder. James didn’t want him to. He wanted his horse to swim at his normal pace. To try changing rhythms now could cause the horse to exhaust itself and drown, but there was little James could do. Instead, he wrapped one hand around Soot’s mane, and twisted around with the spear in the other.

  The lioness was very close, her wide paws pushing her swiftly through the water. James raised the spear. The big cat hissed at him, and raised one of her front paws as she attempted to grab Soot’s tail. James jabbed at the lioness with the spear. He missed the eye he had been aiming for, and nearly got swept off Soot’s back in the process. Instead, the spear slid across the lioness’s skull, leaving a jagged wound that ran from above her left eye, over to the base of her right ear. It was enough to drive her back. The lioness turned in the water, quickly retreating back to shore, snorting water out of her nose. The rest of the lions had gathered at the water’s edge, but thankfully none of them had decided to pursue the swimmers.

  “It’s all right Soot, she’s gone.” James turned around to stroke Soot’s neck, and find his seat again. “Just keep swimming buddy, you’re doing great. Swim nice and easy.” He was careful not to tug Soot’s reins and risk having the animal’s nose dip below the water, which would frighten him further.

  The horses had been encouraged to swim between the container yard and Animal Island, although it wasn’t a common occurrence. If they had to move horses across any bodies of water, they tended to put them in boats. Still, it was times like this when James was grateful that someone had had a forward thinking idea. He didn’t know who had taught the horses to swim with riders, he had been at the Black Box at the time, but resolved to thank them when he got back home. However far into the future that might be.

  Glancing over his shoulder, James checked to make sure there weren’t any more lions coming after them. He saw none in the water, and most of those along the shoreline had disappeared. While James wanted to hope that they had given up, he admitted that, for all he knew, they were just heading off to an intact bridge and would meet up with them again on the far side.

  ***

  There was no choice but to take a long break when they reached the far shore. The horses didn’t have the energy to climb up the bank, and the humans weren’t looking forward to it either. Those who had had to swim were exhausted, but they had managed to hold onto all their gear: saddles and dead lioness included.

  James fussed over Soot. Everyone else dried out what they could. Katrina made sure her rifle and bullets had crossed safe and dry in their plastic tarp and bag. James worried that the old horse could still keel over from exhaustion. He made sure Soot stood where he could drink from the river, and scrambled up and down the bank to bring him long grass to eat. It aggravated the hell out of his foot wound.

  “No, no, don’t lie down,” James told Soot when it looked like he was going to. “This is not a good spot. Look at these rocks. They wouldn’t be comfortable at all.” He had no idea if his words made any difference, as they fell on mostly deaf ears, but Soot did remain standing. He closed his eyes, however, potentially catching a quick nap.

  James hobbled over to the group. A lot of socks were laid out on the rocks, drying in the sun.

  “Someone needs to go find a place where we can make camp,” he told them.

  “We haven’t gotten very far today,” Skip pointed out, looking up at the location of the sun.

  “I know, but the horses need a place where they can lie down for a little bit. And I’m sure everyone would like a chance to dry themselves out.” He then added in a lower voice, with a head jerk toward Belle, who was crying. “I also think we need some time to grieve White.”

  Samson agreed. “I’ll go. We should also replenish our water supplies and turn that lioness into meat we can carry.”

  “I’ll come with you,” volunteered Katrina.

  Jack and Lucy also volunteered to go. A team of four felt safe, especially as they didn’t plan to move far from the river. The other seven remained behind with the horses.

  James checked on Spark, but he seemed to be doing much better than Soot. He had already climbed part way up the bank, chowing down on the grass and weeds that had managed to take root between the rocks. The sun was drying off both horses well enough that James didn’t feel a need to rub either of them down with the tattered towel he had brought. He had finally started wringing out the clothes he was wearing when the four came back.

  It hadn’t taken them long to find a place to camp. On this side of the river was a sparsely wooded area, with a footpath that followed the backs of townhouses. Since the townhouses had been built on a bit of a hill, they had walk-out basements, and the team of four had picked one with a large set of doors the horses could comfortably fit through.

  Everyone reluctantly gathered up their gear. In order to give the horses a break, they had to carry the saddles and the dead lioness up the bank. James was excused from helping with this task because of his injury, but he took it upon himself to lead Soot and Spark. Soot was still quite reluctant to climb, but he managed, albeit slowly. James learned that the best way to get him to move, was to keep Spark a certain distance ahead. The old horse didn’t want the young horse to leave him behind, and James had to be careful not to let Soot push himself too hard. He was glad when he finally had both horses through the tall, wooden fence.

  The grass in the yard was long, and Samson said they had already checked for snakes and rats and had deemed it safe. Spark began to mow it eagerly, but Soot went
straight into the shade of the finished walk-out basement, and lay down on the carpet. James sat down nearby to monitor the horse and take care of his foot. There had been some seepage through the stitched up holes, but nothing too concerning. He applied fresh bandages from a plastic bag that had kept them dry. James was more worried about Soot, knowing that the big animal couldn’t lie down for too long, or else his own weight could damage his blood flow, making it impossible for him to get up again. James didn’t think they’d be able to do anything if that happened, so he intended to wake Soot up before it could.

  It wasn’t long before everyone had laid out their gear to dry all over the uppermost floor. There was a little balcony that stuck out the back, where a lot of clothing had been draped over the railing. Katrina stood up there with her rifle, using the high vantage point to watch for danger. She also occasionally switched whose gear got the most direct sunlight.

  Wood was gathered, and a fire was started on the small stone patio. Anyone who had the energy, carried water up from the river so that they could boil it and capture the steam with the equipment they had brought. It was actually unfortunate that the river hadn’t been salt water at that point, otherwise they could have used the salt residue to cure any meat they might have left over.

  It turned out that James didn’t need to worry about Soot sleeping too long. Once Marissa began cutting into the lioness, he was awake and up on his feet. The scent of blood had reached him through his dreams and frightened him.

  “It’s okay,” James told Soot, getting up to pat his neck and sides. “Let’s go outside.”

  Soot seemed calmer once he was with Spark across the yard from the butchering.

  After knowing so many who had already died, mourning had become a strange affair. The atmosphere at the townhouse was generally light, practically a party, with everyone happy to have survived. Occasionally someone would fall quiet, and become introspective, but never for long. James knew that if his previous self had been suddenly placed here, he would have been confused, not believing this to be a funeral, or perhaps even finding it disrespectful. But times had changed, and everything had changed along with it, including their capacity to grieve.

  The lioness’s hide was scraped and cleaned, and draped over a couch to dry. Without enough time to properly stretch and tan the hide, it wouldn’t be soft and was more likely to degrade, but the hope was that they could find a way to treat it, either at the camp to which they were heading, or maybe once back home. The hide was presented to Katrina, as she was the one who had killed it. As for the lioness’s teeth and claws, everyone claimed various bits, making simple necklaces and bracelets, or just planning to carry them like totems. James took only one piece, but it was one of the big fangs that had killed White. He located a thin, tough piece of leather he had brought in case one of his shoelaces broke, and used that to hang the tooth around his neck.

  Getting to eat until they were full was the most joyous part of their stay.

  The most solemn time came shortly before nightfall, when they went through White’s gear. They sorted everything they had taken from his ravaged body, sharing the most important items—food, water canisters, and weapons—between them. His spare clothing went to those it would fit, and his personal items were given to whoever wanted them. James got his spare shoelaces, replacing the leather he had used to hang the tooth. Even the tattered pack was kept. The top was full of holes, but the body of it could still hold things. After cleaning it as best they could, they put the pack with Spark’s tack. It would become a saddlebag when they were ready to leave.

  After finishing the gruesome task, they organized a guard schedule. One person would always be on the balcony, and another would stay awake by the open basement doors. That way, the horses could stay outside if they liked, and always had two people watching over them. They could also be brought inside in a hurry if need be.

  James took the first watch in the basement, opting to sit just outside on a couch cushion he placed on the stone patio. While watching over the horses, he kept the embers of the fire glowing.

  ***

  No one slept well. They were constantly afraid that they would be attacked by lions in the night. But other than a pair of slow zombies who showed up outside the back gate, they were left completely alone. James hoped that meant that they had crossed outside of the lions’ territory, but considering the fact they also thought the lions had gone just before White was attacked, it was a very cautious hope.

  Everyone packed up quietly. Another zombie stumbled up to the front of the house just before they left, and Vin dispatched it even though it wasn’t going to cause any problems. There was no way for the horses to get out through the front of the house, so they would have to follow the river side path until they reached the end of the block of townhouses.

  James mounted Soot, grateful that the horse had survived its ordeal crossing the river. Katrina rolled up her lion hide and put it in Spark’s new saddlebag. The young horse didn’t seem to mind that his new bag had come off a dead man, or that the skin of the animal that had killed him was placed inside.

  While walking, everyone remained extra vigilant. They didn’t group together as tightly as they did when they knew that the lions were near, but they did stay in a tighter bunch than when they had first started. Marissa took over the duties as their forward scout. James would have liked to do it, but Soot and Spark wouldn’t want to be that far apart from one another, and there was no way James’ foot could tolerate that much walking.

  As the day progressed, they came across more and more zombies. None of them were in a herd—the most they saw at once was five, and usually they were in twos or threes—but it was still disconcerting. They were still within the range that the scavenger teams would occasionally cover, but they kept running into unexpected problems. First the lions, and now a higher concentration of the dead. Both were likely related to the mega horde. The lions had likely been driven away from their previous territory due to its arrival, and the zombies they were coming across now could easily have been stragglers that got separated from the main mass. It made James wonder what else could have changed that they didn’t know about, or were ill prepared to face.

  10: Claire

  6 Days After the Bombing

  Moving was agony, both physically and psychologically. Every motion was slow and deliberate. Claire had to hold herself in a kind of plank position for fairly long stretches of time. When she got tired, she lowered herself to her stomach and took a break. Rose was having an even harder time due to her missing hand.

  If they could have stood up, everyone would have been able to move more quickly and easily, but they couldn’t be sure how well whoever or whatever was outside could see through the windows.

  Their first priority was to move farther away from the clouded glass to reach the back hall. Packing their sleeping gear had taken a long time, especially the sleeping bags that were made out of a slick, waterproof material, that tended to make a lot of whisking sounds whenever it brushed against anything. There were many moments of held breaths and bitten tongues.

  During their slow creep across the floor, Claire winced every time her pack shifted. It was more empty than full, ready to receive food and other useful items they might come across. This meant that what was inside had space to slide about: a potential source of noise as well as the capacity to throw her off balance.

  One by one, they crept over to the hallway and then down the length of it. They gathered at its end to give their trembling muscles a break. A counter prevented them from seeing the windows, but there was no reason to believe that the shadows had moved off. Claire prayed that they were just zombies who had come to a standstill at that particular spot for reasons she couldn’t fathom. She had had a number of dreams about the men and women who had invaded the Black Box, and understood that anyone standing there for that long a time wasn’t going to be friendly.

  Jon was the first to stand up. There were two doors at the end of the h
allway: one was labelled as a washroom, the other was unmarked. Based on the size of the storefront, the assumption was that this place was some sort of pick up, or made to order location. A few items had been displayed out front—long since stripped by scavengers—but the main service happened in the back. The hope was that the back room had some sort of loading entrance that they could use to escape. Unfortunately, it also had a lock on the door: one that was still intact.

  There was no keyhole. Instead it was a dead electronic number pad. There were no tumblers on which to use their lock picks. Jon signed down at Danny, asking for a flat head screwdriver he was carrying. Danny carefully retrieved it from a side pocket on his pack. While they waited for him, Larson asked if Jon could see anything of the windows, now that he was standing. He responded that he could, and that the shadows were still there. Claire guessed that it had been at least an hour by then, likely closer to two.

  After receiving the screwdriver, Jon pried off the plastic cover. He looked past the buttons at the mess of useless wires, then looked down at Danny and shook his head. Whatever he had been hoping was possible, was not. Bryce pointed to the hinges, his eyebrows raised. Jon shook his head again. The hinges were on the inside of the door, so there was no way to dismantle them from the outside. Rose then asked the obvious question: is it even locked?

  Jon turned the handle and, much to his embarrassment, it was not. They all slithered their way inside and let the door close behind them. It was pitch black in the back room.

  What they found when Larson turned on his solar-charged lantern was neither a large storage room nor a workspace. The room was fairly small, containing a number of shelves for storage, with a few mouldy cardboard boxes still sitting on them. It looked like an employee break room and office. There were no other doors, to the outside or elsewhere. Whatever this place had once been, it was a tiny operation. And this room was a dead end.