Survival Instinct (Book 5): Social Instinct

by Stittle, Kristal

  The house contained no food, batteries, guns, or bullets. Someone had been through the place in the early days and had taken those things. All Claire and her friends found in the way of food was something that had rotted away long ago in the fridge, and a few rusty cans whose contents couldn’t be trusted. There was also an empty gun rack, and in a drawer was a ripped open plastic package for batteries. They did find rolls of duct tape, though, as well as some string, thread, yarn, and a fair number of tools. Danny packed up the pliers, and the drill bits and socket heads that had proven most useful to them over the years, as well as the rechargeable battery packs from the power tools. The rest, they took the time to hide beneath couches, the fridge, and any other place where only the most thorough scavenger would look, so that there was a greater chance of them still being there when they returned. Jon packed up a pair of work boots he found, and Bryce removed all the shoelaces from a couple of pairs of sneakers. Rose found an excessive number of belts, most of them more fancy than useful, but grabbed all of them. Larson located a bunch of cold weather gear in a storeroom, suggesting that the couple who had once lived there also once lived in a chillier climate, or perhaps vacationed there relatively often. He took all the gloves, and Claire took a wool knit hat with a pom-pom that she adored. She hadn’t seen snow in a very long time.

  With the house searched, it was time to go. Jon believed they could reach their search grid in plenty of time to locate a good place to make their camp and begin boiling water. Claire wore her new hat perched precariously upon her head, for it was far too hot to pull it down over her ears. Rose told her that it was cute.

  As well as a few zombies, they finally managed to kill a rabbit while they walked. Bryce was the first to hit something with a sling stone at last, and while it wasn’t a powerful enough shot to kill it, the rabbit was stunned long enough for them to get close with a knife. They planned to make a stew out of it for dinner.

  The area in which they were to search was a mix of residential and business. There were houses, an apartment building, a row of shops, and a few small offices.

  “I vote for the apartment building,” Bryce said. “We should probably search it first, and it’s the tallest structure in the area, making it easy to find if someone gets turned around out here.”

  “I second that decision,” Larson chimed in. “The river is also fairly close.”

  “Then if no one has any objections, the apartment building it is.” Jon led them to the front door, which had been pried open.

  They scoured the first floor and the basement, often needing flashlights and lanterns to see due to the lack of windows. The office had been rifled through, and the laundry, storage, and utilities rooms were covered in a heavy layer of dust. There was a door to a parking garage, and another to a small convenience store that had been cleared out. All the glass remained intact in the store, with security bars over the windows, so they decided to make their camp there.

  “Claire, you and I will go get some water,” Jon decided, putting down his pack to retrieve the pot he carried. The others removed their water canisters and handed them over, so that they’d be able to carry back as much water as possible.

  “Bryce, Larson, how about you two get us some firewood?” Danny suggested. “Rose and I will get to work making this place more comfortable and secure.”

  The teams and tasks were agreed upon. Claire and Jon headed out, Claire’s pack holding all the water canisters while Jon left his pack behind, carrying only the pot in his hands.

  “Give me an idea of what tomorrow will be like,” Claire said as they walked down the street toward the river.

  “Well, we’ll be in smaller teams like we are right now; no one is to ever be alone.”

  “So it’s good that I came. Even numbers.”

  Jon ignored her remark. “One pair will always stay near home base. They’ll handle boiling water, as well as do their best to hunt and forage in the immediate surroundings. Basically, they guard our stuff.”

  “Who has to do that duty?” Claire was expecting that Jon was going to make her do it, to try to protect her again by making her stay put.

  “In this instance, we’ll rotate the job, since we’re all on foot.”

  Claire was surprised and pleased to hear it. Maybe Jon had accepted her as a full member of the team after the mannequin incident.

  “The other four will be searching every inch of our grid, which is smaller than usual. We bring everything of use to home base, even if we can’t carry it all back to the container yard in one go. We can always stash it, and come back with a cart later.”

  “Where will the search start?”

  “The parking garage, most likely. It should be pretty empty of vehicles, and I noticed it had a door covering its car entrance outside, so there shouldn’t be any big surprises lurking down there. I also think-” Jon abruptly stopped mid-sentence, and mid-stride.

  Claire’s hand fell to the hilt of her knife, wondering what Jon had seen. She followed his gaze down the street they had been crossing. She had been checking the other direction for threats, and hadn’t seen what occupied Jon’s side of the street.

  More mannequins. A group of them were standing around outside one of the shops, in a similar fashion to how Claire had found them the other morning.

  “Same person?” Claire whispered.

  “Most likely,” Jon whispered back.

  “Could there be someone in there, trapped by fear like we had been?”

  “Impossible to say. They could have been set up there days ago.”

  “They can’t be the same mannequins, right?”

  Jon shook his head. “I don’t know. Whoever set them up could have passed us during the night, or while we were searching that house this morning.”

  “Do you think they followed us?”

  “If they had, I think those mannequins would be set up outside the apartment building, not here.”

  “I think they’re the same mannequins.”

  “Why?”

  “Because otherwise it means someone is out there carting around enough mannequins to be able to leave a bunch behind and still have plenty to scare a different group of people.”

  “If you’re right, that shop might be occupied.”

  Claire realized that. “Anyone from home have a travel path through this area?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t think so. We’re not far from the river. Let’s get the water and get back to the others. We’ll explain what we’ve seen and decide what to do then.”

  Claire nodded. They continued on to the river, which was narrow and fast flowing. While Claire filled the canisters, Jon watched her back, his hand never leaving his sword, ready to draw it in an instant. By the time Claire filled up the pot, she knew she was in for another night of little sleep.

  11: Dakota

  5 Days After the Bombing

  When the sun sank beneath the horizon, it was a relief. Not only was it cooler, but it meant that Dakota was free of Freya for the time being. As one of the oldest kids in the group, Dakota was driven by Freya harder than the others. Never before had she had to run so much. Hope, Peter, Adam, Emma, and Becky were all pushed hard too, but their age group was allowed to take more breaks, and received more encouragement.

  “I think I’m going to puke,” Dakota mumbled, her face buried in her arms as she and her friends sat around a table.

  “Does that mean you’re not going to eat that?” Adam asked.

  Dakota raised her head and smacked his hand away before it could reach her dinner plate. She wrapped an arm around her food and drew it closer to her, although it meant she could no longer put her head back down. Her exhaustion-induced nausea made the thought of eating repulsive, but she also knew that it had to be done, that she needed to restore the energy she had burned off. She started with one tiny bite.

  Most of their training so far had just been exercising. Dakota prayed that it would be more than that tomorrow, that she would actually learn
something new. She already knew how to run.

  As time passed, Dakota was able to eat bigger bites and more frequently, until she was eating normally by the time the food on her plate was gone. Although she didn’t feel hungry after finishing, she also didn’t feel full.

  “How long do you think it will take before we get to eat a normal sized meal again?” Dakota wondered out loud when there was a lull in the conversation.

  “It’s going to take a long time,” Becky answered.

  “Not if we find a community willing to trade,” Hope told her.

  “Trade what?” Becky retorted. “What could we possibly give them that we don’t need?”

  “They can bring us food, and we can charge their batteries using the sub in exchange,” Peter said. The way in which he said it made it sound as though he had overheard an adult in charge telling this to someone else. Maybe he had. Maybe that was what was being offered by those going out to meet the other groups: give us food and we’ll give you electricity.

  “We wouldn’t have this problem if we hadn’t let all those people who attacked us stick around,” Adam complained rather loudly. “Except for you, Emma,” he quickly added in a quieter voice. “You and your parents are cool.”

  Emma didn’t say anything. She never did when Adam complained about the new people.

  The topic of conversation was soon about other things, such as when the fertilized chicken eggs were going to hatch. All the children had a bet going, with the island vet keeping track of it for them. They had all guessed when they thought the chickens would hatch, and whoever was closest to each egg, got to name the new chicken. Dakota was hoping for Mega Bok Bok.

  They had all finished eating, and decided to either go to bed, or do whatever chores they were usually given. They all walked to the toilets together. Dakota and Hope then accompanied Peter, Becky, and Adam to Bitch Bridge, since they were still sleeping on Animal Island, but they didn’t cross with them. The two girls then each went to their own containers. Now that they had begun to identify the rows of containers, it wasn’t as easy to make a wrong turn. Still, Dakota wished that her row wasn’t the red circle. She didn’t like the colour red, and the circle looked like a target.

  Approaching the container, Dakota could see that neither Cameron nor Brunt were home yet. Their solar charged lights were still clustered outside the doors, several of them glowing as they were set to turn on automatically when the sun left. Dakota brought all the lights inside with her, turning on those that were off once the doors were closed. She moved about the container placing the lights in their usual spots. There wasn’t much to clean or tidy, yet she picked up and put away a few wayward items before she changed into her pajamas and brushed her teeth and hair. Climbing up onto the top bunk, she ended up lying there with her eyes open. Though her body was tired, her mind was not yet ready to sleep. She wished she had a book to read, but didn’t have anything new, and of the ones currently in the container, none were interesting enough to read again. Instead, she picked up a piece of paracord draped over her headboard and practised the knots Brunt had taught her.

  “You’re still up,” Cameron commented when she finally came in. She had opened the door slowly in case Dakota was asleep. “From what I saw, I expected Freya to have completely wiped you out.”

  “Trust me, my body is pretty much sleeping without me right now.”

  “How was it?” Cameron began going through her own nightly routine.

  “Hard.”

  “It should be. Are you going to continue tomorrow?”

  “Of course. Where’s Brunt?”

  “He should be back soon.”

  Dakota silently watched her move about the container, checking again on their stocks of various supplies.

  “Why aren’t we religious?” Dakota suddenly asked, clearly surprising Cameron with her question.

  “I’m not religious because I don’t believe in any sort of higher power. Why? Do you think that you do?”

  “No, I just thought it would be nice to get time off, like the Muslims do during their prayer times, and the Christians on Sunday mornings.”

  Cameron laughed. It was obvious that she had thought this was going to be a much more serious discussion. “That’s not a good reason to join a religion. And besides, they don’t see that as time off. That time is spent devoted to their respective Gods.”

  “Peter used to go to church with Abby and Lauren. He said that he just sat there, counting how many people showed up, or how many times certain words were said.” One of the containers acted as a church for all the religions that needed one. Their various accoutrements of religious ritual were packed in boxes. The leaders of each sect took them out and put them away depending on whose turn it was. Brunt once referred to it as a religious timeshare.

  “Because Peter’s not a believer, which is also why he no longer attends.”

  “I bet there’s other people who don’t believe but still go through the motions.”

  “I’m sure there are too. I’ll also bet that some people struggle with their beliefs, and are completely devoted some days, and not at all on others. There’s likely even some who have never believed, but enjoy the bond it forms between people, or, as you said, gives them time off. If you ask me, I’d rather keep working than have to pretend while putting up with potential boredom.”

  “Me too,” Dakota agreed.

  “If you ever do decide to believe in a god, don’t be afraid to tell me just because I don’t,” Cameron said, looking directly at Dakota. “I may not understand it, but I’d try, and could introduce you to the various religious leaders if you’d like.”

  “Okay.” Dakota didn’t think she’d ever believe. She liked the idea of heaven, but whenever she thought about it, she wondered about the zombies. Had those people’s souls moved on? Or were they trapped in the rotting corpses? Dakota preferred to believe that you were just your thoughts, and when they stopped, you weren’t alive anymore. It meant there was no afterlife, and that the zombies weren’t people anymore, only machines for a virus.

  Brunt came in, and Dakota showed him some of the knots she could make. He complimented them, and then showed her a few new ones before getting ready for bed. While Cameron didn’t usually mind changing in front of Dakota, Brunt always went behind a privacy screen they had set up in a corner. Despite this, Dakota knew what a naked man looked like. Cameron had taught her all about the human body, using books that had visual aids. She had also flipped through the few art books they had, which contained nudes, like Michelangelo’s David. She had a few sparse memories of when she was little around the time of the Day, when a man’s mind had broken and he had taken all his clothes off for no reason. And then there were several naked zombies who had once been male, but nobody counted them because nothing ever looked right. Only the fresh ones appeared normal, and they tended to still have clothes.

  “Bright light, or dim light?” Brunt asked Dakota once they were all ready to sleep.

  “Dim light,” she told him. Usually she wanted the dim light, requesting the brighter nightlight only if she was really scared something might happen. They always kept one of the lights on, placed on the far side of the privacy screen, next to a bucket they used as a toilet when someone needed to go before morning.

  Dakota returned her paracord to where it usually hung over her headboard and rolled to face the wall. Her bed rocked a little as Cameron and Brunt shuffled about, getting comfortable beside one another, and then it went still. It wasn’t until Dakota could hear Brunt’s heavy breathing a moment later, a sure sign that he was asleep, that she closed her eyes to do the same.

  ***

  Dakota lay on her belly in the shade of a container, watching Robin’s cat, Splatter. He was licking the side of his paw and rubbing it over his face, giving it a good wash. He was so calm and nonchalant, that it infuriated Dakota. For the last hour, she had been trying to catch the cat. If Freya had given her the task of scooping up one of the container yard’s othe
r cats, it would have been no problem. All those cats knew her, and were friendly with her. Splatter, on the other hand, had lived at the Black Box. He didn’t know Dakota, and was wary of strangers, so he ran away whenever she attempted to approach him. Lying on the pavement, Dakota was attempting to devise another plan, because running after the cat was clearly not working.

  Splatter finished his wash and flopped over in the sun, rolling about a bit on the pavement. He was perfectly aware of Dakota’s presence and was taunting her. To him, this had become a game.

  A soft footstep behind her caused Dakota to turn her head. Freya was standing there. She had managed to come up behind Dakota without her noticing. The sound of her last footstep was caused deliberately to get the teenager’s attention. It was the kind of silence she was trying to teach some of the kids.

  No luck? Freya asked in sign language. She still carried around a piece of chalk in a little container that hung from a necklace, but she had lost the small chalkboard that went with it when forced to leave the Black Box. This meant that the woman was restricted to sign until another could be found to replace it. Dakota didn’t mind signing. She liked the practice, but it did make teaching the new children difficult at times. Dakota had never learned why Freya was mute. She overheard someone once talking about an illness, but that could have just been a rumour, and there was no way she was ever going to ask.

  Dakota shook her head in response to Freya’s question.

  Freya sat beside her, prompting Dakota to sit up. She suspected she was about to receive a lesson and was right.

  The cat is aware of you, Freya told her. You will not be able to catch him with your hands. He is too fast and clever.

  “I wasn’t supposed to be able to catch him, was I?” Dakota had realized.