Survival Instinct (Book 5): Social Instinct

by Stittle, Kristal

Freya smiled, as good as a yes. She went on to explain how humans needed to use their brains to catch animals. Traps were best, even the kind that simply drove the creature into a corner from which it could not escape. Co-operation between humans made it even easier. You use the animal’s fear of one human, to drive it toward another.

  “Is that how wolves hunt?” Dakota wondered.

  Freya didn’t know much about wolves, and so couldn’t say for certain. Dakota liked to think that she was right. That she could one day be a wolf.

  She thought about asking Freya to help her catch the cat so that she could learn how the woman would go about it, but when she looked toward the sunlight, Splatter was gone. It probably wouldn’t have been a good lesson anyway, as Freya had lived at the Black Box, so odds were that the cat knew her and was less likely to flee.

  Besides, it turned out that Freya had a different lesson planned.

  Dakota and a few of the others around her age had been gathered together near the wall, beside a big plastic bin. A short distance away from them, stood a line of tables, with empty jugs and cans on top. Freya had to go find one other student for this lesson, leaving Dakota to stand around with the others.

  “Looks like a shooting range,” Mike commented with a gesture toward the table.

  “There’s not enough bullets to teach us how to shoot,” Dakota reminded him.

  “Maybe we’ll be using our slingshots,” suggested Maui.

  That was probably it, although everyone was already fairly accurate with their slingshots. They had practised plenty of times before on various set-ups not too dissimilar to what they were standing beside. Maybe Freya wanted to see how good they were. Although they were all curious about what was in the bin, they all managed to resist looking inside. Part of their lessons earlier had been about the dangers of curiosity, so they thought it possible that the bin was a sort of test.

  As they waited, Bronislav went by with a group of younger kids. He was quizzing them on various things that they should know about, while having them walk at a brisk pace. Based on the exhaustion Dakota saw on their faces, they had been doing this for a while, or were perhaps jogging earlier. She had done all her physical exercise in the morning, running around the container yard like Misha usually did, followed by a series of push ups, sit ups, lunges, and yoga stretches. Lunch had been a wonderful break after that.

  When Freya returned, the group of students became six. When she asked to see their slingshots, they handed them over; all but Josephine who was new to the container yard and didn’t have one. Freya inspected each one, testing its durability and elasticity. When she was done, she didn’t hand them back, but instead gave them all strips of leather.

  “What’s this for?” Mike wondered.

  “We’re not going to be blindfolded, are we?” worried Maui.

  “I think they’re slings. Like Freya uses,” Dakota guessed. She had seen the ones given to Danny, Larson, and Bryce.

  “What do we need slings for?” Mike asked, gesturing to the slingshots that Freya had placed on the ground.

  Dakota translated for Josephine as Freya explained that their slingshots weren’t actually very good. They didn’t have much power, and had been built in such a way that they would either break, or lose all their elasticity over time. Slings were better, for they were of simple construction, and like their slingshots in that ammunition was easy to find once you knew what you were looking for. Also, strangers weren’t likely to realize a sling was a weapon, meaning that they could be put at ease, not realizing the trainees were armed.

  “These worked great for hurling grenades over the wall and all,” Mike said, “but you can’t kill a zombie with them.”

  Freya asked him to pick a target on the table. He chose a tin can. Dakota was excited to watch, for though she had heard what Freya could do with a sling, she had never gotten a chance to witness it.

  After plucking a stone from her pouch, Freya dropped it into the thicker part of her sling and almost immediately had it spinning in a tight whirl. When she released, the stone whipped across the distance, smashing the tin can off the table with a clang. She then had Mike go retrieve the stone and the can.

  “Holy shit!” he commented as he picked up the tin. He held it up so the others could see how it had become deformed.

  Freya went on to explain that skulls were very hard, so a sling stone was unlikely to take down a fresh zombie. The older dead, however, the ones that had softened over time, could be destroyed. If ever they needed to use their sling against a human, a headshot with that kind of force behind it, could easily kill them by shaking up their brain in their skull. They could also break bones by aiming elsewhere, or stun a person with a weaker shot to the head, and so the teens were instructed to treat them like guns. They were never to start a stone swinging if someone they didn’t want to hit was within their line of fire, not even as a joke. If there was even one accident, or someone reported them not treating the weapon with respect, the teenager’s sling would be taken away. Freya had only six new slings made to start with, and chose the six teenagers based on how responsible they seemed. Dakota was rather proud to have been picked.

  The six chosen students very quickly learned that slings were a lot harder to use than slingshots. The plastic bucket had been opened, revealing a pile of rocks that Freya had been gathering ever since the zombie attack. Apparently, she had been planning on teaching some adults her skills, but Bronislav had convinced her to teach some of the older kids instead. Just getting the stone to go forward took quite a bit of practice, and a handful of times the teenagers had to scatter as someone accidentally launched one straight up. Freya could see that they were honestly trying, however, and so never scolded them. She was far more encouraging than when it came to their physical training, and offered plenty of advice.

  They spent hours hurling stones, going through the whole bucket more than once. Gathering them up after their pathetic attempts had become its own sort of training, with Freya timing how long it took them. By the end, Dakota and the other five could at least always get their stones to go in the right direction every time, even if there wasn’t much strength behind the shots. Hitting the tables or anything on them was pure chance.

  After refilling the bucket one last time, Freya called a halt to their training. Dakota was glad, because her arms hurt. Everyone had used both their left and right arms, to see if one was better than the other, but also because Freya insisted they be able to use both. She wanted them to be able to hurl stones even if they injured an arm.

  You have one last task, Freya told them. You’re to bring dinner to the guards on the wall.

  This was a big deal for three of the teenagers who had never really been up there before. Dakota and Maui had both delivered meals to the watch guards in the past, and Josephine was still too new to realize how rare it was for anyone not on guard duty to go up there. Freya wanted them to be comfortable with what the terrain looked like beyond the wall.

  “Can I eat my dinner up there?” Dakota asked.

  Only if a guard says it’s all right for you to sit with them, Freya responded. And don’t stay up there after dark.

  Dakota bet that Brunt was on duty right then, so she was pretty much guaranteed to find someone to sit with.

  Walking toward the community centre with their new slings tied around their waists, Dakota and the others discussed who would deliver meals to what part of the wall. When Dakota entered the centre, Hope and her friends were already there at a table. Hope waved to Dakota, gesturing to the empty seat beside her.

  “I won’t be eating dinner in here today,” Dakota told her friends once she had walked over. “I have to deliver food to the wall guards, and I was told I’m allowed to eat up there with them.”

  “I wanted to ask you about the sling,” Hope pouted. Their group had gone by a second time while Dakota had been practising.

  “I’ll tell you everything at breakfast tomorrow.” Dakota hurried back over to the meal lin
e. She wanted as much time as she could get on the wall before the sun disappeared completely past the horizon.

  The rations for those on guard duty were already packed into stackable containers, and it was easy for Dakota to balance her own on top. With five of them making the deliveries that night, she didn’t have to carry very many.

  Heading to the ladder nearest the community centre, Dakota climbed up and down several times in order to get the food up safely. She then walked along the wall toward her designated sector, knowing she wasn’t taking the fastest route by walking around up there.

  None of the people to whom she handed dinner was Brunt. As she approached the last guard, her stomach flopped over. She didn’t know his name, only that he had come with the new group, and that he was gorgeous. To be on the wall and carry a gun, he had to be older than sixteen, but beyond that, Dakota knew next to nothing about him. She had been too shy to talk to him, and there was definitely no way she would ask Brunt about him.

  “Ah, dinner,” he commented as he glanced over and spotted Dakota coming. “Best part about this job is probably the service.” He smiled and it was lovely.

  Dakota found she could think of nothing to respond with beyond a smile of her own, which she immediately thought must look ridiculous. After handing over the last container, she looked past him, trying to locate where Brunt might be.

  “I think Idris was already given a meal,” the guard told her, thinking she must be looking for the next person down the line.

  “Oh, no, this is my dinner,” she awkwardly explained. “I was trying to see where Brunt is.”

  “Is it important? Do you want me to radio him?”

  “No, no, it’s nothing. I was told that I would be allowed to eat my dinner up here as long as a guard agreed to let me sit with them. Brunt is sort of my step-foster-dad.” Dakota told herself to shut up.

  “I wouldn’t mind the company if you’d like to sit with me.”

  Dakota hoped her face didn’t turn as red as she felt it must be. “Okay.”

  “I’m Elijah, by the way.” He held out his hand.

  “Dakota.”

  “I like your hat.”

  “Thank you.” Dakota felt her ears grow terribly hot.

  Elijah sat down in the opening between the two upper containers and gestured for Dakota to sit as well. She was mostly glad that he kept his eyes pointed outward, watching the uninhabited part of the container yard as opposed to her. Mostly glad, but not entirely.

  “I saw you training with a sling earlier,” he commented.

  Dakota realized that they were essentially right beside where the table was set up. “Um, yeah, Freya decided it would be a good idea to teach a bunch of us. Usually we’re only given complete weapons’ training once we’re sixteen.”

  “How old are you now?”

  “Fifteen.” Dakota spoke the word toward her food. “I would have received gun training soon, if we had enough bullets.”

  “Well, I must say that I’m very glad to have been given some of the few that were left.” He had a rifle slung over one shoulder, as did everyone on the wall. None of them had more than what the gun could hold, however, and some didn’t even have full magazines.

  “How old are you?” Dakota asked hesitantly, hoping she didn’t sound too obvious.

  “Eighteen.”

  That was only a difference of three years between them, which surprised the hell out of Dakota. “I thought you were twenty-something,” she blurted out.

  “I get that a lot,” Elijah shrugged. “I’m told I’m mature for my age. Evans certainly trusted me to help him manage the party.”

  “Bronislav and the others must trust you a lot here, too,” Dakota told him. “You’re new, and yet they’ve already put you on guard duty.”

  “I don’t think they had much of a choice given how many people left to contact other groups and find food. Besides, a bunch of people living here now are from my party, and I want to defend them just as much as you guys want to defend your own.”

  Dakota thought that maybe she had hurt his feelings or something, and mentally beat herself up.

  “So why did this Freya person decide to teach you how to use a sling?” Elijah asked.

  “She’s really good with hers, and thinks it’s a good weapon for us to learn how to use.”

  A soft laugh escaped from Elijah. “I meant why did she decide to teach you now, when you normally wouldn’t receive weapons’ training until you’re sixteen.”

  Dakota was pretty certain she could have died of embarrassment right then. “I convinced Bronislav that we needed something to do.” She almost referred to herself as a kid, and would definitely have died if she had. “He decided that we’d be most useful getting a field ready for planting out there.”

  “And you need training to go over the wall,” Elijah nodded. “Makes sense, to keep the younger ones inside. I would have started your training earlier, personally.”

  “We were given basic knife safety lessons, and taught the softest parts of a zombie’s skull should something happen.” Dakota found herself wanting to defend the rules set down by her elders, even though she didn’t always agree with them.

  Elijah shrugged, and Dakota had no idea what it meant.

  This conversation was going terribly. She shovelled more food into her mouth, the perfect excuse to not say anything else embarrassing.

  Elijah opened his mouth as if he were about to say something else, but quickly closed it again as his posture became rigid. He moved his food container off his lap and unslung his rifle; he never took his eyes off the distant shipping containers. Dakota turned her head to look as he brought his scope to his eye.

  “What is it?” Dakota couldn’t see anything right away, but then she spotted the figure coming around the end of a container. The distance made it impossible for her to make out any features.

  “Possible contact,” Elijah whispered into his walkie-talkie, and followed it up with his location code on the wall.

  “Zombie?” came a whispered reply.

  “Can’t quite tell yet. Could just be someone with an injury.”

  “Call out to them.”

  Elijah stood up, nearly kicking over his food container. Dakota pulled it out of the way.

  “Halt!” Elijah shouted in a strong voice. “Identify yourself!”

  There was no response from the figure.

  “If you can understand me, raise your arms!” Elijah shouted next.

  To Dakota, it looked like the figure did nothing.

  “No response,” Elijah whispered into his walkie. “It’s still coming.”

  “Likely a zombie,” came the reply. “Keep an eye on it. If it’s alone, just wait for it to reach the wall and use a spear.”

  “Copy.” Elijah sat back down, but kept his rifle in a firm grip, frequently checking on the figure through the scope.

  “Is it really that hard to tell the difference between a zombie and a human at a distance?” Dakota wondered.

  “Fresh zombies can look pretty human, and injured humans can look a lot like zombies, so yeah.”

  “How do you tell the difference then?” Dakota didn’t like the idea of sounding dumb in front of Elijah, but she also understood how important it was to know the answer to her question.

  “It can be difficult. The first step is to look for any injuries that no one could possibly walk with: ankles that are completely sideways, bones sticking out of legs, guts dragging behind them, that kind of thing. If there are other injuries, look at the blood. Is it still bright red and flowing? Then it’s much more likely to be a human. The longer a zombie’s been dead, the darker and thicker the blood gets, until it becomes that blackish goop we had to clean up. Sometimes the eyes will give a zombie away, but that’s unreliable. In a fresh zombie, they can still look pretty lively. And of course, the very last way of knowing, is that if they try to bite you, they’re a zombie.”

  “Sounds like you have to wait until they’re fairly clos
e for that method.”

  “That’s why everyone likes the long dead better than the freshies.” Elijah looked through his scope again. When he next lowered it, he carefully removed the scope from the rifle and held it out to Dakota. “Here, take a look.”

  Dakota accepted the optical device and held it up to her eye. She had gotten to use binoculars plenty of times before, but never a rifle scope. It took her a few seconds to locate the figure within her field of view. She studied the features Elijah had mentioned. She assumed that he had determined that it was a zombie—or else why give her the scope?—and attempted to see the same thing that he had.

  Ragged clothes, dirty stringy hair, an awkward shuffling gait. Dakota was fairly certain it was a woman’s body, and she would instinctively assume it was a zombie, but she could see how it might be just an injured person who had been through a lot. As the woman continued to come forward, Dakota struggled to pinpoint one thing that said she was a zombie and not the living. She was about to give up, to ask Elijah to tell her, when the woman stumbled. As her body twisted to the left, her arm and part of her shirt fell out of the way to reveal that a substantial chunk of her side was actually missing. When she started coming toward them again, Dakota could see how the arm and tattered shirt perfectly hid it from their distance and angle.

  “She’s a zombie,” Dakota reported, lowering the scope. “It looks like part of her side has been carved out.” She handed the device back to Elijah, who proceeded to reattach it to the rifle.

  “Good job. Learn this lesson well. You don’t want to make a mistake.”

  “It sounds like you’ve had experience.”

  “We all have,” Elijah glanced back at her. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you why my party attempted the attack?”

  “No,” Dakota shook her head, feeling stupid and ignorant. She overheard a lot, but the attack was something no one discussed. Probably because those people were now living with them, and they wanted to make sure everyone continued to get along.

  “One of your scavengers accidentally killed one of our men. Wycheck had gone off on his own and was somehow injured, and then one of yours mistook him for a zombie. We had had some trouble lately with our own scavengers being killed by cowards with knives, and so my people overreacted. I’m ashamed to say that I’m the one who found your friends, allowing my party to attack and kidnap several of them.” And he really did look ashamed about it.