Survival Instinct (Book 5): Social Instinct

by Stittle, Kristal

  “You can’t,” Evans stated again.

  “What happened at the container yard happened because I didn’t have any friends. Blue’s my friend. If I go with her, the same thing isn’t going to happen. I don’t need to live in a place like this. I don’t have to be where-”

  “Gerald,” Evans caught him off guard with a sharp tone. “You can’t come. I’m taking them to the container yard.”

  Gerald’s jaw flexed and relaxed, flexed and relaxed. The container yard was the one place he couldn’t argue about. He was banished from there, forever. It didn’t matter that Blue was his friend. Nothing would convince the people who had kicked him out that he wouldn’t end up just doing the same thing all over again. That he wouldn’t put people in danger again.

  “You have to take us somewhere else,” Gerald finally said.

  “No, I don’t. I don’t have to take you anywhere. The silent ones are going to the container yard, and you’re staying here. End of discussion.” Evans attempted to walk away.

  “I’ll just follow you,” Gerald called after him.

  With a sigh, Evans turned back around. “Really? You’re going to make me tie you up before we leave?”

  There was already a small distance between them, but Gerald increased it with a step backward. “You would have to catch me first to do that.”

  Gerald wasn’t allowing himself to be bullied, so Evans switched to a softer tone. “The silent ones want to go to the container yard. They’re the ones who made the decision. If you think you can change their minds, go ahead and talk to them. I don’t recommend lying to them about anything though, because you know I’m going to ask them what you said. Hell, talk to Blue, ask her to stay here if you want her to. Maybe she’s not as put off by the zombies as the rest of them.”

  Gerald’s expression twisted and Evans got the impression that he had already asked her to stay with him. She must have shot him down for one reason or another. It was most likely because of the zombies.

  “I’ll take the silent ones wherever they want to go. It’s up to them whether or not we go to the container yard.” It was the only hope that Evans could give to Gerald, even though he knew the kid wouldn’t be able to change their minds. They didn’t know him well enough to be willing to travel farther just so that he could come. Once they learned that he had been exiled, they would want him around even less. If Blue loved him, maybe he stood a chance, but that seemed unlikely.

  It didn’t look like Gerald had anything else to say, so Evans moved on. He located all of the silent ones, and found them doing various jobs, mostly repair work after the storm. Evans helped out for a little bit in a tomato garden that had sustained damage to its plants. He helped upright and replant those that could be saved, and was paid with nearly ripened tomatoes whose plants had been too severely damaged. He didn’t get many, as the work didn’t last very long before the light left them.

  Back in the visitors’ centre, he dropped off his tomatoes with what the silent ones had gathered, and then went to talk to Frannie. He had hoped that maybe the people from Bridges had come by with an answer while he was gone.

  “Sorry, haven’t seen any of them today,” Frannie told Evans when he asked.

  Evans relayed what he had talked to them about, returning her paperweight in the process. The paperweights that the silent ones had been given were already neatly lined up on her desk.

  “How soon were you thinking of leaving?” Frannie asked him.

  “As soon as I think we have enough supplies. I’m hoping that we can be out by tomorrow afternoon, the next day at the latest.”

  “I’ll see what I can do to get you what you need. I may want to send some emissaries with you to meet these people. Perhaps we can set up a trade route like we used to have with Bridges.”

  “They’re farther away than Bridges.”

  “And everyone other than the silent ones are farther away than that. No reason not to make friends.”

  Evans nodded. Frannie asked him a few questions about what things had looked like outside, and then they parted. The silent ones had all returned by then and were making dinner. They prepared enough for both Evans and Gerald, while using a minimal amount of supplies. Gerald refused to be near or even look at Evans. He spent dinner sulking off by himself. If he had tried to convince the silent ones already, it looked like he had failed. Sometimes Evans pitied the kid. Living here would be good for him, though. He was bound to make another friend, someone who understood what it must have been like for him to grow up with a rotating set of protectors. Unlike the container yard, the people here hadn’t been together since the beginning. There was a lot more variety when it came to their personal survival stories.

  After eating, Evans changed into drier clothes and lay down on his bunk. He wanted to be as rested as possible for whatever tomorrow brought, and he didn’t think he was going to sleep well. While this place would be good for Gerald, the kid clearly didn’t see that yet, and Evans worried about him doing something stupid in the middle of the night. He kept both his sword and his knife within easy reach.

  ***

  “Evans, wake up.”

  His eyes opened easily, the dream he was having about a tiger instantly melting away, so that only the stripes remained in his mind.

  “Frannie? What time is it?”

  “Sunrise. I have a job for you and whoever you consider the most able-bodied of the silent ones.”

  Evans sat up. “What kind of job?”

  “You do it, and I’ll make sure you get all the supplies you need.”

  “That’s not very reassuring.”

  Frannie nodded. “The job can be dangerous, but I need two more people.”

  “To do what?”

  “It’s easier if I show you.”

  Evans looked around. Most of the silent ones were already up; only the oldest and the youngest were still sleeping on their bunks. Those awake watched Evans and Frannie with interest.

  “Where’s Gerald?” Evans wondered.

  “I have him doing another task,” Frannie told him. “Related, but different.”

  “All right, just give me a minute.” Evans had to piss, and then wolf down some breakfast before he was ready to go. Dev volunteered to assist when Evans told the silent ones that Frannie had a potentially dangerous job for them to do. Frannie had left while Evans was getting ready, but he and Dev met up with her just outside the visitor centre. Still overcast, it had at least stopped raining.

  “This way.” Frannie led them toward the edge of town. They walked down the main street which looked very different now that the stalls were set up. Evans eyed the various wares, which people grew or made themselves, and then traded with other families and the occasional visitor. With Bridges gone, outsider sales had probably decreased dramatically.

  Following Frannie, they left town, passing between a field for farm animals, and a field for zombies. Reaching the end of the fences, they then turned to continue following the border of the zombies’ paddock. Evans had a sinking feeling.

  Up ahead, a group of people were gathered alongside the fence, and it was pretty clear that that was where they were going. Frannie waved, and those waiting waved back.

  “Mind handing me your sword and knife?” Frannie turned and asked before they reached the group. “You too, Dev. Hand over any weapons you’re carrying.”

  “Why?” Evans questioned, although he handed her his sword. His knife took a little more work, as he had to free the sheath from his belt.

  “Because I don’t want you accidentally killing anyone.”

  Dev looked at Evans, his face lined with concern. Evans nodded to him, trying to appear confident that everything would be okay when he didn’t feel even remotely certain. Dev reluctantly withdrew a set of throwing knives from various places within his rags and handed them to Frannie.

  “Thank you.” Frannie carefully stored the knives with Evans’ in a backpack she carried, and slung the sword over her shoulder.

&nb
sp; “Thanks for helping,” a man from the waiting group said as they reached them. “Here, take these.”

  Evans was handed a heavy SWAT shield, all black metal with a small window, and Dev was handed a lighter, mostly transparent riot shield with the word POLICE emblazoned across the middle of it. Next to where they had gathered, a section of the fence was flat on the ground, where the rain had washed away the dirt around the posts in a muddy stream.

  “They haven’t noticed us yet,” the man who handed Evans the shield said with a nod toward the field. “But they will once we start working.”

  A woman waved a hammer to emphasize this.

  “We don’t think any escaped,” Frannie told Evans. “We have teams out looking, however, just in case. Gerald’s helping with that. We let them out of their indoor holding yesterday, not realizing how weakened this section of the fence was. It was standing during last night’s checks. The indoor holding is still being cleaned while some vital repairs are being made to a few support posts, so we can’t put them back in there while we do this.”

  “Which means we’re supposed to stop them from getting to the people fixing the fence.” Evans had been able to put it together, especially with all the other shield bearers standing around. Most of them had riot shields like Dev’s, but a few of the larger individuals carried the heavy SWAT shields like Evans had been given.

  “You got it.” Frannie nodded.

  “You two are with me. Come on.” The man who had handed over the shields guided them and the other shield bearers over the downed fence.

  “I’m beginning to regret volunteering,” Dev whispered to Evans.

  “You’re going to regret it even more when the zombies come at us and you remember that you’re unarmed and not allowed to kill any of them.”

  Dev’s face paled as the man directed them into position, creating an arc that covered the opening.

  “Just think of the supplies we’re going to get,” Evans advised Dev. “We’re going to get enough that we can leave for the container yard this afternoon.”

  Dev nodded, not picking up on the fact that Evans was talking mostly to buck himself up as opposed to his compatriot. He couldn’t stop thinking about the battle with the comet horde, only this time he had no sword, only a shield.

  The man instructed them how to stand, with the shields overlapping. “It’s not hard,” he specifically told Evans and Dev who had never done this before. The others acted like they had. “They’re slow and weak, so it doesn’t take much to hold them back. And remember that their hands are tied to their waists, so they can’t reach for you. Just hold your ground and you’ll be fine.”

  “What if one falls over?” Evans asked. “Are they any good at crawling?”

  “That’s rarely ever happened, but if it does, just shout and I’ll come over and handle it.”

  “What’s your name?” Dev asked.

  “Wells.”

  After Wells had gone to double check that everyone was in position, Evans glanced over and could see Dev’s lips moving, although he wasn’t making a sound. At first he mistook it for a prayer, but then noticed that Dev was repeating just one word: Wells’ name. Evans didn’t think either of them would have trouble remembering his name if they should need him, but let Dev do what he needed to do.

  Behind them, the fence repairs began. Evans twisted his head around a few times, watching their progress. The first thing they did was remove what had fallen over. This required separating it from what still stood, which wasn’t a silent process. The first zombie was drawn over, and began bumping into the shields off to Evans’ right. He was able to see snippets of the workers shoring up the mud with rocks, and driving the posts back into the ground before a zombie came for him.

  The dried out corpse crashed into his shield, tripping itself as it tried to bite him. The thing’s jaws snapped above the barrier, which Evans had to hold sideways in order to properly overlap with his neighbours. Wells had been right that the things couldn’t push against the shields with much force, but this provided little comfort. Evans didn’t know how these people could stand to be near such rotting husks, even if they once belonged to loved ones. He had to resist pushing the corpse over and stomping repeatedly on its head. That urge died down as more and more zombies found their way over, drawn by the groaning and the snapping of the first arrivals. Usually the things hung around near town, where they sometimes saw people, but one by one, they were crossing the field. Once there was a layer of them, Evans no longer wanted to move his shield in any way, afraid of compromising the barrier.

  “Real nice place you brought us to,” Dev commented beside him.

  “Certainly has some interesting sights,” Evans tried to joke back, but he didn’t feel very jovial. He had to watch the zombies in case they surged at one point more than the others, or in case they fell down. He was constantly afraid of his grip slipping, of the shield dropping low enough for teeth to reach him. The shield was heavy and Evans found himself sweating. It was a cold sweat, drawn out more by fear than exertion at that point, but the longer this took, the weaker his arms were going to become. The gash on his left forearm, which was now a scar, began to itch as though it knew further injuries were coming.

  “Fence is fixed!” came Frannie’s call from somewhere behind him. It couldn’t have come too soon.

  “What do we do now, Wells?” Evans raised his voice over the moaning. “Climb over the fence?” It was only chest high, so Evans thought it shouldn’t be too difficult to hop over.

  “Too dangerous for the last few men who won’t have anyone to protect their asses. We’re going to walk to the nearest gate.”

  “Did he say walk?” Dev asked Evans, his eyebrows crawling up his forehead.

  “He said walk.”

  Wells commanded everyone from his position at the centre of the arch. The first thing they did was pull in closer so that they were all shoulder to shoulder, which allowed Evans and everyone else to turn their shields the right way up. While his legs were still exposed, Evans could now keep the zombie’s teeth from snapping over the top, and instead had them pressed against the little window. Once the group was as tight as it could get, and all the shields were locked together, they started to move. Wells bellowed like the slave master on a ship, smacking his hand on a garbage can lid to keep time in place of a drum. The huddle moved as one, pushing its way along the fence. Evans, being near the top of the arch, had to step sideways on the beat. He thought it was a good position, because he didn’t need to walk backwards and risk tripping and falling over, or push his way into the zombies which carried the risk of knocking them over. Wells had probably stuck him and Dev where he had for that very reason.

  They inched along the fence one small step at a time. Evans could hear Frannie and the rest of the fence repair crew making a lot of noise down in the opposite direction they were headed, luring away what zombies they could. Evans didn’t dare look around, but if he had to guess, most of the dead continued to follow the shields. Movement tended to lure them as much as sound did.

  The gate wasn’t terribly far—there was one at the nearest corner—but it still took several minutes to reach it. Evans’ left arm had developed a slight tremble from carrying the heavy shield for so long, and he understood why Frannie wanted the most able-bodied of the silent ones.

  At the corner, they cleared the zombies away and turned their half circle arch, into a quarter circle. Wells opened the gate and instructed everyone in what to do. One by one, people were pulled from the arch, their neighbours quickly sliding together to close the gap. Dev got to go before Evans. When it was Evans’ turn, he dropped back like he had been told, getting out of the way as fast as he could so that his neighbours had ample room to close in. He didn’t need much encouragement to move quickly. Once outside the gate, he dropped the heavy shield on the ground with a splop of mud. He hung around and waited until everyone made it out of the corral, the last man slipping through the gate and dragging it shut behind him.
The zombies all piled up along the fence, snapping their teeth.

  “How you doing?” Frannie asked Evans and Dev once she walked over.

  “I could use some water,” Dev admitted.

  “Me too.” Frannie was grinning. “Why don’t we go get something to drink, and then we’ll gather up those supplies you need for your journey? Sound good?”

  Evans nodded, too tired and shaken to reply in any other way.

  Frannie took them back to the main street, stopping only once at a rain barrel so they could refresh themselves. She stuck with them the whole time they walked as Evans explained what he thought they would need, and then she made sure that he got it from various traders. Everyone at Paddock knew who Frannie was, and only a few tried to argue when she asked them to hand something over.

  “I’m sending an emissary team with you,” Frannie told him. “Just three people, so it shouldn’t be much of an extra burden on you.”

  “Do you think three is enough for them to get back here safely?”

  “Should be. They’re all experienced travellers, and the world’s not as dangerous as it was a couple of years ago. We all know how to handle both the infected and road bandits these days. You could have made it here by yourself.”

  Evans remembered the barn with the rattlesnakes and knew that that wasn’t the case.

  Paul found them while they were still picking out supplies.

  “Hey Paul,” Frannie greeted him. “Have you guys made up your mind?”

  “Some of us are going,” Paul told her and Evans. “The rest want to go, but they want to hear that the place is safe first. Would that be all right?”

  “I don’t mind. That okay with you, Evans?”

  “They’ll have to find the way on their own,” Evans warned Paul.

  “They believe they can do it.”

  “I take it you’re coming with me?”

  “If you’ll have me and the others,” Paul nodded. “When were you thinking of leaving?”

  “I was hoping within a few hours.”