Survival Instinct (Book 2): Adaptive Instinct

by Kristal Stittle

  “And a kitten!” Robin added.

  “There’s mobile stairs you can use! Over there!” The pilot pointed. Misha looked under the plane and spotted what he was talking about. “One of you can drive them over here, and line them up with the door! Then drive them out of the way once everyone’s up, and climb the rope ladder! That’s what we did before!”

  “Okay!” Mathias turned to the group. “I’m going over there to get those steps. Anyone coming with me?”

  “I will,” Misha volunteered.

  “Me too.” Doyle stepped forward.

  “You might want to hurry it up! Zombies are coming!” the pilot shouted.

  Misha remembered the lone zombie by the gate. Although he hadn’t seen any others at the time, odds were it wasn’t really alone.

  “Okay. We three will go get the steps. Alec, cover us with your rifle,” Mathias organized the group in a hurry.

  “I don’t have a lot of rounds left. We lost most of them in the crash,” Alec stated from where he sat in an SUV’s passenger seat with the door open next to him.

  “Then hopefully you won’t need to do a lot of shooting. Everyone else, unpack everything from the vehicles, then I want Tobias, Joshua, and Harry to drive them out of the plane’s way. We don’t want them hindering our take-off somehow. Drive them toward the steps. We should be able to meet you halfway and bring you back to the plane. Everyone good?”

  Nods all around.

  “Okay.” Mathias turned and started running.

  Misha and Doyle grabbed their machete and fire axe, and followed him. The tarmac was deceptively large. Misha had no way of knowing how much progress they were making, because there was nothing out there by which to judge the distance. His firefighter boots were clunky, not made for a lot of hard running. Doyle was wearing the same, however, and now that they were both going, he couldn’t let the other man show him up. He’d keep up or drop dead. Or puke. Puking seemed like a viable option as well.

  Mathias reached the stair-mobile well before Doyle and Misha could. He yanked open the door to the little driver’s compartment and climbed behind the wheel. The keys must have been inside, because he started the engine with ease, then hopped back out as he waited for the other two to catch up. A zombie shuffled around the back of the stairs behind him.

  “Mathias!” Misha barely got out between gasps for air.

  Mathias began to turn toward the zombie, but Misha wasn’t going to leave it to chance. With all his might, he hurled the machete, end over end, at the zombie. He imagined the blade thunking into its skull, killing it, but he wasn’t that good. Not even close. The handle of the machete hit harmlessly into the zombie’s shoulder. There was enough force behind it to make the zombie stagger backward, however, which gave Mathias the second he needed. He dodged the undead’s clutching grasp, and dove to the ground. Grabbing the machete off the pavement, he came up swinging. The blade was quickly buried into the zombie’s neck. To make extra sure, Mathias swung several more times until the thing’s head had parted from its shoulders.

  “Thanks. Doyle, you drive, give the axe to Misha.” Mathias then turned and headed for the back of the odd vehicle. More zombies were beginning to appear around it.

  Doyle handed off the axe and headed into the cab, while Misha ran to join Mathias. The two of them cleared off the back of the steps as it began to pull away. Blades sank into flesh, which was then kicked off so they could be turned on others. As the vehicle got going, Misha and Mathias hopped onto the back, crouching low on the steps and holding tightly to the railings. The zombies were slow and couldn’t keep up as they pulled away.

  “We should have brought a gun.” Mathias laughed, holding up the bloody machete.

  Misha’s lungs burned, and all he could do was nod in response. As they drove, they checked each other’s faces, making sure no infected blood got on them. They’d have to change shirts as soon as possible, just in case.

  Halfway to the plane, they met up with the three men who had moved the other vehicles. They climbed on as well and Doyle continued. The zombies kept following them, moving as quickly as their broken and uncoordinated bodies would allow. They wouldn’t get tired though. The speed they were moving at now would be the same speed when they got close.

  “Hurry up!” the pilot called down from the plane as Doyle manoeuvred the steps into position. As soon as they were lined up with the doors, the others began climbing up.

  “Go on.” Mathias gestured for Misha to head up the steps after the kids.

  “No way. You and Doyle need to carry Alec up there. I’ll drive the steps away.”

  Mathias looked like he was about to argue, but then shut his mouth as he realized that Misha was right. “Just be damn careful.”

  “You just make sure that ladder is down when I get there. In fact, I expect you to haul my ass up.”

  “You got it.”

  Misha went to stand next to the driver’s spot, ready to go as soon as everybody was up. Rifle gave them no difficulty this time; he probably didn’t realize what the plane was. Doyle and Mathias slung Alec between them. Partway up the steps, Alec tossed his sniper rifle down to Misha.

  “Just in case. Remember what I taught you.”

  Alec had been teaching everyone how to shoot, back at the cabin. Misha had been verbally taught by his father as well, but he had never actually fired a gun before. Well, he shot a revolver once when a group of Marble Keystone mercenaries were grabbing him out of bed, but that didn’t count. And he had missed.

  As soon as Misha saw the three men disappear through the door above, he jumped behind the wheel, slammed the thing into reverse, and stomped on the pedal. The contraption jolted backwards, nearly causing him to rap his head on the steering wheel. He just had to get past the wing and they’d be in the clear.

  Just a little farther, a little more.

  As soon as Misha was clear, he grabbed the big gun and jumped out, not even waiting for it to come to a complete stop. As he ran for the plane, he saw the rope ladder tumble out of the doorway. He then saw a zombie break free of the pack. It was a smart one, a fast one. He was running just as fast as Misha, if not faster. He wouldn’t make it to the ladder before that zombie.

  Risking a stop, Misha planted his feet and raised Alec’s rifle to his shoulder. He took the stance that Alec had taught him and aimed through the scope. It brought the face of the zombie much closer than he’d ever be comfortable with. He breathed out slowly, trying to pretend he was just playing Call of Duty, and squeezed the trigger.

  The gun bucked in Misha’s arms, practically throwing him off his feet. He had missed the zombie’s head, but nailed it in the chest. The powerful rifle shot had ripped right through it, taking out the spine. The zombie tumbled to the ground, its face sheering off on the pavement. It had lost the use of its legs.

  With his shoulder throbbing from the kickback, Misha started running for the ladder again. He grabbed hold, hooking his arms and legs around the ropes and wooden slats.

  “Go!” He heard Mathias yelling from above. “We don’t want them grabbing onto the landing gear!”

  The plane started to roll forward at the same moment that Misha started getting hauled up. He focused all his energy on holding on, but spared a quick glance down. He could only see the landing gear on his side, but the zombies looked like they were far enough behind the plane that none of them should have grabbed onto any of it.

  Just as their speed got great enough to create a wind that threatened to tear Misha off, strong hands wrapped around his thin arms and hauled him inside the plane. The rope ladder was dragged in with him, and the door shut and sealed behind him. The first face he saw was Mathias’s, and the man was laughing.

  “You should have seen you,” he said. “That gun nearly took off your arm.”

  “It feels like it did,” Misha grumbled, rubbing his shoulder.

  “Hold on, we’re lifting off,” a nearby woman spoke, the one who had shut the plane door.

  T
he plane rose with a stomach-sinking sensation, and Misha tried to grip the threadbare carpet. He, and the rest of the guys on the floor near the door, managed to stay put until they were flying smoothly.

  Misha picked up the sniper rifle and handed it to Alec. “What do you think? Too big for a carry on?”

  ***

  Misha lounged in his first class seat, which was reclined all the way back. Across the aisle from him was a woman whose face had been beaten worse than his own. She never moved, and there was an IV bag hooked up to her. Misha had overheard the doctor taking care of her say that she might be in a coma.

  “Riley and Cameron are on the other plane,” Mathias said, taking the seat next to Misha. He had gone up front to the cockpit to ask about them.

  “That’s good. You get to talk to her?”

  “No, they wouldn’t even let me in the cockpit. Apparently, that procedure still holds true. They found her on the plane though and told her we made it.”

  Misha closed his eyes, comfortable for the first time since Shawn had shown up at the cabin.

  “The other plane was also told about our delay, although they didn’t slow down. We’re apparently behind schedule, but they’re hoping that won’t affect anything.”

  Misha wasn’t really listening. He was focused on Rifle’s breathing. The dog was sleeping under his bare feet like a heated footrest. Rifle breathed in, Misha’s feet went up; Rifle breathed out, Misha’s feet went down.

  “I’m going to go check on everyone else.” Mathias got up again. The man couldn’t sit still for more than a second, despite someone giving up their first class seat for him. The two of them had been given the seats because of the blood on their shirts; they didn’t want it to alarm anyone. They hadn’t counted on Mathias’s restless behaviour, however. Misha listened as Mathias checked with Alec first, also in first class because of his handicap, then disappeared into the business section where the kids were, Danny included. The others were dispersed even further back into the economy section. That had been the section in which Misha rode when he first came to Canada, and the few times he went back to visit his home in Russia. After this first class experience, Misha didn’t think he could ever ride in economy again. Although if things on the ship went better than they had at the cabin, he wouldn’t be travelling again for a long time.

  Misha dozed off and on during the flight. Every fifteen minutes or so he would open his eyes, take in his surroundings, and then drift off again. Sometimes Mathias was next to him, sometimes he wasn’t. Once, Misha woke up because Milly was cramming herself between Rifle and the seat ahead of them. Rifle shifted as best he could to make room for the other dog and then the two of them, along with Misha, fell asleep again. Because of this, and the fact that the flight took only about two hours, it passed by in what seemed like the blink of eye.

  “If everyone could take their seats and buckle up, we’re going to start circling the landing strip soon,” the voice of their pilot sounded over the speaker system.

  Mathias reappeared as Misha put his seat back into the upright position. He picked nervously at the armrests.

  “On the right, you might be able to catch sight of the ship,” said the pilot.

  Everyone on the plane was suddenly looking out the right side windows as they began their turn. Misha was in a middle row, so he didn’t have a good view, but he thought he managed to spot a glimpse of it. It was a big boat.

  “Do we know the ship’s name?” Misha asked Mathias.

  “Ah, no, at least I don’t.”

  “The Diana,” a voice just loud enough to hear over the engines spoke from across the aisle from Misha. He turned and saw the beat-up woman looking at him. She had woken up. “The ship’s name is the Diana.”

  A burst of static came over the intercom, startling everyone on the plane.

  “Umm, folks? We may be in for a rough landing.”

  Misha blanched, his skin paling into translucence. He had been in a plane crash just yesterday for God’s sake.

  Mathias got out of his seat and went up toward the cockpit, brushing past the protesting flight attendant. He returned about five minutes later and took his seat, strapping his seat belt on tightly.

  “What? What is it?” Alec asked. Misha couldn’t find his voice to ask it himself.

  “The runway is overrun with zombies.”

  “The other plane?”

  “They all got out in time, only two or three casualties and all of them were soldiers. They’re safe on the life boats and the few helicopters that picked them up.”

  “Where are we going to land?” Misha asked what he thought was the most important question.

  Mathias responded by pointing straight down.

  “Down? What do you mean down? There’s nothing there but-” it clicked. There was nothing down there but water. “Can we even do that?” Misha’s voice cracked from stress.

  “A pilot once landed one of these things in the Hudson River. I don’t see why we can’t do it here.” Mathias didn’t sound very confidant.

  Misha pressed himself tightly into his seat. He closed his eyes, but all he could picture was the last plane crash. He remembered the rolling, the fibreglass shearing away, the knife that nearly killed him. His ear throbbed from the memory. He remembered that they had been extremely lucky that only four people had died during that crash. Those four people had also been in the front of the plane, where Misha was now.

  He opened his eyes again, fixing them on the chair in front of him, trying to keep his breathing steady as he felt the plane descend. He had always liked the water; he prayed that he would still be able to say that after this was over.

  “Mathias,” Misha said without turning to look at him.

  “Yeah?”

  “If we live through this, remind me never to get into a plane with Tobias ever again. That man is a jinx when it comes to heights.”

  “I’m surprised you’re even thinking about flying again. I personally don’t think I’ll ever again get into something with wings.”

  Misha couldn’t resist and glanced sideways out the windows across the aisle from him. He could make out smouldering buildings in the distance, a harbour closer by. And water, lots of water. As they got even lower, more and more water came into view. Then zombies, thousands of them, pressed up against the water’s edge. Some jumped in and tried to swim, while others were pushed. So much water.

  Then everything went black.

  ***

  “Misha? Misha?” Something was shaking him. Misha opened his eyes and saw Mathias’s face, which broke into a grin and then started laughing. “You totally passed out, man!”

  Misha blinked several times and sat bolt upright. He looked out the windows and saw water all around the plane.

  “We’re okay, we landed!” Mathias cheered.

  Everyone on the plane was clapping and cheering for their pilots. Misha was still trying to take it in. Really? They had actually just pulled that off?

  The intercom crackled with the sound of a loud and relieved sigh. “We’re down everybody. Now if you could all proceed calmly to the centre exits of the plane, we’ll get you folks out on the wings and into the lifeboats, which should reach us momentarily.”

  When Rifle and Milly got up and out of the way, Misha stood on shaky legs. Rifle whined at him, and when Misha looked down, he saw that the dog was trembling all over.

  “It’s okay, bratishka.” Misha knelt down in front of the big dog and wrapped his arms around his neck. “We’re okay. We’re almost home, just a little further.” Soothing the dog helped to calm his own frayed nerves.

  “Did you really pass out?” Alec was looking over at him.

  Misha blushed a deep red and didn’t say anything, giving Alec all the answer he needed. This, of course, prompted him to laugh, not making Misha feel any better about it. All the blood rushing to his face made his injuries there pulse with pain.

  “Well, go on then, get the kids and those dogs outside. I’ve got to wait
till there’s room for Doyle and Mathias to carry me out again.”

  Misha did as Alec told him. Not bothering to put his boots back on, he wrapped them up in his coat and carried them. When he was in the aisle, he looked toward the front of the plane and caught sight of the pilot and co-pilot exiting the cockpit. The pilot’s hands were trembling about as badly as Misha’s knees, and he couldn’t blame the man one bit.

  Joining the crowd that was heading for the wings, Misha located Danny, the other two young boys they had picked up, the baby girl, and Shoes and Maggie. Shoes was the only one who seemed totally calm about what had happened, as he walked along with the little girl. The boys were all talking excitedly about it. Misha listened to every word, hoping he could fake knowledge of the landing; then only Alec and Mathias would know he had passed out.

  The line shuffled along slowly. Once a group of people were on the wings, some of them wearing the life vests from under the seats, they had to wait for the rescue boats to pick them up. Misha looked out the windows to watch the progress. Some of the boats that had picked up the survivors on the other plane had few enough people in them to pick up more from their plane. Most of them, however, had to head back to the cruise ship to off-load first. Helicopters were circling overhead, but they weren’t picking up any passengers. Instead, they had large baskets hanging from them, into which a chain gang of people were loading packs, supplies, and equipment from the plane’s cargo hold.

  Beyond all this, zombies continued to spill into the water. Most of them disappeared once they went under. Misha had seen at least two underwater zombies before: one who just walked along the bottom, and another who tried to swim but wasn’t co-ordinated enough to break the surface. It seemed most zombies fell into either category, and weren’t a threat. Still, a few were, though. Some zombies could swim and others had life jackets or life preservers strapped to them. The swimmers were quickly taken out by snipers, or by people close to them in the boats. The bobbers, those that were floating, were left alone unless they managed to get too close.