Adaptive Instinct (Survival Instinct)

by Stittle, Kristal

  “Be right there.” Nicky hung her walkie-talkie back on her belt and left the hall. She found a group of residents she trusted and explained where she would be if anyone needed her, then headed for the medical centre. She met up with two other mercenaries on the way whom she knew to be rebels, which confirmed her suspicion.

  The medical centre was one of the few places where they could call meetings without the risk of being disturbed. It was made up of several rooms they used to hold injured or sick residents. Depending on whom it was and what was wrong with them, determined into which room they were put. The separation of rooms came in handy when that woman with the flu showed up; they were able to quarantine her to keep the other residents from getting sick. They actually had more rooms than patients, however, and so one was often hastily set up as a meeting room for the rebels. Because Nicky was in charge of a sector, she got to be in on all the meetings. She knew that lower rank rebels weren’t invited to every meeting and had to hear the plans second hand. There were even some who didn’t come to any meetings, and had to take it on faith that things were progressing. Nicky had been given the names of a few of those people, and it was her job to update them.

  She entered the room and took a seat between James and Edward. Seating space around the table, which had a map laid out on it, was limited, and several people had to stand. Some of the members were new to the group, so they all introduced themselves. There were a lot of them now. Either fewer people would have to come to the meetings, or they were going to need a bigger room.

  “Let’s get down to business.” James began to relay the events that had happened since the meeting yesterday, focusing on the departure of the scientists and the appearance of Roy the zombie. “I’m concerned that Roy has the digger. He may learn from the digger, or even already know and begin teaching him how to dig properly. Our lack of intel on Roy makes him our biggest threat outside the walls. I think we need to move these people out of here even sooner than we had planned.”

  “We still don’t have enough transports, even if we use the prison vehicles which aren’t nearly as spacious or safe,” a man two seats over from James spoke up. “I don’t care how much cramming you think we can do; there just isn’t enough physical space in them to fit that many people. Not to mention supplies.”

  “We’ve come up with a solution for that,” another man leaned forward on the table and pointed to a spot on the map. “The outside teams have found a truck stop here. Big rig trucks. If we’re careful, we can clear out the backs, fit them with handles to hold onto inside, and fill the gas tanks. With two of them, we should be able to just fit everyone.”

  “How would the trucks get inside?” a third member asked. “Big rigs won’t be able to fit between the doors, and if we open both sets, the zombies will all swarm in.”

  “The teams did some measuring of the backs of the trucks,” the second man spoke again. “If they back up together, they can completely clog the doors. It’ll be a tight squeeze, but I don’t think anyone will mind losing some paint.”

  “It won’t be a smooth ride in those,” Edward mentioned. “Even with handles to hold onto. We agreed a minimum of two mercenaries per vehicle right? One up front and one to sit in the back with the residents there? I think everyone who doesn’t have one of those roles should be in the backs of the trucks. The rest will have to be residents, but we should pick the strongest among them.”

  “Sounds good to me.” James nodded. He then gave them an update from headquarters, the first in some time. It was quite an advantage for them to have a man working in the radio room.

  In the White Box, some of the executives had discovered things going on that they hadn’t authorized. The split that the rebels had always hoped for was happening. Apparently, the virus was still being tested, even mutated. This is what James thought had created Roy. He thought the man had injected himself with a mutated version of the virus because he preferred it to being eaten. The biggest fear was that the virus would mutate even further, into something airborne, but so far, the infection sources remained the same: blood and saliva. The rebels learned that the scientists had used it as a tool to punish people. There was a woman, Elizabeth, who had been working on a cure in an apartment lab she had secretly put together. The rebels knew she had sent someone to get her work, and that he had failed, but they hadn’t known what had happened to her until now. The White Box scientists had found out what she was doing, and turned her into an experiment. She was now a zombie, trapped in the White Box, and nobody knew where her research was. The executives had also found out that one of their own family had been deliberately left behind: Kara Taggart. No one had been sent to get the woman or even tell her about the virus. She was presumed dead. The combination of these things upset some non-rebels. That night, the people who were unhappy were going to leave the White Box. Some were going to meet up with the rebels and head to another safe zone, while others were too ashamed of what they had been part of and were going to go their own way. There was talk of something awful being left behind in the Box, but James wasn’t telling many what that might be. Most people suspected a bomb.

  Next, James updated them on their outside contacts. There was a group of survivors at a motel and, for now, they were still doing okay, but they didn’t know how much longer they could stay there. James gave them the go ahead to leave without them if they felt pressured. The convoy from the prison was supposed to meet up with them, but they needed to take care of themselves first. He had also gotten in contact with the group of survivors at Pearson International Airport, on the outskirts of Toronto. They were still doing just fine, and said the prison had lots of time. The rebels’ goal was to get to the airport where two Boeing 747-400s were ready with full crews, and a handful of additional survivors. The planes were then to fly to the Canadian Forces Base Shearwater, in Halifax. Just off the Halifax Harbour, which was across the bay from the base, was a cruise ship waiting for them. The cruise ship was where everyone was going to live until the zombies finally wasted away into a manageable number.

  The large boat had been just far enough away from the outbreak to get an advance warning. The cruise was cancelled, its passengers refunded and disgruntled. At the time, no one knew that it was safer on the boat than off. Because the harbour was busy, the cruise boat and its crew anchored itself off the coast and was spared the atrocity that befell those on shore. The pilots of the 747s were actually the ones who had managed to get through to all the parties involved and set the plan in motion. The prison’s job was to get the residents prepared for transport and get them to the airport. Those at the airport were currently under lockdown and keeping an eye on the level of zombies in their area. Thankfully, the empty runways held nothing of interest for the zombies, and the whole airfield was surrounded by fencing. The cruise ship crew, who felt terrible for not helping the people of Halifax when they could have, was preparing the ship for them. A small crew of rebels had already completed their defection and had recently made it to the ship. Using the helicopters from the base, they gathered food, fresh water, gardening and farm supplies, medicine, even solar panels. They were prepping the ship for the long haul, deciding where the best places to anchor would be, preferably someplace warm, near a fresh water river that met the ocean. Although they were setting up a system to desalinate the salt water, they couldn’t depend on it lasting forever.

  There were a few other groups of survivors dotted about, but they all had their own plans, and none was as populous as the prison. A few of the smaller groups were already headed to the airport. Some of them were taking the long route over land to the ship, and a few decided not to move; they liked it where they were.

  Nicky liked hearing about the boat. It wasn’t one of the biggest cruise ships, but it was still quite large. She imagined them all living very happily on that boat, especially because everyone could have their own rooms, with doors. Nicky missed having a proper door to her room instead of just a sheet hanging from the bars. They couldn’
t even lock the cells without running the risk of not being able to open them again. It was all too easy for someone just to barge in, uninvited and unwanted.

  With everybody updated, and a tentative deadline set for next week, the meeting was adjourned. It was also agreed that there was to be at least a quick meeting every day, sometimes two, from now on. Everybody needed to be kept up to speed, especially as they got nearer and nearer to ‘go’ time.

  Nicky walked out with Edward.

  “It’s almost time.” Edward’s smile lit up his face.

  “I can’t wait to get out of this place,” Nicky agreed.

  As Edward walked her toward the stairs, which would lead her back to her floor, he reached out and took Nicky’s hand. Nicky didn’t pull hers away. In fact, she wrapped her own fingers around his. She couldn’t keep the smile off her face. At the bottom of the steps, they mutually let go of each other.

  “Want to meet for dinner? I heard they’re serving mac and cheese today,” Edward asked.

  “Sure. I’ll see you then.” Nicky climbed up the stairs. She was happy. A part of her kept telling herself that she was an idiot, that this was a stupid idea, but the thought of not seeing Edward again was gut wrenching. She wasn’t at the point where she would break down if he was suddenly eaten by a zombie, but what if it got to that point? That was the fear, that she would care too much, and she would be killed because of it. Others had expressed this thought as well, both young and old. A group of teenaged girls were on Nicky’s floor that seemed to think of her as a big sister. They came to her all the time with their boy troubles. It was frustrating, but also entertaining, and sometimes kind of sweet. Nicky had to be a hard ass at times, but she liked it when she could help with silly, almost pointless problems.

  As she passed a hallway that led to a bathroom, Nicky heard a muffled cry. Instinctively she placed her hands on the rifle she carried and headed toward the sound. There was another soft cry, this one forming a word. That word was “no.” Nicky reached the door and pushed it open forcefully, raising her rifle. Inside was Orson King, the prisoner she didn’t like. He had a woman pressed up against the wall, a small knife to her throat.

  “Drop it, Orson!” Nicky commanded, all her pleasant thoughts from earlier blown away in an instant.

  Orson reacted fast. He pulled the woman away from the wall and held her as a human shield in front of him. They were now in a standoff. The woman’s eyes were terrified, spilling over with tears. Orson just looked over her shoulder with a sick grin. Nicky wasn’t a good enough shot to take him down. This wasn’t like the movies where she could just shoot that smiling face without any harm coming to the woman. She couldn’t shoot the woman either, especially because she knew her. Her name was Isabelle and she had a four-year-old daughter. She had lost her husband during the outbreak, and they had barely survived that day until a group of mercenaries stumbled upon them. Nicky had been part of that group of mercenaries.

  “Drop the gun,” a smooth voice spoke behind Nicky.

  Nicky looked over her shoulder. A man in a nice suit and large sunglasses was holding Jasmine, Isabelle’s daughter. His knife was even more wicked than Orson’s, and held so close to the child’s neck, she was afraid to breathe.

  “Drop it, lady,” Orson grinned some more. He clearly got pleasure out of turning her own words against her.

  Nicky didn’t have a choice. She released the strap from her shoulder and placed the gun on the floor, rising back up with her hands in the air.

  Orson threw Isabelle into the corner, and moved as quickly as a snake to snatch up the gun. He let the barrel drift between Nicky and Isabelle.

  “Let go of the girl,” Nicky spoke over her shoulder.

  “Check her for other weapons first,” the man behind her said to the one with her gun.

  Orson checked her over, taking the knife, the pistol, and the radio from her belt, as well as the smaller knife in her boot. He took the time to grope her chest and ass while he was at it. Nicky refused to react to this. Guys like him got off on the reaction.

  “She’s clean now,” Orson told the other man.

  “Go to your mother.” The unknown man stroked the girl’s face and released her. She ran crying to Isabelle and the two tightly embraced. Now that Jasmine was out of the way, Nicky could clearly see the other man. He was another prisoner, Hank Paige. Completely blind, but with the hearing of a bat, the cunning of a fox, and a cruelty that only a human could possess. Nicky knew that keeping some of the prisoners here was a bad idea; she just hoped she would get the chance to say I told you so.

  “She a mercenary?” Hank asked Orson. “She sounds like one.”

  “She is,” Orson confirmed.

  “Excellent.” Hank turned his face in Nicky’s direction. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

  “Nicole.”

  “Well, Nicole, how would you like to help us out of here?”

  “Why?”

  “We’ve decided we don’t like this prison anymore,” Orson explained. “Too many of you guys walking around and watching us all the time. We want to go out there, where everything is free.”

  “All right, fine.” Nicky had no problem with them leaving. “Just go up to the doors and tell them I said you could go.”

  “No, no, no.” Hank shook his head. “We want one of those trucks. They sound like they’re safe, and considering we’re going out to where the zombies are, we want to be safe.”

  “No.” They needed all the trucks to transport everyone.

  “You don’t have a say in the matter.” Orson pointed the gun at Isabelle and Jasmine. “Unless you want them splattered all over this bathroom.”

  Nicky looked into Isabelle’s eyes. How could she sentence this loving mother to death like that? The answer was simple: she couldn’t. Even though the truck was desperately needed to get all these people out, she couldn’t let them gun down Isabelle and Jasmine.

  “All right. You can have a truck.”

  “Excellent. You’re going to help us get out through the gates, of course?” Hank walked over to the mother and child.

  “Of course,” Nicky answered through gritted teeth.

  “All right, up on your feet, you two.” Hank got them to stand. “You don’t have to leave the prison with us if you don’t want to, but you are going to help us get Ms. Nicole into the truck.”

  They left the bathroom with Isabelle carrying Jasmine in the lead, Hank with his knife behind them, Nicky behind him, and Orson behind her. She was warned that if she tipped off anybody, she would be shot in the spine, and the child would get a knife in her eyes. Nicky had every intention of obeying.

  Even though Nicky prayed someone would notice something wrong, nobody did. Too many people were worried about the threat outside to be concerned with the threats inside. The people outside would have to notice though; those who were out there walking dogs, and tossing a Frisbee around. A group like theirs wouldn’t go by unnoticed. Unfortunately, Nicky had been so busy that day, she had forgotten all about the storm system moving in. There was a downpour outside, which had already driven everyone else in. Through the rain, they got to the large trucks without being noticed.

  “How do you open the back?” Orson asked.

  Nicky showed him how. Orson began shoving the soaking Isabelle and Jasmine inside.

  “Hey! You said they could go!” Nicky objected.

  “And they will. Once we’re outside the gates, the three of you will be free to get back inside anyway you can. We still need some incentive for you to get us out of here.” Hank climbed up into the truck after the girls and closed the door behind him.

  “Get in the driver’s seat,” Orson ordered, using the tip of his gun for punctuation.

  Nicky scowled at him but got in. Rainwater ran down her face from her hair as she started up the engine. She hoped the rain made the zombies dumber as opposed to smarter. She also hoped that Orson would at least give her radio back so she could call for help once outside. As Orso
n sat behind her, the gun undoubtedly trained on the back of her seat, she began rolling toward the gates.

  “I don’t know what to say to the guards,” Nicky spoke tersely.

  “I’m sure you’ll come up with something.” When Nicky adjusted the side mirror to see Orson’s face, she saw the sick grin on it.

  They were stopped at the gates, and a guard asked where they were going. Nicky came up with something about a tree threatening to fall on the wall in the storm. She said that they had been instructed to make sure it went down the other way. It was such a bullshit story, the guard had to know something was up; there weren’t any trees close enough to the walls to fall on them. This had to be the dumbest guard in the history of guards though, because he waved them through.

  Outside the gates, they ran over a bunch of startled zombies and went up the road until Nicky thought they were a safe enough distance away. She pulled to the side, glad to see that the thunderous storm was in fact confusing the zombies. It didn’t look like any of them had followed the truck.

  “Out,” Orson ordered.

  Nicky got back out, not even remotely dry from the first onslaught of water and now being pummelled by more. She went to the back and opened the doors. Hank’s fist immediately swung out, catching Nicky unaware. Pain exploded in her cheek, but she brought up her fists, prepared to fight. Orson’s rifle butt took out the back of her leg, however, knocking her to her knees. Hank was hopping out of the truck as another swing hit the back of Nicky’s head. Her body didn’t know which flair of pain to deal with first, but she didn’t care. She rolled and then quickly staggered up onto her feet. She wasn’t going to let these men kill her. Orson stepped toward her, but he wasn’t ready for the lightning jab she threw. His nose exploded with blood under her fist. Hank was prepared for her to fight back though. As she swung at Orson, he stepped neatly into her guard and threw a fist hard into her stomach. She collapsed to her knees again, wheezing for breath and trying not to throw up. She could hear Isabelle and Jasmine calling her name. Why weren’t they out of the truck yet? They should be running.