Adaptive Instinct (Survival Instinct)

by Stittle, Kristal

  He also thought about Shawn, and how unstable he seemed. If a swarm of zombies did show up, how long would it take for him to crack? A day? Hours? Minutes? And unless they wanted to hike out into unknown terrain, they couldn’t leave unless he let them. He was the only one who knew how to fly after all.

  The lightning cracked right next to the cabin. It was so loud that Misha jumped, despite all the rest of the thunder he had listened to so far. There was another, quieter crack right afterward. It was the sound of a tree trunk giving way. The bolt must have hit a nearby tree. Misha could hear the snapping and crackling of branches and bark as it gave out. Then he heard an unexpected noise. It sounded like the loudest shattering of glass that ever existed, almost as if a bomb had gone off.

  Misha sat bolt upright, his eyes wide. All of the bedroom doors flew open, and terrified faces looked out. They made eye contact with one another, and then rushed to the door. Misha could hear Alec cursing about his chair as he reached the antechamber. As he rushed outside, Misha didn’t bother with a coat, boots, or even a gun. He didn’t even bother to shut the door as the others rushed out after him.

  Everyone ran around the deck, to the other side of the cabin, ignoring the torrential downpour. The rain and the darkness of the storm made it difficult to see, but Misha found the bridge. When the next bolt of lightning flashed, it illuminated the greenhouse on the other side of it.

  Only a few panes remained, and those were badly cracked. The framework was twisted and crumpled in the middle where a monstrous evergreen had fallen upon it. Shrapnel of glass reflected the lightning from everywhere. A few pieces had even made it to the deck, and Misha had to watch where he stepped. The fragile new plants inside, with their soft dirt, were being drowned in the downpour. Misha couldn’t see them, but he could imagine how badly this much rain must be for them. Not to mention how many shards of glass could have speared through their weak stems. The grow lights had been turned off for the night, but it was unlikely they escaped unscathed. The heaters, too. Misha tried to focus on the base of the structure, praying there were no cracks to let the rain get at the generators, but the inconsistent lightning made it impossible to tell.

  Next to him, Abby fell to her knees. There was no way to tell if there were tears mixing with the rainwater on her face.

  Power Struggle II

  Edelstein kicked the empty drum and sent it rolling. It was one of many. The nuclear waste storage facility had tons of drums for diesel fuel lying around, but over the last two weeks, they had been thoroughly emptied to keep the generators going. The men he had brought with him had just given him the bad news: nowhere within walking distance was there any diesel fuel left. It seemed that the man who had been here before them, Triston Chelios, hadn’t been lying when he said he had collected all the diesel he could.

  Edelstein turned back to look at the drums which weren’t empty. If they calculated the rate the fuel got burned off correctly, then they had roughly a day’s worth.

  “Take some of the empty drums,” Edelstein commanded his men without turning to face them. “Siphon fuel out of nearby cars and fill them.”

  “Regular gas won’t work in a diesel generator,” one of his soldiers said, as if Edelstein didn’t know that.

  He turned to face them. “That fuel could still give us an hour. When the diesel runs out, we put in the regular gas and get the hell out of here.”

  “But without the generators-” one of them started to say.

  “I know exactly what’ll happen without the generators!” Edelstein barked.

  “Why don’t we just use one of the cars to get gas from farther away?” yet a third soldier asked. Edelstein had thought about this question thoroughly before deciding on his current plan.

  “If we have engines driving in and out of here all day, where do you think the zombies will come to?” he asked his men. “They would eventually surround the chain-link fence, and knock it over. Then where would we be? We’d be trapped inside this building is where. The gas would still run out, the only difference being that we would still be hanging around to die of radiation poisoning and/or burning to death.”

  Edelstein’s men, eight in total, looked nervously at one another. They all knew what high doses of radiation would do to them. They also knew that letting the generators run dry could result in the poisoning of the entire prison.

  “I assume we have no means of transporting the material out of here.” Grey, Edelstein’s second in command, didn’t make it a question. Edelstein liked Grey; he had been with him since he left the White Box with the scientist, Roy. They had gone to the school together where they had succeeded in killing East, the traitor, and nearly killing LeBlanc and Cole. Grey had been shot in the leg for his troubles and he was still walking with a limp. Two other men with them had been waiting at the school when they arrived. The first was the sniper who had placed the bullet in East’s heart, and the other had used a flame-thrower to try to burn the others. He hadn’t succeeded, but he did get a chance to use it on the traitor, Chant. She had played them all for fools, and Edelstein still seethed at the thought of her. The other men currently with him had shown up at the school later, with more scientists, but Edelstein had managed to convert them to his own following.

  “I already checked. All the transport trucks must have been taken during the evacuation.” Edelstein imagined it was more a mass panic than a true evacuation. “Even if we could find a few insulated trucks, there wouldn’t be enough time to get it all out of here. This may be a smaller facility than most, but there’s still more than we can safely transport in the time we have.”

  “So what are we doing?” the soldier who had used the flame-thrower asked.

  “We use what fuel is left. When that’s gone, we put in the gas we get from the cars and get the hell out of here. Either we go back to the prison and hope for the best, or we go some place else.”

  The men shuffled, not exactly loving the idea. They didn’t have much of a choice though. Two of them stepped forward and grabbed an empty drum.

  Section 3:

  The Escape

  17:

  Lauren Sanford – Days 16-17

  Lauren gingerly pulled part of the mattress away from the window and looked outside. The sun was rising, casting a gentle, grey light. The clouds had closed over again. It had been hours since she had last heard anything. Behind her, the majority of the children were asleep. Those who weren’t, watched her, holding their breaths. Beyond the glass, there was no movement. Lauren replaced the mattress and took her seat by the door again. The children stopped watching her, relieved their defence was back in place, and that she wasn’t going anywhere.

  “How much longer do you think we should wait?” Jon was sitting next to her, speaking in the barest of whispers. A few conversations were had here and there, but none of them rose to a volume that could be heard across the room, let alone outside of it.

  “Someone will come,” Lauren told him again, “I’m sure of it.” She wasn’t sure of anything. Her hope was that someone had survived the attack, and that once everything was clear, they would surely come to check on the children.

  She was starving though. All the excitement from the night before, and then staying up all night had set her appetite to extreme. A few times her stomach rumbled but not loudly enough for anyone else to hear. At least not yet. She was sure she wasn’t the only one either. Many of the children who couldn’t sleep rubbed their stomachs unconsciously. If someone didn’t come soon, Lauren would have no choice but to go out there on her own. The kids would need breakfast soon. Once they started waking up, their stomachs would awaken as well, and then they would all be crying and whining.

  A sequence of knocks came from the door, startling everyone who was awake. Lauren sat bolt upright, terrified. She recognized the pattern of the knocking though.

  “Shave and a hair cut,” Dakota sleepily mumbled the words to the tune, as she awoke from the noise, “two bits.”

  Lauren sp
rang to her feet, turning back to the mattress over the window. All of the children watching her—the knocking having woken up many of them—held hope in their eyes this time instead of fear. She pulled back the mattress and peered out the window once more. Private Winchester was the knocker; he had even stepped back from the door so that he could easily be seen from the window.

  “It’s Private Winchester,” Lauren told the room. Some of the children cheered.

  With Jon’s help, they removed the barricade and ripped open the door. Lauren saw the relief spread across Winchester’s face before he was mobbed by the kids. They swarmed him, telling him all about what had happened last night. Leelo was the most vocal and had wrapped her arms around the soldier’s waist. With all of them talking at once, it was impossible to tell what was actually being said.

  “All right, all right, kids.” Winchester held up his hands, trying to get them to settle down. “I need to talk to Ms. Sanford-”

  “Lauren.”

  “-for a minute. Do you mind waiting in your rooms a little longer? We’ll bring you breakfast when we’re done.”

  Some of the kids pouted but they all shuffled back inside.

  “Jon, why don’t you get them to tidy up the room? I’m sure with enough help you could get the mattresses back on the beds, and the frames back to where they should be,” Lauren suggested.

  Jon nodded and began to try organizing the kids. They left the door open, so Lauren and Winchester walked away from the room before speaking.

  “So what happened?” Lauren asked as she looked out over the parking lot. Parts of their barricade had been shifted or destroyed, but other things had been hastily erected in their place. Bodies lay here and there but Lauren couldn’t tell if they belonged to zombies or survivors. A few people who had lived through the night moved about. Most of them were fortifying the barricade, but one was going up to each of the bodies and driving a makeshift spear into the heads.

  “A group of survivors had apparently heard of us and were coming here for sanctuary. Unfortunately, one of their group had kept a bite secret from them. He was in the passenger seat of their lead car and began to turn as they neared us. He was one of the people who turn really fast, the ones who don’t have much of a fever before going.”

  Lauren nodded her understanding. She hadn’t seen it herself, but apparently, some people could fight the fever, the change, for hours while others gave in within seconds.

  “He attacked the driver who then smashed into the barricade. To make matters worse, a handful of runners had been following them. Once the shooting started, the noise drew in even more from the woods.” Winchester sighed, looking out over the parking lot. He was clearly exhausted having stayed awake through the night as well. “We realized there was no hope fighting them off, ’cause all the noise just brought more. Some volunteers hopped into the truck and took off, being as much of a distraction as possible. We haven’t seen them since. The runners went off after them. The rest we hit with any object we could find. We weren’t even concerned with killing them by that point; we just wanted them slowed down and distracted enough for us to get to the rooms and hide. Unfortunately, a few people were spotted going into the rooms, and once the zombies started hammering on the doors, we knew they wouldn’t stop. Officer White ran out there, grabbed Jon’s bike, and started leading the stragglers away. Like I said, all the runners were already gone, so leading the walkers away was easy. He got back about half an hour ago, pushing Jon’s bike to keep silent.”

  “How…” Lauren’s voice dried up as she tried to ask her next question. She swallowed hard and tried again. “How many people died?”

  “We’re still figuring that out.” Winchester hung his head. “Some people took off into the woods, and not all the rooms remained secure. I have to admit, I was terrified walking up to check your rooms.”

  “We were terrified within it.” Lauren placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  Winchester gave her a smile. “Just keep the kids inside those rooms until we finish cleaning up the mess out here. Keeping them from seeing the bodies would be nice. When we do finish, don’t let them go wandering off. Keep them upstairs. We’re still checking the rooms on the ground floor, and securing the fence will take awhile longer.”

  “You got it.”

  “Now I don’t know about you, but I could use some grub.” Winchester patted his stomach.

  Lauren agreed, and they went to get breakfast for themselves and the children.

  ***

  Jon was trying to stuff all of his pancakes into his mouth at once. The younger kids laughed, delighted with his antics, but Lauren knew that wasn’t the purpose of his cramming. The teenager wanted to help with the cleanup and the fence mending. Although she was loathe to let him go, she couldn’t exactly stop him. He was sixteen and could take care of himself better than some thirty-plus year olds whom Lauren had met. She made him promise to be careful though and to stay within the confines of the fence. And to not be long, because the kids were likely to get rowdy after awhile, and she would need his help to entertain them.

  When the food had been eaten, and the dishes stacked up, Lauren set to washing some of the kids’ clothes. A pile had been left in the bathtub overnight and she wanted to get all essence-of-zombie off them. Claire knelt on the floor next to her and started helping without being asked.

  “Do you think Dr. Haily is okay?” she asked as she wrung out a shirt.

  “I don’t know. When it’s safe to look around, I’ll find out.”

  “I liked Dr. Haily. She was nice.”

  “Is nice. Was is past tense.”

  “Dr. Haily is nice.”

  “So what do you plan to do today?” Lauren tried to change the topic.

  “Lauren,” Claire looked up at her with her big eyes, “you’re not going to leave us, are you? Like, ever?”

  Lauren stopped scrubbing the shirt she held against a washboard and looked over at Claire. “I don’t have any plans to, not any time soon.”

  “But what about in the future?”

  “I’m not a fortune teller. I can’t predict what’ll happen. But I won’t leave you unless I don’t have a choice.”

  “You promise?”

  “I promise.”

  Claire suddenly wrapped her arms around Lauren. “I love you, Lauren.”

  Lauren got an arm free so that she could wrap it around the girl’s shoulders. “I love you too, Claire.”

  “I want a hug too.” Dakota appeared in the bathroom doorway.

  “Then come on over,” Lauren offered.

  Soon enough, Lauren was in the middle of a giant group hug with many of the children. As she was swarmed with their love and affection, Lauren realized she could no longer remember her life without them. She knew there had been happy moments in her past life, she could recall many with Abby, but most of that time seemed grey to her. As if there wasn’t as much substance as her life held now. She was sure part of it came from knowing every day could easily be her last, and her new responsibilities were much more gratifying than the old ones, but these kids’ love was what really made the difference. Lauren thought her past-self was insane for not wanting kids.

  Once the laundry was hung along the railing outside, Lauren decided to see who else from the upper floor was still present. Most of the young adults who Jon had hung out with were okay. The only one missing was the girl Lauren had seen puking over the railing. She tried to ask what happened to her, but none of them would answer. They all just stayed quiet and looked at the floor. The man with his two sons was all right. When he had seen the thing show up next to Lauren, he had bolted back into his room. He apologized profusely to Lauren for not trying to help her, but she easily forgave him. She probably would have done the same. Most of the other upstairs residents were all right as well; not many zombies had made it up the stairs. Lauren was relieved to see that the two maternity rooms were okay. When the hospital had been evacuat
ed, a bus picked up as many new-borns and their mothers as possible and brought them to the motel. The mothers had all forged a fierce bond with one another and rarely left their rooms, but Lauren had gotten to know a few when she needed advice. She also often popped her head in just to check on them. Apparently, there wasn’t enough room on the bus for the babies, the mothers, and the fathers. All the dads had agreed to stay behind, to wait for the next bus. As far as anyone knew, the maternity bus was the last vehicle that managed to get away from the hospital, and the fathers were never seen again.

  By talking to people, Lauren was able to learn the names of a few of those who had died last night and those who had gone off in the truck. She recognized only a few of them. One of them though was Dr. Richards. No one could say for sure if it was the older or the younger, but the upstairs rumour was that one of them hadn’t made it. That was going to be the first thing Lauren found out when it was safe for her to walk around downstairs. A collection of people was already planning a funeral service for the dead. They didn’t have the time, strength, or place to bury the deceased, but they could at least do something to honour them. Lauren decided to find something she could do for the ceremony. She had a feeling that a lot of people were going to treat this thing as more than just a service for those who had died the night before. Many deaths had gone by unacknowledged. Lauren just kept hoping that Abby’s wasn’t one of them.