Adaptive Instinct (Survival Instinct)

by Stittle, Kristal

  Before the sun had even risen, the walkie-talkie had begun to pick up a signal. They couldn’t make out anything, but it sounded like voices. They were hoping that by getting up higher in the building, the signal would come in clearer.

  Every three floors the group exited the stairwell and went over to the windows. It wasn’t until they had gone up twelve exhausting floors that they could make out words.

  “We’re preparing everyone now,” a gruff male voice said.

  “How long until you’re on the move?” a vastly different male voice spoke.

  “Minutes,” voice one responded.

  “We’ll prepare everyone here to receive you,” a female voice said.

  “When are you guys moving out, Leighton?” voice one asked.

  “We’re still waiting. The truck hasn’t been found yet, but we have people looking.” Voice two was being called Leighton, which suggested the speakers weren’t all in the city.

  “If the timeline is as short as you say it is, you may have to abandon that truck,” the female suggested.

  “It’s a possibility. We’d have to sacrifice a lot of gear, but there’s no way I’m leaving anyone here behind. You’re sure you guys are okay over there at Pearson?” Leighton asked.

  “Yeah. We’ve checked and rechecked. We don’t have to worry about any radiation problems for at least another five days. Guess our workers were braver than yours.” The female, Pearson, laughed, apparently making a joke.

  “Or at least more forward-thinking,” voice one added. “Well, we’re heading out. It may take us all day to get to Pearson because of the stalled cars on the road. Leighton, I suggest that if your truck and people aren’t found by eighteen-hundred hours, you cram as many people into what you got and get the hell out of there.”

  “Will do.”

  “Wait!” Doyle shouted into the walkie-talkie as he pressed the button on the side. “Who is this? Where are you?”

  “-od luck, Leighton,” voice one had continued talking. “Pearson, we’ll hopefully see you guys sometime between noon and sundown depending on the traffic.”

  “Just don’t get lost. Remember, we’re nestled in the corner of the 401 and 427.”

  “We got a map.”

  “Good luck to you too, Pummel,” Leighton said. It seemed that nobody had heard Doyle.

  Doyle pressed the button again, speaking frantically, trying to hail them. Every time he let go of the button, they would catch a snippet of the trio’s closing remarks, but none of them made any indication of hearing Doyle. Finally, they got nothing but silence.

  “So there are at least three other groups out there,” one of their party said brightly.

  “What was that one saying about radiation?” the canary worried.

  “I don’t know,” Doyle shook his head, “but I can guess that it’s not good. The word ‘radiation’ is never good.”

  “Whatever it is, they think something is going to happen really soon,” Robin added. “Apparently that Pearson woman is in a safe place and the other two groups are going to meet with her.”

  “Too bad we don’t know where she is. Maybe then we could go too,” the woman Robin didn’t have a name for sighed.

  “Maybe we do know.” Doyle suddenly headed for the stairs.

  Confused, Robin, the canary, and the two others got up and followed him. He hurried down the steps, grabbing the inside railing at the landings and swinging himself around to the next set of steps. He practically jumped down the stairs.

  Doyle reached their fifth floor sanctuary before everyone else. By the time Robin and the others caught up, he had already dug through one of their bags and pulled out a book containing maps of Ontario. Everyone looked on, baffled, as he flipped through the book.

  “Ha!” he cried out in triumph.

  Robin had to squirm her way through the group of people who had gathered all around.

  “Check it out.” Doyle held out the book so that those who were upstairs with him could see it. Robin picked out that it was a map of Toronto, but didn’t know why Doyle would flip to it.

  The canary understood and smiled broadly. “Of course!”

  “What?” Robin finally asked.

  “Here.” Doyle pointed to part of the map.

  Robin looked closely and saw that a space was labelled as the Toronto Pearson International Airport. Right next to the airport was a thick east/west highway line marked 401, and another north/south highway marked 427. It was hard to believe that it could just be a coincidence.

  Since not everyone had heard the radio conversation, Doyle repeated the basic meat of it. When he brought up that radiation was mentioned, a shudder went through the group.

  “There’s a nuclear waste storage facility outside of town,” one of the men in the group said. “Might it have something to do with that?”

  “Very likely,” Doyle nodded. “I think we should head to this airport, maybe even try to catch up with these other people on the way. What does everyone else think?”

  There was some muttering as the group talked it over. There was concern about the long travel. In the city, most of them had a general idea of where they were at all times, but if they left, that would change.

  “I think we should go,” Elizabeth spoke loudly to be heard by all. “Yes, leaving the place we know is scary, but shouldn’t we at least try? I mean, more people is good, right? I know that I wouldn’t be with all of you if my own radio broadcast hadn’t been heard. Not to mention that this radiation threat seems pretty serious. I don’t know about you, but I heard that radiation poisoning is a very bad way to go.”

  “I agree,” Quin spoke up. He had been quiet the whole time, probably thinking about River who was still out there somewhere.

  “There’s not much left for us here,” Doyle added, “just bad memories. I say, we should go. Those that want to stay are welcome to, but I’m going.”

  After some more muttering, everyone agreed to go. No one was staying behind.

  The bags were repacked, Splatter was scooped up into his sling, and the group trekked back downstairs toward their vehicles. They were finally going somewhere new after so long.

  Robin couldn’t help but think of her brother, Kyle. He had been in Toronto when the outbreak happened. She wondered if she would see him there. If she did, would he be one of the undead and would she be able to put him down?

  Power Struggle III

  James Brenner kept pacing back and forth in the prison. The team sent out to retrieve the truck was on their way back. They had the truck that was stolen, as well as Nicky, Isabelle, and Jasmine. Apparently, Nicky had taken a beating, but she would be okay.

  Already, teams had been sent out to secure the large trucks they had found. The big rigs should arrive not long after the team returned. It was time to inform and prepare the residents, but that meant telling Crichton everything. With James were a couple of handpicked men, just in case Crichton put up a fight.

  The door to the warden’s office was opened by Crichton himself. He looked at James, who stopped pacing, and then at the four men with him.

  “Brenner? What’s this about?” Crichton asked calmly.

  “Sir, we’re leaving the prison, and we’re taking the residents with us.”

  “So today is the day you’re going, huh?”

  This threw James and his men off guard.

  “Don’t look so surprised, Brenner. You think I didn’t know? I’ve been in this game a lot longer than you have, not to mention I got all the updates on the radiation threat before you. I was wondering when you’d finally have the balls to tell me.”

  James suddenly felt like an idiot. Of course, Crichton would know; how could he not?

  “I know the White Box was overrun. There’s no one in charge left down there. No one alive anyway. Even if there were, I stopped obeying their orders days ago when they told me to execute some civilians. A soldier is one thing, but to mindlessly execute a civvy for no purpose other than to make space? I won
’t do that. If you say it’s finally time to go, then let’s get these people moving. I’ll see to it that no soldier objects and will personally deal with any that does.”

  James nodded. Things went a hell of a lot better than expected.

  As everyone was informed of the situation, the entire prison became what James thought of as organized chaos. People everywhere gathered up what supplies they had, sometimes arguing over what belonged to whom. Every mercenary who had been assigned a section was busy trying to keep the peace, James included. All of them had also been assigned an assistant because of how hectic it was. In Nicky’s area, two men had to fill in for her. James suspected they were having a hard time of it, what with all the residents wondering where Nicky was.

  “James!” a voice called out as James helped a woman untangle a length of clothesline. Being in the laundry room meant they had a lot of line to pack.

  James looked over his shoulder as Dr. Owen wormed his way through the crowd.

  “James.” Owen finally reached him. “I heard that Nicky’s been found?”

  “Yes. She’s been beaten up pretty bad from what I heard, but nothing life threatening.”

  Owen sighed with relief. James had almost forgotten that he and Nicky had this flirting thing going on before she was taken.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be helping pack up the medical centre?” James reminded him.

  “Yes. I just had to hear the news first hand. Thank you.” He took off again, weaving between people in a manner that suggested he had once played college football.

  “Does that mean Isabelle and Jasmine have been found as well?” the woman James was helping asked. Isabelle and Jasmine had been from James’s section, and had stayed not far from the woman.

  “Yes. And they’re right as rain. Nicky took good care of them, just like we’re going to take good care of all of you.”

  Every resident and mercenary was allowed to bring one pack into the vehicles with them. If they had more stuff, it was labelled with tape and packed into a crate. The wall team was currently thinning the horde outside again, and trying to draw the bulk of the zombies toward the rear of the compound. The team that normally worked as scavengers outside the walls was preparing the trucks. All of them were being parked in a line so that they could be loaded and moved out in a hurry. The scavenging team was also packing up the backs of the trucks with supply crates. They had to be loaded carefully, and in a certain way, so that there would be enough room for all the people. On the roof, a third team was preparing the helicopter that Riley had brought them. The sick and injured, including Nicky when she got there, would be transported in it directly to the airport. Although some of the men liked the idea of air support, it was for the best that they go straight to the airport.

  “Brenner! You need to take a look at this! Now!” the voice of Crichton boomed through the Laundromat.

  James ran quickly to him and followed Crichton as he led him up through the prison. As they moved, James noticed that much of the prison was already empty. They had started with the top floors, moving everyone to the yards out front where they would be sorted into the trucks. The men crossed one of the yards, heading toward the large tower in the corner. When they got outside, James could hear the gate doors opening. Nicky must be back, which meant they had only about twenty minutes before they’d be rolling out. Crichton and James ran to the top of the tower, taking two steps at a time, where several trusted and high-ranking men were already gathered. It didn’t take long for James to find out what they were looking at.

  Roy was out there. And he wasn’t alone.

  Roy was walking back and forth like a general behind a line of zombies. These zombies broke up into groups and began digging pits. Another group of zombies shambled forward and stood in front of them.

  “I can’t get a shot,” one of the snipers confirmed James’s suspicions. A crack rang out as he took down one of the guards, but another moved into its place.

  “He’s taught them,” James said to the group at large. “Those zombies he’s been pulling into the woods, he’s taught them. Some to dig, and some to guard. We have to get moving, now! There’s no telling what else he’s taught them to do.”

  “Our timetable has just been pushed forward!” Crichton barked. “Let’s get these people moving out!”

  As everyone scrambled for the steps, James and a pair of snipers were stopped by Crichton.

  “Brenner, you’ve been watching these things for a while. I heard you’re the one that seems to know the most about their behaviours.”

  “Yes, sir.” James nodded.

  “You’re to stay up here, keep an eye on them. These two will provide sniper support; they’re the best. They fire at whomever you pick as a target. You’ll be some of the last ones out into the big rigs. Everyone else riding in the rigs is going to provide ground support and protection just in case we have a breach. You radio out everything you see.”

  “Yes, sir.” James nodded again.

  As soon as Crichton left, James and the others set to work. They first aimed at Roy, the leader, but after just two shots, they knew it was impossible to take out his head through that helmet. The shots did lure his attention up to the tower however. They watched as his mouth stretched open in defiance. Or as he gave an order. A second wave of zombies burst from the trees, moving very quickly toward the flesh wall that was pressed up against their stone wall. One by one, they leapt on top of the other zombies, scuttling across their heads like spiders. When they reached the stone wall, they began climbing on top of one another, forming a chain, a pile, a ladder of undead. A few were already able to reach the top and get into the space between the double set of walls.

  “Take out every zombie you can in that pile,” James ordered.

  Twin shots rang out, each taking down a different mark. More kept coming, kept climbing, but not enough for them to worry about the dead body pile getting too high. Their biggest concern was the climbers teaching the mob to do the same thing. Which slowly but surely they were doing.

  As James relayed information over his walkie-talkie, he turned to Roy just in time to see another order. James looked to the woods and shuddered. Coming out of the trees was the biggest man James had ever seen, undead or not. He was a mountain of muscle, walking toward them in full SWAT gear. The gear was clearly much too small for the man—a living person would have trouble breathing—Roy must have put it on him. One of the snipers took a shot, but the bullet just bounced harmlessly off the helmet.

  James did not like this one bit.

  From the trees, a small child zombie bolted toward the big man. The little thing ran lightning quick, dodging and weaving, using other zombies for cover. The big man turned as the child reached it. He grabbed the kid’s arms and began spinning the two of them in circles.

  “Oh, fuck.” James realized what was going to happen just before it did.

  The big zombie timed it so that when he let go of the child, she soared through the air and up over the wall.

  “Breach! Breach!” James shouted into his walkie-talkie.

  Gunfire sounded from inside the walls; they had seen the little girl.

  Another child, this time a little boy, burst from the trees, running toward the big zombie.

  “One of you, take out the child!” James ordered. “The other, keep trying to take down that big one. If you can’t get its head, then shoot the fuck out of its arms and legs so that its muscles don’t work anymore.”

  James raised his rifle to his shoulder. Although it wasn’t as precise or powerful as the other two snipers’ rifles, someone needed to keep taking shots at the climbers, especially because as more got over, they began learning to jump the gap to the second wall. Some of the jumpers hit the metal sheeting welded to the tops of the second wall, and slid down into the gap between the two barriers. Those trapped at the bottom were already trying to form another pyramid.

  Despite their efforts, a few child zombies were still being launched over the
walls, and some of the jumpers were able to scramble up the sheeting.

  “I’m running low!” one of the snipers called out, referring to the amount of ammo he had left.

  “Same here,” the other added.

  “I’m on my last clip,” James realized. “Time to boogie on out of here. Let’s go!”

  Each sniper fired off one last shot, then ran with James to the stairs. They hustled down as James radioed the situation.

  “Good job. We’ve only got a few more trucks to get out the doors before the big rigs come,” Crichton told them.

  James and the snipers ran across the yard, mowing down a little zombie girl with broken legs that had been tossed over the wall. Ahead, they could see a pair of white trucks squeezing side by side out through the doors. They were likely to lose some paint from driving so closely together. Overhead, the chopper started up and ripped open the sky with a thunderous whop-whop-whop of its blades. Just two more trucks needed to get out.

  James joined the line of soldiers and civilian men who had been willing to pick up a gun. More children were being thrown over the wall now that nobody was firing at them. Bones snapped and crunched as they hit the ground, but that didn’t stop them from trying to get to James and the others. More and more jumpers were succeeding in crossing the gap as well.

  The inner doors finally closed around the last pair of trucks.

  “Tighten formation!” Crichton called out. He had stayed behind to be with the last of the men.

  They all backed up as close to the inward swinging doors as they could without blocking their path. Shoulder to shoulder the men stood, firing pot shots at the zombies. James could make out the rumble of the big rigs as they backed toward the gates. A screeching and squalling accompanied them; no doubt, the trucks were being driven so closely together that their sides constantly scraped and brushed against one another. There was a reason they had chosen their best drivers to handle the rigs. A soft crunch announced that they had completely backed up against the opened outer doors. Due to the trucks’ large sizes, they couldn’t fit through the doors together. A rattling of gunfire from the short towers mowed down the zombies that had become trapped between the truck backs and the doors.