Defensive Instinct (Survival Instinct Book 4)

by Kristal Stittle

  “We’re all here. Gather in please, I don’t want to have to speak too loudly,” Boyle gestured for the group to pack in around him, Karsten, and Nessie. Nessie continued to sit where she was, her hands busily cutting up strips of leather.

  Misha manoeuvred himself so that he was shoulder to shoulder with Jon and Danny, who had gotten a sling since Misha had last seen him, that secured the arm attached to his injured shoulder against his belly.

  “I’m going to make this as quick as I can,” Boyle said to the group, the lapping water helping to cover his words. “For those of you who don’t know, there is a super smart zombie beyond our wall. I’m talking about Roy kind of smart.”

  Those who hadn’t known revealed themselves by shifting uncomfortably.

  “We’ve only been able to come up with one plan in order to deal with him. We can’t just shoot him; he’s too far and covered in armour. Instead, we’re going with these.” Boyle patted Nessie on the shoulder, who then stood up.

  The older woman moved over to Freya’s side, handing her the strips of leather. Karsten bent over and unsnapped the latches on the metal box, then lifted the lid to reveal its contents. Just in case it was too dark for some, Boyle clicked on a flashlight and illuminated the grenades for a minute, making sure everyone knew what they were.

  “We have thirty-six in here, two for each of us.”

  Misha guessed that Nessie wasn’t being included in that count.

  “Now, based on the coordinates we were given, Dean, the smart zombie, is a bit too far from the wall to throw these at him. At least, too far if we wish to remain hidden. Freya here, is going to teach us all, Karsten and myself included, how to use a sling.”

  Most of the gathering looked warily at one another.

  “What about the rest of the zombies?” Harry asked, ever the thinker. Leave it to the man who guided their construction of the wall to immediately think ahead.

  “The three who warned us of their coming have people out there, the ones who gave us Dean’s co-ordinates, who are able to spy on the horde from behind. When we’re ready, they’re going to set off fireworks immediately after our first volley of grenades, and continue to do so for a while after our second. The dumb zombies are drawn to this Dean thing which is why we can’t use them now, but if he’s dead, the fireworks should draw them off.”

  “Should,” Lenny emphasised, poking a hole in the plan. “And what about the ones that aren’t dumb? The regularly smart ones?”

  “According to our new friends here,” Boyle nodded at Tommy, Suzanne, and Mark, “the smart ones are usually the closest to Dean. They’re likely to be taken out by the grenades as well. Still, there will be some who’ll assault the wall, both dumb and smart. We’ll have to be ready for them. We’ve sent some others to reconnect the bridge to Animal Island. Those who can’t fight will be moved over there tonight, and then we’ll disconnect the bridge again. They’ll be safe even if things don’t work out the way we planned.”

  Misha rolled his shoulders, attempting to loosen the tension that was building up in them. This plan was crazy, but it wasn’t like he could think of a better one. He was worried about his dogs, who wouldn’t be sent to Animal Island.

  “I don’t think I need to learn to use a sling,” Harry spoke again. “Just attach two grenades to two of my arrows. I should be able to make the shots that way.”

  Boyle nodded, not objecting to the idea. It was unfortunate that they didn’t have bows and arrows for everyone as they had been hard to find, and most were at the Black Box.

  “I’d like to gather a team to move a few containers inside the yard,” Harry continued. “If we grab some of the empty ones, we can bridge a few gaps between the housing containers to make an extended walkway on top of them.”

  “Can you do it silently?” Karsten asked him.

  “Maybe, if we go really slow, and we’re really careful. If not, I’ll work out a method to use spare ladders to cross the gaps, although they won’t be as safe to cross.”

  “Whatever you can come up with.”

  Harry removed two of the arrows from the quiver he always wore upon his back and handed them to Boyle, who then passed them over to Nessie.

  “Do you mind figuring out how to attach a pair of grenades to these?”

  “I’ll need to get some things from my container, but I can do it. Just leave them with the grenades for now and I’ll bring my stuff here.”

  “I’ll be heading toward your container to get some of my men around there. I’ll walk you.” Harry stuck out his elbow.

  Nessie made a comment too quiet for Misha to catch as she looped her arm through his elbow, then the two of them headed back toward land in the darkness.

  “Right, we should get started then. Freya?”

  Freya went around the group and handed each person one of the strips of leather. There were at least a dozen more than they needed, but Freya seemed to have picked out which ones she thought were the best, and even appeared to have selected a few specifically for some of them.

  “Um, will I be able to do this with my injured shoulder?” Danny asked as he was handed a strip.

  Do you have full movement with this arm? Freya signed and then gripped his uninjured shoulder.

  Danny rotated it, showing that he could. Freya gave him a curt nod, and turned to Misha.

  Misha accepted his strip of leather, running it through his hands to get used to the feel. He had never used anything like a sling before. He knew the younger kids had taken to carrying around slingshots, but unlike some of the adults, he had never borrowed one to take a few test shots. He had never even used a bow and arrow before; a spear gun was the only non-bullet-throwing projectile weapon he had experience with.

  “We don’t speak sign,” Mark confessed to the group as Freya gestured something before handing him his sling.

  “Freya is mute,” Boyle informed the outsiders. “If she says something you need to know, we’ll translate for you.” Considering that he didn’t translate right then, whatever Freya had said was deemed unimportant.

  “When this is all over, think you can teach us sign language?” Mark whispered to Jon in such a low voice that Misha almost didn’t make it out.

  “So long as you teach me Morse code,” Jon whispered back.

  “Everyone has a sling now?” Boyle looked about the group and confirmed that they all did.

  “Could you all please pick up a grenade?” Karsten ordered next. “Take care not to let the pin come out; I don’t think I need to tell you why. I want you all to get used to the size and weight of the grenade.”

  A sort of circular line formed, and everyone walked past the box, plucking a grenade from its protective padding. Misha very carefully removed his, treating it like a delicate egg. He had seen enough war movies and played enough video games before the Day to respect the power of the small explosive. He looked to Danny, who was holding his just as carefully.

  “Don’t be afraid,” Karsten said as he bent down and picked one up for himself. “The pins are more secure than you think.” He started tossing his grenade from hand to hand, causing several people to hold their breath. “You need to get comfortable with them. See the pin?” He pointed it out on his grenade in case anyone was confused. “When you pull that, it’ll allow this spring loaded lever here to fly free. Hold the lever in place, and nothing will happen. Let it fly off, and you have three seconds before it explodes. This means you’ll have three seconds to drop it into your sling and fire it over the wall.”

  “Only three?” Lenny’s voice wavered slightly.

  “That’s why we have to train with the slings most of the night,” Boyle told them all. “With the large number we’re letting loose, I doubt accuracy will be all that important, but speed will be.”

  Misha wondered if the grenades really had a three-second fuse, or if Boyle and Karsten were just saying that as a safety precaution. If the fuses were really four or five seconds, telling them they had to be good enough for a
three-second fuse reduced the risk of an accident. It wasn’t like the zombies were going to throw the grenades back. Still, make one mistake with the small explosives and several people could end up suffering.

  “By the time your training is done, if you feel you’re not capable of loading and firing within those three seconds, we’ll give your grenades to someone else,” Karsten continued. “Now, we’re going to head to the rocky shoreline near the bridge to Animal Island and search for stones roughly the same shape and weight as the grenades you’re holding. Bring the grenades with you for comparison, and so that you can adjust to having them with you.”

  “Unfortunately, due to the proximity to the wall, we won’t be able to use flashlights or anything,” Boyle added quickly, “so be extra careful with your footing. Let’s go.”

  Boyle, Karsten, and Freya all turned to lead the way up the dock and back to shore, where they would follow the edge of the concrete wall until it became the rocky shoreline. Misha fell in step beside Danny, trailing along behind Bryce and Larson. He cradled his grenade in both hands, feeling its bumps and ridges. Despite what Karsten had advised, Misha didn’t think he’d ever be able to get used to it.

  ***

  “Oomph.”

  Misha had seen Danny slip on the slick rocks, a rush of air unintentionally leaving his lungs. Misha quickly scrambled over to his friend, who had already pushed himself back upright.

  You okay? Misha asked, using the simplest and most visible gestures in the darkness.

  Danny nodded. Thankfully, he had fallen on his good arm, sparing his wound from further pain. Misha held up his grenade, silently asking Danny where his was. Danny showed it to him still firmly clasped in the hand held by his arm sling.

  Turning away, Misha resumed moving around the rocks, searching more with his hands than his eyes for good stones. Danny hadn’t been the first to fall over, and he wouldn’t be the last. Several people had already taken a tumble on the wet, slippery rocks, but so far they had all been lucky. With the rocks and stones occasionally shifting beneath their feet, it would be too easy to break something.

  Glancing outward, Misha spotted the dark shapes in the water. A group of people were performing the arduous task of reconnecting Bitch Bridge. They had swum over earlier and were now using the remaining kayaks and canoes to haul the bridge around. A few people still bobbed in the water, making sure nothing separated and attempting to silently organize the whole endeavour. At least the water wasn’t very cold. After getting someone to hold his grenade for him, Misha had gone in a few times himself. By diving down near the shore, he had been able to locate several good rocks with his hands. Thinking he should do this again, he scanned his surroundings for someone to hold his grenade, someone who wasn’t injured like Danny. This first person he came across was Freya.

  After signing to her his plan, she nodded curtly and held out her hand for his grenade. She appeared to be as comfortable with them as Karsten was. Misha wondered if she’d ever used a grenade before. He knew nothing about her life before the Day, and very little of the years before she showed up at the Diana. From what he did know, he had no interest in learning more. He liked Freya and had no wish to know more about the pain she must have suffered.

  Slipping into the water, his clothes still soggy from his last dip, he felt the usual moment of tension grip his chest. He had always loved the water, always loved swimming, but ever since a shark had dragged Mathias away from him, things had been different. Now, he was constantly on the alert for the silent creatures beneath, never entering the water if he bore any injury that might bleed. It was even more dangerous in the dark, although no one had ever encountered a shark this close to shore. They rarely encountered sharks at all, except for the occasional fisherman who might catch a small one. Still, Misha thought of the sharks as he waded in deeper.

  Off to his right, the end of the wall let him know where the shore suddenly dropped off into deeper water. The last pair of containers rested at the edge of the lip, kept from sliding off by several metal bars that an underwater scuba team had driven into the rocks. At its deepest, the water reached two-thirds of the way up the containers. A small chunk of netting hung down so that a swimmer could climb up. The drop off was a fortunate feature of the rocky shore. Any zombies who wandered in over there were likely to sink off the edge and never be seen again. Animal Island was surrounded by the same steep drop, meaning they didn’t have to worry much about a corpse wandering up out of the water. There was nothing they could do about swimmers though. A zombie with enough sense to swim could easily get around the wall, although normally they’d be put down by a wall guard before getting that far. Tonight, there were no wall guards and a seemingly endless number of the dead were out there. When he had approached the wall earlier, Misha could hear a few of the zombies stumbling in the shallows, but none had gone deep. Something, apparently this Dean thing, was keeping them from wandering too far. All it would take was one swimmer striking out on his own, rounding the end of the last containers, and spotting the humans on the other side. Unless by some miracle the thing’s throat had been ripped out, it would alert all the others and a flood of flesh would be upon them.

  As he moved through the shallows, testing the rocks with his feet, Misha kept a close eye on the edge of the containers and kept an ear cocked toward the wall. When he slid under, he did so as smoothly and silently as he could, slipping straight down until he was completely under. Only then would he flip over, taking care not to break the surface, and grab at the rocks below. Whenever he felt what might be a good one, he stuffed it in his pockets, where he’d carry it until he left the water. On the rocky shore stood several baskets on some large, flat slabs where everyone deposited their stones after finding as many as they could carry.

  Closer to the wall than he had dared to search before, Misha found a good cache of stones. Submerging several times in order to gather them all, he filled the pockets of his pants, including the back ones. Were it not shallow enough at that point for him to stand, he would have had difficulty treading water by the time he was done. Weighed down, he began slogging his way to shore, moving at an angle away from the wall and being careful not to splash much. Unfortunately, someone else wasn’t so careful.

  Misha couldn’t tell who it was due to the darkness and distance, but someone else had entered the water. Maybe this person had seen how many stones Misha had been able to find and thought to do the same. Whatever the reason, the individual burst out of the water farther down the shore, and scrambled toward the dryer rocks in great splashes. Based on the compact frame, Misha guessed it was Karsten who met this person at the water’s edge, quickly pinning the flailing limbs to cease any further disturbance.

  All went still as no one dared to move. Even the kayakers and canoeists had stopped paddling, having witnessed what happened at the shoreline. Slowly, they began to lose what ground they had made as the floating bridge dragged them backward. Misha stood stock-still, frozen in place, partly in and partly out of the water. The stones in his pockets seemed to become heavier, trying to drag him back down beneath the surface. Although some small piece of him seemed to think this might be a good idea, to go where everything was silent and dark, he couldn’t bring himself to move even if the rest of his mind agreed. His body was locked.

  Had the cadence of the groaning beyond the wall changed? Had they heard the splashing and learned that living things were nearly within their reach? Or was Misha’s accelerated mind just making that up? Had they mistaken the sound for a fish, or maybe not even heard it over their own cacophony? It almost seemed reasonable to Misha that they could hear his heartbeat. The vital organ within his chest was struggling against its confines, the blood rushing through the veins in his ears audible despite the dead, a sound like ocean waves.

  Freya was the first to move. She took one careful step toward Misha and the wall, then paused. After a few seconds, she took another, and then another, bending over to place the two grenades she carried in a
nook between two rocks. The mute woman moved with perfect stealth all the way to the container wall and stood beside it, her ear cocked up toward the upper edge. She waited another several seconds, Misha’s eyes locked upon her, ignoring what anyone else might be doing behind him. Not satisfied with what she heard, Freya followed the container wall into the water, slowly passing the gaps created by the tilted containers, gaps that had been filled with rocks, concrete, and any other heavy debris the humans could get their hands on. Once she got deep enough, Freya started to swim, her body gliding smoothly through the water. Misha had to resist literally biting his tongue when she reached the netting and started climbing up. He didn’t know what she expected to see as she disappeared over the upper edge; he could only hope that the zombies wouldn’t see her.

  A tense minute slid by, during which Misha couldn’t bring himself to breathe. His heart was hammering harder than ever, adrenaline pouring through his limbs to the point where he had to resist shaking. A quiet portion of his mind wondered if he was going to pass out. Twice before in his life he had: the first when a 747 he was in attempted a water landing, and the second when he had learned the city of Moscow—capital of his first country and home to some of his relatives—had been nuked in an attempt to stem the zombie virus’s flood through Russia. If he passed out now, the stones in his pockets would surely drag him under and there was a chance that he would drown. It was this thought that got him to take in a fresh breath, although it was a manual operation and he couldn’t take in a second.

  Finally, Freya appeared once more. Lying flat on top of the container, she shot her arm into the air, her hand silhouetted against the star-filled sky in the position of a thumbs up. Misha immediately shot his own arm up, repeating the gesture for anyone who couldn’t see Freya as well as he could. His lungs began working on their own again, as the muscles in his body loosened. He sank low in the water, exerting just enough effort to keep his head above the surface. Glancing over at the others, he saw they were equally relieved, several continuing to pass along the thumbs up while they all slumped over. Karsten was the first to move, dragging whoever it was that started this whole thing out of the ocean. The people in the kayaks and canoes moved next, hoping to regain the ground they had lost.