Survival Instinct (Book 5): Social Instinct

by Stittle, Kristal

  “Are you going to help or not?” Onida asked him.

  He neither answered nor moved.

  Annoyed, Onida placed a rock to hold open the door for her. It would be a tight fit for the horses to get through, but the bathrooms inside were fairly large and should be able to accommodate them all.

  The horses were all agitated. They had heard the wolves too, and were afraid. Had they not been hobbled, they might have attempted to run off, even if it meant leaving Askuwheteau behind. Onida went to the most spirited horse first, and grabbed hold of his lead in order to bring him inside. She removed his hobble first, although she intended to put it back on once he was safe.

  “Could you at least get up and move our gear out of the way?” Onida asked, practically begging, as she returned to the door and found Shawn still frozen with fear.

  Mask’s wiggling finally allowed him to escape out of his arms, which seemed to bring Shawn around.

  “Can you make a light for me?”

  Shawn finally helped, taking out a weird little lantern that he rarely used. It had a crank on the side, which had to be continuously turned for the light to work, and Shawn didn’t like the noise much. This was an emergency, however, and neither they nor the horses would be too keen on a fire indoors.

  As the gear was moved out of the way, Onida coaxed the first horse through the doorway. They hadn’t yet heard the wolves a third time, but that only made Onida more fearful. They could be hunting, moving through the shadows, surrounding them.

  The light wasn’t a very strong one, but it was enough to navigate by. Shawn kept turning the crank, while Onida led the horse around the annoyingly tight turns of the female bathroom entrance.

  There were several toilet stalls, and they were wider than Onida had thought they’d be. She walked the horse down to the end of the row, and tied his lead to the dead toilet’s piping. Getting back out required crawling under the side of the stall, but Onida figured that having the partial walls between the horses’ heads would prevent them from nipping at each other in irritation or fright. Now she had to get the rest of them.

  Each time Onida walked a horse inside, Shawn worked the light. Outside, he didn’t help with the horses, but instead put together hastily built fires along their perimeter. The picnic tables were dragged about and set alight in an attempt to keep the wolves at bay before they even appeared. Onida worried about the woods catching fire despite the recent rains, but she didn’t say so to Shawn. Considering how frantically he worked at his fires, often muttering curses at his flint and steel, she didn’t think anything she might say could get him to stop.

  As Onida took hold of the second to last horse, the only one still wearing its hobble, the first wolf made its appearance. A luminous pair of yellow eyes flashed in the firelight. It was only for a moment, but Shawn had seen it and it was enough for him. Abandoning his latest fire along with Onida and the two remaining horses, he dashed inside and pulled shut the door, kicking away the rock with which Onida had propped it open.

  “Fucker,” Onida muttered.

  Both Askuwheteau and Sokw, the horse Onida was currently holding, had become very agitated. Onida was barely able to keep her hold on Sokw’s lead now that she had removed the hobble. And what of Askuwheteau? She couldn’t just leave him tied up out here, alone, while she got Sokw inside. She didn’t trust the fires to do their job of keeping the wolves back.

  “Shawn!” she called, nearing the door. “Shawn! I need you! Get out here!”

  Was that a slinking form between those trees?

  “Shawn! Open the door!”

  Frustrated, she knew she was going to have to do something she didn’t want to in order to force him to help. Walking Sokw over to the flagpole, Onida tied her lead alongside Askuwheteau’s. She needed to leave the two horses, but just for a moment, and hoped that the two of them could defend themselves should the wolves move in.

  Running back to the door, Onida ripped it open. The firelight behind her revealed Shawn curled up in a terrified ball at the far side of the space, but that was all right. What Onida needed was much closer.

  Mask wasn’t at all afraid when Onida walked quickly toward him, although he cried out when she roughly scooped him up. Without a word, she carried Mask to the door.

  Shawn screamed wordlessly. Onida didn’t even look at him; she just walked straight outside with the raccoon. It was cruel, but if the possible threat to Mask could get Shawn to move, then so be it.

  Onida waited outside near the horses, holding Mask in her arms. He seemed to sense the danger and went still, curling up in a tight ball, trusting her to protect him. Shawn’s wailing continued, and Onida hoped the sound was more likely to frighten the wolves away than to draw them in as a wounded animal might. She watched the trees and the overgrowth, searching for any sign of movement. The dancing firelight made this difficult, and Onida wasn’t always sure if what she saw was a circling wolf, or just a trick of her mind.

  Finally, Shawn appeared in the doorway. He was a trembling mass of terror, his whole being drawn up into a tightly coiled beanpole. Tears glittered in his eyes, on his cheeks, and in his beard.

  “Please,” he begged, holding the door open but not taking that last step to exit the building. “Please. Bring him back. Bring him inside. Please. Please don’t hurt him.”

  “I don’t want to hurt him,” Onida confessed. “I also don’t want any of our horses to get hurt either and I need your help to ensure that.”

  Was that wood popping in the fire behind her, or a branch breaking? Onida wheeled around but saw nothing. She turned back to Shawn.

  “I’m going to bring Sokw over to you. When I hand over her lead, I’ll put Mask down so that he can go inside. You bring Sokw into the men’s washroom while I get Askuwheteau, all right?”

  “Yes, yes, just give me Mask back!”

  Onida continued to cradle Mask in the crook of her arm, while she used her other hand to untie Sokw’s lead. Once more, she walked the horse over toward the door.

  “Come get it,” Onida said, holding out the lead and insisting that Shawn take at least a few steps outside of the structure.

  Shawn hesitated, still shaking like the flames of the fires around them. But then his eyes looked at Mask in Onida’s arm and he found the courage to leave the safety of the rest stop. Once he took hold of Sokw’s lead, Onida handed over Mask. The raccoon was most willing to be given back to his person, his little clawed hands gripping tightly to Shawn’s shoulder.

  While Shawn quickly retreated back through the door, coaxing Sokw to follow after him, Onida returned to Askuwheteau. He was highly agitated now. He could smell the wolves, and the flames weren’t making him any calmer. The horse danced about, his hooves churning up the grass and dirt.

  “Easy. Easy,” Onida whispered as she approached.

  Past the horse she could see a wolf. It stood just at the edge of the firelight, its eyes glowing. It was staring straight at Onida and Askuwheteau, as its upper lip trembled and revealed its vicious teeth. The smaller fires were already beginning to die down; only the picnic tables still burned brightly.

  “Easy. Easy,” Onida continued, although she drew her knife and now kept her eyes on the wolf. “Easy.”

  As she untied the long lead, a new sound drifted over that of the crackling flames. A low moan, almost unheard by Onida’s ears, but definitely picked up by both Askuwheteau and the wolf. The wolf’s head shot up, its eyes and ears instantly alerted in the direction from which the moan had come. Askuwheteau whinnied loudly and tossed his head. Onida was only saved from being picked up and thrown by the motion thanks to the length of the lead he was wearing.

  The wolf turned and disappeared into the foliage, its head and tail tucked low. A second wolf ran past, through the open area, fearing something more than the fires. Onida turned to face those fears.

  A zombie staggered into the light from the direction of the road. Just one wouldn’t have chased off the wolves though, and so Onida knew that
there must be plenty more behind it. Another loud groan only served to confirm this.

  Onida pulled Askuwheteau toward the door. He wasn’t keen on going, since it took him a few steps closer to the walking corpse, but Onida pulled hard and insistently. She locked eyes with the dead thing coming toward her and the horse, and held her knife at the ready. She hoped that Askuwheteau didn’t bolt, as the tight grip she had on his lead would cause her to be dragged.

  The sound of something ripping through the air by her ear startled Onida. The zombie went down, an arrow now protruding from its face.

  “Hurry!” Shawn called from the doorway. His fear of the walking corpses was less than that of his fear of the wolves. As Onida approached with the horse, Shawn stepped outside so that he could continue to guard them with his bow while they entered.

  Upon stepping into the structure, Onida saw that Shawn hadn’t bothered to bring Sokw into one of the bathrooms, that she stood within the small area where their gear was still littered about, threatening to walk all over it. Mask couldn’t be seen. Askuwheteau crowded up behind Onida and blocked off the light. The horse was eager to follow her through the tight doorway, preferring to move in any direction that took him away from the zombies.

  “We’re in!” Onida called out once she confirmed that Askuwheteau was completely through the opening.

  Shawn slipped back inside and pulled the door shut, closing them up in darkness. The building was a good place to hide from the dead, since there were no windows that they could break through, and the walls were a solid brick.

  “Work this,” Shawn told Onida, thrusting a device into her hands. She wondered how he knew exactly where she had been standing.

  Feeling the box, she realized that it was the crank light. She turned the handle, which was more difficult than she expected, and brought the thing to life.

  “Point it at the door,” Shawn instructed. He was far calmer now.

  Onida did as he directed. She continued to turn the crank, and watched as Shawn tied a rope around the door’s inner crash bar, and then the other end around an electrical pipe that connected a large light switch box to the other electrical piping along the ceiling. If one of the zombies out there was smart enough to know how to pull open a door, it still wouldn’t be able to.

  Shortly after Shawn finished his work, one of the dead smashed into the door, with a metallic and hollow bong.

  “Let’s get the horses settled,” Shawn said, as though there wasn’t something currently trying to get in. He took the light from Onida so that they could move Sokw and then Askuwheteau into the bathrooms.

  Mask climbed up onto Shawn’s shoulders while they worked, clearly missing his carry pouch.

  ***

  Onida was surprised that she could sleep at all with the zombies outside, but the next day she found herself rising up out of a dreamless slumber. It was strangely silent, as nothing was banging on the door anymore. She wondered what time it was. A bird singing somewhere beyond the walls suggested that it was at least daylight.

  Whether she woke Shawn, or Shawn woke her, there was no way of knowing, but they were both up at relatively the same time. Shawn used his light so that they could check on the horses, and then go investigate the door. When knocking on it received no response, Shawn untied the rope so that they could push it open. Bright sunlight flooded into the rest stop.

  Walking outside, they looked about the area. A single corpse lay on the gravel with an arrow still sticking out of it. The picnic table fires were now just black spots among the grass, a few still smoking a little. An area of torn up grass suggested where Askuwheteau had been. Only these three things and nothing more hinted at what had actually happened last night.

  Shawn walked over to the dead and pulled his arrow out of it.

  “Let’s eat breakfast and then get the horses outside. We should get moving.”

  Onida was inclined to agree.

  II: Underground

  Were the other bunkers like this? It was a thought that often crossed Mariah’s mind. Sometimes she was thinking about the governmental bunkers that must exist elsewhere beneath her country, at other times she was thinking about those in foreign countries. Royalty, presidents, other important heads of various states: it was likely that they had all been brought to such places when things got bad.

  None of those important people were in her bunker. She probably shouldn’t have been in there herself; she was just a lowly aide who got swept up in the evacuation. Today was a day when she couldn’t remember who she had aided. Maybe they had been important. Maybe there used to be an important person down there with her. Her memory wasn’t so good anymore. Sometimes she thought she had early onset Alzheimer’s, but if she did, it was really early onset. Besides, she always remembered that it took her thirty-two steps to reach the bathroom from her bunk. There were six concrete slab tiles that made up the ceiling of the operations room. It was good to swap out the air-filters whenever the orange light came on, and clean the dirty ones. She must never go into the north end. These were all good things to remember.

  Mariah’s days were simple enough. Check for orange lights, cook the day’s meals, exercise, see if her plants were growing, and try three passwords in the operations room. At least, Mariah thought these were her days. She didn’t actually know when one day became the next. She couldn’t get into the operations computers to see what was going on, and there were no clocks: none where she was anyway. Maybe there was a clock in the north end. She would never know. She must never go into the north end.

  “Hello,” she greeted Sheiffer on her way to the kitchen. Sheiffer never greeted her back. He—or maybe she?—was a skeleton in a military uniform with the name Sheiffer on it. Mariah sometimes got confused by Sheiffer. A real skeleton? A fake one? Not a skeleton at all? Sheiffer sometimes made her sad, but he was her only company. She never remembered cleaning the flesh off his bones, and so assumed someone else must have done it. Someone in the north end. She must never go into the north end.

  The kitchen was very well stocked. Mariah had never counted the supplies, but there were years’ and years’ worth. She didn’t think she would ever go hungry. Her main concern was the hydro generator. Its turbines were pushed by the raging, underground river that passed along the east side of the place. Mariah liked to listen to the river through the walls. If something ever happened to the hydro generator, she could access it through a room on that side, but to get there, she would have to go through part of the north end. And she must never go into the north end. Never. It didn’t matter that that’s where the door to the surface lay. The surface could be a toxic wasteland for all she knew. Until she got into the operations room computers, she’d have no idea. So without knowing, it was best to never go into the north end. That’s where the bad things happened. The bad things that Mariah didn’t like to think about. The things she hid from, both physically when they had occurred, and mentally now that they had been over for years. The door to the north end remained sealed, her only company on this side being Sheiffer. She remembered closing the door. She remembered a woman—an aide like her?—running and screaming for her to wait. Mariah had not waited. She couldn’t wait. She didn’t know the woman. Maybe she was on the side of those doing the bad things. It was better to be safe than to be executed.

  In Mariah’s mind, it was better to be safe than anything else. Not even her all consuming loneliness or boredom could put a dent in that mentality. Safety was everything. Safety was life. Routine was safety. What would happen if she finally figured out the code to turn on the computers?

  Section 3:

  Help

  13: Misha

  5 Days After the Bombing

  Despite the lack of any real threats, only the stray zombie here and there, Misha couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. At random times throughout the day, he would turn around, looking past Angela, even though she was doing the job of guarding their rear just as well as Misha could. His dogs never alerted h
im to anything that would explain why he felt the way he did. Despite all this, he remained jumpy, alert for any possible danger, or even just something that seemed off.

  When they reached the bay, they made a stop to refill their water canisters and wash the shirts and pants they had worn while dealing with the zombies in the small container yard. Misha knelt in the shallow water, scrubbing himself and watching his dog pack hunt for something to eat. He also watched the nearby buildings, picking up on every small movement, which always turned out to be either the wind or a bird. No one was successful in catching any fish, but once they got moving again, Crichton walked down near the water, holding a long stick; it trailed a line with a hook and lure attached to the end that he had made himself.

  They travelled a good distance that day, doing their best to make up for the delay caused by the container yard zombies. They might have been able to make it to the Black Box that day had that problem not occurred, but as it stood, they would definitely reach it the following afternoon. It would be better than arriving in the evening anyway.

  As night fell, they found themselves settling into a laundromat, its double doors missing, leaving a large enough hole for the horses and cart. The plan was to partly block the opening with some of the washing machines when they went to sleep, as clearly others had done before based on the shifted machines and scrapes covering the floor.

  “You’ve been jittery all day,” Crichton commented to Misha as the two of them accompanied the horses to graze, with the dogs roaming nearby.

  “I can’t shake the feeling that something’s wrong,” Misha admitted. “Ever since Rifle reacted to something in that alley, it’s felt like… I don’t know.”

  “Like we’re being watched?”