Survival Instinct (Book 5): Social Instinct

by Stittle, Kristal

  Marissa and Belle attacked the first pig, finally killing it before it could decide that it was done with Jack.

  A third pig burst out of the field on their left. Aaron wasn’t fast enough to react, but when the pig grabbed his ankle, he did manage to keep to his feet. Unfortunately, the pig’s lowered head protected it from the hatchet Aaron wielded in terror, hacking at the thing’s shoulders.

  A fourth pig arriving on the scene drew the attention of Lindsay, Lucy, and Vin, who focused their counter-attack efforts against it.

  James kicked at Soot’s flanks. The horse wanted to run, no matter the direction in which James had pointed him. Nearly trampling Katrina and Skip a second time, the horse thundered past them, straight at the pig who had Aaron. Massive hooves crashed through the rotted flesh, snapping the bones beneath. Aaron stumbled backward, his ankle suddenly freed. James brought Soot around in a tight circle. The horse now understood that it could fight back, even more so since the pig could barely move with its spine already shattered. Soot stomped, and bounced, slamming his front hooves down on the pig, over and over again, until it was a pulpy smear on the road. James had to hold on tightly to keep from falling.

  Belle put Jack out of his misery and prevented him from turning, while Marissa and Samson went to Aaron.

  “Wait, wait, wait, wait,” Aaron kept urging as Samson held him down and Marissa rolled up his pant leg.

  Lindsay and Vin soon joined to help, while Lucy went over to Skip and Katrina to check on them. It seemed that there were no more pigs.

  “Wait, wait, wait, wait!” Aaron’s voice took on a higher pitch as a clean blade was produced. His words were suddenly muffled by a strap of thick leather that was jammed between his teeth.

  James got Soot back under control and helped Katrina retrieve Spark from where he had trotted a short distance away into one of the fields. Once Katrina mounted up, the two of them rode in circles around the wounded group, on the lookout for any pigs that had lagged behind the other four.

  Aaron eventually passed out during the amputation of his leg. It was the only way to save him from the zombie infection. Whether he would die anyway from shock, blood loss, or a different infection altogether, they would have to wait and see.

  “We need to get inside somewhere,” Lindsay barked once the procedure was complete.

  Samson produced a small, folding stretcher from his gear. They couldn’t trust Aaron to stay on a horse unconscious without lashing him to it, so they thought it might be safer to just carry him. With Vin holding up one end, and Samson the other, Aaron was brought along on the stretcher. Marissa carried his pack for him, and Lucy grabbed what could be salvaged from Jack. It seemed another night of mourning was in order, and this time they didn’t have lion meat to help ease their loss.

  Skip groaned and whined as they walked, his injured hand cradled to his chest. Katrina remained mounted, hyper alert to any other possible threats that might be hiding nearby.

  At the very next farmhouse they came to, they broke in and made themselves at home. The injured were hustled upstairs, where whatever administrations could be done were carried out. A fire was hastily built in a bathtub up there so that Aaron’s leg could be cauterized, hopefully before he woke up again. It was debated whether Skip’s hand should be amputated as well.

  James stayed downstairs. He could hear everyone upstairs rushing around, their hurried footfalls thumping through the ceiling. The horses wouldn’t easily fit through the front door, but they were all right standing within the screened-in porch for a time. James limped around with his bad foot, making sure the house they had chosen was secure. Katrina remained with the horses, trying to calm them down enough to convince them to pass through the narrower door, while Vin investigated the cellar.

  As the adrenaline started to wear off, James collapsed into an overstuffed chair in the living room. A large dust cloud puffed out of it and set him to coughing. Katrina managed to get the horses through the door and into the safety of the living room after removing their tack. They stood there, looking wholly out of place, as she started to brush them down. The ruckus upstairs had quieted. Some of the group came down, while others decided to remain up there. James was told that, for the moment, Skip was to keep his hand. It was to be monitored closely and might still be amputated at a later date. Despite Skip being told that waiting could result in part, or even all, of his arm having to come off with the hand, he insisted on waiting.

  When Vin returned from the cellar, he reported finding a pile of preservatives and pickles in jars.

  “Don’t eat any of it,” James warned.

  “Why? It doesn’t look so bad. The thing hasn’t bubbled.” Vin had brought up what looked like a jar of jam, and tapped the top of the lid.

  “That stuff is only good for about two years. Anything pickled lasts even less. Based on the level of dust and spider webs around this place, I’d say it’s been a lot longer.”

  “Eaten a lot of bad jams, have you?”

  “Yes, I have.” Occasionally James had tested for himself the foods brought back to the Diana. While people like Cameron and Riley Bishop knew how long various foods lasted, the scavengers often decided to find out for themselves. More than once, James regretted that decision.

  “The contents may be no good, but those are some good jars,” Lindsay pointed out. “I’m thinking we should dump out what we can, and then wash them the next time we come across a water source.”

  Everyone else in the living room agreed. James remained seated, his foot bothering him, and Katrina continued to brush down the horses, but the others from the living room returned to the cellar to gather the jars.

  “I bet you one of them tastes something,” Katrina said.

  “I wouldn’t take that bet,” James replied. The thing about hunger was that people didn’t always listen when they were told not to eat something that looked like food.

  Vin was the one who ended up tasting a jam, and he agreed that it shouldn’t be eaten. No one tried any of the pickles, or the pickled fruits. Three jars per person were selected and emptied out back.

  “I’m disappointed that there was no wine down there,” Lindsay sighed.

  “With our luck, it’d have turned to vinegar,” Vin grumbled, clearly still disappointed that the preservatives hadn’t worked out.

  Knowing they’d be at the farmhouse for a while, a foraging team headed outside. They didn’t go far, fearing there may be one last pig out there, but the field they were in was rather bountiful. Some berry bushes were located, as well as some tubers. A groundhog was almost caught, but managed to escape down its hole. James watched the brief excavation attempt through the living room window.

  He worried about the water if they had to stay there very long.

  ***

  Two nights were spent in the farmhouse. Food wasn’t an issue, especially once they set up snares for the groundhogs and rabbits, but they hadn’t been able to locate a water source. Even though the berries were extremely juicy, and they conserved their water as much as possible, they couldn’t stay put. Knowing there was a predator out there, something that had dragged off Jack’s body, didn’t help.

  “We’ll have to carry him,” James said to Katrina on the second morning, as the two of them sat on the steps that led up to the screened-in porch.

  “We could strap him to a horse.” Katrina didn’t need to be told who they were talking about. Aaron had been the topic of many conversations lately. The man had developed a fever and was delirious much of the time. There was nothing they could do for his pain, and he occasionally had fits of screaming.

  “And if the horse decides to bolt?”

  “You expect us all to take turns carrying him on the stretcher?” Katrina shook her head. “No, we’re not going to do that. If we get attacked again, we’ll need all hands on deck.”

  “You know, if we hadn’t had so many delays, we would likely have reached the first community by now.” The people in their group were to make
contact with a total of three communities. The first one, they would arrive at together, where they could hopefully bolster their supplies and receive more information on the others. One small group would head off toward the second community, with James and Katrina accompanying them about half way there. They were to split up then, and the two of them would ride the horses to the third community. All of these places felt so very far away when James thought about how much they had already gone through.

  “I know.” Katrina nodded. “And we have to strap Aaron to a horse and get him there. He needs medicine that we don’t have. Maybe they do.”

  James sighed. Katrina was right, of course. “All right, we’ll strap him to a horse. One last foraging team will head out, gathering what they can, and then we’ll leave this place.”

  Katrina shot up onto her feet and headed inside to convince the others. James looked at the dead zombie about twenty feet away from him, its upper half tangled within the bush it had fallen upon. Aaron’s screams had been luring the zombies toward the farmhouse, and while he could occasionally be muffled, they risked suffocating him every time they did. At least the zombies had been showing up alone or in pairs so far, and it proved that there were no more pigs in the area.

  James got up and went back inside. His foot was having a relatively good day, but he chose not to join the foragers, and instead led the horses outside. They had gotten used to passing through a small doorway of the house and the larger doorway of the porch, for they had been brought in and out through them many times since arriving at the farmhouse. Outside there was food for them, but inside it was safe, and so they had gone back and forth depending on the threat level. Water for the horses needed to be found especially soon.

  Just getting Aaron out of his bed and downstairs was an ordeal. They allowed the man to take a break on the couch before bringing him outside to the horses.

  “Are we growing things?” he mumbled, his face pale and covered with sweat. He was staring at some of the horse shit that now perfumed the living room in the worst way. No one bothered to explain.

  Aaron screamed as they manhandled him up onto the horse, and again when they tied down his amputated leg. It had been cut off at the knee, not leaving much for them to get a proper knot around, and so they had to focus mainly on his hips. The packs of the two dead men, as well as his own, were tied down in positions that offered him some support. If he needed to slump forward, the pack with the lion hide in it would provide a small modicum of comfort. Spark seemed a little confused, as he understood a human was now on his back, but that person was giving no orders, providing no directions.

  When they headed out, James rode on Soot as close to Aaron’s side as he could safely get. Sweat was pouring off the man, but he managed to stay conscious, his eyes up and staring between Spark’s ears. He mumbled occasionally, which sometimes carried the tone of a question, but he was never loud enough for James to make out the words. And it seemed he was never expected to. Whoever Aaron was talking to, it wasn’t him.

  In the early afternoon, they finally came across a small, muddy stream. While not ideal for filling their containers, they did wash out the jars to prevent flies from being drawn to them. The horses drank greedily. Soot got a short break when James hopped off his back, but Spark had to remain burdened.

  They didn’t stop for long, and were back on the road in no time. James hoped they left farm country soon. It usually provided more food to be foraged, but he felt too exposed in the open lands. Anything could be watching them from the undergrowth. James himself couldn’t do much watching, since he had to concern himself with Aaron. He needed to lean over, a little precariously at times, to make sure the injured man drank some water. Everyone else had limited their water intake as much as they were able in order to allow Aaron to consume what he needed. They were sacrificing their own health in the hopes of keeping him alive. James knew that if this continued, they would grow to resent Aaron. Some of them might even start campaigning to leave him behind if he didn’t begin to show some improvement soon.

  Before nightfall, they reached an intersection of roads that must have seen a fair bit of traffic, for a number of buildings had been built in a cluster around it. To everyone’s relief, the only dangers they came across getting there were a few easily dispatched zombies. A pair of coyotes had been spotted in the distance at one point, but the animals never came closer and weren’t seen a second time.

  “What building should we camp out in?” Katrina asked, having waited for the rest of the group to catch up with her and Skip. They had been taking a turn scouting ahead, Skip’s hand held to his chest by a strap.

  The decision came down to a garage adjacent to a gas station, or a post office.

  “Garage has a better door for the horses to get in and out, but the post office has windows,” Samson pointed out. “We’ll be able to see if anything invades the streets while we sleep.”

  “Garage has more space,” Lucy commented.

  “Post office has thicker walls and security bars across the door,” Lindsay came back with.

  “The garage might have some tools in it,” Vin suggested.

  “I vote for the post office,” James chimed in. “There’s a chance there’s carpeting in there, which would be better for Aaron to lie down on.”

  “Both of those points don’t matter unless we look inside,” Katrina said. “So why don’t we do that? We’re clearly not in a hurry to decide, so we’ll scope out both places first.”

  This was agreed upon, and a small team was quickly formed to investigate both buildings. James did his best to check Aaron’s temperature while they waited. He was still hot. They needed to get him off the horse and take another good look at his leg.

  James watched with interest as the team, having checked out both locations, went on to investigate a third, and even stick their heads inside a fourth and fifth.

  “There’s nothing,” Katrina reported when they returned.

  “What do you mean ‘nothing?’” James asked her.

  “I mean there’s nothing. This whole place has been stripped completely bare. Even the shelves are gone.”

  “Check all the buildings.” James felt his heart kick up a notch, and all his senses became more alert.

  “What’s wrong?” Skip wondered.

  “No one would strip a place completely bare unless they lived close by and had a use for everything. There might be someone here, so we have to check everywhere.”

  “We better do it fast then, because it’ll be dark soon,” Katrina pointed out.

  Everyone was quickly divided into four teams of two, each team to check a quadrant of structures. James had to remain outside with the horses and Aaron, but he kept alert and offered advice.

  “No need for a thorough search,” he told them. “If someone is living there, they’ll have likely made a barricade of some kind. Just test the doors. If you enter a building that doesn’t look like it’s been looted, take extra precaution, because you may have just entered their space. Make special note of basements. Don’t bother to be quiet. Let any zombies inside come to you, and you don’t want to scare any residents. Talk while you explore; let anyone living know your intentions. We don’t want to hurt them, we just need a place to stay for the night, and would like to ask them a few questions about the area.”

  James was anxious as he monitored the teams. He had Soot trot from one corner to another as he watched the pairs enter buildings. He mentally checked off each one in his head as it was cleared. Every team signalled to him when they found nothing before moving on to the next place. There was only one house in the area, so most of the buildings didn’t have very many rooms to investigate. Windows flashed and glowed, as the sinking sun required the use of lights indoors, allowing the progress of the teams to be monitored even more closely.

  After it had become fully dark, the last team finished with the last structure, and returned to where the group had gathered in the intersection. Belle shrugged as she joined
the larger circle of light cast by the gathering.

  “Nothing,” she said. “There’s nothing here.”

  James looked up all three of the streets they hadn’t travelled. Someone must live on one of them, but which one? And how far away were they? Before the sun had set, he hadn’t been able to see any other structures in which a person might take shelter, not even another farmhouse.

  “Let’s get inside.” Katrina turned and headed for the post office. Decision made.

  Aaron groaned as Spark began walking. The horse had stood still for so long, that he had managed to fall asleep in the saddle for a little bit. The movement jarred him awake once more.

  Outside the post office, they had to untie Aaron in order to get him inside. His scream was weaker this time, as he was dragged off the horse and lowered to the stretcher. Once Aaron had been hustled into the building, James dismounted in order to lead Soot through the small door. Although he had been getting used to riding, his legs were still sore whenever he got out of the saddle.

  In discussing where to stay, they should have given more weight to the fact that the garage was larger. The horses stood together, filling the space before the front desk. Everyone else clustered behind it. At least there weren’t any shelves to contend with, thanks to whoever had stripped the place clean. The cramped quarters also required less light to illuminate it. By the time James had entered and gotten Soot settled, Aaron’s leg had already been inspected, and the bandages changed. He didn’t bother to ask what it looked like. He would only get a false answer, seeing as how Aaron would hear it as well. James could see the truth on people’s faces, anyway, and smell the stink of disease in the air. The prognosis wasn’t good.

  After laying out his bedding, James nibbled on a few berries he had picked from beside the muddy stream. His fear all but negated his hunger, but he figured having some food in his stomach would help him sleep. It did not.