“Can I try feeding the next one?” Gerald asked.
“Sure, I don’t see why not,” Winnie said.
Evans was more than happy to hand off his duty. Gerald didn’t seem to mind the task at all, and often asked questions, like where each zombie had come from. He learned about how they occasionally misted the zombies to keep them from drying out too much, especially their eyes, and how they were working out a schedule for cleaning out the back of the pens where the mess always gathered. Winnie was also thinking of training them to pedal modified exercise bikes, which would be more space efficient. Gerald took over Evans’ work, so that Evans had only to follow them around, often avoiding looking into the pens. The hairs on the back of his neck would not lie flat. He didn’t care if Winnie told Frannie that Gerald did most of the work, and if she cut down the number of rations she was going to give him because of it; he just wanted to get out of there. But he wasn’t about to leave Winnie alone with Gerald.
When the task was finally completed, Evans was grateful to step out into the fresher air of the main hallway, taking a deep breath as Winnie locked the door.
“I like you, kid,” Winnie patted Gerald on the shoulder. “I hope you stay.” She then headed back toward her workshop.
“Are you all right?” Gerald actually asked Evans.
“Do you care?”
“I care when your reputation is my best in to this place. I don’t want you to wig out and kill their friends.”
“So you’re saying you want to stay here?”
Gerald shrugged. “I guess so. I mean, I don’t know much about their day-to-day stuff, but they seem okay. No worse than the container yard.”
Evans was relieved to hear it. He did not want to have to bring Gerald to another place like this one. He never wanted to see another room like that one ever again. Outside, the rain continued to wash the streets.
IV: By the Sea
It was dark and noisy inside the container. Riley sat on the floor with Hope wrapped up in her arms. Cameron and Brunt were trying to keep a pair of cows calm. The chickens were free to run around, although they had all seemed to finally find a place to settle. One of them was against Riley’s side, and Hope had reached out a few times to pet the hen. If she turned on the flashlight, Riley might be able to identify the fowl, but she didn’t. It wasn’t worth draining the batteries for even a second. Along with the cackling of the chickens who hadn’t gone to sleep, there was the occasional lowing of a cow, and the ceaseless rain drumming overhead. It was too loud to make out Hope’s breathing, but Riley could feel her daughter’s side beneath her hand, the gentle rise and fall indicating that she was asleep. Maybe she’d stay asleep for more than three hours this time. A sharp odour indicated that one of the cows had just taken another piss. Not as bad as their fresh shit, or that of the chickens, but still pungent.
Riley wondered if they would all survive. How many of those who had decided not to flee to the upper level of the wall were now dead? Drowned in their homes, or swept away if they had decided to evacuate too late. Some might still be alive. Their containers weren’t water tight, but if the water level remained low enough, they’d still have plenty of air. Last anyone checked, the water hadn’t risen higher than the first containers. Not yet anyway. If it somehow did, those still below should be able to get out through their emergency hatches.
If it hadn’t been for Josh, more of them would be dead. He had looked out into the storm and seen that the water level had spilled over the end of the U-dock, which, while lower than the rest of the container yard, wasn’t vastly lower. Riley was the first person he found after noticing it. His girlfriend, Anne, was fighting through the storm to find Boyle, who had returned early from a scavenger trip just before the storm hit. Riley didn’t wait for Boyle. She immediately took charge and began barking orders as though she were back in Leighton’s ER. Whether people agreed they needed to flee upward or not, they nevertheless helped out. The ramp they had built earlier for the exodus of envoys and scavengers was quickly located and placed against the wall. Animals, stubborn and complaining, were hauled up the slick, water washed metal, sometimes having to be pushed by a crowd as they lay on their sides. The animals were all crowded into the upper containers, shoved in wherever there was room among the supplies stored there. People and whatever food stores had remained then filled in the rest of the spaces. Some people chose to remain a level down, hoping their homes would protect them. Riley thought they were idiots, but she didn’t want them to be wrong.
She silently cursed Bronislav. Why hadn’t he brought Hope with him? Surely she was as capable as Dakota. Younger, maybe, and certainly headstrong at times, but surely as capable. This was unfair to Bronislav, she knew, but it gave her anger a focus. Something that wasn’t a storm, a natural occurrence in nature.
Abby and Lauren were in the container across the way, along with Josh, Anne, Robin, Quincy, Freya, and anyone who still had wounds that needed monitoring. The crowd of people must keep them occupied, but Riley knew that Abby and Lauren would be frightened every time they got a second to think. Not for themselves, but for Peter in the submarine, and Jon and Claire who were God-knows-where. They probably prayed a lot, as they actually believed in God, unlike Riley. Robin’s cat, Splatter, would be terrified. Riley hadn’t seen the feline get carried into the container, but she was sure it was in there. Robin would never have left him behind, and Freya was the kind of person who could catch and hold a cat in any situation. And she would for Robin.
Riley’s mind kept going every which way, unable to touch down on anything for long. The one thought it kept coming back to was that Mathias had drowned. He had been attacked by a shark, but something told her that he had drowned. Misha had seen him get pulled under, and never saw him come back up again. Mathias had drowned and it seemed that same fate might be awaiting Riley and Hope. A whole family drowned.
Hope took a sharp intake of breath as she awoke, maybe from a bad dream, and then coughed from the stink. The sound woke up the sleeping hen beside them, and she clucked for a bit. Hope soothed the chicken with gentle pats.
It was at least another ten minutes before Brunt spoke up.
“I’m going to open the door for a bit, check on the water level and get us some fresh air, if no one objects.”
“I want some fresh air,” Hope whispered to her mom. Even though it was just Cameron and Brunt in there with them, she had taken to only whispering things to her mother. Perhaps she also couldn’t stop thinking about the time her father had disappeared beneath the sea.
“Okay.” Riley flicked on the flashlight, illuminating her sister. Cameron looked exhausted. It was hard to say with any certainty how long they had been in there, but she had been on her feet virtually the whole time, and at no point had she slept. Dakota was in the submarine, where it was likely safer, but that meant that she wasn’t here where Cameron could see her and ask how she was feeling. Instead, she had the cows to care for.
When Riley attempted to stand up, Hope clung to her, wanting to be lifted and carried.
“I can’t carry you and the flashlight,” she said. Really, she couldn’t carry Hope at all. Her chest was still healing after her surgery, and she had to be careful. Her barking orders outside had almost been too much, and her chest had hurt by the time she sat down in the container.
Hope knew this was the real reason, since she got up on her own without complaining, or suggesting that she herself hold the flashlight. She was a bright girl, bright enough to have been let aboard the submarine.
Together, they met with Brunt by the container’s doors.
“Door one, where I have to fight the wind to keep it open,” Brunt said, pointing to one of the two doors. “Or door two, where I have to fight the wind to keep it from opening too far?” He pointed to the other.
“Fight to keep it open,” Riley told him. The other door would let in more air, but this one was safer.
Brunt moved the latches, and threw his shoulder against t
he metal sheet. The wind howled around the corrugated panel, attempting to push it closed once more. Rain slammed down on Brunt as he braced himself, hooking one foot against the door that was still latched just in case the wind changed direction. It did that frequently and without warning.
Riley kept out of the worst of the rain and shone her flashlight through the opening. It was grey out there. Must be daylight, but the middle of the day? Morning? Evening? She had no sense of time, especially when she drifted in and out of sleep.
“The water level is half way up the first row of containers,” Riley reported.
“Let’s fill all the water buckets,” Brunt told her. “The wind feels stronger and we should avoid opening this door again for a while.”
Hope helped Riley hand the buckets to Brunt. He held them out in the rain, letting them fill. The rain was safe enough to drink, although the higher the water got, the more they worried about a salty spray filling their buckets. Hope took the filled buckets from Brunt and carefully placed them farther inside. They were too heavy for Riley to carry in any situation other than an emergency due to her healing surgical scars. Then again, if this wasn’t an emergency, what was?
Once the last bucket was filled, Brunt ducked back inside, slamming the door shut behind him and throwing the latches.
“What happens if the water reaches us?” Hope whispered as Brunt wrung out his clothes. “Will we have to retreat to the top of the container?”
“Out into the storm? We’ll be swept right off by the wind,” Brunt had heard her and commented in a jovial tone.
“Isn’t that why we have rope?” Hope’s worry caused her volume to rise a few notches. “Will the animals have to remain trapped inside, all alone?”
“The water won’t get that high,” Riley reassured her daughter, convincing herself that the imagined scenario was impossible.
“I could hold onto a chicken,” Hope continued. “I wouldn’t even mind if she pecked.”
“We’re staying right here, don’t you worry,” Cameron told her.
If the water did reach them, they likely wouldn’t know it until it was too late. The water pressure below would already be making it impossible for those who stayed to open their doors. Hopefully they all had a high space to retreat to, like a bunk bed or a solid shelving unit, and weren’t forced to swim until the water level retreated. Unlike them, the container Riley’s family currently occupied didn’t have an escape hatch.
“Cameron, why don’t you sit down for a bit. Hope and I can take care of the cows for a little while,” Riley suggested. Taking care of the cows wasn’t difficult; it generally just involved petting their noses the way they liked to help keep them calm. Cameron had milked them relatively recently—at least Riley thought she had—and so they should be good on that front for a while.
“Yeah, that would be great. Thanks.” Brunt had responded for Cameron. She protested weakly, but Brunt led her away from the cows as Riley and Hope took over. By the time she sat down, Cameron was out like a light. Riley switched her flashlight back off once everyone appeared settled. The cows provided a good distraction. Not just for Hope, but for Riley as well.
Some of the chickens were clucking and fluttering about, having been disturbed by the light and the air. Riley listened to them in the dark, her hands gently stroking the warm, soft muzzle before her. She preferred to listen to them, rather than trying to make out the sounds of waves lapping at the container walls below.
Section 5:
Hate
25: Onida
Less Than 1 Year Ago
It didn’t take long for Onida and Shawn to end up on friendly terms with the bandits. One unexpected snowstorm was all it took. A midday blizzard had forced them to rapidly seek shelter. There was no time to hand back the guns, to split up, to make a meeting point for when the storm ended. Hell, they couldn’t even see the area around them clearly enough to pick a spot they could find later. Instead, they all found themselves in the same grocery store, brushing piles of snowflakes off themselves and the horses. The dog had almost become lost in the snow, but managed to find its way to its owner’s calling and then screaming voice. There was no food to be had. All the shelves had been picked clean of sustenance a long time ago. Even the pet food was all gone. Only a few cleaning chemicals and some cooking utensils remained. They had built a small fire using the old wooden fruit crates, and then added what wooden shelving they could find to chop up. The bandits had both a good splitting axe and a hatchet. Once the fire was going and the horses were settled, they had no choice but to talk. Well, the bandits did most of the talking, while Onida and Shawn listened. Even with Onida chiming in infrequently, they all pretty much knew one another once the sun came up the next morning to reveal that the snowstorm had moved on. They hadn’t killed each other in the night, no one had even tried, and though Shawn still carried all the guns, he didn’t tell Onida to ride backward to keep an eye on everyone. They stopped splitting up at night, and eventually Shawn and Onida slept at the same time. By the time a week had passed, everyone was properly armed with their own guns. Onida had been given an extra revolver she hadn’t yet fired, and Shawn now carried a rifle. Not everyone had a saddle though.
“Man, does my ass hurt,” complained Axel during a lunch stop. The group didn’t travel as far each day as Shawn and Onida had managed on their own due to the need for prolonged stops, but neither of them complained. Despite slower progress, the journey was more pleasant. Shawn’s only issue seemed to be his dislike of the dog.
“We really gotta find some saddles soon,” Mikey complained. He always looked mildly ridiculous. He was a short guy with a face full of pimples: a teenager who carried around a gun about as big as he was. Onida hadn’t seen him shoot since the time he had hit the pavement ahead of her, but had heard stories about his firearm proficiency. Apparently he had been shooting since he was a little kid, even before the infection spread. If the world had remained normal, he’d probably be some sort of Olympic hopeful by now. Onida wasn’t even sure she could handle the revolver she’d been offered, and couldn’t remember ever having seen the Olympics.
It was halfway through their break when Ronnie jumped to her feet. “Everyone shut up,” she hissed.
They all fell silent, listening for whatever she thought she had heard. Onida saw Shawn out of the corner of her eye as he drew his bow. He was probably thinking about wolves.
“Do you hear that?” Ronnie was flicking her fingers in time with something. “I think I hear hoof beats.”
Onida looked to their horses, but they were all standing still, cropping the yellowed grass. The snow that had been dumped on them that one day had since melted away. The mornings usually brought frost, but they hadn’t had another real snowfall since. The sky sprinkled a few flakes on occasion, but they rarely survived the trip all the way to the ground.
“You’re right,” nodded Dom, the leader of the bandits who had been the one to step in front of them on the road. “Ronnie, Helen, go check it out and report back.”
The two women, one of whom was his wife and who had convinced him that travelling south was a good idea, dashed off toward the sound. Onida could hear the hooves now too. They were on a different street, but drawing closer. They were coming from the south, so it was likely that they had no idea that the bandits were there.
It didn’t take long for Ronnie and Helen to come back.
“Just two of them, on two horses,” Helen reported.
“Excellent,” Dom beamed. “What do you say folks, time to go to work?”
Mikey immediately got up and headed off, not needing to be told what to do.
“Onida, Shawn, are you going to come with us?” Helen asked. It was nice, and weirdly unexpected that she did.
“Onida, you should go with them,” Shawn told her. “I’ll stay here to watch the horses.” He had slackened his bow, but still had it ready in case some unfortunate appeared.
“Good idea,” Dom agreed. “Onida knows horses.
She’ll be able to tell us if their saddles are any good.”
Following the bandits toward the hastily decided ambush point, Onida felt her heart hammering in her chest. They were in a suburban area, where the winding road allowed some of them to get to the other side of the street without being seen by the travellers.
“Stay close to me,” Gatsby whispered, leading her over to a house where someone with mobility issues must have once lived. A small elevator was attached to the side of the porch, and by crouching down, the two of them could hide within the metal box. It was carpeted by mushy, wet leaves.
Jammed together within the enclosed space, Onida and Gatsby listened to the approach of hooves. The horses stopped a short distance from their hiding place. Onida took a quick peek over the edge. There were definitely only two of them. It was an old woman and a young man, making almost a weird parody of herself and Shawn. Dom stood in the road in front of them. He gave the pair roughly the same speech as he had given Shawn and her, accompanied by a shot from Mikey’s rifle hitting the pavement. Onida didn’t know where he was hiding, but it sounded closer than when she had been stopped.
“Do the saddles look good?” Gatsby whispered to Onida.
Onida briefly poked her head up again. “Hard to say when they’re sitting on them, but I doubt they’d be using saddles that are falling apart.”
Gatsby raised a quick thumbs up over the side of the box. Presumably Dom was looking for it.
“Now, if you would be so kind as to dismount,” Dom told the travellers. “This can go smoothly and painlessly.
“Fuck you!” the young man shouted.
Dom sighed loudly. This seemed to be a signal, as Gatsby crept out of the box, drawing Onida along with him.
Survival Instinct (Book 5): Social Instinct Page 40
