Survival Instinct (Book 5): Social Instinct

by Stittle, Kristal

  The sound inside struck James before he even looked around. The theatre was crowded with human voices; this is where all the people were. It was well lit, with strings of lights hanging from nearly every surface that would support them. The main section of the building, the cylinder, was a large, high-ceilinged circular space inside, with a concession stand circling the center and a private party space up above it, but everywhere James looked, there were people. Men and women sat on stools behind the concession ring, assembling bullets and chatting with one another. Two mobs were gathered at the walls on either side, one in front of what used to be a pizza place, and the other where hot dogs and fries had once been cooked; steam and the mouth-watering aroma of cooking food rose from both. A woman with a rifle patrolled along the edge of the party space, looking down on everyone. Voices indicated that there were others up there with her, unseen. Around toward the front, in what used to be the arcade centre based on the signage, were dozens of mattresses and heaps of blankets. Some of them were occupied, with people sleeping through the buzz of activity, while others were neatly made. And everywhere, people bustled back and forth. James couldn’t see the other half of the space past the central concession ring, but he guessed it would be just as chaotic.

  “Is the whole theatre like this?” James asked Reggie, having to raise his voice to compete with the din.

  “Like what?”

  “Crowded.”

  “More or less, yes,” Reggie shrugged.

  Glancing over at his companions, James could see a couple of mouths hanging open. They were just as impressed and overwhelmed as he was. But they hadn’t yet had the same thought as him. They hadn’t discovered what they had to offer in trade.

  “Let’s get you settled.” Reggie moved off, gesturing for them to follow.

  ***

  James appreciated that they had been put somewhere quiet. The IMAX screen at the back of the theatre was the one auditorium that hadn’t been converted into living space, according to Reggie. There was a pit down below the massive screen where they let visitors camp out, understanding that they needed some private space for themselves. When Reggie had gone off to get them some food, James explored the auditorium. His foot was feeling up to a bit more walking.

  Reggie had explained that on the first of every month, they showed movies in there. All month long, a vote was held to decide which films they would watch, as their scavenging had resulted in the accumulation of a vast collection. They played movies from nine a.m. to nine p.m., thanks to being able to rig up some DVD and Blu-ray players to the projector. They even had a couple of VCRs. They didn’t use the auditorium’s impressive sound system, however. It was just too loud, and required too much power while running everything else. Instead, a lot of small computer speakers were strung all about, clustered between chairs, so that they could keep the volume low and still allow everyone to hear just fine. James was impressed by the level of engineering that had gone into just this one room, and it was only so they could watch movies on a big screen once a month. They must have some smart people with a lot of time on their hands in this place.

  When Reggie returned, he was accompanied by several people bearing trays of hot meals, and a doctor carrying a black medical bag who introduced himself as Dr. Dilton. They gathered in the pit after clanging down the metal steps that clearly hadn’t been part of the auditorium’s original design.

  “You guys are the best, thank you!” Samson sounded like he had seen the face of God as he was handed a hamburger. An actual hamburger, with a bun and tomatoes and lettuce and cheese. There was a buttered baked potato on the side as opposed to fries, but not one person complained. They were also given the option of water, apple juice, or milk to drink. It all seemed too good to be true, but when James took that first bite, nothing else mattered. It was good. It was the best burger he had ever eaten in his whole life. Not only was nothing stale, but the bread was clearly fresh, the meat was juicy, and the lettuce was crisp. He didn’t even notice that there were no condiments. It seemed that ketchup was still beyond these people’s grasp.

  Skip ate one-handed while the doctor took a look at his injury. His left hand was a discoloured and swollen puff, but Dilton thought there was a chance he wouldn’t have to lose it provided the bones could be correctly set. Once Skip’s hand had been injected with a numbing agent, the doctor set to work, draining off some of the built-up fluid and attempting to set the bones.

  “What is that you gave him?” James asked, watching as a loopy smile spread across Skip’s face. He still winced occasionally—the numbing agent not totally effective—but it was doing its job well enough to keep him from full on flinching.

  “A cocaine solution,” Dilton answered.

  “Seriously?” Marissa’s eyebrows shot toward her hairline.

  “If it works, we use it. We grow coca plants on the roof, along with marijuana, peyote, and poppies. Don’t worry about your friend becoming addicted. I should only need to give him this one dose, and there’s no way for him to find any more in this place. The roof is heavily guarded and if you try to go up there, you will be shot.”

  “Yo, we should grow coca plants when we get home,” Skip suggested.

  James thought it wasn’t a bad idea. They used to grow their own marijuana and poppies in the Black Box, but they would first have to find a way to protect both the plants and the final product like the people here did. Just having alcohol available to the public had caused some avoidable issues in the past, and while they didn’t restrict the smoking of pot, anything harder would be considered too dangerous.

  It seemed that Dr. Dilton had been forewarned about the state of Skip’s hand, because he even had the materials in his bag to create some sort of plaster cast once he reset the bones.

  “You work awfully fast,” Lindsay commented. They had all finished their meals and were watching with interest.

  “I’ve dealt with plenty of crush injuries, especially to hands. I’ve gotten good at patching them up.” He looked Skip in the face. “That doesn’t mean this will heal perfectly. It will still hurt for some time, especially when you try to move it after the cast comes off. It’ll likely cause you some pain your entire life.”

  “Will I be able to predict when it’s going to rain?” Skip wondered.

  “You might.” Another syringe was withdrawn from the bag and loaded with something new.

  “What’s that?” James asked.

  “Penicillin.”

  “You guys know how to make penicillin?”

  “Isn’t it just bread mould?” Vin wondered.

  “You have to mix it with a few chemicals,” James told him.

  “Correct,” Dilton agreed. “And we keep a very careful watch on our supplies. Your friend’s hand is very clearly infected, otherwise I might not have given him any.”

  “What if I were allergic to penicillin?” Skip said as he was given a fluff of cotton to hold against the needle puncture.

  “Then I’m sorry.” Dilton shrugged. “Are you allergic?”

  “I don’t think I am.”

  “Then you’ll be fine.” Dilton packed up his bag once more and stood up. “I’ll come check on you in another hour, and then we’ll decide if anything else is needed after that.” He left as briskly as he had worked.

  “This thing is heavy,” Skip commented, lifting and lowering his injured hand.

  “Leave it alone,” James told him before turning to Reggie, who continued to hang around. “When can we talk to someone about a trade?”

  “For small, personal items, feel free to talk to anyone. For anything larger, we’ll have to wait until the council has finished their meeting and are free to speak with you. What is it you’re looking for?”

  “I’d rather only speak about that with the people authorized to trade with us,” James told him, closely watching his reaction.

  Reggie didn’t seem to mind or take any offence. “Of course. It’s still going to be a little while before they’re free. Wou
ld you like a tour of our home in the meantime?”

  James hadn’t been expecting that, but he certainly wasn’t going to refuse. Skip wasn’t in any shape to go walking around, so he stayed put, and Marissa agreed to keep him company. James didn’t have to tell anyone that they shouldn’t allow themselves to be alone in this place, not before they knew the people here better.

  Reggie was an excellent tour guide, willing and able to answer all their questions. It was a little eerie how readily he trusted James and his friends. When James questioned him about it, Reggie explained that Dinah would never have brought them here if she thought that they were dangerous. Reggie trusted Dinah’s opinion, but it made James question Dinah. Things had gotten rather hostile that morning, and yet she still brought them here, knowing how much weight that carried. When had she decided that they were okay? This place hadn’t even disarmed them, although there were plenty of people wearing police hats walking about, and James bet they were all really good shots.

  During their tour, they learned that along with the windmill, the Theatre produced their power with solar panels around the base of the windmill and on the roof. They also had modified exercise bikes that someone was always using housed within all but the IMAX’s projector booths. They were all hooked up to a variety of large, rechargeable batteries.

  The auditoriums were crowded with living spaces. The seats had been removed and several of them turned into quasi beds. Clustered around the living spaces, that were separated by hanging sheets, were looms, spinning wheels, wash tubs, and even stone grinding wheels for milling grain into flour.

  They learned that the sheds out back had various uses, from animal pens, to a couple of small blacksmiths, to a smokehouse. They had nearly every animal that James could think of a use for: cows, goats, sheep, pigs, rabbits, chickens, alpacas, donkeys, horses, dogs, cats, rabbits, even a trained falcon and several bee hives. Any plant that they had discovered was edible, they found a way to grow.

  People had been living at the Theatre since the beginning, which gave them plenty of time to figure out what worked and what didn’t. They had been attacked on occasion, by both the living and the dead, but nothing had yet come along that had put them into the kind of crushed state the container yard was currently suffering. The fact was, they had so many people, that they could lose a few dozen and not be impacted. On rainy days like this one, they had trouble keeping everyone occupied. A fair number of teams like Dinah’s were always kept outside the wall on a rotating basis. They were on the lookout for people like James and his group, guarded against anything that might be considered a threat, hunted wild animals, and fished in various rivers and lakes they knew about. In fact, as a by-product of keeping everyone busy, they were able to have flushable toilets, which was probably the best part of the tour for everyone. The Theatre had redirected the pipes so that they emptied into the storm sewers, which were larger and easier for people to keep clear of any jams. Another team had the sole job of keeping buckets filled with water so that the toilets could be flushed. There was pretty much always a line for the bathroom, but it was definitely worth it.

  “What the hell are we going to offer these people?” Katrina asked James, her normal speaking voice as good as a whisper within the din. “I doubt my lion pelt will get much.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I have an idea.” James might have told her more, but Reggie started going off on their election process and he wanted to hear. It seemed they held an election every year, for half the council seats, so that each council member got a minimum of two years, and there were always people with at least a year’s experience. The weird part was that no one was allowed to campaign for themselves. It had to be done entirely by unrelated people who thought you could do the job. To get caught aiding your own election or re-election meant an immediate expulsion from the council if you already held a seat, and you were barred from ever being elected. When James asked about the rule, Reggie explained that in the first few years, they were already seeing corruption involving the elections, so they hoped the new rule would nip that in the bud.

  “So much for the American way,” Lucy had commented.

  “If you think this is still America, you’re wrong,” Reggie told her. “There are no countries anymore. Everyone has to govern themselves in whatever way works best. How do you handle elections?”

  “We don’t,” James admitted, which caused Lucy to blush. “We have people who have been leading us since the beginning. They’ve done a good job of it so far; not too many people have complained.”

  Reggie nodded. “That’s why Vee keeps getting re-elected. She showed up here in the earlier days and took charge of what she found. She’s personally kept a lot of people alive, and is the only member of the council to have always been on it. Not many people have ever had a problem with her.”

  Hearing that, James hoped he would get a chance to talk to her about the trade. He understood people like that given how closely he had worked with Crichton and the others over the years.

  “Have you ever been on the council?” Belle asked Reggie.

  “I was up for election one year,” he nodded. “But I think those campaigning for me eventually picked up on the fact that I wasn’t really interested in the position.”

  The tour continued with them learning about the Theatre’s attempts to install a monetary system, which still needed work. They would always have food to feed everyone, but they were trying to find a balanced way to reward those who performed the harder and/or more dangerous tasks. They had procured a lot of cash from various bank vaults, and it didn’t have much use as anything else.

  After the tour ended, James and his troop returned to their auditorium and explained everything they had seen to Marissa and Skip, both of whom had already discovered the flushable toilets when they had needed to venture out and use them. James’ foot had started to bother him again, but after resting for a while, it felt better by the time Reggie said that they could meet the council.

  They climbed the dead escalator that led up to the party centre above the middle of the main space. A section of it was taken up by a large table. Plastic storage boxes were piled everywhere else, each one labelled with a name in dry erase marker. James spotted Dinah’s among them and figured they each held the personal effects of those outside the wall, the things they didn’t or couldn’t bring with them. There were a lot. The eight council members sat near the table in office chairs, all of them wheeled around so that they could face the same direction. People moved freely up and down the escalator and around the space, as a bridge on either side of the raised platform led to the various projectionists’ booths. Those returning from the exercise bikes looked exhausted. The policewoman James had spotted from below continued to circle around the perimeter.

  “Welcome to the Theatre,” one of the council members said once they had gathered. The floor and sides of the raised platform did a decent job of muffling the din below, but it was far from inaudible.

  Reggie introduced James and the others to the council members. James specifically noted which one was Vee; the black woman sat to one side, watching them with a cool, impassive expression.

  “Talking to all of you at once might get a little confusing. Do you have someone who can represent all of you?” asked Jorge, who had been the one to welcome them. Perhaps he was their speaker.

  James felt someone literally push him forward. He suspected it had been Katrina.

  “So, what brings you here?” Jorge asked.

  “We’re a community hoping to expand our network, and we’re looking to trade,” James told him.

  “Did you happen to stumble across us, or did someone let you know where we were?”

  “Evans told us where to find you. I don’t know if any of you remember him. Tall guy, big sword, looks like a Viking?”

  “I remember him,” Vee said with a slow nod. “So he’s still alive, is he?”

  “Last time I saw him, he was.” Although the last time James had
seen him, Evans had been bleeding pretty badly from a gash on his arm, and James himself had just lost some of his toes.

  “What is it you’re hoping to get from us?” Jorge asked next.

  “Food. Whatever food you can spare. I also think it would be great if some of your engineers could take a look at our place, to see if they have any advice for improvements. And while our system of leadership and how we deal with crime has worked so far, having someone come who could explain your legal system would be pretty great too.”

  The council members shifted somewhat, a few glancing at one another. Vee’s expression changed subtly to one of curiosity.

  “That’s a tall order,” Jorge informed him. “Where exactly do you come from, and what do you have to offer that you think is worthy of such an exchange?”

  “I offer you more living space and stronger walls,” James told the council, looking each one in the eye. “We come from a shipping container yard. We’ve been using them for both protection and housing for years now. You could certainly use more housing, and no offence, but your wall looks like it could use some shoring up in places. It also doesn’t look that hard to climb. Replace the bad sections with containers, and now not only is your wall stronger, but you can have people living inside of them, safe from elements, and private.”

  James could see that his offer had intrigued the council, despite their attempts to hide it. It had probably been a long time since they had been offered something they could actually use.

  “Why wouldn’t we just go find our own containers?” Vee spoke up.

  “You could do that. We’re probably the closest though, and we can teach you how to move them around and modify them so that they lock on the inside instead of the outside.”

  “You have a very high opinion of your containers,” said the man who was introduced as Qaletaqa.