Survival Instinct (Book 5): Social Instinct

by Stittle, Kristal

  “As we should.” Katrina stepped up beside James. “I’ve personally lived in one for something over four years now. I have a bed, some shelving for anything I want, and a desk for whatever work I decide to do in there. And that’s with a roommate. How many of your people here can say the same? As for secure? It hasn’t even been two weeks since we were attacked. First, a party of raiders and then the biggest zombie horde you’ll ever see. But we’re still standing.”

  “Ever meet a man named Boss? Or Tommy, Mark, Suzanne, or Betty?” Lindsay spoke up from behind them, knowing that they had because of James’ conversation with Dinah.

  “The runners,” James added. “Going around and warning people of what they called the comet horde.”

  “They’ve been here before,” Vee confirmed.

  “Well that comet horde broke upon our wall,” Katrina told her, not without pride. “I gotta say, I like your place here with its electricity, and its flush toilets, and all its food, but I would not want to live here. I wouldn’t feel safe.”

  “If we were to accept your trade, how would we get some of your containers here?” Jorge asked.

  “You managed to bring a windmill over here,” James gestured in its general direction. “Based on the remains of the gas generators I saw outside, I don’t think you did that until the gas ran out. I think you got a big flat bed trailer from somewhere, and brought it here using a team of horses.”

  A small smile touched Vee’s lips. “You do a lot of extrapolating,” she commented.

  “When I see something, I want to understand it. Even if we don’t trade anything today, I’ll be heading home with knowledge that we might be able to put to use.”

  “Do you plan to offer this trade to anyone else?” asked a woman named Sly.

  “If it seems like the best offer. We have a number of groups visiting various communities. Some of us here are supposed to move on, to visit places Evans called White Fang, and the Dale.”

  “We don’t recommend that,” Jorge shook his head. “White Fang has been overtaken by a particularly vile group of people, and everyone from the Dale is dead. Some sort of plague burned through everyone there, and not the kind that walks.”

  James was a little ashamed of the relief that washed over him. He wouldn’t have to travel farther. Once he was done here, he could go back home.

  “How many containers do you have to offer?” Jorge asked.

  “We’ve never counted how many we have,” James admitted. “We live in a large yard, maybe taking up a quarter to a third of it. There are still plenty of untouched containers. There’s also a smaller yard not far from us that we haven’t even had a chance to look through yet.”

  “What’s in these containers?”

  James shrugged. “It’s a surprise every time. Rotten food, medical supplies, clothing, engine parts, cars, mattresses, toys, literally anything that someone would ship across the ocean might be in one.”

  “How long would it take us to travel there?” Vee wondered.

  “It took us around a week to get here,” James told her. “But we ran into several problems that could be avoided with a large group.”

  “What kind of problems?”

  “Some zombie pigs, although we killed them so they should no longer be an issue. And lions.”

  “Lions?” Qaletaqa frowned.

  “Yeah, African lions,” Katrina told him. “Must have survived from a zoo. I killed the one that killed our friend White if you want to see the pelt.”

  “In a large group, especially one as well armed as you all seem to be, the lions should pose no threat.” At least James thought they wouldn’t. He couldn’t claim to be an expert on the mind of a lion.

  “How many friends did you lose on your way here?” Vee asked.

  “Three. Jack was killed by the pigs, and Aaron died of his wounds after we had to amputate his leg following that same attack. One of your parties outside the wall, the one led by Dinah, was with us when he died. We had hoped to get him here before that, but we were too late. She let us bury him in your graveyard.”

  “You didn’t mention that,” Reggie spoke for the first time since making introductions. “Let me know what you want the headstone to say, and I’ll see that a carver heads out there.”

  “Thank you.”

  “We’ll have to deliberate upon your proposal,” Jorge decided. “And you’ll need to show us on a map where you reside. You know where we live, but we don’t know where you live.”

  “That’s fine.” James thought of Dinah trusting them, and so decided he should return that trust. Seemed like a fair trade.

  “Go back to your camp. Reggie will inform you when we have made a decision.”

  James thanked them for listening, and walked back to the auditorium with the others. Reggie made sure they had everything they needed, and then went to find a carver once they had written on a white board what they wanted the headstone to read.

  “That was clever, offering the containers,” Lucy commented.

  “Looked to me like privacy was sorely needed around here,” James shrugged.

  “Do you think they’ll accept the trade?” Samson wondered.

  “We can hope.”

  29: Evans

  10 Days After the Bombing

  Evans sat with the silent ones, who were living up to the name he had given them. They were waiting for him to speak, but he wasn’t sure how to start.

  “I have bad news,” he decided to begin with.

  The silent ones had no reaction to this proclamation. It seemed they accepted bad news as a matter of course.

  “The place you wanted to go to, Bridges, doesn’t exist anymore.”

  This stirred them up a bit. A few of them turned to look at one another. They continued to sit there, expecting Evans to have more to say, but he didn’t. That was it.

  “We don’t want to stay here,” Ang spoke up after about a minute.

  “Then we have to decide where it is that you want to go.”

  “Wherever is closest,” Burt said this time. “There was another place, west of Bridges, wasn’t there?”

  “Far west of Bridges,” Evans nodded. “If it still stands. It would take us a long time to get there, much longer than our journey here.” And while Evans wouldn’t say it, he found it difficult to imagine the silent ones living in the Theatre. With its crowding, they might not even be willing to take in new people.

  “Are you sure there is nowhere closer?” Ang pressed. “Some place we may have overlooked in your journal?”

  There was a place that Evans hadn’t yet taken the time to write about. But he had just come from there; did he really want to go back so soon? He looked at the silent ones gathered before him, and saw the desperation in their eyes. They were more than ready to settle down, but they couldn’t in a place that let zombies roam so close, a place that tried to control the dead, no matter how successful they were with it. Evans understood the need to not be here.

  “I guess there’s one place,” he finally sighed.

  “Where? What’s it like?” asked Patterson, squeezing the hands of her two children.

  “It’s in a shipping container yard, by some sort of large ocean inlet, or something. I didn’t spend that much time in the surrounding area.”

  “And do they allow zombies?” Ang questioned.

  “No. In fact, Gerald is from that place, and he was kicked out for bringing one in. I was bringing him here as a sort of payment for a debt I owed.” Evans hadn’t wanted to tell the silent ones that, especially not Blue, who had gotten along so well with Gerald. He could see it immediately changed their opinion of him, which was an unfair thing of him to do while Gerald was off getting a tour of the place. Then again, Evans supposed that if Gerald would no longer be travelling with them, it wouldn’t matter.

  “If you just came from there, then surely it is still standing,” Dev insisted.

  Evans shrugged. “I can’t say anything for sure. There was some trouble with ra
iders that should have been resolved, maybe not. They were also in the midst of a supply problem when I left, and like I said, they’re by the sea. The storm will have hit them harder than it hit us.”

  A quiet moment of contemplation settled among the silent ones. A few of them turned to one another and used their sign language so that Evans couldn’t follow what was being said. He saw a few frowns, and a few gestures that seemed to be making some sort of definitive point, but otherwise he couldn’t understand any of it.

  Finally, Burt turned back to Evans. “We want to go to this place by the sea, the shipping container yard.”

  “Whichever place we decide on may have been destroyed,” Ang expanded. “We might as well go to the one that’s closest.”

  Evans nodded. He suspected that some of his former party members would be pissed to see him return after he had abandoned them the way he had, but he had dealt with that sort of situation before. He needed to think about what was best for the children, Iris and Oz, as well as the old folk, Elmore, Patrick, and Janet. If the container yard could get back on its feet after what it had been through, it was certainly capable of protecting them.

  “We’re going to need all the supplies we can get,” Evans told the silent ones. “And I’m going to need to see a map.” The quickest route back was actually not the one he had taken to get here.

  The silent ones immediately got moving, glad to have a task. A map was quickly produced from their gear for Evans to pore over. Ang placed himself at Evans’ side so that he could see where they were going. The rest of the silent ones dispersed in teams, ready to find jobs that would earn them what they needed. It seemed they could get over their stand-offish nature if it meant something positive for them in the end.

  “Where’s the town you used to live in?” Evans asked Ang, trying to get his bearings among the squiggly lines.

  Ang pointed it out, and Evans was able to work out where Paddock was from there. He then worked backward until he found the container yard. Evans had travelled in a vaguely fish hook shaped route. By heading directly from the Paddock to the container yard, they should be able to shave off a few days’ worth of travel. That was the hope, anyway.

  “I’m going to go talk to the survivors from Bridges,” Evans told Ang. “They may want to come with us.”

  Ang tagged along as Evans first went to see Frannie to fill her in. It seemed she already knew about the recently planned departure, since the silent ones had gone to her first in their quest for jobs.

  “It hasn’t stopped raining yet,” Frannie pointed out.

  “It’s light enough that you sent Gerald out on a tour with someone,” Evans countered.

  “Fair point. I’ve already given all the names and locations of people who might need an extra hand to your friends. You’ll have to go around to find whatever jobs they haven’t scooped up.”

  “Not looking for a job just yet.” Evans hoped, for their sakes, that none of the silent ones ended up with a job like the one he had done earlier that day. “I was thinking that now might be a good time for me to talk to the people who came from Bridges.”

  Frannie agreed that Evans should talk with them. She didn’t have time to accompany him and Ang, but she gave them the address where they were staying as well as a glass paperweight. Apparently the paperweight was proof that Evans had been sent by Frannie, should they prove mistrustful when he arrived. The silent ones had been given a couple as well before they went job hunting.

  It was still raining, but it had slackened off even more since Evans had taken his shower that morning. As he and Ang made their way along the street, they passed a few of the silent ones helping some people set up their shops. While it would probably be too late to open their trade market by the time they were done, the sellers would be ready to start bright and early the next morning. Evans was glad, for they were going to make use of the market.

  The people from Bridges occupied two houses near the centre of town, where they were away from any zombie corrals. Evans didn’t know if they had a leader, and if they did, which house that person might be in, so he just chose to knock on the door of the nearest one. It was swung open by a man, and then partly closed again when he failed to recognize the men outside.

  “Sorry to bother you.” Evans held up the paperweight. “My name is Evans, and this is Ang. Frannie sent us to talk to you. You’re from Bridges, right?”

  “Yeah. What do you want?” It seemed the paperweight did not bestow all that much trust.

  “I’ve been to Bridges a couple of times. It was a good place, and I’m sorry about what happened to your friends and home.”

  “Thanks.” The man relaxed a tiny bit. Not a lot, but even a little was progress. Evans could hear people whispering somewhere behind him, likely wondering what was going on.

  “Some of you might know me, but I wouldn’t be able to say who. Frannie didn’t tell me who survived. I’m here to offer you another place to go. May we come in? I don’t want to open the map out here and risk getting it wet.”

  “One minute.” The door closed, and Evans could just make out the muffled sounds of a hurried conference occurring on the other side. When the door opened next, both Evans and Ang were ignored. A different man exited and went to the second house. When he came back a couple of minutes later, he was accompanied by several people.

  “Evans!” one of them called out. “It’s been a while.”

  Evans recognized the face, but blanked out on the name.

  “Paul,” the man offered helpfully along with his hand to shake.

  “Right, Paul, sorry. I can’t remember you living in Bridges.”

  “I didn’t, not until a few months before the raiders came.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “Harder on the others than on me.” Paul motioned with his head to those around him. “Come on, we should all go inside instead of standing out here in the rain.”

  The man at the door reluctantly let Evans and Ang enter with everyone else from next door. They gathered in the living room; a few bedrolls were moved out of the way so that people could sit on the floor. Evans hung around near the entrance, wanting to intrude as little as possible, and not wanting to drip all over their things.

  “Talk,” the man who opened the door said to Evans.

  “Well, as I mentioned, I’m here to offer you a different place to go. A community to live in that isn’t here.”

  “Is it a new community?” asked a woman.

  “They’ve been around for five years, give or take.”

  “What are they called?” another woman asked.

  “They haven’t reached out to other communities yet, so I don’t think they have any sort of formal name like this place does. I just think of them as the container yard.”

  “Where is it?” asked Paul, who was standing closest to Evans and Ang.

  Evans reached under his clothes to take out the map he had brought. It was already folded to reveal the necessary locations.

  “Here’s Paddock,” he said, pointing it out on the map to Paul. “And here’s the container yard.” He let Paul take the map and show it around to the others. “They had some hard times recently, and I can’t imagine this storm having made it any better. I’m bringing Ang and his people there, and you’re welcome to join us. We’ll have to bring as much food as we can, and be prepared to work hard, but they have shelter, and they don’t allow zombies in.” Evans hoped they were still there, and that they had room. He knew that plenty of people had died during the zombie attack, but then they had that crowd come over from the Black Box, as well as Evans’ surviving party members. They hadn’t sorted out their population before Evans left, and now here he was assuming that they could take on more.

  “How long has it been since you were there?” asked a man.

  “I don’t know, more than a week, but I haven’t been keeping track.”

  “A lot can happen in a week,” someone muttered.

  “That’s true,”
he nodded, acknowledging the mutterer’s comment. “That’s the other reason we need to gather as many supplies as we can. If the container yard is gone, then we’re going to move on to the next nearest community, most likely the Theatre. My friend here,” at this he motioned to Ang, “and his people have no desire to live in Paddock. I’m going to find them another place to live, even if it isn’t the quickest to get to. You may stay here if you like, obviously, or wait until some other time to travel, but a larger group is a safer group.”

  There were some whispers, as several people leaned over to their neighbours to share a word.

  “You don’t have to make your decision right away,” Evans added when he saw some combative expressions. “Take your time. The earliest we can leave is tomorrow, and that’s provided we gather everything we need. Ang and I are going to go find some work for ourselves. You can come find one of us once you’ve made your decision.”

  Paul attempted to hand the map back before Evans left.

  “Hold onto it,” he insisted. “It might help with your deliberations.”

  Paul nodded his thanks and turned back to the group of survivors from Bridges. Once Evans was outside and as he was closing the door behind him, he could hear the conversation rising in volume.

  “Are there jobs we can do once the sun goes down?” Ang asked as they headed away from the pair of houses. “Because the light’s not going to last much longer.”

  He was right. The afternoon was drawing late, and there wasn’t a lot of time left before the sun would disappear for the night. “We’ll have to find out. Let’s go see what your people have found to do.”

  Back on the main street, it didn’t take long for Ang to find work helping some people set up their stalls. Evans could have helped, but he first wanted to see what the rest of the silent ones were up to. He was worried about them being exploited in some way, despite the fact that they had proven quite capable of taking care of themselves. Instead, he found Gerald.

  “I want to come with you,” the teenager said.

  “You can’t.”

  “Blue said that you found some other place that they can go. I want to go with the silent ones.”