Adaptive Instinct (Survival Instinct) (24 page)

They met up with Uncle Jeffrey, Larson, and Maggie in the halls.

“Where’s Miriam?” Bryce’s mom asked Uncle Jeffery.  Miriam was Larson’s mom.

Uncle Jeffrey gave the slightest shake of his head.  Bryce didn’t know what it meant, but his mom did.  She didn’t ask
any more questions.  Uncle Jeffrey knelt down in front of Larson.

“Larson, I want you to go with your Aunt Jenna now.  Can you do that for me?”

Larson nodded.  He looked frightened.  Bryce realized his own face must look like that.

“You’re coming too, right?” Larson asked his dad.

“Of course.  Of course, I just have to get your mom first.”  Uncle Jeffrey then shared another look with Bryce’s mom, and Bryce knew it wasn’t good.

Larson either
didn’t notice the look, or refused to understand it, because he nodded again.

“I love you.”  Uncle Jeffrey pulled Larson into a tight hug.  “You look after Maggie, all right?  You look after her, and she’ll look after you.  And look out for your cousins, and mind your aunt.  You got it?”

“Yeah, Dad.  I love you too.  See you soon?”

“See you soon.”  Uncle Jeffery kissed Larson on the cheek and then
he was gone in an instant.

“Come along, boys.”  Bryce’s mom grabbed their hands and began leading them down the halls.  Even Maggie seemed to know something was going on.  She was quiet, and kept her head low; her tail didn’t wag once.

They were led down so many twists and turns in the hallways, that Bryce had no idea where they were anymore.  If he got separated, he would never be able to find his way back.  He gripped his mom’s hand tighter.

Finally, they arrived at a bank of elevators.  As soon as Bryce’s mom pushed the button, one of the doors opened.  They all hurried inside, and the doors slid closed behind them.  They didn’t go straight to the top
as Bryce expected them to.  In fact, they went up only a short distance before they got off again.

Down more and more hallways they went, never seeing a single person.  Where was everybody?  The hallways could be as busy as beehives on some days, but right
now, they were as empty as a crypt.  Bryce didn’t like it.  He didn’t like it at all, but he kept his mouth shut and continued to let his mom lead him to who knows where.

They finally came upon a large sliding door.  Bryce’s mom pulled it up just enough for all of them to fit under,
and then let it close behind them.  Bryce figured out that they were now in the giant service elevator he had seen when they first arrived, the one that brought all their stuff down.

They had to walk a fairly long distance to reach the control panel.  This time, Bryce’s mom hit the button for the very top.  The elevator came to life with a great rumble and began ascending.  Becky woke up and started crying, screaming, scared of the new surroundings and loud sounds.  Bryce watched as his mom tried to calm her.  She stroked Becky’s fine hair and bounced her in the papoose carrier.  Bryce walked up to his mom and tugged on her elbow.  Being a mother, she knew exactly what Bryce wanted and knelt down so that Becky and Bryce could be face to face.

“Baby Becky, why so ecky?  You look so very sad,” Bryce began to recite.  It was a dumb poem he had made up a few months after she was born.  It usually helped to calm her.  “When Becky’s sad, I get mad, and then the math, does not add.  Tears are meant for happy times, when laughter’s all around.  So smile a smile and light my day, brightness with a bound.  Bryce and Becky, Becky and Bryce, together we’ll laugh and throw some rice.  No time for tears, they will not do, so I’m going to smile, how about you?”

Becky didn’t smile, but she did stop wailing.  She clutched her mother and stared at Bryce.  Bryce’s mom gave him a smile, a smile that thanked him.

Larson was standing separately from the family, frightened.  Bryce went over and took his hand.  Handholding was something they weren’t supposed to do as big boys, but Bryce didn’t care about that now.  He wanted everybody to feel safe and happy.  He wanted himself to feel safe and happy.  Their group looked very small in the large elevator.

At
last, they reached their destination.  Bryce’s mom hurried them out of the massive elevator and into the parking lot where they had originally arrived.  Bryce noticed that the big white trucks were all gone.  Their car was still parked near the elevators though.  All of them went to the car and piled in with their gear.  Bryce’s mom didn’t bother opening the trunk, so all the bags got shoved under their feet.  Bryce and Larson got in the back, next to Becky’s car seat.  Becky was placed in the seat, but not buckled in.  While his mom got Maggie to hop into the front seat, Bryce did up Becky’s buckles, hoping he was doing it right.  Before Bryce could even put on his own seatbelt, his mom had started up the engine and was pulling out of the parking spot.

Around and around the great ramp they went, travelling up the Forever Tunnel.  Bryce and Larson held hands again, and Bryce let Becky play with his fingers on the other one.  She had calmed completely in the car, and was even starting to fall asleep again.  Bryce felt suddenly very tired himself.  He was up later than he should be, and all the excitement and fear had worn him down.  He refused to fall asleep though.  The look on his mom’s face in the rear-view mirror told him it wasn’t over, and that he shouldn’t sleep.  Not yet.

They came to the top of the turn, and the car’s headlights illuminated the heavy doors.  Bryce’s mom turned off the car and jumped out.

“Get out boys.  Get your things.”

Bryce obeyed, quickly unbuckling Becky and then himself.

“We aren’t taking the car?” Bryce wondered as he pulled his backpack on again.

“No, they can track the car,” Bryce’s mom explained as she put Becky back into the papoose carrier.  Becky woke up again and made some very displeased noises, but then clutched her mother and fell silent.

They went to a glowing panel in the wall next to the great metal barrier, and Bryce’s mom punched in several numbers.  She typed them in so fast that Bryce didn’t get a chance to see what they were.  The metal rumbled sideways, letting in a fresh breeze of cool night air.

“Stay very close to me,” Bryce’s mom commanded the boys in a hushed voice.  So hushed, it almost couldn’t be heard over the door’s movement.  “And stay very quiet.”

Both Bryce and Larson nodded.  Larson held Maggie’s leash very tightly with one hand and Bryce’s hand with the other.  Outside, it was raining.  Bryce’s mom quickly spun him around to get at his backpack.  She pulled out several
brightly coloured ponchos and threw one over each of them, making sure to cover their backpacks, and in her case, Becky; there was even one for Maggie that attached to her collar.  Bryce’s mom turned and hurried out the door with the boys quickly following behind.  They barely had time to pull on their hoods before they were in the rain.  Unexpectedly, they turned off into the woods instead of following the road.

The forest.  Just like that, they were in the forest.  They were in the forest, and it was raining, and it was nighttime.  And there were monsters.

10:

Robin Paige – Day 14

Robin Paige awoke with a start.  The screaming from her nightmare followed her into the real world, and it took her a moment to get oriented.  Her first instinct was to grab the shotgun lying next to her and look quickly around the fort.  April, River, and Quin
, were all asleep.  Although Quin tossed and turned, the screaming wasn’t coming from any of them.  That left only Greg.

Robin rose quickly, wanting to get to him before he woke the others.  She left their bed frame fort, keeping the kittens penned inside, and jogged across the department store.  They had made the decision some time ago to keep Greg away from the group.  Nobody liked being around him except maybe River, and even he shied away much of the time.

In a corner closed off by sheets, Greg lay on his own mattress.  His face was pale and sweaty with fever.  The bed sheets they had wrapped around him were grimy and tangled.  They tried to clean him up at least once a day, but his filth was repulsive.  It was day fourteen, one week since April had shot him in the leg.  He was still holding on, but he wasn’t doing well.

“Shh,” Robin knelt beside the drummer.  “Shh, it’s all right now.  I’m here.  Shh.”

“Hurts,” was all Greg could get out.  His face was a disgusting mixture of sweat, snot, and tears.

“I know.  I know.”  Robin
slowly began to untangle him.  She looked at his arm wound first, which River said had come from an axe.  It had been doing okay, and was only gnarly-looking because of the scabbing and scarring.  She didn’t want to look at his leg, but she knew she must.

When the sheet was drawn back, what little food was in her stomach rose up into her mouth.  She quickly clamped a hand over it, swallowing the bile back down.  Puking now wouldn’t do anybody any good.

“Hurts,” Greg whined again.

The wounds from the birdshot had gotten infected, Robin knew that, but what she hadn’t expected was that the leg had begun to decay.  They couldn’t get the bleeding stopped, not properly, and so they left a tourniquet on for too long, and too often.  They also hadn’t thought to clean the wounds with rubbing alcohol until it was too late.  His entire left leg below the mid-thigh was cold, grey, dead.  Now, they kept the tourniquet on to try to keep the infection from spreading, but it was too late for that as well.  Ugly black veins had spread all the way up to his hip.  It was only a matter of time now before Greg passed.  If only he could go gracefully
, and more importantly, silently.  Despite the first-aid kits and the administrations that Robin was learning on the fly, Greg was going to die.

Robin looked to the kits now to see how much medication was left.  Not a lot.  Even with the rationing, they were burning through it much too fast.  Not only because of Greg’s injury,
but also because of Quin.  The man was a heavy drug user and was currently going through withdrawal.  He was dealing with his own suffering, which they were trying to alleviate with what medications they had.  Painkillers were the best for him, but right now, they were also the best for Greg.  Robin recovered his leg and looked at a watch they left nearby.  It kept a timer running from when he last got dosed.

“I can’t give you anymore right now, Greg,” Robin told him, straightening out his pillows.

“Please.”  His eyes shimmered with fresh tears.

“Just one more hour.  Not even, fifty-three minutes actually.  You can hold out that long.”

“Agony.”  He gritted his teeth, and the tears spilled down his cheeks.

“I’m sorry.”  Robin took his hand in her own.  His other hand clutched and tugged at the sheets.  His skin nearly burned at the touch, his fever was so high.

Robin had gotten as used to this as she was going to get.  A few times, especially near the beginning, she had to run off to cry by herself.  Now, she could sit by Greg for quite awhile.  His moans and cries of pain didn’t affect her the way they once had.  Robin understood that this meant a part of her was dying with Greg, but that was okay.  It needed to go anyhow.  A new world was upon them, and the less weakness, the better.  Just a few days ago, she had shot and killed her first zombie while on a scavenging mission.  It had been a man in cowboy boots, with eyes so blue they almost hurt to look at.  He didn’t have eyes anymore, though; Robin had blown them away with a clean, much too close head shot.

Every five minutes or so, Robin checked the watch and updated Greg on the time.  The fact that he hadn’t died yet was both a miracle and a curse.  Last night, there was a serious discussion about putting him out of his misery.  They decided it had to be a unanimous vote, and so
far, it wasn’t.  Surprisingly, the only holdout was River.  Robin thought that if anybody didn’t want it done, it would have been April.  She had been the one who shot him, after all, and so his death would be on her hands.  She was upset about it, she wasn’t heartless, but she had come to accept what had happened.  She believed that keeping him alive now was far crueler.  Quin had voted for it, but it was hard to follow his reasons why.  His fever-addled mind caused him to drift in odd tangents, and they weren’t even sure he knew what he was voting on.  But River said no.  River wouldn’t agree to it, so now Robin was sitting next to a dying man, telling him how much longer he would be in pain before she could do anything about it.  And it wasn’t like the painkillers did much for him anyhow; they barely took the edge off.

“Just sixteen more minutes, Greg.  You’re doing really good.  Just a little longer.”

Greg just shook his head furiously back and forth.

That’s when Robin felt a light hand fall on her shoulder.  She whipped around, drawing the shotgun up, but it was only River.

“What have I said about announcing yourself?”  Robin lowered the large weapon.

“Sorry,” River said without really meaning it.  He sat down on Greg’s other side, smiling down at his friend.  “Hey man, how you doing?”

Greg just made some odd sound and kicked the sheet with his good leg.

“Fifteen more minutes until you can dose him,” Robin said with the intention of leaving.

“No.”  River shook his head.  He looked up and locked eyes with Robin.  “It’s time.”