Adaptive Instinct (Survival Instinct) (36 page)

Orson’s apartment building was much shorter than Hank’s, only six storeys tall, while Hank’s was around twenty-six.  There were four identical buildings sitting in a row, which had housed mostly university students.  There were surprisingly few zombies on the streets near Orson’s apartment.  After they had gone inside and begun climbing the steps, Orson found out why.  Unlike Hank’s building, Orson’s had its staircase in the corner of the building with two sides made of glass.  Looking out through the glass, he could see into the stairwell of the apartment building one over.  The top of that staircase had been crammed and barricaded with what looked like everything not bolted down: tables, chairs, mattresses, desks, lamps, everything.  Below this pile of debris, was a massive horde of zombies.  They completely clogged the stairwell, pushing and clawing at the mass higher up.  There were survivors up there, somewhere, and the zombies were determined to get at them.  Orson decided not to tell Hank what he saw, but it made him realize something: they couldn’t live in the truck forever.  They needed to find a place somewhere eventually, a place where the zombies couldn’t find them and amass like that.  Somewhere better than the prison.  Orson didn’t have any idea where such a place might be.

In his apartment, they found fewer useful things than they had found in Hank’s.  Although she kept up with the rent for years, Mrs. Norton, formally Mrs. King, didn’t come by that often.  The place was dusty and had an unused smell.  All the food had been cleared out but there were a few more useful articles of clothing, spare batteries for the flashlight, and Orson’s hunting knife.  It was bigger than the one he had taken off Nicole.  Either his mom had never found the knife, or she had left it in its hiding place between the mattress and the box spring.  Other than the knife, there was nothing really here for Orson.  It didn’t feel like his home any more than the prison did.  It was his old life, his delusional life, where he pretended to be happy and normal.  Now he embraced the animal within him.

“Is this one of your paintings?” Hank asked from the hallway.

Orson walked out of his room to find Hank running his delicate fingers across a canvas.  It was one of Orson’s paintings, and he told him so.

“It’s beautiful.”

People had said that about his work before, but coming from Hank, a blind man as well as someone he looked up to, it meant so much more.  Orson was deeply touched.

“You have wonderful brush work,” Hank continued.  “It can be so
smooth and so emotional at the same time.  Very lovely.”  He lowered his hands from the painting.  “Did you find what you were looking for?”

“Yeah.”  Orson looped the knife’s sheath through his belt and slung the rifle over his shoulder.  He had remembered to bring it this time.

“We should depart then.”

The two of them left the apartment with small bags of loot.  Orson was leading the way back to the stairwell they had come up, when Hank suddenly grabbed his arm with a grip like a bear trap.

“What is it?” Orson asked, trying not to wince from the pain.

Hank held a finger to his lips and cocked his head to the side.  He could hear something.  Orson tried to do the same.  He closed his eyes and focused all of his attention on his ears, but he couldn’t hear anything unusual.  Even holding his breath, he didn’t hear anything.  The silence was almost painful.

“Is there another stairwell?” Hank asked.

“Yeah, on the other side of the building.”  Without needing to be asked further, Orson began to lead Hank to the other stairwell.  He was going to trust Hank’s ears just as Hank needed to trust Orson’s eyes.

They got back down to the first floor without being attacked by anything.  Still, to be cautious, they left by a rear exit and worked their way around the outside of the building.  Back in the truck, they were safe.

“Where are we going next?”  Orson asked as he started up the vehicle.

“I don’t know.  Is there anywhere you would like to go?”

“Nowhere specific.  I would, however, like to go somewhere where I can teach that Nicole who’s boss.”

Hank grinned.  “I hear you.  Any place would do really, but you want somewhere small, without windows, and a door we can park near.  That way, you can get in and out with ease and don’t have to search the place much.”

“Do you know of such a place?”  Orson couldn’t think of one off the top of his head.

“Actually, I do.”  Hank’s grin got larger.

***

The place was perfect and fitting in a disgusting sort of way.  Hank had given Orson the directions to a crematorium.  After a quick scope-out with the flashlight, Orson declared the furnace room to be more than adequate.  There was a large door to the outside to admit the coffins of the dead, while inside, there was a door to the rest of the crematorium, but it had a heavy lock that Orson engaged.  He took one of the bed sheets they had brought and spread it out on the floor.  The clean white square seemed to glow.  Orson returned to the back of the truck where Hank was waiting inside to unlock Nicole from the truck’s side.  Once he did, and the handcuffs were again secured, Orson grabbed Nicole’s wrist and reached for Isabelle.  Why not have a two for one while there was time?  Hank smacked his wrist as it neared Isabelle.

“She stays here with me.”  His eyes were unreadable beneath their large sunglasses.

Orson’s frown was wasted on him.  Still, he shouldn’t be greedy.  There was enough to go around.  Orson settled for just dragging Nicole after him.

“Where are we going?” she protested.  “Where are you taking me?”

“To teach you who’s boss around here.”  Orson still had the rifle with him, but he intended to use the knife.  Mostly for show, but a few nicks here and there would be fun too.  The fact that Nicole remained in handcuffs made it better.  The other knife and pistol were left with Hank.

Orson shoved Nicole into the dark furnace room ahead of him, lit only by the one flashlight he had propped up on the conveyer that took bodies into the flames.  He closed the door behind him.

“Sit,” he commanded, pointing to a section of the sheet near the conveyor.

Nicole looked around hesitantly, but after Orson jabbed her in the back with the rifle muzzle, she obeyed.  As she sat, Orson quickly undid the cuffs from one wrist, wrapped it around part of the conveyor’s metal structure above her head, and snapped it back on.  He closed it tightly enough to make her wince.  After he placed the rifle to one side, he took out his knife and showed it to Nicole.  The blade flashed in the meagre light.  Orson went up to Nicole and sat upon her crossed legs, a knee on either side of her hips.

“Oh, Nicole,” he hissed, stroking her face with his free hand.

She didn’t hide her disgust in the slightest.  That was okay, that would just make this better.

“Nicole, Nicole, Nicole.”  He grabbed her breast and squeezed, hard.

Her tough resolve faltered only slightly from the pain.

“You have an ugly face, did you know that?  Great body though.”  Grabbing the hem of her shirt, Orson pulled the bottom of it up over her face.  Her bra was black.  Orson forced her onto her back and began to undo her belt buckle.

“Wait!” she shrieked.  “Wait!  Stop!”

Orson had no intention of doing such a thing.

“I want to make you a deal!”

He laughed.  “Honey, you don’t have anything I want that I can’t just take.”

“Yes, I do,” she insisted.  “Where are you going to go after this?”

“What?”

“Where do you plan to go?  Certainly not back to the prison.  Where do you think you could ride out these zombies?”

Orson pulled her shirt back down so that he could see her eyes in the dim light.

“Where do you plan on going?” she asked again.

“A little place downtown,” Orson lied.

And she knew it.  “You have no idea where to go.”

“Well, I don’t want to go anywhere you know of.  I left that prison for a reason you know.  Too crowded, no privacy.”

“I know a place that’s not overcrowded.  And everybody there has their own room.  Lots of privacy.”

“And where is this magical place?”

“Underground.  Where the virus was created.  The people who made it are holed up down there, riding it out.  They hope to become the leaders of the new world once this is all over.”

Her eyes suggested she wasn’t lying.  “And why would you tell me about it?  What do you get out of it?”

“Well, not getting raped for one thing.”  That seemed like a pretty good motivator to Orson.  “And the safety of Jasmine and Isabelle.  Once I take you there, you release them.  And you let them take the truck
; you won’t need it anymore.  You can keep me as a prisoner if you like—in fact you won’t get in without me—but you let them go.”

Orson got off Nicole and thought about it.  It made sense to him that those who made the virus would have a bunker to protect them from it.  It’s what he would have done.  And everybody knew that Marble Keystone had created the thing, and Nicole worked for Keystone, so she had connections.

“I’ll have to talk to Hank about it,” he decided.

Even in the gloom, he could see Nicole roll her eyes.  “Sure thing.  You go talk it over with your boss.”

Orson frowned.  “He’s not my boss.”

“Isn’t he?  Seems that way to me.”

Grabbing her by the front of her shirt, Orson yanked her upright, causing her to yelp in pain from her arms being wrenched and her head hitting part of the conveyor.

“I respect Hank,” Orson hissed in her face.  “But he isn’t my boss.  I make my own choices.”

“Okay, okay.”  Nicole turned her face away from him and nodded.

Orson threw her back against the conveyor, causing her head to bounce off it again.  He knew she was playing him.  “How do I know that the moment I show up there, I’m not going to be executed or locked away for life?”

“Why would they do that?  They don’t know who you are.”  Nicole shifted herself into a less painful position.  “Besides, after I open the main door, it’s a long walk down to where the people are.  Anything could happen to me in that time.”

It seemed that Nicole was willing to sacrifice herself for the other girls.  She had just fully admitted that Orson would have time to kill her later.  It seemed preposterous.

“Do we have a deal or not?” Nicole demanded.  “We’re going to settle this here in this room, now, or else I’ll never tell you how to get there or how to get in.”

Orson knew there were elements at play here that he didn’t understand. 
Nevertheless, he had always been so good at reading people, and Nicole wasn’t coming across as a liar.  The only time she had lied was when she said that Hank looked like Orson’s boss, and she had said that to rile him up.  Perhaps she figured this was the only way to save the mother and the child.  Women always seemed willing to do anything for the sake of children.

“All right.  We have a deal,” Orson finally said.

Nicole nodded.

“But I’m still pissed at you for what you did to my face.”  Before she had any time to think about it, Orson wound up his fist and slammed it into her
cheekbone.  Blood gushed from her nose, and from a split that opened up in the skin of her cheek, as her eyes registered pure shock.  For a third time, her head hit the conveyor.  She gasped through her mouth, her nose no longer operable.  Orson had broken it.  Her eye immediately started to puff up and darken.  Without anything cold, the swelling and bruising would soon consume the entire side of her face.  Although Orson wanted to do more, it would have to suffice.

He gathered up his things and unlocked Nicole from the post. 
Half-blind and in the dark, she staggered ahead as Orson prodded her with the end of the rifle.  The sun was searing to the eyes again, but not as badly as on his trip to Hank’s apartment.

“That was quick,” Hank commented as he listened to Orson shove Nicole toward the truck.  He couldn’t see her face, but the other females could.

“Nicky!” Isabelle squeaked.  “Are you okay?”

“I’m all right.”  Her voice came out slurred and sounding
as if she had a bad cold.  She climbed into the truck past Hank and lay down, ready to be handcuffed again to one of the inside handles.

Orson got in and cuffed her.  “So where am I going?”

“Head to Liam and Bunsen.  Do you know where that is?”

Orson nodded.  It was near the
courthouse where his trial had been held.

“Go there.  I’ll give you the next directions when we get there.”

Orson climbed back out, tapping Hank on the shoulder so that he’d come as well.  Once both men were outside, they slammed the doors shut.

“So, where are we going?  And what did you do to her?” Hank wondered as they got into the front compartment.

“I beat her up.  And she says she can get us into the place where the creators of the virus are hiding out.”  Orson started up the engine.

“Sounds like a lovely place,” Hank said with no emotion in his voice, making Orson wonder if he was being sarcastic or not.

“I assume you’re okay with that.”  Despite what he knew, Orson had let a little of what
Nicky
said get to him.  He didn’t want to discuss this with Hank.  He wanted to make the decision entirely on his own.