Adaptive Instinct (Survival Instinct)

Kristal Stittle

Copyright 2013 Kristal Stittle

For my dad, James Stittle.

You taught me everything from Rome to airplanes, and rock and roll to math.

I love you.

Section 1:

1:

Riley Bishop stared silently up at the ceiling, even though it was so dark that she couldn’t see it.  The last time she had checked her digital watch, it was 6:12 a.m.  The sun would be rising, or at least putting a tint of colour into the sky, but it was pitch black in her bedroom.  That didn’t matter though; her ears
were what she was paying attention to.  In the bed next to her, Mathias Cole breathed deeply and evenly.  He was still asleep.  This didn’t surprise Riley.

Everyone was having trouble sleeping, but most of the
other’s troubles were reaching that haven.  Riley drifted off easily enough; she just couldn’t stay asleep.  She always found herself awake in the earliest hours of the morning.

It was one week since the Day.

The Day had occurred on August second.  A virus had broken out several days earlier, but it came to a head on that fateful Saturday.  Technically, it wasn’t even a virus.  According to what Mathias had told her, it had been combined with a prion.  A new breed of deadly contagion.  This hybrid virus, as they had come to call it, would kill the host and take over its brain.  Riley didn’t have all the facts, and even if she did, she doubted she could understand them.  The only thing she needed to know was the outcome: zombies.

Riley Bishop had been more commonly referred to as Dr. Bishop before the Day.  She had worked at Leighton General, a hospital in the middle of the city, as chief resident of the ER.  Only one person in her current group knew her in that role.  Joshua Cender had been a second year resident, and despite separating not long after things went to hell, they managed to find one another once more.

Eight of them had fled the city together.  Well, eight humans and two dogs.  Most of them were complete strangers when the Day occurred.  In a way, they were still strangers getting to know each other.  They needed one another, though; they were each other’s life support.

Riley rolled onto her side and gently placed a hand on Mathias’s broad, bare chest, being extra careful not to touch his still-healing bruises.  Last night was the first time they had been truly alone together.  She had to admit the sex wasn’t great.  It was urgent and needy, coming from a desire to be close, rather than sexual attraction.  Riley was attracted to him though, with his short, dark hair, chiselled face, and broad, muscular body.  Taking everyone else into consideration, he was the one she wanted by her side
, which was funny, because they met when she nearly ran him over.

Riley had stolen an ambulance from the hospital where she worked and was heading to her home in the suburbs.  Mathias had stumbled into the street in front of her and collapsed there.  He had been shot in the chest while wearing a bulletproof vest.  The vest had been on too tight, and due to the impact, he couldn’t breathe.  He had been on the run with his friend, LeBlanc, and after a heated discussion, Riley agreed to help them.  Since then, LeBlanc had been killed.  He had actually been killed
by
Mathias, at LeBlanc’s request.  LeBlanc had become infected and hadn’t wanted to turn into a zombie.  Riley knew how much that action weighed on Mathias.  That and he had shot a little, infected girl, Alice, on the same day.  Riley did all she could to support him, to be a rock for him, but it was hard when she was falling to pieces herself.

Connor Bishop, older brother to Riley Bishop, had shot and killed himself.  He wasn’t infected; he just couldn’t handle what had happened.  Riley wasn’t there, she had just read the note; Mathias was
actually the only one to see the body.  Her younger brother, sister, and both her parents, were still unaccounted for.  All she knew was that her sister had been in trouble, and her three other family members had headed out to get her.  Thinking about them made Riley sick with worry, so she generally tried to avoid doing so.

Mathias mumbled something unintelligible and rolled his head to one side.  Riley couldn’t see in the darkness, but she thought he was now facing her.  She moved her hand from his chest to his face and confirmed this.

“…what time is it?” Mathias mumbled more garbled words before saying anything understandable.

“It’s around 6:20 in the morning,” Riley whispered back.

“That’s early,” he sounded like he was talking in his sleep rather than being half awake.

“Yes, it is.”

“Then why are you awake?”

“Same reason I’m always up this early, I guess.”

Mathias tried to roll onto his side and grunted with pain.  Riley gently pushed him back onto his back.

“Your bruises are on this side, dummy.”  She couldn’t keep the smile out of her voice.

“Yeah, well, pain is relative.”  Mathias paused for a moment.  “Whatever the hell that means.”

“Just don’t l
ay on your left side.”  Riley snuggled up against him as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders.  Not only had Mathias taken a shot high in the chest just before they met, but the next day, he had taken another shot below the first.  The left side of his torso was several shades of purple.  At least it wasn’t black anymore.

“What are we doing today?”  Mathias sounded more awake.

“I’m not sure yet,” Riley sighed.  “Tobias, Cender, and Danny could use some more practice with the rifles.  I’ll probably show Abby how the watering system in the greenhouse works.”

“She’s really taken to the garden work.”

“Yeah.  She’s good at it, too.  I guess that’s from growing up on a farm.  It’s great for us, because I suck at growing things.”

“Never had a green thumb, eh?”

“Not even close.  If someone told me I had a green thumb, I’d prepare for amputation.”

Mathias shook with silent laughter.  He had to keep it in because everybody was a light sleeper these days.  Despite their whispering though, someone had heard them.  A loud snuffling sounded from the base of the door, followed by a light scratching.

Riley sighed and rolled out of bed.  In spite of the darkness, she knew where her clothes were and started putting them on.

“No,
” Mathias whispered, leaning over to place a hand on her back.  “Stay in bed.”

“You know he’s going to start whining, and then howling, and then everybody will be pissed off.”  Riley shifted away from him, ignoring her own inner protests.  As she put on her shoes, she heard Mathias roll off the other side of the bed and start hunting down his own clothes.  She gave him enough time to find and put on his pants,
and then went to the door.  She opened it to find Shoes, the basset hound, looking up at her.  She sighed at him.

Riley stepped into the living room and pulled the door almost shut behind her, just in case Mathias wasn’t quite dressed yet.  Unlike her bedroom, the living room was lit.  A fire smouldered in the fireplace, casting an orange glow around the small room; it also heated it up to a nearly unbearable temperature, but nobody ever complained.  On the floor in front of the fireplace, Misha Jovovich stirred and mumbled something in Russian.  Riley could only make out the name ‘Shoes.’

“It’s okay,” Riley whispered to Misha,  “I got him.”

Riley headed for the door, the squat dog tagging along after her.  She stepped carefully around Misha who mumbled something else.  Again, in Russian, only this time
, with zero words Riley could make out.  He was sleeping on the floor, half in and half out of a sleeping bag, because Alec McGregor was sleeping on the couch he normally took.  They had begun to fall into a general sleeping routine, everyone having found a place, but Mathias and Riley had disrupted that last night.

As Riley opened the door, Rifle, the German shepherd lying next to Misha, lifted up his head.

“You want to come too?” Riley quietly asked the dog.

He gave his response by lowering his head back down onto his paws.

Riley stepped through the door, and after making sure Shoes was out of the way, she carefully closed it behind them.  They were now in an antechamber, which had heavy winter boots, coats, and snow pants lined up along one wall, and hats, gloves, and scarves on shelves along another, and under those were stacks of snowshoes, ski poles, and rifles.  Riley couldn’t see any of these things once the door behind her was closed.  Like her bedroom, the antechamber was completely sealed off from the main room.  She knew that a battery-powered lantern hung from the middle of the low ceiling, and blindly reached up for it to turn it on.  Shoes pawed impatiently at the other door in the room, the one that led outside.  Riley grabbed her favourite rifle from the stand: a bolt-action model 70 Winchester.  She checked that it was loaded with 30-06 Springfield rounds, her ammo of choice, and grabbed a few extra rounds from a box on the hat shelf.  When venturing outside, everybody carried a gun.

Riley turned off the lamp and opened the outer door.  The sky was touched with light, but the sun hadn’t made it above the trees yet, and a cool, fresh breeze greeted her.  The breeze here was pretty much always cool.  Only on the hottest days might they get a warm breeze in the afternoon.  It was always fresh though, and smelled like the forest around them.  Riley shivered and wrapped her arms around herself.  She mentally told herself to wear a sweater next time she went out this early, but she was always telling herself
that, and always forgetting, heading outside in just a T-shirt.  At least she had pants on this time, instead of shorts.

Shoes ran across the deck onto which they had exited, and did a little dance at the top of the stairs.  Although the dog could hold it until somebody was up, once he got outside, peeing became a very urgent matter.  Riley thought of him as an old man, having to get up to pee several times in the night.  He was an old dog, although no one knew exactly how old.  He had belonged to the little girl, Alice, and had been adopted into their group after she died.

Riley walked over to the stairs and patted Shoes’s head.

“Just another minute, boy,” she told him.

The stairs onto the deck were attached to a winch and pulley system, allowing them to be raised at night.  Riley loved this feature, as it meant she didn’t have to worry about zombies wandering up and attacking her when she exited the cabin each morning; not that they had ever seen a zombie in the area.  There were no windows in the cabin, save one tiny porthole in the kitchen used to check on the weather.  The only true way to know what was outside, was to go out there.

Riley looked over the railing and made sure the area below was clear of threats.  Seeing nothing below the storey-high porch, she started turning the crank that lowered the stairs.  Shoes stepped back while they lowered,
as he always did.  Riley guessed he was somewhat afraid of the stairs when they were moving.  The bottom step touched down onto the dirt below, and Riley turned the crank a few more times to let out the slack.  Once she took her hand off the crank, Shoes waddled off down the stairs, his excess skin wobbling from side to side.  She always found it entertaining whenever Shoes went up or down the stairs.

As she watched Shoes find a good place to pee, the door opened behind her.  Mathias stepped through it, sensibly wearing a long-sleeved shirt.  He and Riley were the only people who had their own clothes: Riley, because they were at her family’s cabin, and Mathias, because he had lived out of his pack for years and had been ready to go when the time came.  Riley smiled to herself
, because this made him sound like a homeless person.

“What?”  Mathias saw her smile as he closed the door behind him.  “Do I have something on my face?”

“No.”  Riley shook her head.  The only thing on his handsome face was some stubble.  “Just had an amusing thought.”

“With a smile like that, I assume it’s something insulting,” he chuckled.  “Here, I brought you this.”  He held out one of Riley’s sweaters for her.

Riley took it with a softer smile and pulled it on over her head.  “Thanks.”

“No problem.”  Mathias placed a hand on her head.  “Your hair could use a brush.  Have you brushed it at all since we got here?”

Riley raised her hands and felt her long, ruddy brown hair.  It had been tied back into a neat French braid the morning of the Day, but since then, it had become very loose and frayed.

“No, I haven’t,” Riley admitted.  This was the first time personal hygiene had been brought up by anyone.  She had been expecting someone to mention it soon, because they all stank, but she didn’t expect it would be her hair that brought it up.