Defensive Instinct (Survival Instinct Book 4) (18 page)

Stretching her sore muscles, Abby took a brief break from her work to look at the storm heading toward them. They hadn’t been able to finish the field the day before and were now trying to complete it ahead of the rains. If they didn’t, it meant working in the mud later on, which would cause a severe drop in their volunteer numbers. Abby suspected that Lauren would be one of the dropouts, although Abby found herself enjoying the exercise and wouldn’t mind getting dirty.

They worked for hours, the storm clouds moving closer and closer, until they could see the sheets of rain pouring out of them. All the other field workers had packed up and moved inside. Most of the guards who didn’t have sheltered watch spaces had abandoned their posts, with a few remaining to watch over the volunteers. Several had even pitched in to help, everyone working like mad beasts to beat the rain. Working near the fence now, they ditched the wheelbarrows; the close proximity of the fence made it faster to carry the rocks as soon as they were pulled up.

Finally, Abby’s row was done and she turned to help the people in the row next to her. As that one was finished, she and those volunteers looked for any other rows where they could assist. When no more rows appeared in need of help, Abby finally took a short pause. She gazed out through the fence, toward where she had picked up the boy in the field. Throughout the day, she had thought about him, wondering how he was doing and whether he had woken up yet. Crichton was managing that whole affair, which meant that rumours were many while facts were few.

When every row was complete, the volunteers rushed to gather up their supplies and headed as fast as they could for the nearest entrance. The wind was at their backs, hurrying them along just that much faster. The guards who didn’t have trains, or cars, or shipping containers to watch from kept pace at the back, making sure no one fell behind. The rains were nipping at their heels, and by the time everyone had crammed into the stairwell, several people were completely drenched: specifically those who had to drop off the supplies in a nearby storage shed. Most of the volunteers flooded down the steps, but Abby joined Lauren and a few others who were taking a brief break on the large upper landing. The door was still open, protected from the wind in an alcove and under an overhang, so that they could watch as the water pummelled their hard work and attempted to drown their crops. In no time at all, it became too dark to continue watching, and so the door was pulled shut, cutting off what wind had been getting in.

“Well that was fun,” Lauren laughed.

“I’ve got bruises on top of bruises,” Abby commented as she pulled off her work gloves. Labouring at what felt like break-neck speed, she had stopped being careful, frequently scraping her knuckles or stubbing her fingers. Looking at her hands now, it appeared the gloves had done their job and none of the skin was broken.

“Yeah, I got a pretty good scrape,” Lauren held up her arm to show Abby the angry red welt along her forearm.

“Oh,” Abby made a sound that was half-distress and half-sympathy as she inspected her partner’s injury.

“It’s not that bad,” Lauren told her, gently removing her arm from Abby’s hands once she had had a long enough look. “It’s not like I did this or anything,” she playfully swatted the scar on Abby’s forearm.

“I pray you never do.” Abby smiled as they turned to head downstairs. They joined the trickle of stragglers, most of whom were people who had gotten wet and had paused on the upper landing to wring out their clothes and hair. Both Abby and Lauren held onto the railings as they walked, being careful to avoid the puddles left behind by those ahead of them. Slipping and falling on concrete steps would make their work-related injuries look like nothing.

When the pair reached the landing to their floor, Lauren opened the door but Abby stopped, looking farther down. Lauren noticed her pause and, while standing in the open doorway, figured out what she was thinking about.

“I’m sure the boy’s fine. Crichton’s watching him like a hawk, and the doctors are taking care of him. He’s probably already awake and just being questioned before he’s allowed to join the rest of us.”

“That’s what I’m worried about.” Abby turned to her with a small, forced smile. “Crichton can be a little intense.”

“He has to be, what with all that’s happened to us.” Lauren took her hand and guided Abby into the hallway, continuing to hold it as they walked along.

“I know. It’s silly of me to worry.”

“It’s because you saved him, you feel responsible for him. I understand. Remember how I was, once we got all those kids with foster parents on the Diana? I kept hovering, making sure they were okay, that they were happy and that their new caretakers were doing their jobs right.”

“I remember you wondering if you should set up a program, where you’d go to visit each kid at their new place once a week. You thought they’d all be miserable without you.” Abby laughed, although it wasn’t the unkind type. Lauren and she had frequently laughed about it in the past, as it was the best way to deal with it.

“Of course, once the kids were settled, they got annoyed with my constant popping up. Remember Robbie telling me to get lost?”

“Of course I remember. You kept checking to make sure he was eating all right.”

“Well, he wasn’t a very good eater when I had to take care of him. He pulled the ‘you’re not my mom’ card, and that’s when I knew the kids weren’t my responsibility anymore. At least not those kids.”

They had rounded a bend, reaching the hallway where their living quarters were situated. Ahead, in front of their door, Claire was sitting on the floor with some of her friends, gabbing away. They fell quiet once they spotted Abby and Lauren. It was nice to know teenagers never changed, even if it was annoying as hell at times.

“Did you get caught in the storm?” Claire asked as they approached.

“Some did, but we managed to get in just ahead of it,” Lauren told her.

“Is it as bad as it looked?”

“It’s pretty bad, yeah. We’re going to have to do a lot of clean up tomorrow.”

“Did you get the field done, though?”

“Sure did, and I think our clothes paid for it.” Abby looked down at herself. Not only did she have several dirt and grass stains, but a few new tears as well. An especially big one had her right knee exposed. “We should probably clean up.”

“You going to be in for dinner?” Lauren asked Claire.

“Yeah.” And with that confirmed, it was obvious Claire was done talking to them and hoped they would disappear once more. She was old enough to consider moving out on her own now, but having people cook for her and clean up after her were so far keeping her home. Abby was only too happy to head into the apartment space, looking forward to a nice hot shower. All her muscles were sore in unusual ways and starting to stiffen up.

Entering the suite of rooms, Abby immediately spotted Riley sitting on their couch, slouching forward, and could tell by the sounds that Hope and Peter were playing in his room with the door closed. Even Peter was at an age where he preferred the adults to not completely know what he was up to with his limited number of friends.

“Who’s showering first, you or me?” Lauren asked.

“You go ahead,” Abby told her, casting a quick look in Riley’s direction. Lauren understood with a nod, and disappeared into the bathroom. It took only seconds for the sound of rushing water to seep through the door.

Abby made her way over to the couch and perched on the armrest, so as not to get any dirt on Riley’s bedding.

“Hey, Riley,” she opened with, prepared to gauge the other woman’s response. Abby knew there was something wrong the moment she had walked in and Riley didn’t turn to see who was entering.

“Hi, Abby, do you need something?” It took her that entire sentence to turn her head and look up at Abby’s face.

“Just wondering how you’re feeling. You look a little distant.”

Riley nodded. “Just thinking, is all. We were supposed to be home by now. Not that I don’t like visiting you, and the hot water is especially nice.” She tilted her head in the bathroom’s direction.

“It’s just not home, anymore,” Abby finished for her. “I get it. I mean, you guys left here for a reason. Is there anything else on your mind? Maybe I can help.”

“Have you read many medical papers?” Riley asked with a weak smile, already betting she knew the answer.

“Sorry, no. I can tell you about the history of Spain, if you’d like.” That drew out the more genuine smile that Abby had been hoping for. “There a patient you’re worried about?”

“Always. I’ve been wracking my brain trying to remember everything I learned, all the papers and studies I’ve read. I feel I’m missing something, that there’s more I could be doing.” Riley flopped backward against the back of the couch, her head coming to rest on top of it so that she stared up at the ceiling.

“Have you talked to the other doctors?”

Riley dipped her chin several times. “I wish I could talk to Dr. Anderson.”

“Who’s Dr. Anderson?” Abby wasn’t sure she had heard that name before, which likely meant she hadn’t.

“He was the lead attending when I worked in the ER: my mentor. He got bitten on the Day, before we knew what was happening. I don’t know what happened to him after that. He probably evacuated with Lauren and the others, but I don’t know what they would have done once they learned he was bitten.”

Abby didn’t know if she should tell Riley or not, but after a moment’s hesitation, decided the truth was better than several things her friend could imagine. “Lauren told me that when they discovered someone was infected, they put them outside the walls and wouldn’t let them back in. Some fought and had to be driven farther away, while others stayed nearby, crying to be let back in. But apparently, most of them accepted it and walked off, or at least thought they were fine and that there was somewhere better to go.”

“Anderson would have walked off,” Riley decided instantly. “He would have gotten as far away as he could, so that when he turned, he wouldn’t be near anybody.”

Abby watched as her friend continued to stare at the ceiling. She remembered Riley’s depression, when she would lock herself away for days. Only her daughter, her sister, and her sister’s recently adopted daughter were allowed near her, and that was only because they were sharing the room with her.

“What would you like for dinner?” Abby changed the subject, adding a lightness to her voice as she playfully swatted Riley’s arm.

“You know, I’ve forgotten what having meal choices is like.” Riley lifted her head and turned to Abby with a smile. “I’m so used to community food.”

“Come on, then. We don’t have much of a selection, but it’s better than nothing. Whatever you want, we’ll cook.”

“Mind if I cook, actually? I haven’t done any cooking since God knows when.”

“Yeah, not at all.”

“Just let me know what portions of your rations I should use. Actually, you should probably just monitor the whole process, as I was never much of a cook to begin with.” Riley laughed at herself.

Getting up off the couch, the two of them walked over to the little kitchen area. As they looked through the cupboards and fridge, the sound of the running shower was replaced by a hairdryer. Riley picked out what they would have for dinner, and the ingredients were laid out. It was still too early to start dinner, but that was fine because Abby really wanted to shower first. As soon as Lauren had vacated the bathroom, her wild hair having taken a considerable amount of time to blow dry, Abby ducked in. As she stood beneath the hot cascade of water, she wondered if Riley had told her the entire truth. She also found herself wondering about the boy again.

“I am stuffed,” Hope declared as she leaned back in her seat.

“We definitely cooked more of your rations than we should have,” Riley said while giving Abby a bit of a frown.

“It’s fine. We just prepared a new field, remember? We’re going to be growing even more food soon. Besides, you’re our guests; we’re allowed to spoil you.”

“We should have guests over more often,” Claire joked. “What do you think, Hope? Want to become a permanent guest?”

“If we can always eat like this, yeah!”

“But I don’t want to share my room
forever
,” Peter grumped, his social awkwardness causing him to miss out on the joke.

“Hope’s not moving in permanently, love,” Lauren consoled him, rubbing his back.

“I don’t think we’ll be staying too much longer,” Riley told everyone at the table. “If it weren’t for the storm, we most likely would have left by now.”

“Well, you’re going to be stuck with us a bit longer.” Abby got up and began clearing away the dishes. “After a storm like that one, we might need to repair the dock again. Hopefully, the boats were properly secured on shore this time. Remember the last big storm, when they either washed out to sea or got scattered across the fields?”

“I remember having to slog through muck to get a bunch of paddles that were sticking up out of it,” Claire said, nodding, a look of disgust on her face. “I lost a shoe that day.”

“Well, you did volunteer for it,” Lauren reminded her.

“Only because Leelo dared me to. It makes a good argument against volunteering.”

“But we’re all going to volunteer tomorrow,” Abby told her family as she returned to her seat. “Right?” She looked specifically at Peter, who so rarely helped out with physical tasks.

“Well if we’re stuck here, we’ll volunteer too, right mom?” Hope looked to Riley.

“Of course we will,” Riley nodded.

“We can find something to volunteer for together, Peter.” Hope turned back to her friend, getting him to nod his consent. Abby had enjoyed having Hope over. She was able to bring Peter out of his shell in ways that she, Lauren, and even Claire couldn’t.

A knock at the door interrupted any further conversation.

“I’ll get it.” Claire shot to her feet, nearly tipping her chair over backward in the process. She didn’t exactly run to the door, but she didn’t walk at a normal pace either. By opening it only a crack, Abby couldn’t see who was there or hear what brief words were exchanged. “It’s for you.” Claire turned away from the door. “Abby,” she clarified.

Claire still didn’t hold the door open enough for her to see, so Abby had to get up and walk over to find out who was there. She had no idea who would come by at dinner. Taking the door from Claire, she pulled it open enough for the others at the table to see as well, Claire taking the opportunity to return to her seat.

“Crichton,” Abby didn’t so much greet him as express her surprise to see him. What was even more surprising was the boy standing shyly at his heel, staring at their feet. It was the boy that Abby and James had rescued. Abby couldn’t see much of him around Crichton, but she could see how frightfully thin he was. The clothes he wore were newer than what he had come in wearing, the shorts and T-shirt hanging off his bony frame.

“I’m sorry to bother you at dinner,” Crichton apologized, glancing past Abby at those gathered around the table.

“That’s all right, we already finished and were just talking. What’s up?” Abby couldn’t stop looking at the boy. One of his shoes, also recently donated, was untied. She felt an urge to bend down and fix it.

“I’ve been informed that the storm has abated enough for us to go out and assess the damage. It’s too late to do any actual cleanup, but we can task what needs doing and check on the guards who remained out there. I was hoping that in the meantime, you could give Journey here, a tour of the Black Box.”

“Journey?”

“That’s what he told me his name is.”

Abby knelt down so that she was level with the boy. “Journey is certainly a unique name.”

His dark eyes darted up to her face and then returned to the floor just as quickly. He mumbled something that Abby couldn’t quite make out.

“Pardon? I didn’t quite catch that.”

“Some people used to call me Jo,” he mumbled slightly louder.

“Would you rather be called Jo?”

The boy shrugged, and then after a second’s hesitation, he nodded.

“It’s nice to meet you, Jo, I’m Abby.” Abby held out her hand.

The boy looked at it, but didn’t offer his in return.

Still smiling for him, Abby returned her hand to her side, understanding he must be afraid. “How old are you, Jo?”

He didn’t give any response to the question.

“We don’t think he knows,” Crichton answered for him. “As much as I’ve been able to get him to answer, I don’t think he’s been educated or even knows what ‘age’ is. He knows seasons, but not years.”

Abby nodded in understanding. Since the beginning, the people she’d been with had done their best to educate the younger generation, but even they had their difficulties with what they should be teaching. Other groups out there could easily be having it rougher, education forced to take a backseat to pure survival. Abby guessed that, based on his name, he had been born post-Day to a group that kept on the move, although she accepted it was possible he was older and that the name had been given to him, in much the same way that Lauren had to name Peter.

“So what do you think, Jo? Would you like it if I showed you around?”

Jo shrugged again and this time didn’t add a nod.

Abby stood back up and faced Crichton. “Just give me a minute to let the others know.”

“Go ahead.”

Abby returned to the dining table; meanwhile, the door attempted to swing shut until Crichton put his foot in the way.

“What’s going on?” Riley asked first.

“The boy that showed up outside our fences the day you got here is awake now. Crichton wants to go topside and check out the storm damage, so he asked me to show him around in the meantime.”

“What do you know about him? Do you want me to come with you?” Lauren asked this time. She had dealt with all sorts of children in shock and suffering from various forms of abandonment issues after the Day and had learned a thing or two about handling them.

“No, I think I’ll be all right on my own. He might remember me helping to bring him in, and I don’t want to surround him with too many people too quickly. His name is Journey, although he’s usually called Jo. Outside of that, Crichton didn’t tell me much. Poor kid doesn’t even know how old he is. Crichton thinks he might not understand what years are.”

Lauren shook her head sadly, while Claire lifted her legs up onto her seat and pulled them tight against her chest. After being the lone survivor of her family, thanks to Abby, Lauren, and Jon, she was sympathetic towards all kids.

“Is he expected to stay here overnight?” Riley wondered.

“He could share with Peter and Hope or he could share my room with me,” Claire immediately volunteered.

Abby smiled at her. “I don’t think so; Crichton didn’t mention anything like that. I should get going.”

Lauren got up and walked around the table to her partner. They embraced, and briefly pecked each other on the lips.

“Yuck, grown-up stuff,” Hope commented, which set her and Peter to giggling with one another.

“Be careful, okay?” Lauren whispered. “We don’t know anything about him.”

“When has anyone not been careful these days? But I understand,” she whispered back, then turned to the table. “I should be back before bedtime,” Abby spoke directly to Peter. Abby always tried to be in when Peter went to bed. It was when he was the most willing to talk, telling both Lauren and Abby about his day or how he was feeling. He kept a notebook in his room in which he always wrote first—his script both tiny and neat—to work out his thoughts, and then relayed his findings to his parents.

“Bye, Mum,” he answered quietly.

Abby separated from Lauren and returned to the door.

“You ready?” Crichton asked when she pulled it the rest of the way open.

“I think it’s better to ask Jo if he’s ready.” Abby smiled for the boy.

He glanced up at her and then back down at the floor. He gave a mumbled, unintelligible response.

“I think that means he is,” Crichton commented as Abby left her apartment, letting the door swing closed behind her. “I’m going up top now. I’ll come find you afterward.”

“All right. Hopefully it’s not too bad up there.”

“Hopefully.” With that, Crichton headed for the nearest exit.

“So, Jo, where should we start?” Abby didn’t expect him to answer and was proven right. “How about right here, then? This level, as well as the two levels above us and three levels below us are all apartments. Here, they consist of a main living space that includes a kitchen, and three bedrooms with one bathroom, while on some other levels they may have fewer bedrooms. I don’t know if you know this already or not, but we have hot and cold running water here. Have you ever taken a hot shower?”

The boy didn’t answer.

“You’ll probably get to check out an apartment more thoroughly later. Let’s go look at something more exciting.” Abby led Jo toward the stairwell. Always thinking about what Lauren said, she never let Jo drift behind her, keeping him in her peripheral vision at all times.

The hallways were noisier than usual. With everyone kept in because of the storm, several people had propped open their doors to wander between their apartments and their neighbours’. A few groups had formed on the floors, mostly kids and teenagers who didn’t want to hang out near adults. Some looked up as Abby and Jo passed by, recognizing that there was a new face in the facility, but none of them reacted fearfully, just curiously.

“So, this is one of the stairwells,” Abby told Jo as they stepped into it. “There are three throughout the Black Box. I’ll try to show you where all of them are, although it’ll probably take you awhile to get a handle on the layout. Two stairs reach the surface above, while the third only makes it to the top level. There is also an elevator not far from that staircase, and it goes to the surface. Now, we try not to use the elevator too often so that those who need it, aren’t waiting forever, but if you get tired, let me know and we’ll use it.”

Abby decided to show Jo the upper levels first, so that if he got tired, at least they’d be heading down.

“You may have noticed the coloured lines and the arrows in here as well as on the walls of the hallways,” she spoke as they climbed. “Each level has a different coloured floor, and the lines and arrows help you get to where you’re going. Of course, you have to memorize the floor colour of where you’re trying to get to in order to use the system, but even if you don’t, it’ll help you find a stairwell.”

On the very top level, they came to the hydroponics labs. Abby smiled when Jo’s eyes widened at the sight of all the plants. Abby always enjoyed visiting the hydroponics labs, as they reminded her of the greenhouse back at Riley’s cabin, which was the first place she found herself able to think clearly after the Day. The labs were a little more crowded than usual, with people trapped inside because of the storm who came here to enjoy the false sunlight. Abby led Jo into the nearest lab, letting him look at the special light fixtures, troughs, and plants.

“What’s this one?” he’d ask as they passed certain plants, seeming to take a genuine interest. Abby would smile every time she answered him.

After leaving the hydroponics, she took Jo all throughout the Black Box. They entered the computer server farm that was pretty much useless these days, but didn’t stop long as there wasn’t much to see. Next came the large space used for meetings and for when large groups wanted to dine together, followed by the extra food storage that was still without a completely functional cooling system; every time one thing was fixed, something else broke, and right now it was basically just an ice block. Several people thought that the server farm’s air conditioning should be turned back on so that they could use that space as cold storage. Past the apartment levels, Abby showed him the medical centre, which he had probably seen already but took a bit more of an interest in anyway. Farther down was the small computer lab where Abby often worked, and below that were some classrooms that doubled as a day-care centre. The classrooms were used infrequently, mostly by children who were being taught one-on-one by their parents and guardians, but they were good for small meetings, like discussing planned expansions. On the next level down was the security office, where video feeds from some cameras were monitored, and their extra weapons and ammo were locked up.

“Why are some floors larger than other floors?” Jo observed.

“Do you mean the spacing between them or the square footage?” Immediately after she said it, Abby wondered if Jo even understood what square footage meant.

“Both,” he replied whether he knew or not.

“No one here was involved in building this place, so we don’t know. Best guess? They built whatever space they needed. I guess that’s an advantage to digging through solid rock, if you need a floor to be bigger, just dig outward more. There’s also a lot of buried wiring, pipes, and ductwork that we can’t see. I’m not an engineer, so I don’t know much about it. Speaking of which, we’ve reached the water treatment facility.”