Defensive Instinct (Survival Instinct Book 4) (27 page)

Mark Green pulled himself out of the river mud, fighting the suction threatening to keep him in place. He had just narrowly avoided being seen by one of the peripheral zombies, one of those that separated from the flood to wander off on their own. They were dangerous, for if one got excited and managed to alert the others, the entire comet could turn in its direction.

Free of the mud, the twenty-six year old sprinted off through the woods, leaping over fallen logs, ducking under branches, and barrelling through bushes. He knew he was far enough away not to worry about the noise he made, but he still instinctively avoided the louder, snappier branches on the ground. Mark had been running for a full five minutes, not an unusual length of time for him, when he reached the tiny camp.
Camp
was barely the word for it. There were no tents, and at the moment, no fire. Nestled against the root system of a large, fallen tree within a jumble of rocks, a tarp splattered with natural colours was easy to miss if you weren’t looking for it. Not caring about the puddle that had gathered next to the tarp after the storm, Mark crawled underneath it. Gathered inside were his teammates, his family, all four of them crunched together within the hollow, only somewhat cleaner than Mark himself. There used to be more of them, but they had been lost along the way. Suzanne was the only person crazy enough to join them, the only one who hadn’t known Dean when he was alive.

“They’re definitely moving in the direction of that large settlement,” Mark reported, accepting the water that Suzanne held out to him and taking a large swallow.

“Fuck,” Boss sighed, running a thick hand across his flat features. “Can we get there in time?”

“If we move now, and we move fast, I think we can make it.”

“Right, are you good to keep going?”

“Always.”

“Then you, Suz, and Tommy haul ass. Betty and I will handle the gear.”

“Can
you
get there in time to get behind the walls?” Tommy asked as he duck waddled his way out from under the tarp.

“What does that matter?” Boss grumbled. “We’ve been fine outside before, and we’ll be fine again. Now run your young asses off.”

Mark crawled out after Tommy, Suzanne right behind him. All three left behind their packs, taking only their running belts each of which held a pistol, an extra mag of ammunition, a knife, and a bottle of water. They also left behind their two oldest teammates, who weren’t really that old. Boss was the only one starting to look it with the dash of grey in his hair, the increasing lines in his face, and the bad limp he had developed after breaking his leg just under a year ago. Betty would take care of him though; she was tough as nails and determined to keep everyone from dying.

Tommy led the way, setting the pace at a jog instead of Mark’s earlier sprint. They had much farther to go this time. On Tommy’s belt, he carried two additional items: a compass and a map. Although each of them had a well-trained sense of direction and a good memory for places, it would be foolish not to bring them along.

“So how was your mud bath?” Suzanne teased as she hurried along just ahead of Mark. Soon, they wouldn’t be able to talk and run, but for now she wanted more details about Mark’s investigation.

“I feel so pretty,” he responded.

She laughed and glanced back at him with a flash of bright brown eyes. Her very short, golden hair still shone, even in this flat light. That hair was the first part of her that Mark had fallen in love with, back when it was long and worn in a pair of French braided pigtails. It had been kept short, like his own, for years now, but Mark still loved the way it caught the light and how it felt beneath his fingers.

“Any problems?” she asked next.

Mark reported the details he knew she wanted. He told her how close the wanderers got, where they went—under the river water for the most part in this instance—the animals he spotted, and other odd bits, like the license plate that was nowhere near a car or road. By the time he was done, he was out of words. Suz wasn’t, and she recited the details back to him, a sort of memory game they played. When Tommy showed no interest in conversation, she sang for a bit, some old rock and roll song, until she couldn’t anymore. They fell into a vocal silence, listening to the rhythmic pounding of their feet, and the steady exhalations of their lungs.

The three of them ran for a long time, moving through both woods and streets, a marathon that took them wide around the comet herd, around Dean’s mob. Mark could still picture the bullet-headed man when he was alive, when they had first met. After Mark had gotten separated from the people he knew, he managed to get back to his apartment where the mercenaries found him. Dean had sat on his couch, one of his large boots propped up against the edge of the coffee table. Thinking of Dean inevitably led to remembering the school where the mercenary had been tricked by the scientists there into being infected. Mark had disliked the scientists, especially the one named Roy, the moment he had clapped eyes upon them. His first instinct had proven to be right.

Once the shit hit the fan and the school needed to be evacuated, the mercenaries who had been looking after Mark, brought him along, led by the black man, Boss. They separated from the rest of the group, who were heading to a prison, a place they thought would be no different from the school. Instead, they stole a canvas-backed truck planning to drive to Seattle, where Mark’s mom lived. They never did make it that far, at least not then. Mark couldn’t remember exactly how long they had been travelling before learning of Dean’s continued existence as a zombie far smarter than the others. For a while they thought that he was somehow following them, but then he stopped. They decided to make it their duty to follow him, and to warn everyone they could of his coming. Ever since then, they had been tracking the ever-growing herd around him. When Suzanne became the sole survivor of a group after Dean’s horde passed through them, she joined the team. It was the only time their numbers had increased, instead of decreased. The team was far too familiar with tragedy. None of them had ever been able to get close enough to Dean to put him down, despite numerous attempts. His wall of murderous flesh had so far proven to be impenetrable.

Mark had no idea how long they had been running. His mind wandered through the corridors of his memories, his body followed Tommy and Suzanne on autopilot, and he drank when he was thirsty. Sometimes he thought of things that happened before the zombie outbreak, like riding on the back of his friend’s motorcycle, weaving through traffic. Other times, the memories came from after the outbreak: memories like spray painting messages for his dad, hoping the man was alive and would find him, and the first time he kissed Suzanne, shy and embarrassed as they sat side-by-side on a bridge, their fishing lines in the water.

The distant, echoing crack of gunfire brought Mark out of his reverie. Tommy slowed them to a stop, all three walking in tight cycles to keep their muscles from seizing, and popping open their water bottles to take a drink.

“That can’t be good,” Suzanne was the first one to comment.

“They must be under attack by someone,” Mark agreed.

“Doesn’t matter if there’s two groups, they both need to get to shelter before Dean gets here,” Tommy shook his head.

“How are we going to handle this?” Mark deferred to the older man’s wisdom.

“Do we have something to use as a white flag? Something we can wave on the attacker’s side, provided this isn’t a civil war going on within the walls.”

“There’s my shirt,” Suzanne instantly volunteered, stripping out of the sweaty thing. Everyone on their team had seen each other naked on more than one occasion, so there was nothing odd to them about Suzanne standing there in her sports bra.

“All right, I’ll take that and try to find the attacking leader if that’s what’s happening,” Tommy instructed. “Mark, go spy on the wall, and find the best way to approach them once we get any outsiders to understand the situation; but be careful, they may shoot anything that moves out here. Suz, you’re going to watch our backs. Find somewhere up high and keep an eye out for Dean’s approach.”

Both Mark and Suzanne nodded their agreement to his plan. With the decision made, they split up, Mark and Suzanne kissing and placing their foreheads together briefly, as was their custom. They didn’t need to say the words: they understood how the other felt completely.

Mark wasn’t sure what the best way to spy on the wall would be; it had been a while since they had first discovered and made note of the settlement, and they had never before made contact. He decided that circling around the edges of the yard would be best. He chose a side at random, and crept along, using anything he could to hide himself.

Just as he was reaching the river that ran along one side of the container yard, a metallic sliding sound from behind froze him. It was the sound of a long blade being drawn: a deadly warning. Mark slowly raised his hands, keeping them far away from his gun and knife so that whoever was behind him wouldn’t think he was a threat. In his mind, he prepared all the usual words to inform the person about Dean’s comet herd, readying himself to field a lot of questions. When he turned to face the man who had managed to sneak up on him, the words died in his throat.

The sword slowly lowered. “Mark?”

“Jon?”

It was all messed up, just as Evans had feared it would be. Lead flew through the open space, through no-man’s land, seeking out flesh. The gunfire was starting to die down some as Evans’ party began to realize they weren’t landing many shots, if any. This tactic wasn’t working: all they were doing was wasting ammo. Evans himself hadn’t yet fired a shot. He sat behind the container, alone with Danny, patching up his wound. Although no expert on such injuries, he thought the young man would live. Evans had laid his captive on the pavement, telling him to stay still and stay calm as he had removed his binds, gag included. Danny had so far done as he was told, more concerned with the pain radiating outward from where he had been shot than trying to fight Evans.

The gunfire finally petered out altogether, with the last volley from the container wall, making sure that the party stayed under cover.

“This isn’t working,” Arman lamented.

“No shit,” Evans grumbled only loudly enough for Danny to hear him.

“We need to spread out more, get a better look at that wall,” Arman continued.

“How? Every time we poke our noses out, they nearly get shot off,” someone that Evans couldn’t see spoke from beyond Arman. With his ears ringing with gunfire, Evans couldn’t identify the speaker through his voice either.

“Some of us will head backward through the containers and circle around. Maybe other parts of the wall are less defended.”

“No,” Danny croaked from the ground.

“Tell me.” Evans knew he needed Danny’s help to get out of this, despite Arman’s bravado.

“We outnumber you, out gun you. The whole wall is defended. Your best chance was surprise, but obviously you didn’t have that. You don’t have the power to get in there.” Danny spoke through gritted teeth, trying to move his jaw as little as possible.

Evans looked up to where Arman was organizing his group, picking people to flank another part of the wall. He had no idea what Ki-nam was doing with the other group beyond Arman’s. As he looked back over at Elijah, he knew the teen was waiting for orders, as was everyone else huddled up around him. Nicks and punctures marred the side of the container they were hiding against and peppered the container behind them where it was exposed by the gap.

For the first time in a long time, Evans didn’t know what to do. Arman was riled up, all for the continued assault, especially now that they had been shot at. Evans knew the man well enough to know that he saw this as verification of the deaths the scavenger teams had suffered: these people were to blame. Perversely, the continued attack would only result in more being injured and killed.

“We should retreat,” Evans finally spoke loudly enough for those clustered up by the containers on either side of him to hear.

There was a pause as Arman had to let the words sink in, his group now nervous, unsure who to listen to.

“No! We can’t let up now!” Arman yelled, almost forcefully enough for those on the wall to hear him. Maybe he wanted them to, wanted them to think they were retreating when he was really just spreading his people out.

“We need to regroup, and replan. This isn’t working, as you said. We should consider our options somewhere safer, make sure the injured are being taken care of, and then try again with a smarter plan. We know where the wall is now, what it looks like. We can take the time to think things over.”

“I agree,” Elijah immediately backed up Evans, spurring others to nod and mutter agreements as well.

Arman’s face was red with anger. He saw the move as cowardice, not strategic thinking. Although he was great at organizing the scavenger teams, he did not have a mind for war.

“And what about you?” Arman retorted. “How are you going to back away? You have to cross through an opening first, exposing yourself, and you’re not the only one of us. You’re going to get shot trying to retreat.”

He was right, of course. There was no way for Evans to fall back, even if he didn’t have an injured man with him. As his mind raced to think of a way out of this, he became distracted by the people around Elijah. They had all turned and were looking down the path they had taken to get there. It didn’t take long for Evans to figure out what was happening, as Julianne joined them, out of breath.

“Julianne? You shouldn’t be here; get back to your kids,” Elijah said what Evans was thinking.

Julianne panted, trying to gather enough wind to speak. Evans immediately feared the worst, that some people from the wall had waited outside and were now attacking them from behind.

“There’s a man…he needs…to talk to you,” she gasped, looking at Evans. She must have sprinted the entire way and gotten lucky that she had ended up in the same place where Evans was.

“What man? What about?” Evans asked her.

“You should really…hear it…from him.” Her eyes were full of fear. Whatever this man had said really spooked her.

“I can’t leave this spot, Julianne. Can he be brought here?”

She nodded.

“I’ll go get him,” Elijah volunteered. “Julianne, rest here a moment, and then someone else can accompany you back to the others.”

“Just tell me first, is everyone else all right?” Evans asked.

“Yes,” Julianne nodded again. “The man is not from here. He let us disarm him.” She was getting her breath back, and someone else had finally found some water to give her.

“I’ll be quick.” Elijah took off through the containers, younger and more used to sprinting than Julianne was.

“What’s going on?” Arman asked. He wasn’t quite close enough to hear everything.

“We’re staying put for the moment,” Evans told him. “There’s been a development. Hold off on anything until we know what’s going on.”

Arman fidgeted, not liking indecision and being out of the loop.

“Pass the word along to Ki-nam.”

Although he still looked angry, Arman did as he was told. He wasn’t a complete idiot; he knew if something was happening with the non-combatants they had left behind, it had to take first priority. Evans and anyone else trapped behind containers without a safe exit would be abandoned there if need be.

“Do you know what this is about?” Evans whispered to Danny.

Danny tried to shake his head, but it made his injury hurt too much. “When we know an attack is coming, everyone retreats behind the wall and stays there until the threat is gone.”

The threat
. That’s what Evans and his party were right now: a threat to these people. The more he was around them, the more he concluded that there was no possible way they had had anything to do with the deaths of Carol, Hector, Lee, Moore, and Millia. Wycheck was a different story, but they couldn’t know what really happened there. If Danny and his friends had told the truth, then it was an honest and easy mistake to make. Thinking of Wycheck’s busted leg, Evans could easily picture him limping along, moving no differently from a zombie when viewed at a distance. How he had busted his leg was a different matter. They may have been involved, they may not have. Evans was thinking that Danny and his group were innocent, but convincing Arman and ceasing this needless battle would be difficult. It wasn’t easy to explain a gut feeling, to convey to someone else the virtually baseless trust you felt for another. All too easily, Evans could be made to look like a naive fool.

The silence was oppressive. Nobody from his party spoke, and no one on the wall made a sound loud enough to carry to them. An occasional shuffle while changing positions, or a soft moan from one of the wounded was all that broke the stillness. Eventually, Evans’ ears recovered from the ringing of the gunfire and he was able to hear water. He remembered the map, how the container yard was nestled in a ninety-degree corner where a river met a large bay.

It was easy to tell when Elijah was returning with the mysterious man. The slapping of their shoes on the concrete rose up out of the container maze, heading toward them. Evans could almost feel the tension building beyond the wall, as they no doubt heard the sound as well. He imagined himself in their position, the gunfire stopping, a possible argument being heard across the way, and now the running of feet heading toward them.

When Elijah appeared, he was breathing somewhat heavily, but was in much better condition than Julianne had been. The man, however, got his breathing under control rather rapidly despite being drenched in sweat. Everyone looked at him warily, eyeing his short red hair and freckles, his old, dirty clothes, and the white fabric that hung from a back pocket.

“That’s Evans there,” Elijah told him, pointing across the opening.

The man made to move across to him, but Evans held up a hand and stopped him.

“You might get shot; best stay where you are to say what you have to say.”

“All right then.” The man dropped to the pavement, crossing his legs so that he was eye to eye with Evans, who hadn’t stood up after bandaging Danny. Behind him, Elijah picked someone to walk Julianne back to the others now that she had rested.

“My name’s Tommy,” the redhead spoke, “and you’re going to want to stop this little skirmish you have going on with these people.”

“Are you one of them?” Evans asked quickly, before Arman could chime in.

“One of the people behind that wall? No, never met them, although a friend of mine is currently attempting to talk to them to tell them the same thing I’m about to tell you.”

“And what’s that?”

“There’s a zombie horde on the way. A big one, the biggest one you can possibly imagine. I could tell from your gear back at that warehouse that you’re a travelling group, am I right?”

“You are.”

“Ever come across what appears to be a gigantic slug trail? Bunch of slimy stuff, trampled earth, maybe some weak structures knocked over?”

Evans nodded curtly. He had seen such a thing some time ago, when his party had been a lot smaller and made up of different people. They had decided to head directly away from the place, not wanting to think about what had caused it.

“That was them, the mega herd that’s on its way here. I was able to hear your gunfire from quite a distance back. I’m glad you’ve since stopped firing, but it may be too late. There’s quite a number of smarter than average dead heads in that group, one really smart one in particular, and if they heard you, they’re coming straight here.”

“And what are you suggesting we do?”

“Well, it’s too late to run.” Tommy shook his head, seeming genuinely disappointed by that fact. “Your best option is to make nice with the people beyond that wall. Nice enough that they’ll let you hide on the other side of it, staying dead quiet until the herd passes by.”

Arman made a scoffing sound behind Evans.

Tommy leaned sideways to speak to him. “Hey, you can go back to shooting each other afterward for all I care, I’m just here to warn you about the zombies.”

“And how do we know you’re telling the truth?” Evans asked him.

“You don’t,” Tommy shrugged. “I can show you pictures of the horde so that you know it exists, but you’ll have to take my word on it that it’s coming this way.”

“What’s in it for you? Warning us?”

“Nothing, really. You know how I mentioned there’s one really smart one? Well, he used to be a friend of mine. Ever since we learned that the mega horde has gathered around him, my remaining friends and I have taken it upon ourselves to track them and warn any groups who find themselves in its path. Of course, if you’d like to donate a few supplies to our cause afterward, we certainly wouldn’t say no.”

“Let me see the pictures.” Evans wasn’t sure what to think yet. Viewing the photos would give him some more time.

Tommy turned to the people at his back. “Your buddies back at the warehouse have already thoroughly checked me over; I’m not armed, just taking out the photos.” He reached into a back pocket and took out a Ziploc baggie, which he then tossed over to Evans.

Evans opened it up and flipped through the Polaroids within, his guts twisting with every image. Tommy certainly wasn’t lying about the mega horde, and, based on the way he was acting, he had obviously had experience with warning other groups.

On the ground next to him, Danny attempted to rise so that he could view the photos as well, only to groan in pain and lie flat again.

“You ever seen this?” Evans mumbled, turning one of the pictures so that he could see. It showed a gorge somewhere, completely packed with zombies, all of them funnelled into a wide, jagged line that stretched on until a bend took them out of sight.

“No,” Danny replied, a hand travelling on its own to his stomach as if he might throw up. Evans couldn’t blame him. Such a massive collection of dead was virtually unheard of; they usually broke apart into smaller herds before getting to that size.

Here was the opportunity Evans was looking for, an excuse to stop the fighting, provided those on the other side of the wall were willing.

“I hate to say it, but time is of the essence,” Tommy spoke up. “If we’re quick, we may be able to do something about your supply carts and horses.”

“We have a way of getting them over the wall,” Danny spoke up.

“Would they let us in?” Evans asked him.

“If you’re willing to surrender your weapons, then yes, they’ll let you in. Your group will probably be confined to a handful of containers during the ordeal, but you won’t be treated badly as long as you co-operate. Afterward, they’ll let you go, although probably with a minimum of ammunition so that you’re not encouraged to start shooting us again.”