Defensive Instinct (Survival Instinct Book 4) (30 page)

“Is everyone okay?” he croaked, trying to spot the others.

“I’m all right,” Rose responded first, somewhere to Doyle’s left.

“Me too,” James called out.

“I’m alive, but I think I need some help.” Canary’s voice was frightfully small sounding.

Doyle pushed himself up, getting to his feet so that he could survey the damage. More than half of the house had collapsed, becoming a pile of debris with a large chunk of the roof sitting on top. A couple of shingles, bits of drywall, insulation, and a few household items continued to fall, unable to hold onto the edge of the house that was still standing. Doyle suspected it wouldn’t be standing for much longer. Already he could hear a few low groans and creaks.

“Where are you, Canary?” he asked, his eyes searching through the yard that had become coated with the grey-brown dusting.

“Here.” Her hand raised up, not too far away. Doyle’s first thought upon seeing it was relief, as she was too far back to have been crushed.

With his boots leaving prints behind him, Doyle made his way over. The moment his eyes figured out proper shapes and colours, he realized what was wrong. A piece of thin copper piping speared straight through the meat of Canary’s calf.

“Don’t try to move,” were the only words able to escape Doyle’s mouth.

“I’m not,” Canary told him.

“What’s wrong?” James staggered over, holding one of his arms, although it wasn’t bleeding. “Oh, shit.”

“Do we pull it out or leave it in?” Rose asked, joining them beside Canary.

“I think you’re supposed to leave it in until a doctor can look at it, just in case it’s plugging up an artery or something,” Doyle answered.

“How am I supposed to get to a doctor like this?” Canary’s voice broke a little. “Are you saying I have to have this thing in my leg for a whole day?”

“Calm down,” James spoke gently, holding out his hands. They were covered in house dust like the rest of him. “Let me take a look before we go making any decisions.” He knelt down beside Canary and began inspecting the wound. He had brushed the dust off the arm he had been holding while walking, and Doyle could see a dark bruise forming there.

“You’re also bleedin’,” Rose spoke to Doyle.

“Huh?”

Rose pointed to his upper arm. When Doyle turned his head to look, he saw that she was right. He wasn’t bleeding much, but that may have only been because a nail was plugging up the hole.

“I sure hope we still got some tetanus shots back at the Box,” Rose commented. “Want me to pull it out? I’ve got a claw hammer.”

“Go for it.”

Doyle couldn’t watch as Rose gently hooked the claw end of her hammer around the nail. She didn’t give him a countdown or anything, just yanked it out with a swift tug. Doyle’s eyes rolled and he gritted his teeth, biting back the urge to cry out.

“All done,” Rose deposited the nail in Doyle’s hand. It was thankfully short, a roofing nail if Doyle wasn’t mistaken.

“I think this is better than it looks,” James pronounced of Canary’s leg.

Doyle sat down nearby, taking some water and bandages out of his pack to patch up the hole in his arm.

“Are you sure? Because it looks pretty bad,” Canary’s voice wavered.

“It’s actually fairly near the surface, not near any arteries. Should be safe to just pull it out.”

“
Should
be?” Canary questioned him.

“Would you rather keep it in until we get home tomorrow?”

Canary thought it over. “No. Do it.”

“And let’s hurry up, there’s no tellin’ what’ll be drawn here after that,” Rose gestured to the half-collapsed house.

“The rest could go any minute as well,” Doyle added.

James instructed everyone in what to do. They cleaned the wound site, the copper pipe, and prepared the medical supplies.

“I’m going to have to stitch you up,” James told Canary. “Admittedly, I’m not great at it, but I’m all you’ve got right now. I’ll do the best I can. We’ll monitor it closely on the way back, and we’ll take you straight to the doctors when we get home. Sound good?”

“Not really, but as you said, it’s all I’ve got right now.”

“Everyone else ready?” James looked at Doyle and Rose. They both nodded.

Doyle had the worst job, in his opinion. Putting on a pair of James’ gloves so that the rubber palms would give him a better grip, Doyle wrapped his hands around the protruding pipe. The far end had been crumpled and twisted into a pointed spear tip that should retract smoothly.

“When it comes to Band-Aids, do you prefer they get ripped off fast or slow?” Doyle asked Canary.

Just as she was about to answer, he jerked on the copper pipe. The sliding squish revolted him. He had heard similar sounds and felt similar sensations when dealing with the dead, but it was different knowing that Canary was alive. Rose quickly slipped her something to bite down on as a scream attempted to bubble out of her. Thankfully, the pipe came out as smoothly as they had hoped, not causing any extra damage along the way. Once it was clear of Canary’s leg, Doyle was left holding the bloody thing while James set to work. By the end, Rose was lying across Canary to pin her torso, while Doyle struggled to keep her legs still. Without any sort of topical anaesthetic, she felt every pinch and pull of James’ needle. By the time it was all over, with Canary’s leg wrapped in a clean white bandage, the plaster dust on her face had become gummy with sweat.

“You didn’t throw it away, did you?” Canary panted, looking at Doyle. The bit of wood Rose had given her to bite down on had slipped out of her mouth, now marked with clear teeth impressions.

“The pipe? No, it’s right here, why?” Doyle picked it up from beside him.

“I lost my screwdriver during the collapse. I think it would make a good replacement.” She grinned, looking a little bit insane in the process.

A moan came from somewhere other than the remaining house.

“We gotta get going,” James reminded them, stuffing the remaining medical supplies into his pack.

Doyle realized he had dropped his axe during the collapse and had been too concerned about Canary to pick it up. A flash of worry shot through him as he wondered if he had lost it like she had lost her screwdriver. Luckily, the fire axe was much bigger than a screwdriver and was easily located amongst the layering of dust.

“We’ll go around that house.” James gestured to the hole in the fence they had been heading for before all this happened as he helped Canary up onto her good leg.

Rose picked up Canary’s backpack and strapped it to her front in the reverse position of her own. Doyle took Canary from James, slinging her arm over his shoulder and taking nearly all her weight upon himself. He wished they had time to make some sort of sling for her leg, to keep it held up so that she didn’t risk putting any weight on it.

The group squeezed through the fence and then headed for the street around the far side of the next house. There was no way they could continue climbing over fences with the state Canary was in.

“Christ,” James muttered as he stepped out onto the front lawn first.

As Doyle joined him, he saw what James was worried about. Although they were lucky that the direction they wanted to go was clear, behind them was a different story. A pack of slow zombies was shuffling toward them, originally drawn by the sounds of the house and now lured by the sight of living humans.

“Even walkin’, we can outpace them. Come on.” Rose turned and trudged on, looking small beneath her load of two bags.

Without any other choice, the other three followed. Doyle kept his axe in the hand that wasn’t wrapped around Canary, while she held her bloody pipe on the other side. James soon took the lead again, rifle in hand and at the ready.

“Look, look, look!” Rose stopped, having glanced behind them.

At first Doyle didn’t understand her excitement. The zombies were still coming, passing the half-collapsed house now. Then he noticed that the house was leaning farther forward than its neighbours. With another great crack and a whoosh, the front gave out, the remaining roof sliding down into the street and ploughing into the corpses.

It was impossible not to cheer at the sight. They had finally had a bit of luck.

When the sun started setting, they located another place to spend the night. After watching the house collapse, and not up to the task of clearing a whole building, they picked a large garden shed. Once they carried out the standing racks of sports gear, the larger, outdoor kids’ toys, and the lawn mower, there was enough space for three of them to lie down comfortably while the fourth kept watch. With a flashlight and gentle fingers, James checked on Canary’s wound, changing her bandages in the process. They would be out of clean dressing soon.

“Maybe we should make you some sort of leg sling so that you don’t have to keep holding it up on your own,” Doyle suggested, remembering his earlier thought.

It was Canary who rejected the idea. “I want to be able to try hobbling on my own if something happens, and I don’t want some weird sling thing getting in the way.”

Half of their remaining supplies were eaten, the other half held back for breakfast. After that, it was get home or find a food source. Rose volunteered to take first watch, while James would cover the middle of the night, and Doyle would take the end. Canary insisted she could keep watch with a bum leg. They were just sitting inside the shed and listening to whatever was outside after all, but no one sided with her. She needed rest.

Doyle wiggled around on his bedding until he found the most comfortable position, his arm throbbing where the nail had bitten into it. Surrounded by the smell of earth, old oil, and what he took to be stagnant water from a pool in a nearby yard, he fell asleep.

By the time the others awoke and were ready to eat, Doyle was practically starving, but he had forced himself to wait. By eating at the same time, they were all likely to get hungry at the same time, making it easier to decide if and when they had to stop for food on the way. They were close though; it shouldn’t take them too much longer to reach the bridge, and then the Black Box.

After checking Canary’s wound again, they headed out, this time with James carrying the extra pack.

As they moved through the streets, they came across the occasional zombie. It was always solo, however, and slow so that Rose could easily trot up to it, bash its head in with her hammer, and then swiftly return to the little group.

“By the time we get back, you’re going to be so used to having me on your side that you’ll walk lopsided when I’m gone,” Canary teased Doyle, her voice in the usual low whisper.

“I’m worried about that side of me getting cold, it’s already used to being warmer than the right.”

“Well, I’ll still need a crutch to help me get around for a while even after the doctors see me, so maybe if you’re nice I’ll let you be the crutch.”

Doyle chuckled.

They slipped through the same gap in the fence they had when first arriving at the suburb and headed for the railway bridge. It was harder going through the trees with Canary’s injury, but it didn’t slow them down too much. Once they reached the tracks where it was open, they moved at a decent pace again.

“I gotta say, after this, I don’t think I’ll need to go outside the fences again for a long time,” Doyle commented as they walked. Canary agreed with him, but the other two gave non-committal responses. Doyle knew that Rose enjoyed the excitement, the danger, but he couldn’t be so sure about James.

At the bridge, Rose checked for danger and gave the all clear. As they headed across, Doyle wondered what had become of the zombies who had been crossing the other bridge. They had likely found the Black Box and been killed, their packs then looted for stuff.

There were no zombies the entire time they followed the tracks. It seemed to Doyle that the closer they got to the Black Box, the more relieved he felt. He was looking forward to being back inside, back where there was running water and a comfortable bed. Although his plan to get books had gone disastrously awry, it had also been a successful mission. He held onto that thought as they drew closer and closer to home.

A bullet cracked into the pavement at their feet, causing all four of them to dive for the nearest cover behind the edge of a building. They were close enough for it to have come from the Black Box. Doyle was about to yell out, to identify themselves, when James clapped his hand over Doyle’s mouth and shook his head.

What’s going on?
Canary signed, sitting on the ground against the wall, where Doyle had put her down.

James didn’t answer. He took out his binoculars and peered around the corner with them, looking for only a second before pulling back into cover.

It’s no one we know,
he signed to the little group.

Someone’s outside our fences and shooting at us?
Doyle signed back, trying to wrap his head around the idea.

James shook his head.
They’re on the inside of the fence.

Doyle replayed James’ motions through his head, making sure he had the translation right, as signing wasn’t always exact. Someone they didn’t know on the inside of the fences?

Maybe someone new joined us while we were gone,
Rose suggested, but her eyes were filled with panic.

James shook his head again.
We wouldn’t have someone that new guarding the fences.

So what are you saying?
Canary signed quickly, swatting James’ leg to make sure he was looking right at her.

I don’t think we have control of the Black Box anymore.