Defensive Instinct (Survival Instinct Book 4) (33 page)

That night, the dinner table was crowded. Claire had offered her bed to Brunt and Cameron, volunteering to sleep on the couch. She and Dakota did most of the talking throughout the meal, neither of them having seen the other in quite some time. Hope was there, looking brighter than earlier, but remaining quieter than normal. Her mom had woken up and spoken with those present, but she was very tired. She drifted in and out, making it hard to hold a dialog with her. Hope had wanted to stay with her mom, but both Cameron and Riley double-teamed her, insisting that spending the night here was better. Josh had promised to remain in the medical centre and watch over Riley, who had been moved out of the operating room and into a proper recovery room. Hopefully, she’d be able to leave the medical centre tomorrow or maybe the day after, provided there weren’t any post-op problems.

“Are you sure you’re okay on the floor?” Cameron spoke at the door where Peter, Hope, and Dakota were all spending the night. “You can share with me and Brunt can take the floor.”

“No, I’m fine,” Dakota responded, a slight whine and huff in her voice conveying her annoyance with the question.

“Hope, are you all right?” Cameron asked next.

Abby wasn’t close enough to hear the quiet reply, but assumed it was in the affirmative as Cameron backed out of the room and closed the door. Abby and Lauren had both already said their goodnights to Peter. They were lucky with him. He wasn’t like other boys, and didn’t get embarrassed kissing his mom's on the cheek at night, or getting kisses in return. Abby was just waiting for him to reach his teenage years and become a hellish nightmare, expecting puberty to change everything.

“You all settled?” Abby asked Claire as the young woman shifted around on the couch, getting her pillows exactly how she wanted them.

“I’m cool. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Claire. Goodnight, Cameron.”

“See you in the morning.” Cameron disappeared into Claire’s room while Abby shut the door to her own.

“I am wiped,” Lauren sighed as Abby changed into her pyjamas.

“Tomorrow we should get back to typing,” Abby suggested. She then kneeled down beside the bed to say her nightly prayers. Along with a few specifics, mostly for Riley on this night, Abby always prayed for luck. It was the most important thing to have these days.

After she crawled into bed, Lauren snuggled up beside her. “Your hands are cold,” she whispered in the dark.

Abby deliberately tucked them under the hem of Lauren’s shirt, pressing them against her soft skin. Lauren squeaked and swatted at her.

“I’ll remember this next time my feet are freezing,” she teased.

Nestled together in the warmth of their bed, the two women fell asleep. It wasn’t long before they were woken again by the ugly blaring of sirens.

Abby’s body reacted before her mind was even awake and aware. In a tangling of limbs, she flailed against Lauren, who was equally confused, finally falling out of the side of the bed and onto the floor. Everything was red, a small yet bright emergency light above the door having flickered to life. The repeating, high-pitched chirp of the alarm was like having ice picks periodically thrust into her ear canals. Abby scrambled around on the carpet for a moment before finally getting her legs under her and standing.

“Are you all right?” Lauren asked, already up and jamming on a pair of shoes.

Abby nodded as she located her boots first, not bothering to tie them on as she followed Lauren out into the living room. The alarm was slightly quieter here in the larger space, but more lights made the room equally red.

“Is it a fire?” Claire asked loudly over the sound. She was ready to go, wearing her boots and jacket, weapons in hand.

Abby and Lauren both shook their heads. Without an announcement, they had no idea what was happening. Lauren moved to the cupboards where go-bags were kept, while Abby went to the kids’ room. Within, the kids were already getting their shoes on, their faces frightened but determined. The last time an alarm like this had gone off around them, they ended up trapped in a room by fire. Mathias had rescued them, but lost his life in the end. Abby always felt a degree of responsibility as she remembered the incident. She had been guiding Hope, Peter, and Claire to the evacuation point, when Claire’s hand slipped free of Peter’s and they became separated. In the mob, Abby hadn’t been able to spot the kids, the press of bodies eventually forcing her forward, and prayed that they would have to follow as well. Somehow, Dakota had found them, and the kids ended up back in the room in which they had spent the night. They were lucky to have survived.

“Is it a fire?” Hope mirrored Claire’s words, her voice far more shaky.

“I don’t think so,” Abby told her in hopes it would calm her. “Are you ready to go?”

“In a minute.” Dakota was sitting on the floor, pulling on a pair of pants beneath her nightgown, the task made more difficult because she had put on her shoes first. As she got up, she grabbed her hat and jammed it onto her head. “Okay, let’s go.”

Back out in the living room, Brunt and Cameron were fully dressed, their packs on their backs. Brunt held a rifle in his hands.

“We have to get my mom,” Hope spoke to Cameron.

“She’s in the medical centre, too far for us, but others will help her. Remember, Uncle Josh is down there with her. He won’t let anything happen to your mom. Grab your bag.”

Lauren passed packs to Abby, Claire, and Peter, all of them quickly sliding into the straps. Abby dashed back into her bedroom, quickly returning with a pair of belts, each of them holding a holstered pistol and a knife, which she and Lauren strapped on over their PJs.

“Peter, take this.” Lauren handed the boy a cleaver from the kitchen. He had been taught all about guns and knives, including how to use them, but hadn’t yet started carrying a blade around.

Dakota had donned a belt similar to Lauren and Abby’s except the gun was a slingshot. She put on the pack Cameron handed her, as Hope filled her arms lifting Riley’s bag.

“Hand that here, sweetheart,” Brunt told her, taking the pack from Hope. He slipped his arms through the straps in a reverse fashion so that he wore it against his belly. “You have a weapon?”

Hope nodded, briefly taking off her pack to pull out a rather large hunting knife. She also jammed a slingshot into the waistband of her pyjama pants, not owning a belt like Dakota’s.

“Let’s go.” Cameron moved toward the door.

Everyone buddied up, knowing all too well how easy it was to get separated from a larger group. They also kept one hand free for their weapons. Lauren clasped hands with Claire, Brunt with Dakota, Cameron with Hope, and Abby with Peter. Lauren and Claire volunteered to bring up the rear, which meant Abby had to lead the way, knowing the Black Box layout better than anyone. With her hand clamped firmly over Peter’s—the boy not complaining even though it was probably hard enough to hurt—Abby stepped out into the hallway.

All along the length of the corridor, doors were opening as sleepy-eyed residents emerged. Nearly all of them had weapons, go-bags, and nervous postures. Abby followed those who had already begun to move, keeping Peter close by her side. The red lights of the hallway weren’t as ominous, diffused by the regular ceiling lights that were still on. The strength of the siren waxed and waned as Abby headed for the stairs, passing the speakers that were screaming the high-pitched sound at them.

“Stop! Stop!” someone started shouting as Abby approached the stairwell.

She was jostled as a man pushed through the crowd. He reached the door to the stairwell and threw himself across it, not letting anyone else pass. A ripple of concern and confusion moved through the evacuees.

“Don’t go outside!” the man yelled to be heard over the siren.

It took a moment for Abby to recognize him given the odd lighting and stressed expression. She didn’t know much about him other than that his name was Thomas and he worked helping Crichton organize things.

It seemed Cameron knew him, however, as she wormed her way next to Abby, Hope in tow, and called to him. “Thomas, what’s going on?”

“We’re under attack!” he informed them.

“Is it the people who were attacking the container yard?”

“The yard is being attacked?” Abby was just able to hear Hope’s worried question over the din. It seemed that if Dakota knew, she hadn’t told her friend.

“We don’t know who it is, but they’re attacking from both sides! Everyone needs to get back to their room and wait for instructions!”

“What do you mean ‘both sides’?” a member of the gathering called out.

“They got into the basement somehow! Now hurry up and get back to your apartments before they show up here and find us all standing around with our thumbs up our asses!”

The crowd was slow to turn, word having to be passed back, but they did turn. When a gunshot rang out from the stairwell, it spurred them on much faster. People began pushing and Abby found herself both grateful and terrified to be near the rear of the mob.

The stairwell door opened with a squall. Abby glanced over her shoulder just in time to see Thomas take a gun butt to the face by a foul-looking man, but then Abby rounded a corner and they disappeared from sight.

“Peter, run!” Abby shouted to him, releasing his hand. The boy would be able to slip through the crowd faster on his own, to get away from the rear. He hesitated briefly, so Abby pushed him forward, shoving him between two adults ahead of them. She didn’t know where the others were in the crowd.

Heavy footsteps came pounding down the hall behind Abby. Had the siren not cut out at that moment, she might not have heard them. Turning on her heel, she raised her knife and attempted to draw her pistol at the same time. The man was too close, too fast. His rifle butt lashed out, striking Abby’s hand and knocking the gun free. She stepped closer to him, slashing with the knife, but he backed up just enough so that she caught nothing but T-shirt. Abby pressed forward, her blade flashing in the air, forcing the strange man to keep retreating. She cut him a few times, but nothing serious, just a few grazes that weren’t much more than scratches. He smelled repulsive, like one of the rotting corpses outside, but Abby wouldn’t back away. She was giving the others, the kids, more time to escape, to get behind secure doors.

From the corner of her vision, Jo appeared, watching as she fought with the man.

“Jo! Get out of here!” Abby yelled, never taking her eyes off the man she was assailing.

A blunt object connected with the back of her knee, causing Abby to stagger. The man took the opportunity to back away several steps, giving him a chance to gather himself. As Abby bumped into the wall, she turned to see what had happened. Jo was standing there, his small muscles rigid. He looked ready to attack Abby. To attack Abby again, as he had already kicked the back of her knee.

The reeking assailant came for Abby again, swinging his rifle butt at her like a baseball bat. She ducked just in time, but now it was his turn to press in on her. Abby found herself scrambling backward, dodging the swinging rifle. A blow crunched into her shoulder and she cried out, but continued backward, glad that the other end of the gun wasn’t being used for whatever reason.

With a lucky shot, Abby managed to throw her foot up between the man’s legs. It wasn’t a solid connection, but it was enough for him to stumble back in pain. The kick also threw Abby off balance, causing her to spin in an attempt to catch herself. She saw her pistol lying against a floorboard nearby. She was going to dive for it, when a hand grabbed her pack and yanked her backward. The force was enough to lift her off her feet, but she kept them under her, even as she was swung and thrown into the wall.

“You bitch!” the stinking man screamed as he hurled a punch toward Abby’s face.

Abby got her knife up and managed to give him a fairly good gash near his elbow, weakening the blow before it struck her. Pain flared out from her cheekbone, spreading across her face. She ignored it, realizing that the man who had attacked her had backed away in his own pain. Abby fled down the hall, understanding that if the fight continued, she would lose. She almost made it back to the stairwell when a heavy weight struck her back, knocking her down, her head bouncing painfully off the floor as her knife skittered away. She flailed as she attempted to right herself, the weight fighting back. Eventually, after wriggling out of her pack and rolling to her back, she was able to make out that it was Jo who had tackled her. The boy kept trying to pin her limbs, but Abby was stronger. She managed to get her knee up against Jo’s chest, then extend her leg, kicking him up and over her head. She rolled back onto her stomach, prepared to push up onto her feet, when a much heavier weight flattened her, a familiar smell letting her know who it was.

“Goddamn, cunt,” the man’s breath huffed in her ear.

“Don’t kill her,” a calm, unfamiliar voice spoke from the direction of the stairwell door.

“She didn’t cut you and kick you in the balls!” the man on top of Abby shouted, finally managing to grab her arms and secure them against her back with his weight.

“You would have done the same in her position,” the calm voice told him.

Abby twisted to see who was talking, but the man was deceptively ordinary, possessing a face devoid of readable expressions.

“Put her with the others we managed to grab,” the mystery man continued.

As Abby felt herself get roughly bound, she hoped that the kids had made it back to the apartment, that they would be all right.