Survival Instinct (Book 3): Fighting Instinct Read online

  “Hey,” Jon whispered again, this time shaking his shoulder gently, “how did you infect me?”

  “Not bit,” the man replied with a shake of his head.

  “Yeah, I know that part. It’s all you say. I’m not bit, you’re not bit, no one is fucking bit.”

  “Exactly,” the man nodded. He had finally said something different. Just then, he noticed his own lunch. With growing eyes, he stood up and shuffled toward it, but was stopped just short by the chain around his ankle. While the man was sleeping, Jon had taken his lunch and put it just out of reach on his side of the statue. The man made a pathetic sound of distress as he reached for it.

  “I’ll get you the food when you start giving me answers,” Jon told him.

  The man continued to reach for a moment longer, but eventually realized it was futile and sat down. Jon knew that what he was doing was cruel, but he had to have answers. His life could very well depend upon it.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Yanis.”

  “Nice to meet you, Yanis. I’m Jon.” Jon got up and grabbed the plate of food. Yanis kept his eyes locked on it.

  “I’m so hungry,” he said.

  “I know. Just tell me how you infected me first.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What do you mean, you don’t know?”

  “Just that. I don’t know how I got infected. I don’t know how anyone on the ship got infected.”

  Jon paused a moment, then handed him the plate. Yanis went at it with a will.

  “Is that what you meant when you kept saying ‘not bit’? That no one on the ship had been bitten?”

  “Yes,” Yanis confirmed between mouthfuls.

  “Tell me what happened.”

  “We had a camp in Florida, a big one,” Yanis talked around his food. “Ate a lot of gators. We were attacked by some people. They had a big pack of zombies following behind them. We were driven to the beaches. I think we were near Miami. Ever seen it? Beautiful buildings. There was a ship in the water. Big ship. Cruise ship. Don’t know why it had been abandoned, but a bunch of lifeboats were up on the sand. We took them to the cruise ship, all of us. We had to abandon the lifeboats, because we didn’t know how to get them back on the ship. The thing was empty. No food, no weapons, there was only what we brought. Maybe whoever had it before us, decided they didn’t like life on the seas. We decided to go to South America, although we weren’t very good sailors. Over a week passed, and nobody turned. There was no zombie infection on board.”

  Here, Yanis paused, staring intently at his nearly empty plate.

  “What happened then?” Jon prompted him.

  “My wife got sick. Very sick.”

  “Was she infected?”

  “With zombie? No. She was starving. There was a little girl. My wife kept giving her own food to her. There wasn’t enough for anyone to eat properly, you see. So, my wife starved herself until she got sick. Other people were sick too. Some got the flu, others were terribly seasick. I don’t know what they all had, but there were a lot of sick people. Anyway, my wife died.”

  Yanis started eating again, finishing off the last of his meal. Jon felt a twang of guilt for holding the food back from him, and now wished he had saved some of his for the man.

  “What happened after she died?”

  “She came back. Lots of people died, and they all came back.” Yanis set his now empty plate to one side. “No one was infected, and yet they all came back. Then some people were bitten. Lots were bitten. I hid. Then you came.”

  “So, people who died without being infected, came back as zombies?”

  “Yes.”

  “How?” Jon had meant it as a rhetorical question, but Yanis answered anyway.

  “I don’t know. Maybe it was on the ship. Maybe that’s why the people before us left it behind. I don’t know. Maybe we already had it and brought it with us. Now you have it.”

  Jon shifted uncomfortably on the bench. “So, you’re saying that if I die, no matter how I die, I’m going to become one of those things?”

  “You’d probably be safe shooting yourself in the head.” Yanis lay down on his bench again. “I’m tired. Wake me if more food comes.”

  Jon stood back up and began pacing once more. Was it possible? Did he have some new kind of infection? If he did, how did he get it? Did he get if from Yanis? Or from the other ship?

  Most importantly, had he passed it on to anyone else?

  As tempting as it was to call the guards and tell them everything he had just learned, he kept silent. He knew they wouldn’t believe him. All day he had been telling anyone who would listen that he wasn’t infected. They would just think he was making up some story.

  Movement to his left drew his attention away from his thoughts. It was the strange woman. She was watching him intently from the shadows.

  “I won’t hurt you,” he told her.

  She came forward and held an open notebook in the light. Jon had to move closer to read the words, but kept his distance as much as he could. He didn’t know if this woman was dangerous.

  On the notebook page, were written the words, Why are you chained?

  “They tested my blood today and found I was infected,” Jon told her.

  The woman snapped her teeth, then raised her eyebrows as if questioning.

  “Yes, that kind of infection,” Jon guessed at what she was asking. “Are you mute?”

  The woman nodded.

  “Do you know sign language? I understand most of it, my girlfriend taught me.” Robin wasn’t really his girlfriend, not right now, but Jon found himself wishing she was. He wanted to see her.

  The woman shook her head.

  “Maybe one day I can teach you. Or Robin can, she’d be better at it. What’s your name?”

  The woman flipped to another page in the notebook and held it out. Freya had already been written on it. She then pointed to Yanis and snapped her teeth while raising her eyebrows again.

  “Yes, he tested positive for infection as well. Although, I don’t think we’re infected. At least, not with the usual kind.”

  Freya gave him a confused look. She didn’t know sign language, but she had clearly learned to exaggerate her facial expressions to help get her thoughts across.

  “It’s a long story,” Jon sighed and returned once more to his bench.

  Freya followed him and sat down on the bench next to him.

  “I just told you I’m infected, and you’re not afraid?”

  She made a strange wheezing sound that Jon took for laughter. Writing something new in her notebook, she handed it to him to read. You haven’t changed yet, and if you do, I’ll just kill you.

  Jon raised his eyebrows. “You certainly have a lot of confidence in yourself.”

  Freya gave him a quick smile. Several minutes of silence passed between them.

  “So why are you sitting here with me?” Jon finally asked.

  Freya frowned, then wrote in her book I do not like the other men down here.

  “Okay. Why do you like me, then?”

  Because you are in chains.

  Jon didn’t ask what that meant. He wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to know the answer. As an off-shipper, he had seen more groups of survivors than most other people on the Diana. Some were friendly and willing to trade, but others… Humans could be very cruel to one another, and now that there was no law enforcement, several had given in to their more primal instincts.

  Where are you people from?

  “Canada, mostly. We’ve picked up some people here and there, like you, but the majority of us are Canadian.” Jon didn’t want to say where in Canada. Sure, there were a bunch of folks from Halifax, and Toronto, but the highest percentage were from Leighton. Early on, the people on the Diana learned that other survivors didn’t take too kindly to folks from Leighton. Jon couldn’t blame them either. It was the city that had caused this to happen, after all.

  Is it nice there?

  “S
ure. Although, right now, it’s probably not. Winter can get real cold, especially in February. It’s why we’re down here, where it’s warmer.”

  Freya didn’t ask any more questions. She just looked at a fixed point with a completely neutral expression. Jon wondered what she was thinking about. He could read her writing just fine; the problem was there was a lack of emotion in it. She held no expression while writing, or while handing him the notebook.

  The PA crackled, heralding an announcement. It was Captain Sigvard, as it almost always was. This time, he was telling people to keep an eye out for four children who had wandered out of school. Jon recognized the names as Peter’s friends, and groaned internally. Sigvard then announced a ship wide meeting that was to take place in thirty minutes. Everyone was to attend, save a special few who had already been informed of the news and would remain on ship defence duty.

  “Hey!” one of the other imprisoned men called up to the guards above. “He said everyone. Does that include us?”

  One of the guards descended the staircase, using a flashlight to pick out the speaker. “It does. However, you’re all to be handcuffed, and will be brought back here after the meeting. Please line up and don’t cause a fuss, or else, you’ll be kept down here longer.”

  The other detainees did as they were told, including Freya. Jon noticed that no one was coming over to take the leg irons off him or Yanis.

  “Hey, what about us?” he asked.

  “You’re to remain here,” the guard told him. He wouldn’t even look at Jon. They treated him as if he had died already.

  “Will you at least tell me what the meeting was about when you get back?”

  The guard didn’t answer him; however, Freya looked him in the eye and nodded. She’d let him know what was going on. As soon as the other detainees were handcuffed and tied together at the waist, the guard led them up the stairs where they were joined by the other guards. The whole procession left the Dragon’s Den.

  “Hello?” Jon called up. “Is anyone still up there?”

  There was no response. Jon and Yanis had been left alone in the Den. Something about that didn’t feel right. Surely, they would have left at least one person on duty. Surely, someone would have stayed, especially if they believed that Jon and Yanis were infected. They’d have someone watching them, keeping an eye out for when they turned. Something wasn’t right about them being left alone, and Jon couldn’t figure out why they would do it.

  ***

  “So, you think you can stay on the Diana while infected, huh?” a man’s voice called from above. It had been a few minutes since everyone else had left and Jon realized he was alone.

  Jon stood rigidly, unsure exactly where the voice was coming from, or who had spoken.

  “You think you can endanger all of us like this?” the voice continued to speak.

  Suddenly, Jon understood. The guards had left him and Yanis alone on purpose. They weren’t just there to take the two of them out if they turned; they were also supposed to protect them from people who wanted to kill them earlier. Instead, it seemed the guards didn’t like keeping Jon and Yanis alive long enough for them to turn. Maybe they didn’t like giving food to dead men. It may have even just been a mistake, but whatever the reason, it sounded like someone was using this opportunity.

  Jon quickly assessed his situation. He was to one side of the opening above the dance floor, chained to a statue. His would-be assailant was above him somewhere, circling the opening, judging by the sounds of his voice. Jon was exposed where he was, but considering that he couldn’t see the man, he didn’t think the man could see him. At least not at the moment. Moving slowly so as not to rattle his chain, he slid into the darkness next to the dance floor. There were a few more open areas surrounding the dance floor, including a kind of hall behind the wall he was against. He slipped around the corner into the hall, nearly at the limit of his chain. Peering around the corner, he watched for the man above.

  “What are you doing?” Jon asked in a calm voice. “You know you’re breaking our laws right now, right?”

  “Killing zombies? I don’t think there’s any law against that.” Based on his voice, the man was directly above Jon.

  “I’m not a zombie.”

  “No, but you will be. That bag of bones, too.”

  “You can’t kill me until I turn. If, I even turn that is.” Jon needed time to think up a plan. He had extremely limited options.

  “You’ll turn soon enough, and I’m not going to wait until you’re dangerous.” He was moving clockwise around the opening.

  “Do you know what the punishment for murder is? You get chained up down here until we’re near land. Then we drop you off there with no food and no water.”

  “It won’t be murder though. Like I said, I’m just killing zombies. There’s no one else up here. Who’s to say you didn’t turn before I shot you?”

  The man suddenly appeared at the railing, holding a massive compound bow. He fired off a shot that thumped into the dragon statue’s head. The statue was actually made of a heavy duty plastic instead of cement, but it was still secure enough to keep Jon in place. Jon hid back behind the wall quickly. He had only gotten a brief look at his assailant’s face, but he didn’t recognize the man at all. He probably wouldn’t be able to appeal to his human side.

  “Waas happenin’?” Yanis had been awakened by the arrow hitting the statue.

  “Your execution.” The bow was fired again, and Yanis screamed.

  Jon peeked around the corner. Yanis had rolled off his bench and now lay on his side, an arrow sticking out of his belly. He made animalistic sounds of pain, as he sucked in huge gulps of air. Yanis wrapped his hands around the arrow’s shaft but he didn’t try to pull it out. He was bleeding everywhere.

  “Whoops, missed the headshot,” the man above laughed.

  Jon felt the fire of hatred burn in his stomach.

  “Well, maybe I’ll just wait until bag of bones there is actually a zombie. It shouldn’t take long.”

  Jon was trapped between a rock and a hard place. If he tried to help Yanis, he’d be shot the moment he left cover. If he didn’t help Yanis, he’d have a zombie to deal with. Looking around himself again, Jon once more confirmed that there was nothing that could be used as a weapon. He couldn’t even dash across to another wall to hide behind because his chain wasn’t long enough. This one spot was it. All he could do for the moment was stand still and listen to the sounds of Yanis dying.

  It didn’t take long.

  In the silence between Yanis’s death and his resurrection, the man above began to whistle. He whistled an eerily chipper tune that echoed throughout the empty Den. He stopped when the first groan rattled its way out of Yanis’s now deceased throat.

  “Here we go!” the man called out.

  Jon listened as the chain around Yanis’s ankle rattled across the floor. Maybe if he didn’t move, if he stayed completely silent, Yanis wouldn’t find him.

  An arrow ripped past his position, crashing into the far wall, only to ricochet off and clatter along the floor. A loud moan came from Yanis, and his chain rattled some more. He was coming toward Jon’s hiding spot. Jon looked at the arrow that had gone past him, but it had bounced out of his reach. Maybe that was a good thing. Yanis would head toward it, not necessarily toward Jon. It would give him the advantage of surprise, as much as a zombie could be surprised.

  The arrow sticking out of Yanis’s belly became visible first. It gave Jon an idea. As soon as Yanis took another step closer, Jon swiftly reached out, grabbed the arrow, and yanked it out of the zombie’s stomach. He had no idea if Yanis was a fast or smart zombie, but he had to take the chance. Odds were, he was a slow one, as most zombies were.

  Yanis turned, stretching his jaws wide as he fell toward Jon. Jon had already taken the only step back he could, and now lunged forward with the arrow gripped tightly in both hands.

  He missed.

  The arrow just missed the eye socket, hitting the
hard ridge of bone above it. Yanis’s jaws snapped a hair’s breadth away from the underside of Jon’s arm. Jon held tight to the arrow with one hand, while his other grabbed Yanis’s thinning hair. He yanked the zombie’s head backward, as its jaws snapped rapid fire, trying to rip out his inner arm. Jon was forced to let go when Yanis’s hair ripped out. He quickly swung his arm away, Yanis’s jaws following after it like a dog following a bone. Screaming, Jon thrust with the arrow again, this time aiming for the muscles in Yanis’s neck. His aim was true, but the muscles weren’t cut by a single piercing.

  Jon lashed out with his leg, kicking Yanis over and pulling the arrow back out in one move. As Yanis started to get back up, raising his head first, Jon flicked his shackled leg, wrapping his chain around the dead man’s neck. He then pulled his leg as far as possible, tightening the coils. Yanis flailed on the floor, trying to both get up and grab Jon at the same time, but failing at both. Jon stomped on Yanis’s chest with his unchained foot, holding him down. Yanis clawed at his leg, but his nails were short, and Jon’s pants were tough. Risking his balance, Jon continued to pull the chain as tightly as possible. He then bent down, arrow in hand, and began stabbing at the exposed throat between the coils. As the flesh gave way, the chain tightened and dug in further. Jon was screaming again, so much so that it hurt his own throat. He didn’t stop until the chain ripped all the way down to Yanis’s neck bones. With a few more jabs, Jon severed the nerves. Although Yanis continued to snap his jaws, the zombie could no longer move its body.

  Exhausted, but knowing his ordeal wasn’t over yet, Jon carefully separated the head and neck. Yanis was now what the off-shippers called a bear trap zombie: one that was incapacitated, but could still bite. He might be useful.

  Breaking the arrow in half, Jon created a point thin enough to fit into the lock around his ankle. Picking all sorts of locks with limited tools was something that all off-shippers were taught, and something they practised regularly. This one would be tricky, especially with all the blood congealing on Jon’s shaking hands. His system was flooded with adrenaline, making finer work difficult.

  “Wow, Jon! I’m impressed. You took him down all by yourself. Tell me, did you use your teeth? Did I miss a zombie on zombie fight?” the man spoke from above.