Survival Instinct (Book 3): Fighting Instinct Read online

  Sometimes a statement was made that caused an argument or debate, but it never lasted. It seemed the men in charge had already discussed most things, and although not everyone was going to be happy, the decision had been made. Freya had no opinion on the decision to go to land, for she had no idea what life upon the sea had been like for these people. However, by listening, it seemed the largest concern was radiation. They hadn’t had any solid contact with America in a long time, and couldn’t be sure if what they had heard about controlled self-destruction burying the nuclear material had really happened. Based on the questions, radiation was a problem they had encountered before. Sadly, the only way to find out was to go there.

  The meeting was long as no question was going unanswered, but eventually they ran out. Freya sat with the other prisoners and their guards, watching as the rest of the gathering slowly departed up the aisles. She watched their faces as they went. Some were happy about the decision, some were angry, some were upset to tears, but most appeared undecided. There were a lot of brows pulled together in thought.

  Once the general crowd had departed, Freya and the other prisoners were ordered onto their feet. They made their way to the aisle and headed back out the main entrance. There wasn’t a great distance between the auditorium and the dungeon. All they did was climb one set of stairs just outside the large space, and then it was the first door on the right. Still, Freya studied what she could in between. The stairs had an open back, and she could see that the lower section of the dungeon was beyond them. Two blocked off doors were to the left and right of the opening that the stairs passed over. Freya had already investigated those doors from the inside. Directly beneath the steps, she could see a hallway, but not the rooms to which they led. A man was walking a cow down the hallway. The cow was bony, and underfed.

  At the top of the steps, across from the dungeon, was a nautical themed area labelled as the Champagne Bar. Freya bet it had been a long time since champagne was served there. Now it was being used as a place to dry certain plants and animal skins.

  “Keep them out here!”

  Freya was instantly on the alert as a man came rushing out of the dungeon.

  “What’s going on?” the guard who led the prisoners asked.

  The man who came out of the dungeon looked at the line of people. His face was terribly pale, like a man who had seen a ghost. Freya suspected that maybe that wasn’t far from the truth.

  “It’s… Well…” The man clearly didn’t want to say. Maybe he didn’t want to frighten anyone within hearing distance. “Just take them somewhere else.”

  “Like where?”

  “I don’t know!” When he shouted, people within the drying area looked up. The man’s ashen skin suddenly flushed a bright red and he lowered his voice. “Take them to the Lily Lounge. Tell everyone in there it’s temporarily closed while this problem is resolved.”

  “They’re not going to be happy about it.”

  “Well, bully for them. Just do it.” The man turned on his heel and ran back into the dungeon.

  “All right,” their guard turned to the prisoners with a sigh. “You heard the man. We’re going up to the Lily Lounge. Don’t get too comfortable up there, you’re still going to serve out the full term of your sentences, and as soon as we can, we’re moving you back into the Den. Let’s go.”

  Freya studied the route there, also a short one, just up a few flights of stairs. Back before the zombies, it had been Freya’s job to entertain and inform tourists who were visiting Jamaica, many of whom travelled there on cruise ships. Despite this, she had never been on a cruise ship herself. Back then, she probably would have been amazed by the ship’s grandeur, but now she just saw everything as tacky and pointless. Like the fake jade Chinese lion statues outside the cutesy named Lily Lounge. The people living on this ship seemed to have modified everything for different purposes, but Freya wished they had removed the junk in the process.

  Inside the Lily Lounge, Freya saw several people sitting around tables playing games and chatting. It seemed the lounge was still a lounge. When the prisoners were walked in, a silence fell over the room.

  “Hate to break it to you folks, but we need to commandeer this room,” the lead guard announced.

  He got several loud groans in response.

  “Sorry folks, take it up with your superiors if you don’t like it, I’m just doing my job. You’re welcome to stay, but these are prisoners behind me, and I don’t think they’d be much fun.”

  The room’s occupants rose from their seats and began to depart. The lead guard thanked a few of them for understanding, and took verbal abuse from a few who didn’t. Once the room was empty, the prisoners were clumped together in a corner, while the rear guard cleared out a lot of games and folding tables and chairs from the middle of the room. The space looked like some sort of dance floor, and Freya couldn’t help but wonder why the prisoners were always being kept in places where people used to dance. As the space was cleared, the prisoners were walked to the open area and told to sit down anywhere on the floor. Although the handcuffs remained on, the rope that tied all the prisoners together was removed. The guards then stationed themselves at various points around the prisoners, the lead guard sitting on a chair up on a small stage.

  Freya was glad to be freed from the other prisoners. She didn’t like them. New to the ship, she had no way of knowing what they had done to become incarcerated. Thankfully, they seemed equally wary of her, and were fine with keeping a distance between them.

  Once again, Freya studied where all the exits were in this new room. She told herself that she should stop being so defensive. So far, the people aboard this ship had given her no reason to mistrust them. Still, she felt that something bad was going to happen. Something she needed to be ready for.

  ***

  It took longer than she thought it would, but eventually someone came for Freya.

  “Commander Crichton would like to speak to her,” the man who showed up spoke to the guards.

  The lead guard gestured for Freya to get up and go with this new man.

  “You can take the handcuffs off her. I’m sure there won’t be a problem that requires them.”

  The guard nearest to Freya removed her cuffs. She rubbed her wrists a bit, but they didn’t hurt. The cuffs hadn’t been very tight. She then walked over to the new man, and followed him out of the Lily Lounge.

  “I’m Mathias Cole, by the way.” He turned around, offering a hand to shake. “And you’re Freya? I heard that you can’t speak.”

  Freya nodded while briefly shaking his hand. She had a sudden thought and pulled out her notepad.

  Was your child one of the missing? Cole?

  Mathias looked at what she had written and nodded. “Yeah, Hope. I still haven’t had a chance to talk to her and find out what happened, but she’s with her mom now.”

  While waiting for someone to come get her, Freya had heard the announcement informing everyone that the four missing kids had been found. Having had first-hand experience with wild children, Freya didn’t much care for a bunch of them running around free. She figured these kids were better behaved than the ones she knew, but they still made her tense.

  While walking, Freya studied the man with her as well as her surroundings. This Mathias was a lot more open than the guards were. Those men had been unreadable, but this one was very different. She could tell that he was exhausted. Maybe it was just because his kid had been missing, but Freya didn’t think so. He had the bone weary look of a man who’s done more than he should. She suspected he was going to collapse if he didn’t get some sleep. Not now, but soon.

  Mathias led Freya toward the ship’s bridge. They stopped before entering it, however, and went into a room to one side. Two men sat at a table within the room. One was the submarine captain she had met earlier, Captain Bronislav, and the other was one of the men on stage that she didn’t know. She suspected that this was Commander Crichton, and he confirmed it by introducing himsel
f and offering her a seat.

  “Cole, you look terrible,” Crichton commented.

  Mathias simply shrugged.

  “I heard they found your daughter. Why don’t you go see her? In fact, take the whole night off. You look like you could use it.”

  Mathias frowned. “Are you sure that’s wise, sir? What with our departure soon, people are going to want our routines to stay the same. I’m not even sure I could find someone to take my place on such short notice.”

  “All the off-shippers will be staying on board, so James Brenner can take your place. When’s the last time you slept? Over twenty-four hours I’m betting. Go lie down before you fall down. That’s an order.”

  “Yes, sir.” Mathias nodded curtly and left the room. Freya had a feeling he wasn’t going to go to sleep just yet.

  “So, Freya,” Crichton turned his attention to her, “do you know why Captain Bronislav and I asked you here?”

  Freya nodded.

  “Excellent. What can you tell us about Sher?”

  Freya wrote in her notebook, what do you want to know?

  “For starters, how many fighters does he have?”

  Freya had to think that over. There were the men around the camp, but she knew that they weren’t the only ones. It was hard to keep track of how many people could be in the other camps, but based on their comings and goings, she could guess.

  Using her hands, Freya indicated two hundred. She had to do the motion twice, before Bronislav figured it out.

  “Two hundred fighters? You’re sure?” the submarine captain frowned, deeply crinkling his forehead.

  Freya didn’t respond to his question. She wasn’t positive, but it was the best estimate she could come up with.

  “What about boats? What kinds of boats does he have?” Crichton continued.

  Freya shrugged.

  “You don’t know?”

  She shook her head. Picking up her notebook, she explained that she was familiar with only one area where Sher kept his boats. It harboured mostly the smaller boats like the one in which she had arrived. Sher didn’t keep all of his boats in one place, and the only reason Freya knew there were more was because they occasionally drove past the beach.

  Crichton handed her a fresh sheet of paper. “Write down the numbers and types you know about on here.”

  Freya did.

  “What would happen if we killed this man named Sher?” Bronislav asked. “Would it be like cutting the head off a snake? Would we kill the body?”

  Freya shrugged again. When it looked like they wanted more information, she began writing once more.

  Maybe. Some are loyal dogs and would hunt you down. Others wouldn’t care. Depends on who takes over after him.

  “So there’s no set chain of command.” This wasn’t a question, but a statement; one spoken with interest. “Tell me, who’s in charge while Sher is out here?”

  Freya shrugged and wrote, Lieutenants.

  “Why would Sher leave them in charge to come after you?” Bronislav asked.

  Freya gave no answer. She knew of course, but it wasn’t something that they needed to know.

  “Is there anything you can tell us about the man who is with Sher? I believe his name is Bob?” Crichton moved on.

  Freya nodded then wrote one word: Brute.

  “So he’s the muscle. Is he intelligent?”

  Freya seesawed her hand. Bob wasn’t the brightest bulb in the pack, but he wasn’t stupid.

  Bronislav suddenly rose from his seat and peered out through the curtains. “We have begun to move,” he stated.

  Freya shifted in her seat slightly. She hadn’t felt anything, which was a touch unnerving if Bronislav was telling the truth. There was no reason to think he wasn’t.

  “How long do you think it will take Sher’s men to reach us?” Crichton asked.

  Midnight, for the fast boats. Depends on how fast you’re moving. Took me all night and most of the morning.

  Crichton nodded. “And ammunition? How much ammo does he and his men have?”

  This time Freya shook her head, shrugged, and raised her hands, palms up. She had absolutely no idea how many bullets Sher had access to. Extra guns were kept as far away from people like Freya as possible

  “That’s all for now. We’re not going to return you to the prisoner’s holding, if that’s all right. We’d like to give you your own room, where we can find you if we have further questions. You’ll be confined to the room, but there’ll be a bed and running water.”

  Freya nodded. It sounded good to her. She couldn’t remember the last time she had slept in a real bed, or had running water. Just using a toilet sounded fabulous.

  As Crichton and Bronislav began to rise from their chairs, Freya held up one finger, asking them to pause a moment. She wrote on a fresh page of her notebook.

  Are you going to kill Sher?

  “If we have to, we will,” Crichton answered.

  If you do, I want to be there.

  “I’m not sure that would be a good idea.”

  Freya simply looked him in the eyes, exerting as much of her will through her own as she could.

  “I’ll consider it,” Crichton told her.

  Freya got up from her seat, knowing that was the best she was going to get from this man. The two ship leaders walked her outside, where another guard was waiting to take her to her own room.

  The room wasn’t far, just off a neighbouring hallway, and it had no windows. Upon entering the room, she closed and locked the door, grateful to be alone. Completely alone, where she didn’t have to see anyone unless she opened the door for them.

  It was a little unsettling having only one entrance to the room, but there was nothing Freya could do about that. She explored the small space, testing the bed, the couch, and the taps, not minding the dim lighting. She actually got excited when she saw there was a bit of soap in the tiny shower. Stripping down to her undergarments, Freya turned on the water and stepped in. She wasn’t yet comfortable enough with this place to get completely naked, but there was no way she could resist a shower. A hot shower no less.

  Back in Jamaica, she got to bathe only on rare occasions, and always in the falls with a group of other women. It was in those falls that she had found most of her sling stones. Those stones were gone now, taken by Sher and Bob. She still had the leather sling, but no ammo to go with it. Perhaps she’d search the ship for suitable ammo once she was allowed to roam around freely.

  Freya lingered in the shower longer than she needed to, but eventually stepped out. The bathroom was full of a misty fog as Freya wrapped one towel around her hair and another around her body. She sat down on the lid of the small toilet and examined her clothes, searching them for tears or spots that were wearing thin. When she and her brother had been growing up, she used to patch all of his clothes for him. He was always getting into scrapes, or clumsily exploring places he shouldn’t be, absolutely destroying whatever he was wearing. Remembering that boy with the bright smile hurt Freya’s heart.

  She quickly drove the memories out of her mind. Memories had never done her any good before, and they wouldn’t do her any good now. Hate replaced the nostalgia within her heart. Hate for Sher and what he had done. He had killed her brother, and then used Freya to initiate his new troops, his new boys. She wanted to dig the eyes out of his skull, and peel off his face. There was a time when Freya could have killed him. Early on, there had been moments when they were alone, and a knife was within reach. She hadn’t been able to do it then. She couldn’t bring herself to do it, even with the seed of hate growing inside her.

  Freya could do it now. She could do it with ease. The seed of hate had grown into a powerful tree, consuming all other emotions. And she had learned to control that hatred.

  After scrubbing herself down one last time with the towels, Freya then put her clothes back on. There was once a time when putting on dry clothes while her underwear and hair were wet would bother her, but no more. Folding the towe
ls neatly, she replaced them on the rack and then returned to the main room.

  At the far end of the room, where a window would normally be, there was a large mirror. Freya walked up to the mirror and stared at herself. She had aged over the last six years, far faster than all the years previous to the outbreak. The lines on her face were deeper, her hair was lank, although surprisingly not at all grey yet, and her skin was sallow. She looked a lot more like her mom.

  A soft knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. Using the peephole, Freya was able to check out who it was before showing herself. She wouldn’t know most of the people on this ship, but it would give her a chance to judge facial expressions before letting anyone in. Freya was surprised to see the boy who had saved her in the water. He was carrying a tray of food.

  Freya opened the door.

  “I don’t mean to bother you, but I brought you something to eat.”

  She stood to one side and let him enter. The dog that had been with him earlier trailed after him.

  “I’m Misha by the way. I can’t remember if I told you that.” He placed the tray on the desk.

  Freya walked over to the bed and sat upon it, wondering what he wanted.

  “How are you doing?” he asked.

  She gave him a thumbs up without smiling.

  “Everyone’s been treating you well?”

  She nodded. There hadn’t been abuse of any kind yet. Even being around the prisoners hadn’t been bad.

  “This is Rifle,” Misha gestured to the German Shepherd standing beside him. The shepherd was calm and content, yet Misha appeared nervous. He kept looking around, and shuffling his feet.

  Out with it, Freya wrote on her pad.

  “This Sher guy, should we be worried about him? I know the ship leaders are bringing us to shore, but will they follow us all the way there? And what would they do if they catch us? I was there when Sher made his threats. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy who would make them idly.”