Survival Instinct (Book 3): Fighting Instinct Page 22

  “Is your doggy in trouble?” Hope asked next.

  “No, he’s fine.”

  “My doggy is in trouble.”

  “The same trouble you’re in.” It wasn’t a question. Misha knew that Milly would have been with the kids given the chance.

  “Yeah.”

  “Misha?” This time it was Becky.

  “What?”

  “Do you think Shoes is in a better place?”

  The question hit him off guard, slipping past his defences and striking him right in the heart. Suddenly, his heart was in his throat for a completely different reason.

  “I’m sure he is,” Misha managed to croak.

  “So the ocean is a nice place? I don’t really like the ocean.”

  Closing his eyes, Misha took a steadying breath. He had just assumed that Becky had been referring to heaven, but apparently, she hadn’t.

  “Yeah. The ocean is a nice place,” he lied. The ocean wasn’t a nice place. It was full of zombies, and pirates, and sickness. He couldn’t tell that to a little girl though. Especially not this one, whom he had saved by diving off the wing of a sinking plane. Becky would have drowned before reaching the Diana if it hadn’t been for Misha. He couldn’t blame her for not being very fond of the ocean.

  For reasons Misha didn’t understand, the two kids from the other bed hopped off and walked over to his bed. They then sat on either side of him without saying a word. Maybe it was because they were scared. Rifle walked up to both of them and sniffed their feet.

  “You kids want to see a trick?” Misha asked them.

  All four of the kids nodded their heads.

  “Rifle,” Misha got his attention. “Rifle, up.” He raised his hand up over his head. “Up, Rifle. Dance.” He spun his hand in a circle.

  Rifle pushed up onto his hind legs and half hopped, half walked in a sort of circle, spinning himself around. He stumbled back onto all fours a few times, but he would pop back up when he saw Misha still signalling for him to do so. The children started giggling.

  Misha lowered his arm and let Rifle stop. He slid off his bed and knelt on the floor, giving the dog an affectionate rubdown.

  “Good boy. Good boy.” Misha glanced briefly at the kids then looked back at Rifle. “You ready for another one, bratishka?”

  Misha got to his feet facing the dog. Rifle’s eyes were locked on him, ready for the next command.

  “Up,” Misha gestured.

  Rifle stood on his hind legs again, but this time Misha caught his front paws. Humming a song he couldn’t remember the name of, Misha guided Rifle back and forth between the beds as if they were dancing. Rifle’s head kept jerking up and down, looking from Misha to his paws.

  The kids were now in a full-blown laughing fit.

  Misha let Rifle go so that he could stand on all four legs again.

  “Okay, one more trick.” Misha couldn’t help but smile at the laughing children all around him. Rifle seemed to be enjoying it too, with his tail swishing furiously back and forth, and a grin splitting his face while he panted.

  Using his finger and thumb, Misha made a fake gun out of his hand. He pointed it at Rifle, who stopped panting and wagging his tail. The dog stood stiff and still. Had Misha been holding a real gun, Rifle would have attacked, but the finger gun was a signal for a game.

  “Bang!” Misha shouted, tilting his hand back as if there was a recoil.

  Rifle let out a low howl and lay down, then rolled onto his back so that all his legs were sticking up in the air. Hamming it up, the dog even twitched one of his back legs while he lay there. As if she had been trained as part of the act, Milly trotted up to Rifle and began sniffing him over, letting out concerned little whines as she did so.

  The kids were practically busting a gut, holding their bellies and rolling on the beds.

  “Rifle,” Misha patted his leg.

  Rifle suddenly rolled back onto his feet and stood up, startling Milly and causing even more laughter. He padded up to Misha and sat beside him.

  “And, bow.” Misha bowed to Rifle, lowering one of his hands in the process so that Rifle bowed back. Using hand signals and bowing himself, Misha got Rifle to turn and bow to each of the beds.

  The children applauded.

  “How did you teach him how to do that?” the girl with the cowboy hat asked.

  “Can Milly do that?” Hope followed up.

  “My friend Alec taught him all that when Rifle was still young. I’m sure Milly could do it if she had been trained to.” Misha knelt in front of Rifle and gave him a lot of love and attention, as reward for doing his tricks. He didn’t have any treats to give Rifle, but later he’d find something special for the dog. Alec had trained him well. A brief pain tugged at Misha’s heart, but it was quickly swallowed up by the children’s laughter. Technically, Alec hadn’t taught Rifle all his tricks. Misha had been the one who taught him how to dance while holding his hands. Because Alec had trained Rifle while being rehabilitated after his injury—something he claimed helped him through that painful process—he hadn’t been able to teach the shepherd any tricks that involved standing with him.

  “Adam?” a woman’s voice called from the medical centre’s doorway.

  “Mom!” the little boy crowed and bounced off the bed on which he was sitting. Arms outstretched, he ran to the woman, who knelt down and opened her arms in return. Such relief washed over her face as they embraced. A man stood behind her, one Misha had seen around quite a few times since he worked on an interior maintenance crew. He also looked relieved, but he looked angry as well. Riley walked over and they spoke briefly. Misha noticed the man had an Australian accent.

  While Riley was explaining what she knew about the boy’s disappearance and discovery, Becky’s parents showed up. They were an odd pair: the woman was maybe in her late-twenties-early-thirties, and the man was at least sixty. If Misha hadn’t known them from his visits to see Shoes, he wouldn’t have believed they were together. Behind them stood Becky’s brothers, Larson and Bryce, which meant that school had been let out. Misha wasn’t surprised it was that late judging by the fact he had delivered an early dinner to Freya, but conversely, he was also surprised that it was still early enough for them to be up. This had been a very long day.

  Misha watched as the boy and his parents left, then Becky with her family. Rifle saw that their golden retriever, Maggie, was with them and wanted to follow, but Misha clicked his tongue, which caused the dog to stay. Milly, on the other hand, had to have her collar grabbed by Misha to keep her from following the other dog.

  The cowgirl’s guardian or parent showed up a few minutes later. She didn’t have the same relieved-scared-angry expression as the others. Looking at the cowgirl, the woman just shook her head, her features not quite hiding the disappointment in them. The woman had no interest in hearing what happened from Riley. The cowgirl just walked up to the woman, took her hand, and the two of them left in silence.

  Now it was just Hope and Misha remaining. With her friends gone, and Rifle no longer performing tricks, Hope started to sulk. Misha sat down next to her on the bed, not really knowing what to do. He had run out of tricks and he knew no jokes. The Russians hadn’t moved, and they hadn’t spoken a word since Misha’s appearance. He hated the way they watched him.

  It took nearly ten minutes before a ship defender showed up. It was Mathias accompanied by another man whose name Misha didn’t know. Mathias went straight to Hope and scooped her up into his arms.

  “You had me so scared,” he told her, sounding both angry and relieved like the other parents. He smothered Hope’s cheeks with kisses.

  “Daddy! Daddy!” Although Hope had been glad to see him at first, she now pushed him away, trying to get him to stop kissing her.

  Riley walked over to her husband and quickly assessed him. “Bed. Now. The both of you.”

  Mathias frowned at her.

  “You’re about to drop. Take Hope and Milly, and go to room 6372.” She handed Mathias a
key card. “I’ve arranged for us to sleep there tonight.”

  “Is it all right if we get dinner first?” Based on Riley’s tone, Mathias was treading on dangerous ground. And he knew it.

  “Yes, but no eating in the dining room. And no dessert.” She looked directly at Hope for that part.

  Hope’s eyes watered up, but she knew better than to talk back to her mom.

  “Can I at least hear what happened before we go?” Mathias wondered.

  “Nope. Dinner, then bed. Hope can explain everything to you on the way.” Riley’s voice suddenly softened. “You’ve done too much today, Mathias. You need to let someone else handle things now. Please, get some sleep. You look awful.”

  “I feel pretty awful,” Mathias admitted.

  “Go on now, and take Milly with you.”

  Mathias shifted Hope to his other arm and patted his leg. Milly trotted over to him, and then followed the pair out.

  Riley turned to the other ship defender who had come with Mathias.

  “I’m White,” he said, holding out his hand.

  While Riley shook it, Misha strangled a laugh before it could escape his throat. It had taken him a second to reason that White was the man’s name, and not just a statement about his appearance.

  “Riley Bishop.” She then went into the story again, explaining all she knew about the kids’ escape, and how it ended with the Russians. “This is Misha. He said he overheard the Russians before coming in here, and they were saying something very interesting.”

  “They mentioned something about a bomb, one which they had set off,” Misha told White.

  All three Russians suddenly became rigid. They weren’t the only ones either. Misha had a flash thought that this was the real reason Riley ushered Mathias out of the room so quickly. She knew that he wouldn’t be able to leave this alone, that it was the kind of thing he had to see through, and that he just didn’t have the energy for.

  White turned to the three Russians.

  “Get Captain Bronislav,” one of them suddenly said, “he can explain.”

  “No,” White told them, “you’re going to explain, and then we’ll get the captain.”

  The three men looked at each other, but didn’t say anything.

  “We can talk about this in the Dragon’s Den if you’d like. You know there was an incident with a zombie in there earlier today?” White informed them.

  Riley looked at Misha, no doubt thinking about Jon. Misha twitched his hand, trying to tell her that they would get to that later.

  The Russians said nothing. At least not for several minutes.

  “I cannot take it anymore,” one of them finally spoke. The other two snapped their heads to look at him, their faces full of disapproval. “I hate all the secrecy, and I hate the accusing looks we have been getting since last night. We had nothing to do with the bomb on board the Diana.”

  “What were you talking about then?”

  “Zatknis’!” one of the Russians barked at him.

  White looked at Misha.

  “He told him to shut up,” Misha translated.

  “No. Not this time. Not anymore. It has been over five years now, six even,” the one continued.

  “Tell us,” White urged him.

  “We were not talking about the bomb that blew up on the Diana. We were talking about the bomb that blew up Moscow.”

  “Ebar’,” one of the others grumbled.

  White again looked at Misha.

  “It was an insult. What about Moscow?” Misha had asked the Russian sailors a lot about his homeland when they had first arrived. They hadn’t said much, only that it was bad.

  “Moscow was the first city to be infected. It was quickly overrun.”

  The other two Russians stayed silent now, looking down at their feet. Now that the one had started speaking about their secret, they almost seemed glad that he was.

  “There was no way to clear the infection out of it. So we were given the command.”

  “What command?” Misha had all but forgotten about White and Riley standing on either side of him. He focused entirely on this one man.

  “We were ordered to fire upon Moscow.”

  “With missiles?”

  The man shook his head. “Just one missile. A nuclear missile.”

  Misha’s legs were suddenly like water, and his vision swam. His immediate family had lived nowhere near Moscow, but he had some cousins and an aunt and uncle there. On top of that, it was his capital. No matter how much he loved Canada, Russia was his first home. A nuclear missile had been unleashed upon it. The big one. A nuke.

  The ground rushed up at Misha, but everything went dark before he hit it.

  ***

  Misha woke up with Riley leaning over him, and Rifle whining by his feet.

  “How long was I out?” he asked in barely a whisper.

  “Just for a second,” Riley told him. “Are you okay? How’s your head feel?”

  “Like it hit the floor.” He sat up slowly with Riley’s help. Touching the back of his head gingerly, he used his fingers to check for blood but didn’t find any. Riley was more thorough, parting his hair and looking directly at the spot that had struck the floor. Misha was dimly aware that White was radioing for some people, including Captain Bronislav.

  “Come on, up on your feet.” Riley hooked her arms underneath Misha’s and helped him stand. He wobbled a bit, feeling as if his blood was rushing to all the wrong places, then steadied.

  “I assume I heard right,” Misha whispered to Riley.

  “Yeah.” Her voice was soft. She felt bad for Misha, but he didn’t want her to. Riley was the tough one, she wasn’t supposed to feel bad for people, especially not Misha.

  “Tell me when you’re ready to see Jon.” He made his way to a bed and sat down on it.

  Riley followed closely behind him. “We can go now if you’re ready.”

  “Really?”

  “The ship defenders and the captains will deal with this mess now.”

  “All right then. Let’s go.” Misha slid back onto his feet.

  “You’re sure you’re good?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Let me make sure.” Riley grabbed a pen light from nearby and checked his eyes. “You seem all right.”

  “Then I must be. Come on.”

  Riley explained to White that she and Misha had to be somewhere. White said they were free to go, but they might call on them later if a statement of some kind was needed. Or if they needed Misha to translate something. Misha saw the same pity and concern in White’s eyes. He didn’t like it.

  Leading Riley out of the medical centre, Misha headed for the stairs, with Rifle tailing him. They made their way without speaking to the room where Cameron was keeping Jon.

  “Took you long enough,” Cameron huffed, rising from the stool she was sitting upon. Jon had clearly been pacing, while a goat in the room lazily chewed on something Misha couldn’t identify.

  “Sorry, there was a lot I had to do,” Riley told her twin.

  It was always weird being around both of them at the same time. The length of their hair was the only physical difference. Their voices were the same, even their choices in clothing were very similar.

  “So, Jon, tell me what’s going on?” Riley asked him.

  Jon looked at Cameron.

  “I’m only going to tell her later, so you might as well explain it to us all.”

  Jon nodded and went into the whole story, starting with his boarding of the other ship and ending with his escape from the Dragon’s Den.

  Cameron’s eyebrows looked like they were trying to join her hairline by the time Jon stopped speaking. Riley, on the other hand, didn’t look at all surprised. In fact, she looked like she had expected just such a story.

  “Thank you for telling me all of this, Jon,” she said.

  “What do you know?” Cameron asked her, suddenly seeing the same expression that Misha had seen.

  “Everyone in the
medical centre had their blood tested today after we found out that Rose was infected. Everyone in the centre came back positive, including those who were nowhere near the operating room. I even tested Mathias when he came to see me, and he tested positive too. So did a swab of blood I took from Becky’s head injury.”

  “You’re saying everyone is infected?” Misha felt his skin crawl.

  “Yes, but this infection is different,” Riley quickly told them all. “It’s in the blood, but it’s dormant. It’s not moving. Or at least it’s not moving when the sample is fresh.”

  “What happens if the sample isn’t fresh?” Cameron asked the obvious question.

  “Once the blood has congealed to a certain point, it seems the hybrid-virus wakes up. It becomes active and looks like what we’re used to seeing in zombie blood.”

  “So once a person has died who’s been infected with this new crap, they become a zombie,” Jon stated.

  “It seems so.”

  A moment of silence passed between them all, as everyone tried to comprehend what that meant.

  “But how did we all get infected?” Misha asked.

  “We’re still not entirely sure, but based on the spread of the infection, I’m betting it’s through the air we’re breathing.”

  “And after that big meeting today, I’m betting everyone has it,” Jon figured.

  “I should test the animals,” Cameron suddenly realized, looking at the goat. “This kind of thing could infect them differently. It could cause them to spontaneously zombify, or result in infected meat.”

  “Test Rifle,” Misha told her, placing a hand on the dog’s head. “Test him first.”

  “All right. Come on,” Cameron headed for the door, as there was no equipment she could use in the room. Stopping so suddenly that Misha nearly crashed into her, Cameron turned around, unhitched the goat, and then walked it toward the door, planning to test it also.

  “What should I do in the meantime?” Jon wondered.

  “Wait here while I talk to the right people,” Riley told him.

  “I have one last question.”

  Misha waited at the door to hear what Jon was going to ask.