Survival Instinct (5 page)

Nadine crouched behind the bushes, tired and out of breath. She’d made it out of that hellhole, but it hadn’t been easy.
It had, however, been necessary. Taking in her surroundings, she spotted a two-story farmhouse less than a mile from her current location. A set of doors off to the side of the wrap-around porch let her know there was a basement down below. She wanted to run, screaming, in that direction but forced herself to remain calm. She’d made it thus far- she would proceed with caution, and maybe, just maybe, she could survive this.

She’d planned on staying a few weeks, but those plans had been blown sky-high in just three short days. She’d made friends there, of a sort, and leaving them behind, these other women, had been the hardest thing she’d had to do since killing Graham. Killing what used to be Graham, she corrected herself. He wasn’t there anymore- it was just a shell she destroyed.
She repeated it like a sort of mantra as she wiped the traitorous tears that had started rolling down her cheeks. She didn’t have time for this bullshit.

She made it to the basement without difficulty, but found the doors chained shut with a heavy padlock. Frowning at the length of chain, she pondered her next move. Perhaps it was a good thing, she told herself. If anyone was still following her, they would see the padlock and move on, assuming
she wouldn’t have gotten inside. It was unlikely- she hadn’t heard the sound of pursuit in a couple days, but she’d learned the importance of caution early on. She crept around until she found a window that was open enough for her to get her fingers under it. Steeling herself for the inevitable noise, she pushed with all her might- and nearly fell face-first into the farmhouse. The window slid up so quickly and smoothly that she tottered on her feet for several seconds until she found her balance again. Nadine was nervous now, convinced the house was already inhabited. But darkness was rapidly approaching, and she wanted somewhere safe to hole up before she was unable to see her surroundings. Moving in the dark was too dangerous. Taking a deep breath, she hoisted herself up and through the window.

As soon as she was inside, she grabbed her weapon and pr
epared to defend herself. She’d tucked a chef’s knife into her belt where she could reach it easily if needed, carefully positioned so as not to stab herself while she maneuvered through the area. Not realizing she was holding her breath, she released it and tucked a loose lock of hair behind her ear, deciding to investigate the rest of the house before settling down for the night. Her eyes were accustomed to the dark, and she’d become adept at creeping silently through the world, even with the rapidly growing baby belly. There was a kitchen, dining room, two bathrooms and four bedrooms, yet all of them stood empty. That left only the basement to check, although it took some time for her to find the door, as it was cunningly hidden inside the pantry.

Descending in the darkness, she stopped every few steps and held her breath, ears tuned to pick up the slightest noise. She found herself curiously disappointed to find the place empty. She’d only had three days with other people, but now she was lonely. She missed the sound of people laughing, the sounds of human feet moving instead of the stumbling shuffle of the undead.
It made her feel, once again, like she was the only living person left on the planet. The depth of her loneliness nearly dropped her to her knees. She had never known it was possible to be this empty inside, and she wondered why she was even bothering to move forward from here.

There were things that needed to be done now, and she forced herself to go through the motions as she pulled out a small penlight she’d snatched on her way out of that place.
There were remnants of life here in the basement, but they were few and far between- an empty two-liter soda bottle, a few cigarette butts mashed into the dirt floor of the basement, an empty packet of tuna. It was a sad testament to the lifestyle they all led now- eating and drinking whatever they could forage, barely a step up from the animals their ancestors used to kill.

Sitting down on a pile of bedding a previous tenant had left behind, she rummaged through the supplies still there and found a few cans of Sterno
and a lighter. She smiled- she could have a hot meal tonight. Maybe there was something to be thankful for after all.

A notebook caught her eye, and she picked it up, curious about the contents. A supply of pens sat nearby, and a couple empty pens were tossed in a corner. There were shopping lists inside, remnants of the lives left behind so many weeks before. Flipping through it without much hope, she was surprised to find a note. Without another thought, she began to read.

To whomever:

I don’t know the date- I know it’s been at least two weeks since everything became screwy out there. Hell, I don’t even know why I’m writing. For all I know, this will sit here until it turns to dust, probably long after I do.

My name is Private First Class Ryan
Sawyer. I’d just returned from Afghanistan- my third tour in that sandbox from Hell- when they started scheduling the testing on soldiers and their families with that fucking vaccine. I was due to receive one, but my mother fell down the stairs and was in critical condition, so I chose to go AWOL when they wouldn’t let me go to see her. They already knew things were bad, and they wanted to keep us all penned up like fucking lab rats. But I slipped out- a friend was on sentry duty and he looked the other way when I slipped him a couple bottles of good bourbon and a case of cigarettes.

Anyway, I was prepared to return and take my punishment. I had no wife, no kids, and my mother didn’t pull through, so I figured it didn’t matter what happened to me anymore. But the base was like a house of horrors, and I holed up outside it to watch. Soldiers with runny noses and red eyes shooting other soldiers who looked just like them. My friends eating each other… It was bad, and I guess you’ve seen it all by now if anyone is actually reading this.

I don’t know why I’m wasting my time writing this, but if anyone actually finds this, I’m off to a cabin I keep in Indiana. There’s a generator, and other things that make the place useful. The next sheet contains directions on how to reach the place from here. I don’t know what I’ll do when I get there, if I even make it there, but you’re welcome to try to reach me if you have nowhere better to go.

Sincerely,

Ryan

Nadine sat back, contemplating the notebook and its entry. Should she try and go there? She didn’t guess anyone else was going to- there was a thick film of dust over the cover, so obviously no one else found it. She didn’t even know if the guy was still alive, but what did she have to lose? She had no other goal, and no one was looking for her that she wanted to actually find her. Contemplatively, she tucked the notebook in her backpack and decided to take a day or two to mull it over. Maybe there was something out there for her in
Indiana- there was obviously nothing for her here.

A trip to the local library provided her with access to maps, large and small. She would need to plot her journey carefully, and although it would be a long and difficult one, she thought if she stuck to the side roads instead of highways she’d be safer. All she really wanted now was some time alone, Nadine thought as she tucked a strand of her matted hair behind her ear. And maybe a bath in a small stream along the way- she’d never felt more disgusting in her life.

As she packed her bags for the trip, she reflected back on how far she’d come, and all the creature comforts she missed from the life she’d once known. Showers had to top the list- she’d once showered every morning before work, and took hot baths each night before bed. She couldn’t stand being dirty, and now she didn’t remember what it was like to be clean.

Oh, sure, clean clothes were in abundance- all it took was a bit of breaking and entering, and some petty theft, and you could have whatever it was you desired. But all the clothes in the world couldn't replace the simple luxury of hot water and endless soap. She thought she'd cheerfully cut off a hand for the chance to use shampoo and conditioner on her tangled mop of hair. She’d looked longingly at the local mall as she escaped the base that had once been her home, but it was much too dangerous. She’d seen enough horror movies to know that there was no safety in large, sprawling structures. Once she’d loved diamonds, pearls, and precious gems. Now all she cared about was clean water, food that didn’t come from a can or bag, and getting the grime off of her before she looked as disgusting as those things outdoors.

With a small sigh, Nadine heaved the two backpacks over her shoulders and tightened the straps until they were securely in place.
What kind of life were they all leading, now that the world had ended? All right, maybe that was a bit melodramatic, but it felt accurate. Nothing was the same- everything was eerily quiet, until those creatures spotted something to hunt- then the world was filled with grunts and hoots as they pursued their prey.

She shivered- she knew all about being pursued
, she considered as she rubbed one hand over the protruding bump of her belly. As she slid as quietly as possible through the overgrown grass on her way to Indiana, she thought back to her escape from that hellacious little town she’d found herself in. She’d known on a primal level that it wasn’t what it appeared to be on the surface. Don had been a tyrant in hiding, running the place with fake smiles and cold eyes. He’d claimed anything he wanted as his own- including the women. The grungy woman who followed him like a well-heeled dog had been very much like a pet, until Nadine had come along.

Although she didn’t want to remember, she couldn’t seem to stop the flashbacks. It was all a blur. He’d snuck into the room he’d given her- she remembered that much clearly. He’d tried charming his way into her bed, and when that didn’t work he’d tried brute force. But his little pet had foiled that plan, bursting in, hysterical, as she’d tried to slit Nadine’s throat. The woman kept slapping Nadine, screaming that Don was hers, and she would kill her before Nadine took her place. When Don got in the way, the knife ended up imbedded in his arm, neatly severing the artery. He’d bled out in minutes as Nadine bashed the woman’s head in with a battery-powered lamp. Then she’d run.

But the commotion hadn’t gone unnoticed, and she’d been pursued almost instantly. It was like a scene out of a bad movie- the townspeople had gathered up arms against her, determined to kill her for destroying their leader. One man had carried a pitchfork, for God’s sake, and grinned maniacally as he reached for her. She was tired and out of breath, and he’d nearly had her. But he’d been too focused on her, and not his surroundings. A hand snatched at his ankle, and he’d tumbled, landing on the tines of the pitchfork. He was dead before the creature tore open his flesh and began to eat.

Nadine fell to her knees, gagging, retching, until the corn chips she’d eaten found their way up and out. Wiping at her mouth with the back of her hand, she crawled away
from the steaming mess. Curling up in the fetal position, she sobbed like her heart had been broken.

Maybe she was being foolish, she thought coldly. Bringing a child into this world was beyond cruel- it was negligent.
She had a gun in her bag- it would be kinder to the baby growing within her if she were to end their lives now. She couldn’t provide a child with the life it should have. She couldn’t give her baby security, let alone the creature comforts all children were supposed to have. She could barely take care of herself at this point- what made her think that she would even survive to bring the baby into this new, strange world? No, much cleaner, much kinder, to put the gun to her temple and pull the trigger. It’d be light’s out- quick and painless.

With that thought in mind, she reached into her pack, seeking the gun hidden within the folds of a maternity top.
Instead, she touched the spiral notebook, and her mind cleared. She had a purpose, she reminded herself. She had a goal, a place to go. Maybe this man, this Ryan, wouldn’t make it there. Maybe she wouldn’t, either. Maybe she’d even find a new home she preferred on her way. There were so many maybe’s- why give up?

Wiping her tears, she frowned at herself. She’d been beyond careless. If one of those things had been nearby, she could’ve committed suicide by stupidity. She owed the baby in her womb better than to be a meal for the undead. She needed a good night’s sleep, and maybe it would change her outlook. A motel was up ahead, and she took it as an omen. A bed, dressers to barricade the cheap door, and a shower- her day was
suddenly looking up. With that thought in mind, she gathered up her supplies and headed towards one of the remnants of the life she’d once known.

Nadine popped a prenatal vitamin in her mouth, swallowing it with a swig of the precious water she hoarded in her one remaining pack. Fortunately she’d retained most of her weapons- gardening tools, for the most part, but oddly effective- as well as a few bottles of water, two snack-sized bags of potato chips, and a bottle of prenatal vitamins. The rest of her supplies were only a distant memory. If she didn’t find a place to replenish what she’d lost, she’d be in trouble in less than a week.

Collapsing to the floor of the run-down shed she was using as her temporary residence, she curled her body in upon itself, instinctively protecting the baby growing inside of her. She was 23 weeks along now, and definitely more than halfway through her pregnancy. Her hair was sticky, hanging in her face and frizzing around the edges from the heat. Although it was only mid-May, she was in the middle of the country where it already felt like the hottest point of summer. But she’d done it- she was nearly to the cabin, and relying heavily on the notebook now to guide her to her final destination. Well, she amended, the final destination for now, at least.

She’d kept the notebook close to her at all times, and was deeply grateful that she’d maintained the bag with it inside. Otherwise she’d have strongly considered the gun once more. What point would there be in continuing if she didn’t have access to the place she hoped would be fortified enough to remain until after her baby was born?

The hotel had been lovely, and she was sorry to have had to leave it, but it wasn’t safe there. Still, she’d enjoyed numerous showers and baths during the three days she’d barricaded herself in the room, even if they had been lukewarm at best. She’d reveled in the comfort of cleanliness, and was sorry to have left that one small pleasure behind.

Her time had been well-spent, however. She’d claimed the notebook as her own, filling it with notes about the behaviors of those things outdoors, studying them like science experiments when they wandered near her hiding place. They were like animals, and it was fascinating to study them from the marginal safety of the hotel room. Occasionally one would bump into another, and they would fight until they lost interest, smelled or heard something that caught their attention, or one of them was left in pieces. It was important to her to think of them that way: them, creatures, undead, and so on. She couldn’t think of them as having once been like her- the thought was too difficult, so she maintained that scientific distance. One of them had looked eerily like her, and it unnerved her. Another had looked like Graham from the back, and it took her hours to calm herself, mumbling to herself and her unborn baby, until she’d fallen asleep to the kicks from within her belly.

Leaving when she did, however, had been a mistake. She’d known those things had been riled up over something, but she’d just assumed she could use the diversion to escape. And perhaps she could have, if not for the dog.
He was mangy, some sort of mixed breed, and pitifully thin. Hunger must have driven him directly into the arms of danger, and he was limping, unable to run from the creatures seeking a hot meal. When he’d stumbled close to her hiding place, she nipped out and hooked a quickly-made leash around his neck. The poor dog didn’t so much as snap at her, merely whimpered pathetically and licked her hand in gratitude.

She’d been prepared to trot off with him, praying he could keep up with her until they reached the safety of the room she’d so recently left behind so she could groom him and get him fed and watered. Suddenly a bony hand, the meat hanging in ragged chunks from two fingers, tightened on the strap of one of her backpacks. A brief, furious struggle got her and the dog away without harm, but the strap tore with a retched sound, leaving the pack to fight over it as she scampered off to a nearby shed behind a country-style house. More than half her food had still been inside it, and half of her remaining water had been in there as well.

She’d used the first-aid kit in her pack to clean the dog’s wounds, and had discovered a deep gash in the pad of one hind paw. She’d had the foresight to pack a sewing kit, and risked a nasty attack by suturing the wound. He’d lain at her feet, occasionally licking her hand while she worked, and never once attempted to snap at her. She named him Jonesy, and talked to him in a crooning sing-song while she tended him. Once complete, she ripped open a bag of the stale chips and fed him one at a time, occasionally tipping a bottle of water for him to drink. It was messy, and quite a bit of the water spilled, but she’d put an empty wrapper under his muzzle as he drank. When the bottle was empty, he cleaned up the puddle off the cellophane before huddling close to her leg and slipping into sleep with the ease only an animal can manage.

Taking her cues from him, she wrapped herself around him like a favored stuffed animal, and fell into a light doze. Feeding and watering the both of them would be a challenge, but she’d make it work. And perhaps they’d find a place for themselves in this world, after all.