Adaptive Instinct (Survival Instinct) (59 page)

“Prepare for the doors to open!” Crichton called out.

Half the men, James included, turned to face the gates.  The men from the towers were already running down to join them.  If there were any zombies left in there, they would have to take care of them themselves.  As the doors opened, a few shots were fired, but no movement was seen.

There was a carpet made of dead bodies, between two and five deep, between the gates.

“Load up!” Crichton shouted.

James charged up onto the bodies.  His feet sank into gaps between arms and legs, into cavities in torsos.  His boots were quickly covered with gore.  He and many others stumbled, their knees becoming the colour of blood and rot.  Nobody dared try to catch themselves with their hands unless they were wearing gloves.  James spotted one man who toppled completely over, but he managed to turn his body and fall on his back.  Getting infected blood on his face could kill him.

James and some of the others reached the rear ends of the trucks and opened up the massive trailers.  Half of the advance team climbed up into the backs, ready to assist the others up.  The other half, the half James was part of, knelt down low.  They aimed underneath the trailers where still-moving zombies were learning they could crawl to reach their prey.

Surrounded by broken bones, blood, sinew, and guts, James fired at the zombies.  When his clip emptied, he called out and was quickly handed another one.  Both the remaining civilians and the mercenaries would rather hand him their ammo than take his place.

As the flood of remaining people crossed the land of bodies, James could hear the sounds of bones snapping.  With so many people crossing at once, the bodies were getting pulverised by their boots.  James just kept picking off the zombies under the truck.

“Brenner!  You’re good to go!  Get in that truck!”  Crichton grabbed the back of his jacket and hauled him up to his feet.

Hands reached down and helped both James and Crichton into the back of the truck, while the doors of the other one were swung closed.

As James sat, panting from all that had just occurred, he looked back out toward the prison.  As he watched, a flood of zombies began pouring over the wall where the climbers had been gathering.  Jesus, they must have managed to pile up enough to get over both the outer and inner walls. 
That or they had all learned to jump really well.  If the prison group had decided to leave any later, they would never have made it.

The heavy doors were swung shut, plunging the riders into a darkness that was broken up only by a handful of small flashlights.  When they rumbled forward, jolted by the acceleration and the bodies beneath the tires, those who were still standing quickly toppled over.

Huddled together, shoulder to shoulder and sitting knees to chest, they could only hope that no one was left behind, and that no one inside the truck with them had become infected.

Section 4:

The Horde

23:

Lauren Sanford – Day 17

As Lauren rode in the school bus with her herd of children, she did everything she could to keep them entertained, to keep their minds off the sights that occasionally passed by the windows.

Lauren herself had sometimes looked out.  Most of the time it was calm out there, just eerie with all the stopped and abandoned vehicles.  Of course, sometimes those vehicles weren’t completely abandoned.  A few times, zombies were spotted trapped within them, raging against the doors and windows as their group drove by.  Other times, it was the still corpses of the fully dead.  Whether they were zombies that had their brains destroyed or regular people, who had died of other causes was unknown.  Occasionally, a swarm of zombies would appear all around them.  They would rush the vehicles, surround them, smash against them.  It was like the time they had headed to the Pummel Motel.  During those rushes, everybody but the armed guards would flatten themselves to their seats, not looking out the windows.  The guards would stand, rifles at the ready in case a window was broken.  Then they’d pass through, and everyone would try to act as if nothing had happened.  Lauren noticed that after the first time this occurred, the younger kids that had the window sides of the bench seats, swapped with the older kids for the aisle side.  Lauren was afraid for herself and the kids at these times, but she was also terrified for Lieutenant Boyle who didn’t have the tough sides of a bus or car to protect him.

“Okay everyone, we’re going to play Simon Says.”  Lauren was standing at the front of the bus, in the aisle.  All eyes were on her, including the guards
’.  “Simon says, cross your arms.”  Lauren crossed her arms and everybody else did the same.  “Simon says, make moose antlers.”  Lauren put her thumbs against her temples and splayed her palms out, while everyone copied her.  “Simon says, touch your nose.”  Everyone touched their noses as Lauren’s orders picked up speed.  “Simon says, cover your ears.  Simon says, cover your eyes.  Touch your knees.”

She caught a few kids with her quick changes.  They giggled and laughed as those who were caught flushed an embarrassed red.  Some kids teased others, but it was light-hearted, not at all intended to hurt feelings.  Other little kids were very pleased with themselves for not getting caught.

Lauren continued the game, amused by how attentive to it everyone was.  Even their armed guards were playing, which delighted the children further; especially when they screwed up, although most of those times were probably deliberate.  Without their iPads and Blackberries, computers and game consoles, cell phones and TVs, the simple games had become enjoyable again.  There were no flashing images to distract them, just toys without batteries and the company of other people.  The fact that the teenagers looked like they were also having fun playing such a childish game was a good sign to Lauren.  She used to think that people were too plugged in, and although the zombie outbreak was the worst thing ever to happen, it was, at least, good to see that they could survive without their wires.

When Simon Says began to lose its appeal, Lauren started them singing Down By The Bay.  She would sing a line,
and then everyone would sing it back.  At the end of the short ditty was a section where they got to make up a rhyme, and then they’d start the song again.  At the rhyming sections, Lauren would point to someone on the bus and they would get to make the rhyme.  They had whales with polka dot tails, foxes in boxes, socks made of rocks, loons on the moon, lemons the size of melons, bears without hair, bats wearing hats, and many other ridiculous things.

Just as everyone was beginning to run out of rhymes, the bus came to a complete stop.

“I’ll find out what’s wrong.”  Private Winchester got up out of his seat and hopped off the bus.

“Everyone stay low, below the window line,” Lauren ordered all the kids.  They obeyed, folding over each other.  Lauren took her seat next to Claire, who gently handed Peter to her before curling up on the bench.  The remaining three guards stood up in a half crouch, getting the best visibility possible out of the windows and over the seatbacks.  Lauren sat mostly upright, peering over the seatback-like structure that separated the front row seat from the doors.  She watched out the front window as the men in the Hummer ahead of them climbed out.  Winchester appeared around the side of it and got back into the bus.

“There’s a small blockage in the road ahead,” he told everyone.  “There’s no need to be alarmed.  A team is already working on moving it; we should be rolling in under ten minutes.  We just have to sit tight.”

Winchester and the guards sat down, still on the alert, but no longer expecting imminent danger.  Some of the kids sat more upright, although they stayed wary of the windows and kept a hunch to their shoulders.

It was impossible to tell without a watch how much time was really passing, but to Lauren, it felt like a lot more than ten minutes.  She was about to get the kids to sing The Wheels On The Bus, when Boyle and the men from the Hummer came dashing towards them.  Lieutenant Boyle got on their bus while the rest of the men kept running toward the rest of the vehicles.

“Everyone, I need you to stay down.  Keep completely out of sight of the windows and don’t make a sound.”

He then started grabbing some of the bags they had and piled them up against the door, blocking the windows in it.  The guards at the back started to do the same with the rear door.  Frightened, the smallest kids slid off their seats and crawled underneath them.  Lauren didn’t know what was going on, but that seemed like a good idea for everyone.

“Get under the seats, or on the floor.  Pass it along,” she whispered to the children behind her.

The message got passed, and unlike the time they had played a game of Broken Telephone, it reached the end of the bus intact.  Everybody got off their seats, squirmed under the benches where they could, or just curled up on the dirty floor.  Lauren got on the floor herself and helped Claire get under the seat.  She then passed Peter to Claire, wanting him to be safe underneath a bench seat as well.  Across the aisle, Jon got under his.  Lauren crunched down on the aisle floor between them, with Private Winchester on one side of her and their driver on the other.  She reached under the benches and held both Claire’s and Jon’s hands.  Lieutenant Boyle stayed at the doors, awkwardly perched on the steps and leaning up against the bags.

Only seconds after everyone was on the floor, Lauren made out the sounds of groaning coming toward them.  A
lot
of groaning.

***

This was a slow moving horde.  Previously, when they had become surrounded by zombies, they were the faster, somewhat smarter ones.  They would crowd around the bus in a swarm that would be two, maybe three zombies thick.  As the groaning, moaning, wheezing mass got closer, it was obviously not the same as those groups.

Lauren listened as the bodies began to bump and scrape along the sides of the bus.  The shufflers and shamblers were moving past, unaware of the prey inside the hulking yellow object.  Despite their slow progression, they made one hell of a racket.  Judging by the groans alone, there were hundreds, probably thousands of the things out there.  This wasn’t a two body deep
mass; this was at least a ten body deep mass, maybe more.

Her hands were squeezed tightly by both Jon and Claire.  She squeezed back, trying to restrain herself from crushing both their hands.  Looking down the bus, Lauren could see the eyes of the terrified kids peering out from under their seats.  Many of them were overflowing with tears, but all of them remained silent.  A few kids had their hands or the hands of others clamped tightly over their mouths.

Even though Lauren couldn’t hear herself think because of the racket outside, she could somehow make out the sounds of everyone’s lungs.  She swore she could hear all the inhalations and exhalations from everybody on the bus.  Their heartbeats too.  These things that made them different from the horde outside; these things they couldn’t stop or silence.

The door began to rattle violently, shaking the bags and Boyle.  The Lieutenant held his position, silently keeping the doors closed.  Was it possible the zombies could smell them inside?  Smell their sweat and fear?

The door stopped rattling, but before anyone could feel relief from that, the whole bus began to rock.  The groaning outside raised in volume, as many zombies from the horde started to shake the bus.  Was it in response to the door shaker?  Or did they know that living people were inside?  Lauren squeezed her eyes shut, as she began biting her lower lip.

Don’t scream,
she kept repeating to herself, over and over.  That thought wasn’t just for her; it was for their entire convoy.  If anybody screamed, they, and those in their vehicle, would be killed. 
Don’t scream.

The bus continued to be rocked but all the kids were very brave.  They kept completely silent, not
even daring to whisper a word of comfort to each other.  If a single moan or whine escaped them, it was so quiet it couldn’t be heard over the zombies.  Then, as suddenly as the rocking started, it stopped.  The groaning outside continued, but the zombies had resumed their shuffling again.

Lauren was glad she couldn’t see them; her imagination made them frightening enough.  In her mind’s eye, she could see the pale flesh.  In
places, it would be torn and ragged from injury, inflicted both before and after death.  Blood would be dried all over various parts of their bodies, but mostly on their hands and mouths from the attacks they had carried out on others.  Clothes would be torn, rumpled, dirty, and sometimes inappropriate.  Their eyes were soulless, hollow, the light that used to be behind them extinguished.

For a long time those on the bus listened to the procession of the undead pass them by.  Gradually the sounds of groans became quieter, and fewer corpses were bumping into the bus.  It got quiet enough for them to hear the dragging footsteps on the pavement and even those eventually fell silent.  Still, nobody moved.

After the silence lay thickly around them for at least ten minutes, Lieutenant Boyle shifted.  The scrape of his boots on the bus floor startled everyone.  All those who could see him, watched as he rose slowly to his feet.  He rose until he could see out the windows and began looking around.  Using hand gestures, Boyle communicated to the other soldiers to rise up and search out through the windows as well.  All of them obeyed.  With tense muscles, they moved slowly, searching all sides of the bus for any threats.