Adaptive Instinct (Survival Instinct) (70 page)

“All right, let’s get going,” Mathias ordered.

Their party instantly began packing up, and when Doyle agreed, the others who had been found in the house started to do so as well.  It was a silent agreement that everybody would ride in the same vehicle and in the same place as last time.  Rifle didn’t look too happy about getting back into the trunk with Misha.

“You and me both, buddy.”  Misha rubbed the dog’s jowls.  He felt really badly about not being able to find Rifle’s toy skunk after the plane had gone down.

Once everyone was sitting in their metal boxes, the engines started up and they began rolling.  Misha struggled to get his shirt back on in the tight space, but he managed to do it.  He hoped they weren’t too far from their destination.  Even though he wasn’t looking forward to another plane ride, and planes were notoriously cramped, they would offer a lot more room than his current position.  Now, if he could just get Rifle’s butt off his leg, maybe the ride wouldn’t be so bad.

***

“Gah!” Robin cried out, clamping a hand over her mouth and nose again.  “He let another one rip, didn’t he?”

“Actually, it wasn’t him this time.”  Misha was laughing.  Laughing was the only way to deal with the gas chamber that was their van.  Apparently, beef jerky made Rifle fart.  “I think your cat took a dump.”

“Eww, he did,” Robin acknowledged.  “Cover that shit up, Splatter.  It’s disgusting.”

Misha laughed harder due to her accurate choice of words.  He, Quin, and their driver, Harry, all thought the situation was hilarious.  Although Robin, Elizabeth, and the blond
e laughed as well, it was obvious they were also quite disgusted.

“Are we almost there yet?” Robin asked.  Her voice was muffled behind the hand that covered her mouth and nose.

“It shouldn’t be too much longer.”

“Good.  If we don’t get there soon, I think I might pass out.”

This received another round of laughter.

They had entered former civilization
a while ago.  As the others had fallen silent looking out the windows, Misha hadn’t bothered.  He had seen enough of destroyed suburbs.  He looked up through the rear windshield occasionally, watching a few power lines go past, but that was it.  Then Rifle had started passing gas, and there was no way to be somber during that.

“Good boy, Rifle.”  Misha rubbed his sides.  In spite of the rankness, his farting had successfully lightened the mood.

Several more minutes passed.

“There!  There it is!” the man in the front passenger seat cried out.

Misha got up on his knees to look over the back of the seat.  Looking through the van, he could just see the airport coming into view around the car in front of them, the car that was suddenly speeding up.

“Hey, hey why are they going faster?” the woman next to Elizabeth wondered, apparently noticing the same thing Misha had.

“’Cause that plane is taking off!”  Josh pointed out a large 747 roaring down a runway.

Their own van picked up the pace, keeping up with the SUV ahead of them.  They wove dangerously around cars, scraping along the sides.  Sparks flared up from a particularly bad hit.  Misha glanced behind them, double-checking that Mathias was keeping up in the other car.  He was riding right on their tail, and if anything, he was trying to go faster.  A fence loomed ahead, with a lone zombie turning to face them from where it had been rattling it.  The lead vehicle smashed its way through without slowing down, and they all blew past the zombie.

Once through, they were out in the open.  The lead SUV gained more speed, pulling away from the slower van.  Mathias’s SUV swung around them and shot forward, the pedal to the floor.  His horn started blaring, and high beams began flashing as he overtook the other SUV.  The van and the second SUV started to do the same.

The plane they saw had already left the tarmac, rising up into the air, but there was another plane.  This one was taxiing around, lining itself up for take-off.

Mathias was far ahead of the others now, his speed reckless even across such open ground.  The plane was aligned now, prepared for take-off.  Mathias’s SUV shot past it, racing down the runway ahead of the plane.  Smoke screamed off his tires as he hit the brakes, and turned the car around.  He nearly tipped the whole thing over and Misha feared for the safety of the kids and the dogs inside.  His high beams began flashing again, over and over as he leaned on the horn.

The van neared the plane, and Misha could see that it was slowing.  The pilot had noticed Mathias in the way and was stopping for them.  They slowed, matching the pace of the plane until it stopped.  All the vehicles gathered under the front door of the plane, and everyone piled out of them.

As Tobias got out of Mathias’s vehicle, he wobbled unsteadily on his feet.  When the kids got out, they seemed excited, except for the baby girl who was crying.  All the dogs, Rifle included, kept looking nervously about.  The big plane probably confused them, as it was likely something they had never seen before.

The door to the plane opened up and a man in a dirty pilot’s uniform looked down on them.

“You guys are nuts!” he yelled down.

“How do we come aboard?” Mathias yelled back, getting straight to the point.

“Are you all able to climb a rope ladder?”

Mathias looked around the group,
and then turned back to the pilot.  “Do we have another option?  We have some really young kids here, one with a broken arm!  We also have a wheelchair-bound man, and four dogs, as well as supply packs!”

“And a kitten!” Robin added.

“There’s mobile stairs you can use!  Over there!”  The pilot pointed.  Misha looked under the plane and spotted what he was talking about.  “One of you can drive them over here, and line them up with the door!  Then drive them out of the way once everyone’s up, and climb the rope ladder!  That’s what we did before!”

“Okay!”  Mathias turned to the group.  “I’m going over there to get those steps.  Anyone coming with me?”

“I will,” Misha volunteered.

“Me too.”  Doyle stepped forward.

“You might want to hurry it up!  Zombies are coming!” the pilot shouted.

Misha remembered the lone zombie by the gate.  Although he hadn’t seen any others at the time, odds were it wasn’t really alone.

“Okay.  We three will go get the steps.  Alec, cover us with your rifle,” Mathias organized the group in a hurry.

“I don’t have a lot of rounds left.  We lost most of them in the crash,” Alec stated from where he sat in an SUV’s passenger seat with the door open next to him.

“Then hopefully you won’t need to do a lot of shooting.  Everyone else, unpack everything from the vehicles, then I want Tobias, Joshua, and Harry to drive them out of the plane’s way.  We don’t want them hindering our take-off somehow.  Drive them toward the steps.  We should be able to meet you halfway and bring you back to the plane.  Everyone good?”

Nods all around.

“Okay.”  Mathias turned and started running.

Misha and Doyle grabbed their machete and fire axe, and
followed him.  The tarmac was deceptively large.  Misha had no way of knowing how much progress they were making, because there was nothing out there by which to judge the distance.  His firefighter boots were clunky, not made for a lot of hard running.  Doyle was wearing the same, however, and now that they were both going, he couldn’t let the other man show him up.  He’d keep up or drop dead.  Or puke.  Puking seemed like a viable option as well.

Mathias reached the stair-
mobile well before Doyle and Misha could.  He yanked open the door to the little driver’s compartment and climbed behind the wheel.  The keys must have been inside, because he started the engine with ease, then hopped back out as he waited for the other two to catch up.  A zombie shuffled around the back of the stairs behind him.

“Mathias!” Misha barely got out between gasps for air.

Mathias began to turn toward the zombie, but Misha wasn’t going to leave it to chance.  With all his might, he hurled the machete, end over end, at the zombie.  He imagined the blade thunking into its skull, killing it, but he wasn’t that good.  Not even close.  The handle of the machete hit harmlessly into the zombie’s shoulder.  There was enough force behind it to make the zombie stagger backward, however, which gave Mathias the second he needed.  He dodged the undead’s clutching grasp, and dove to the ground.  Grabbing the machete off the pavement, he came up swinging.  The blade was quickly buried into the zombie’s neck.  To make extra sure, Mathias swung several more times until the thing’s head had parted from its shoulders.

“Thanks.  Doyle, you drive, give the axe to Misha.”  Mathias then turned and headed for the back of the odd vehicle.  More zombies were beginning to appear around it.

Doyle handed off the axe and headed into the cab, while Misha ran to join Mathias.  The two of them cleared off the back of the steps as it began to pull away.  Blades sank into flesh, which was then kicked off so they could be turned on others.  As the vehicle got going, Misha and Mathias hopped onto the back, crouching low on the steps and holding tightly to the railings.  The zombies were slow and couldn’t keep up as they pulled away.

“We should have brought a gun.”  Mathias laughed, holding up the bloody machete.

Misha’s lungs burned, and all he could do was nod in response.  As they drove, they checked each other’s faces, making sure no infected blood got on them.  They’d have to change shirts as soon as possible, just in case.

Halfway to the plane, they met up with the three men who had moved the other vehicles.  They climbed on as well and Doyle
continued.  The zombies kept following them, moving as quickly as their broken and uncoordinated bodies would allow.  They wouldn’t get tired though.  The speed they were moving at now would be the same speed when they got close.

“Hurry up!” the pilot called down from the plane as Doyle manoeuvred the steps into position.  As soon as they were lined up with the doors, the others began climbing up.

“Go on.”  Mathias gestured for Misha to head up the steps after the kids.

“No way.  You and Doyle need to carry Alec up there.  I’ll drive the steps away.”

Mathias looked like he was about to argue, but then shut his mouth as he realized that Misha was right.  “Just be damn careful.”

“You just make sure that ladder is down when I get there.  In fact, I expect you to haul my ass up.”

“You got it.”

Misha went to stand next to the driver’s spot, ready to go as soon as everybody was up.  Rifle gave them no difficulty this time; he probably didn’t realize what the plane was.  Doyle and Mathias slung Alec between them.  Partway up the steps, Alec tossed his sniper rifle down to Misha.

“Just in case.  Remember what I taught you.”

Alec had been teaching everyone how to shoot, back at the cabin.  Misha had been verbally taught by his father as well, but he had never actually fired a gun before.  Well, he shot a revolver once when a group of Marble Keystone mercenaries were grabbing him out of bed, but that didn’t count.  And he had missed.

As soon as Misha saw the three men disappear through the door above, he jumped behind the wheel, slammed the thing into reverse, and stomped on the pedal.  The contraption jolted backwards, nearly causing him to rap his head on the steering wheel.  He just had to get past the wing and they’d be in the clear.

Just a little farther, a little more.

As soon as Misha was clear, he grabbed the big gun and jumped out, not even waiting for it to come to a complete stop.  As he ran for the plane, he saw the rope ladder tumble out of the doorway.  He then saw a zombie break free of the pack.  It was a smart one, a fast one.  He was running just as fast as Misha, if not faster.  He wouldn’t make it to the ladder before that zombie.

Risking a stop, Misha planted his feet and raised Alec’s rifle to his shoulder.  He took the stance that Alec had taught him and aimed through the scope.  It brought the face of the zombie much closer than he’d ever be comfortable with.  He breathed out slowly, trying to pretend he was just playing Call
of Duty, and squeezed the trigger.

The gun bucked in Misha’s arms, practically throwing him off his feet.  He had missed the zombie’s head, but nailed it in the chest.  The powerful rifle shot had ripped right through it, taking out the spine.  The zombie tumbled to the ground, its face sheering off on the pavement.  It had lost the use of its legs.

With his shoulder throbbing from the kickback, Misha started running for the ladder again.  He grabbed hold, hooking his arms and legs around the ropes and wooden slats.

“Go!”  He heard Mathias yelling from above.  “We don’t want them grabbing onto the landing gear!”

The plane started to roll forward at the same moment that Misha started getting hauled up.  He focused all his energy on holding on, but spared a quick glance down.  He could only see the landing gear on his side, but the zombies looked like they were far enough behind the plane that none of them should have grabbed onto any of it.

Just as their speed got great enough to create a wind that threatened to tear Misha off, strong hands wrapped around his thin arms and hauled him inside the plane.  The rope ladder was dragged in with him, and the door shut and sealed behind him.  The first face he saw was Mathias’s, and the man was laughing.