Adaptive Instinct (Survival Instinct) (71 page)

“You should have seen you,” he said.  “That gun nearly took off your arm.”

“It feels like it did,” Misha grumbled, rubbing his shoulder.

“Hold on, we’re lifting off,” a nearby woman spoke, the one who had shut the plane door.

The plane rose with a stomach-sinking sensation, and Misha tried to grip the
threadbare carpet.  He, and the rest of the guys on the floor near the door, managed to stay put until they were flying smoothly.

Misha picked up the sniper rifle and handed it to Alec.  “What do you think?  Too big for a carry on?”

***

Misha lounged in his first class seat, which was reclined all the way back.  Across the aisle from him was a woman whose face had been beaten worse than his own.  She never moved, and there was an IV bag hooked up to her.  Misha had overheard the doctor taking care of her say that she might be in a coma.

“Riley and Cameron are on the other plane,” Mathias said, taking the seat next to Misha.  He had gone up front to the cockpit to ask about them.

“That’s good.  You get to talk to her?”

“No, they wouldn’t even let me in the cockpit.  Apparently, that procedure still holds true.  They found her on the plane though and told her we made it.”

Misha closed his eyes, comfortable for the first time since Shawn had shown up at the cabin.

“The other plane was also told about our delay, although they didn’t slow down.  We’re apparently behind schedule, but they’re hoping that won’t affect anything.”

Misha wasn’t really listening.  He was focused on Rifle’s breathing.  The dog was sleeping under his bare feet like a heated footrest.  Rifle breathed in, Misha’s feet went up; Rifle breathed out, Misha’s feet went down.

“I’m going to go check on everyone else.”  Mathias got up again.  The man couldn’t sit still for more than a second, despite someone giving up their first class seat for him.  The two of them had been given the seats because of the blood on their shirts; they didn’t want it to alarm anyone.  They hadn’t counted on Mathias’s restless behaviour, however.  Misha listened as Mathias checked with Alec first, also in first class because of his handicap, then disappeared into the business section where the kids were, Danny included.  The others were dispersed even further back into the economy section.  That had been the section in which Misha rode when he first came to Canada, and the few times he went back to visit his home in Russia.  After this first class experience, Misha didn’t think he could ever ride in economy again.  Although if things on the ship went better than they had at the cabin, he wouldn’t be travelling again for a long time.

Misha dozed off and on during the flight.  Every fifteen minutes or so he would open his eyes, take in his surroundings,
and then drift off again.  Sometimes Mathias was next to him, sometimes he wasn’t.  Once, Misha woke up because Milly was cramming herself between Rifle and the seat ahead of them.  Rifle shifted as best he could to make room for the other dog and then the two of them, along with Misha, fell asleep again.  Because of this, and the fact that the flight took only about two hours, it passed by in what seemed like the blink of eye.

“If everyone could take their seats and buckle up, we’re going to start circling the landing strip soon,” the voice of their pilot sounded over the speaker system.

Mathias reappeared as Misha put his seat back into the upright position.  He picked nervously at the armrests.

“On the right, you might be able to catch sight of the ship,” said the pilot.

Everyone on the plane was suddenly looking out the right side windows as they began their turn.  Misha was in a middle row, so he didn’t have a good view, but he thought he managed to spot a glimpse of it.  It was a big boat.

“Do we know the ship’s name?” Misha asked Mathias.

“Ah, no, at least I don’t.”

“The Diana,” a voice just loud enough to hear over the engines spoke from across the aisle from Misha.  He turned and saw the beat-up woman looking at him.  She had woken up.  “The ship’s name is the Diana.”

A burst of static came over the intercom, startling everyone on the plane.

“Umm, folks?  We may be in for a rough landing.”

Misha blanched, his skin paling into translucence.  He had been in a plane crash just yesterday for God’s sake.

Mathias got out of his seat and went up toward the cockpit, brushing past the protesting flight attendant.  He returned about five minutes later and took his seat, strapping his seat belt on tightly.

“What?  What is it?” Alec asked.  Misha couldn’t find his voice to ask it himself.

“The runway is overrun with zombies.”

“The other plane?”

“They all got out in time, only two or three casualties and all of them were soldiers.  They’re safe on the life boats and the few helicopters that picked them up.”

“Where are we going to land?” Misha asked what he thought was the most important question.

Mathias responded by pointing straight down.

“Down?  What do you mean down?  There’s nothing there but-” it clicked.  There was nothing down there but water.  “Can we even do that?” Misha’s voice cracked from stress.

“A pilot once landed one of these things in the Hudson
River.  I don’t see why we can’t do it here.”  Mathias didn’t sound very confidant.

Misha pressed himself tightly into his seat.  He closed his eyes, but all he could picture was the last plane crash.  He remembered the rolling, the fibreglass shearing away, the knife that nearly killed him.  His ear throbbed from the memory.  He remembered that they had been
extremely
lucky that only four people had died during that crash.  Those four people had also been in the front of the plane, where Misha was now.

He opened his eyes again, fixing them on the chair in front of him, trying to keep his breathing steady as he felt the plane descend.  He had always liked the water; he prayed that he would still be able to say that after this was over.

“Mathias,” Misha said without turning to look at him.

“Yeah?”

“If we live through this, remind me never to get into a plane with Tobias ever again.  That man is a jinx when it comes to heights.”

“I’m surprised you’re even thinking about flying again.  I personally don’t think I’ll ever again get into something with wings.”

Misha couldn’t resist and glanced sideways out the windows across the aisle from him.  He could make out smouldering buildings in the distance, a harbour closer by.  And water, lots of water.  As they got even lower, more and more water came into view.  Then zombies, thousands of them, pressed up against the water’s edge.  Some jumped in and tried to swim, while others were pushed.  So much water.

Then everything went black.

***

“Misha?  Misha?”  Something was shaking him.  Misha opened his eyes and saw Mathias’s face, which broke into a grin and then started laughing.  “You totally passed out, man!”

Misha blinked several times and sat bolt upright.  He looked out the windows and saw water all around the plane.

“We’re okay, we landed!” Mathias cheered.

Everyone on the plane was clapping and cheering for their pilots.  Misha was still trying to take it in.  Really?  They had actually just pulled that off?

The intercom crackled with the sound of a loud and relieved sigh.  “We’re down everybody.  Now if you could all proceed calmly to the centre exits of the plane, we’ll get you folks out on the wings and into the
lifeboats, which should reach us momentarily.”

When Rifle and Milly got up and out of the way, Misha stood on shaky legs.  Rifle whined at him, and when Misha looked down, he saw that the dog was trembling all over.

“It’s okay,
bratishka
.”  Misha knelt down in front of the big dog and wrapped his arms around his neck.  “We’re okay.  We’re almost home, just a little further.”  Soothing the dog helped to calm his own frayed nerves.

“Did you really pass out?”  Alec was looking over at him.

Misha blushed a deep red and didn’t say anything, giving Alec all the answer he needed.  This, of course, prompted him to laugh, not making Misha feel any better about it.  All the blood rushing to his face made his injuries there pulse with pain.

“Well, go on then, get the kids and those dogs outside.  I’ve got to wait till there’s room for Doyle and Mathias to carry me out again.”

Misha did as Alec told him.  Not bothering to put his boots back on, he wrapped them up in his coat and carried them.  When he was in the aisle, he looked toward the front of the plane and caught sight of the pilot and co-pilot exiting the cockpit.  The pilot’s hands were trembling about as badly as Misha’s knees, and he couldn’t blame the man one bit.

Joining the crowd that was heading for the wings, Misha located Danny, the other two young boys they had picked up, the baby girl, and Shoes and Maggie.  Shoes was the only one who seemed totally calm about what had happened, as he walked along with the little girl.  The boys were all talking excitedly about it.  Misha listened to every word, hoping he could fake knowledge of the landing; then only Alec and Mathias would know he had passed out.

The line shuffled along slowly.  Once a group of people were on the wings, some of them wearing the life vests from under the seats, they had to wait for the rescue boats to pick them up.  Misha looked out the windows to watch the progress.  Some of the boats that had picked up the survivors on the other plane had few enough people in them to pick up more from their plane.  Most of them, however, had to head back to the cruise ship to off-load first.  Helicopters were circling overhead, but they weren’t picking up any passengers.  Instead, they had large baskets hanging from them, into which a chain gang of people were loading packs, supplies, and equipment from the plane’s cargo hold.

Beyond all this, zombies continued to spill into the water.  Most of them disappeared once they went under.  Misha had seen at least two underwater zombies before
: one who just walked along the bottom, and another who tried to swim but wasn’t co-ordinated enough to break the surface.  It seemed most zombies fell into either category, and weren’t a threat.  Still, a few were, though.  Some zombies could swim and others had life jackets or life preservers strapped to them.  The swimmers were quickly taken out by snipers, or by people close to them in the boats.  The bobbers, those that were floating, were left alone unless they managed to get too close.

“Next thirty, please,” a woman from just outside the door said.

Misha, the kids, and the dogs were part of that thirty.  They were let out onto the wing of the plane, which was already below the surface of the water, where they waited for the boats.  Rifle was being very skittish about being on the wing of the plane.  He didn’t like the surface of it, or maybe he didn’t like having his paws get wet in the ankle-deep water.

“It’s okay, Rifle.”  Misha patted his head.

The boys started fussing over the dog, trying to help by making him feel better.  Misha watched as a boat large enough to take them all made its way toward them.  If it weren’t for the plane’s splash down, the helicopter’s rotor wash, and all the boats moving about, the water would have been amazingly calm.  Perhaps that was why the pilot had risked the water landing?  Although it was possible, he would have risked it no matter what the conditions were.

The boat came up alongside the wing, and Misha helped a few others hold it steady.  Other members of the twenty got in first, and then it was the dogs’ turns.  Misha lifted Shoes up and in first, then convinced Milly and Maggie to get in.  Once those three dogs were in the boat, it was easier to convince Rifle to
follow them.  Rifle lay on the floor of the lifeboat almost the moment he got into it.  He whined and flattened his ears, disapproving of the rocking motion.

“Becky?”  One of the boys looked around; the little girl wasn’t with him.  “Becky!”

Misha’s head shot up and looked around the wing.  The little girl, Becky, was standing on the end of it.  Suddenly, she was no longer on the end of it, but had slipped, the water carrying her over the edge.  Misha didn’t think, he just reacted.  He ran down the length of the wing, stripping off his T-shirt and abandoning it behind him.  As he neared the edge, he couldn’t see the little girl.  Leaping off the wing, he dove straight into the cold sea water.

The salt water stung Misha’s facial wounds as he looked around for the girl.  She couldn’t have gotten far, even if she had sunk straight down.  The sunlight lit up the waters, but still Misha couldn’t see Becky.

There, in the shadow of the wing, she was sinking.  Kicking and pulling with his arms, Misha headed toward her.  The little girl was still moving, and seemed to be holding her breath, although that couldn’t last much longer.  When he reached Becky, Misha wrapped one arm around her chest and started kicking for the surface at an angle, so that they wouldn’t hit the underside of the wing.  His lungs were burning, screaming for air.  Bubbles drifted out of the little girl, as she could no longer hold it in.  Absurdly, Misha was thinking about how she must have taken some swimming lessons or something to know how to hold her breath underwater.

Releasing his own air to trick his body into thinking it was about to get some more, Misha forced one last effort out of his limbs.  He broke the surface, taking in a huge gasp of air, and heaving Becky’s head up and out of the water.  Misha was scared he would have to perform CPR, but Becky’s lungs figured things out on their own.  She started coughing out water and wailing at the same time.