Defensive Instinct (Survival Instinct Book 4) (28 page)

“But they would give our weapons back?”

“We understand how easy it is to die out here without them. If it were just someone like you, then maybe not, but you have kids and what not with you. We would never put them in unnecessary danger.”

“All right then.” Evans returned the pictures to the Ziploc and tossed them back across to Tommy. “We’re going to trust you.”

Arman made a disgruntled noise, but he didn’t argue. He wouldn’t risk the non-combatants like that.

“So what do we do?” Evans asked Tommy.

“Well, considering how long this has taken, I’m guessing my friend got inside and has had the same conversation with their leaders. Hopefully, they also agree. I’m going to go out there and find out.”

“You could get shot.”

“You could always get shot,” Tommy said rather cryptically, his eyes darting downward.

The lithe-bodied man stood up, pulling the white fabric out of his back pocket. Once it was in his hand, Evans could see it was actually a T-shirt. Tommy waved it across the opening several times, making sure it was seen. He then stepped out after it, continuing to wave his makeshift white flag. He wasn’t shot. With both hands up, Tommy began walking toward the wall. Evans risked spying around the corner to watch.

“I’m looking for my friend, Mark,” Tommy called out when he was halfway across the space.

There was no reaction from the wall for several seconds, until one of the container doors on the upper level swung open, revealing a young man. He waved to Tommy, and Tommy waved back. Once he reached the wall, Tommy stopped to speak with the young man, whom Evans assumed was Mark. He could also spy a couple of people behind Mark, probably the leaders of the camp listening to every word. Evans wished he could hear as well.

“I don’t like this. A deal is being struck without us,” Arman grumbled, speaking what Evans was thinking.

“I’m afraid we don’t have much of a choice,” Evans told him.

“But what if this is all some sort of trick?”

“Then we’ve been tricked. I’d rather that, than risk it being true and getting stuck out here.”

Arman sighed. “Fair enough. I just don’t like that we have to rely on these assholes for help.”

Evans didn’t like having to rely on anyone for help, but that’s not the way the world worked.

Waiting for Tommy to return felt like some of the longest couple of minutes in Evans’ life. The only time he looked away from the proceedings was when Danny shuffled a bit behind him. The young man was trying to get into a more comfortable position on the hard concrete. Mostly, Evans watched what he could of the people at the edges of the container doors. Mark held no interest for him, he was just like Tommy, but those spying back at Evans were the people he would have to deal with.

When Tommy finally turned around and jogged back to where Evans was waiting, Evans rose to his feet.

“We have a deal,” Tommy smiled. “You might want to send someone to go get those others at that warehouse.”

“What’s the deal, first?” Arman demanded.

Evans glanced back at him, a silent request to keep his anger in check, although he had the same question.

“Your leaders will go first, bringing the prisoners you apparently have. When you approach the wall, hold your guns by their barrels, as far from the triggers as possible and out from your bodies. You’ll be allowed to supervise everyone coming in, although you’ll be disarmed and your hands will be bound. The children, wounded, and anyone else unable to properly defend themselves will go next. That’s at my recommendation before you go jumping down their throats for it. It’s just a precaution in case the zombies show up before everyone gets inside. Once everyone is in, you’ll be shepherded to a holding area. Those of you doing the actual attacking out here will be put into some containers, but those not perceived as a threat will be let into some place they call the community centre. Apparently, it’s where their own non-combatants have been sheltering during this whole kerfuffle. Sound good?”

“Good enough,” Evans nodded. “Arman, pass the word to Ki-nam and everyone else; we should get this started. Untie Lenny and Bryce first. Let’s not show up with them trussed and gagged. The fastest person who can hear me right now, go get the others.” Evans turned to Danny. “Think you can walk?”

“With help.”

After slinging his shotgun through the loop on his belt, Evans helped Danny to stand, keeping a firm hand under his arm to make sure he stayed upright. He then took his shotgun back out and flipped it over to hold its barrel like a club.

“Arman? You ready?” Evans looked over at him just as the man finished untying Lenny. He did not look pleased about it, but nodded.

“Let’s do this then.”

Danny could walk on his own more or less, the high placement of his injury not affecting his legs, but Evans kept a hand on him anyway. The last thing he needed was for Danny to collapse on his way to the wall.

Arman and Lenny fell in line with them, while Ki-nam drifted over with Bryce. He had been a lot farther down in the container maze than Evans had realized. The North Korean’s face was devoid of expression, giving Evans no clue as to how he felt about this. Together, with Tommy, they headed to the opening where the redhead had spoken with Mark, the container doors now completely out of the way. Several other spots along the wall were opening as well, and a strange contraption of pulleys was being assembled near one.

“Danny, you all right?” A very pale man with black hair and ghostly eyes looked down on them.

“It wasn’t you who shot me, was it, Misha?” Danny asked him.

The pale man, Misha, shook his head.

“Good, I didn’t want to think your aim was off.”

Evans wondered if that meant the shot at Danny would have killed him had this guy been the one pulling the trigger, or if the bullet had been intended for Evans.

A rope ladder clattered down the side of the container wall, and Misha was shifted out of the way by someone behind him.

“My name is Boyle,” the new man stepping to the edge of the container told them. His eyes lingered on battered Bryce. “This is an unusual situation we find ourselves in. Hopefully we can all get along.”

“I hope so too. My name is Evans, and that’s Arman and Ki-nam.”

“Good to meet you, I guess. Send our men up, and then you’ll be next.”

Evans helped Danny to the ladder. He struggled to climb it using only one arm, but a powerful pair of hands reached down and hauled him over the top once he was close enough. Looking from side to side, Evans was glad to see some metal A-frame ladders being set up before the wall openings, as they would be easier for the elderly. Bryce climbed the rope ladder next, followed by Lenny.

“You first,” Boyle pointed to Evans. “Hand up that shotgun once you’re close enough.”

Evans did as he was commanded, wanting this to go as smoothly as possible. His gun was taken and disappeared as it was handed through a gathered crowd.

“You’ll get it back when you leave,” Boyle told him.

“Like a coat check,” Evans attempted to inject a bit of humour into the situation, although it wasn’t his strong suit.

“You got it,” Boyle smiled, acknowledging his attempt. He then turned back to the opening. “Now you.”

Evans was shuffled across the wall to a second ladder he had to climb down. At the bottom, his sword and knife were taken from him and laid on a large tarp where his shotgun already rested, and then he was patted down for more weaponry. Looking around the place, Evans could see they stood no chance. They were well armed here, with more rifles that were better for distance than the many handguns his party carried. There were also just more people. They had as many combatants as Evans had people in total. He couldn’t help but wonder where their food came from. Once he was cleared for weapons, Evans’ hands were bound together by a zip-tie, but they were careful not to make it too tight. Really, if Evans had to, he knew he could get out of it using his teeth, but for now he’d co-operate.

Allowed to stand to one side, Evans watched the proceedings, Arman and Ki-nam doing the same nearby. The wounded were assisted over and quickly divided into those who needed medical attention immediately and those who could wait. Evans was glad to see a surprising number of people who acted like doctors taking care of them. As the kids came over the wall, they looked frightened and unsure, their parents still below.

“It’s all right,” Evans called to them. The sound of his voice and spotting his face calmed several children.

“They’re not going to take my doll, are they?” little Annabelle called back to him as she was moved to the ladder to get off the wall.

“No, they won’t take your doll,” Evans told her without really knowing. He looked to the man who had been assigned to guard him, a squat but powerful-looking fellow. He nodded, letting Evans know that he hadn’t just lied.

The children were grouped together while they waited for their parents, but the elderly came over ahead of them.

Evans was momentarily distracted when the pulley system went into use. He was impressed by the way they were able to lift a horse up and over with everyone working together. It didn’t shock Evans when he noticed that the first horse over was one of their own. Beyond that, a second pulley system was being set up.

The elderly joined the children, and then the parents came over. Despite all of them being non-combatants, the pile of weapons on the tarps was growing; even many of the children carried a blade. As soon as the parents were with them, the group was escorted deeper into the container yard, presumably heading for whatever the community centre was.

He spotted Tommy off to one side, talking to two young men. He guessed one of them was Mark. The other carried a katana on his back, a blade Evans thought he might have seen before. Both young men were soaking wet, leading Evans to think that they had gotten around the wall by swimming at some point.

A young woman Evans didn’t recognize came over the wall. She was separated from the others and for some reason wasn’t wearing a shirt.

“Mark! Tommy!” she called out, waving at the two.

Tommy immediately ran over and Evans could make out just enough words to hear him explain to the people surrounding her that she was part of his team. Some terse words were exchanged, and then she was let down. Tommy’s white T-shirt flag was handed to her and she slipped it on. The one Evans guessed was Mark walked over and then quickly led her to meet whoever the other soaking wet man was: someone Evans was pretty sure had been with Danny’s small group when his party members attacked them.

When Evans finally returned to supervising his own people, he noticed they were moving faster. His combatants were coming up the wall now, several forced to gather in clumps as they caused a backlog. It clicked in Evans’ mind then. The woman had been watching for the zombies. She was here now because they were close.

Evans studied the wall itself. At two containers deep, it was certainly thick enough, but was it heavy enough? Did these people think to fill the containers with junk, rubble, or even fill them with cement when they became part of the wall? He had seen that the upper ones weren’t. Although the two containers were easily good enough to keep out humans and most zombies, would they be able to withstand the pressure of thousands of corpses pressing against them? And there was always the height problem. If they managed to remain unseen, unheard, then the zombies would have no reason to start piling up, to start climbing over top of one another. They would simply bump into the wall and change direction. If they knew humans were beyond the containers, however…

Evans silently urged his people to hurry up, to climb faster, to ignore their reservations about these people. He didn’t care if they were caught out there and devoured; he just didn’t want them to give away their hiding spot.

Out of the corner of his eye, Evans spotted Arman taking a sliding step to his right. It drew Evans’ attention, wondering what the scavenger was up to. The pale man, Misha, who might have been guarding him, had his back turned to Arman, who was sliding still closer. When Arman spread his fingers, Evans realized what he was about to do but it was too late to scream at him to stop.

Arman lunged, wrapping his fingers around Misha’s skinny neck. The man thrashed, his body made of pure muscle, but Arman’s was as well, and he clearly outweighed him. Evans knew what Arman was planning. He was going to use Misha as a hostage, to bargain that the party get to stay together and that it be the container yard people who got locked up until the zombies left. From a distance, it was impossible to tell if Arman was already cutting off Misha’s oxygen supply. However, Arman had apparently chosen the wrong man to grab.

Before any human could react, a furry streak burst forth from alongside the nearest containers. Evans had just enough time to identify it as a grey muzzled German Shepherd before the dog leapt upon Arman, digging his teeth into the man’s shoulder.

Arman screamed, the weight of the dog throwing him to the ground. He dragged Misha down with him, but quickly let go so that he could draw up his arms to defend himself. Misha rolled away, quickly scrambling back up onto his feet.

“Rifle, stop!” he commanded. The Shepherd released Arman and limped over to Misha, who dropped to his knees again to check over the obviously old dog.

Evans had run over during the confrontation, as had several other people, but he reached Arman first; he had to. Even with his hands bound together, he was able to deliver a solid punch to the side of Arman’s face. The scavenger had sat up just in time to get knocked flat again.

“You fucking idiot,” Evans hissed at him as a pair of arms looped under his to pull him away. “We need to get along with these people.”

Arman lay on his back, stunned, his face rapidly swelling as his shoulder bled. Evans could only hope that his display kept the container people on his side, that they weren’t going to change their minds about sheltering them just because of Arman’s bone-headed manoeuvre.

As Evans was dragged away, he saw several other dogs in the area, all of them hunched low, their hackles up, their lips twitching in a snarl, and all of them pointed at Arman. He had really chosen the wrong person to mess with. The furry beasts made their way over to Misha, sniffing him in a familiar way as he scratched their ears.

With a large man on either side, Evans was ushered through the container yard. Despite being told that he could monitor the proceedings, they had decided that he had seen enough. He was manhandled toward a large warehouse structure that was in much better condition than the one in which his party had holed up. From inside, he could hear the muted sounds of people and guessed that it was the community centre. Evans was moved past it, toward a handful of containers alongside the building. These had clearly been storage units for these people, as evidenced by the piles of stuff heaped around the outside of them, and several people were hurriedly emptying the last one. The door of a container was opened, and Evans was shoved inside.

Even once the door closed behind him, there was light in the container. Some strange light bulb-like thing poked through the ceiling, too bright to get a good look at. The container was already partially filled with his party members, none of them bound like he was, but all of them nervous.

“Did everyone get over the wall?” Old Salt separated himself from the group to ask.

“I don’t know,” Evans answered honestly.

“Don’t know?” Leo asked from where he was hunched alone in the corner, looking oddly frail. Nathan was nowhere to be seen; he must have been stashed in one of the other containers.

“Arman did something stupid. I had to punch him to save face, and they decided to put me in here.”

“I heard that shirtless girl talking,” Helen spoke up next. “She said the zombies are getting close.”

“Everyone will get over, don’t worry. It looked like just about everyone was in before I got dragged here.”

People muttered and murmured but eventually fell silent. Not knowing how much sound would carry outside the container, they didn’t want to risk making any noise loud enough to be heard beyond the wall. Evans moved through the crowd, seeing who was in there with him and scrutinizing the metal walls. He spotted what appeared to be an emergency hatch in the ceiling near the back. In the same vein as being able to chew through his restraints if he had to, he could also lift someone up to that hatch. Hopefully no one was as stupid as Arman in the other containers and decided to attempt some half-assed jailbreak.

At the back of the container, he leaned against the corner and slid down to a sitting position. A familiar black and white creature appeared between people’s legs and rubbed against his shins. Someone had carried the cat in, and for some reason it had been locked up in the container with them. Evans found himself glad it wasn’t out there with the dogs and actually gave it an uncharacteristic head scratch.

One by one, everyone else in the container sat down in whatever space they could find. It seemed that Evans was the one to bring them to capacity, because the doors weren’t opened again to let in anyone else. By pressing his ear to the metal wall, he could hear the sounds of people moving about in the container next to theirs. They were calm sounds.

As the cat climbed onto Evans’ lap and made itself comfortable, Evans wondered how long the wait would be before they were released. He also planned what he should do if the zombies didn’t just pass by this place.