Survival Instinct: A Zombie Novel (97 page)

The thin man wrote this down.  “And you said you were brothers.”  This wasn’t a question, he spoke to himself as he made note of that.  “Any other surviving relations with you?”

“No,” Mathias shook his head.

“I assume I don’t need to bother asking for your occupations.”  The man was observant enough to notice the patches on Mathias’s clothes and that Danny was too young.  “Have you been bitten?”

“No.”

“Spit or bled on?”

“No, we’re not infected,” Mathias sighed rolling his eyes.

The man peered over his glasses at him.  Then he wrote down something else.

Danny found an odd sort of humour in this.  He tried not to giggle but it was hard, especially when it looked like Mathias was trying to do the same.

“You’ll have to take off your clothes so we can examine you ourselves,” the fat one told them.

“How thorough is your examination?”  Mathias was trying to keep a straight face but it wasn’t working.  This, of course, made it even harder for Danny who couldn’t keep the stupid grin off his face.  Just what did they both find so amusing?  He didn’t even know.

“Thorough,” the man frowned.  He was clearly very annoyed.

The Cole brothers did as they were told, but they were in giggle fits nearly the whole time, despite the awkwardness of the examination.  It was hard to answer the men’s questions through their laughter.  This annoyed and confused the two short
men, which for some reason made it all the funnier.

* * *

“You can put your clothes back on,” the fat man commanded them.  He was the more irritable of the two.

The Coles did so as the thin man wheeled over an instrument tray.

“Whoa, what is that?”  Mathias tried to get serious again and only partly succeeded.

“We need to take a sample of your blood to test for infection.”  The thin man showed him the needle for blood collection and pointed to a pair of microscopes in the corner.

“Oh, okay.”  Mathias’s smile returned.

Danny personally hated needles.  Mathias handled it fine, used to getting a lot of booster shots for his job, but Danny couldn’t even look.  He kept his head turned as the needle was stuck into the crux of his elbow, his face scrunching up.

“Hold Mr. Ears with your free hand,” Mathias suggested.  “That’s what I did until I got used to needles.”

Danny took his advice, taking Mr. Ears out of his pocket and holding him on his knee.  He was a very silly-looking elephant, made out of a patchwork of colours.

“Did you know that he was made by your great, great grandma?” Mathias told him.

“No,” Danny shook his head.  He had no idea how Mr. Ears had come to be.

“Yup.  She made him during World War I apparently, and he’s been passed down the family line.”

Danny didn’t know if what Mathias was telling him was true or whether he was just saying it to take his mind off the blood draw, but he liked to think it was.  It was a nice thought to have something from so far back.  Like a piece of history.  Knowing this, made his world more settled.  He hadn’t realized just how much it was spinning until then.  The future may be uncertain, but the past would remain the same.  This was just another chapter in the history of the world.  It had survived many things, and would survive this.  This strange little elephant in his hand was a testimony to that fact.

Finally, the blood draws were done, and the short men went off to the corner to look at them.

“Thank you,” Danny told his brother.

“You’re welcome,” Mathias shrugged a shoulder.

“No, I mean thank you for everything,” Danny reiterated.  “You did a lot for me, for a long time.  I wouldn’t be who I am today without you.”

“Right back at you little brother.”  Mathias learned forward and scuffed his hair.  It was already a disaster on his head and that didn’t help.  “You forgot to put this on when you got dressed.”  Mathias scooped up the helmet and plunked it down on Danny’s head.  “By the way, where’d you get the dog tags?”

Danny picked up the tags around his neck and looked at them.  “From Alec.  They were his spotter’s apparently.  Supposedly they’re lucky.”

“I suppose they would have to be if we managed to get here together.”  Mathias laughed.  Danny didn’t.  He couldn’t help but think of Alice and how she thought that quartz rock she found was lucky.  It wasn’t, at least not for her.

The thin man walked over once more.  “It appears you are clear of infection.”

“I told you.”  Mathias stood up.

“Not yet.”  The man held up a hand so Mathias sat back down with a sigh.

“You need a shot first.”  The fat man came over with a pair of needles.

“Hell no!”  Mathias shot to his feet once more, stepping over to Danny.  “Neither of us are getting shots.”

“It’s simply to help keep you from getting sick.”  The thin man frowned and looked somewhat confused.

“We’ll deal with the sickness, thanks,” Mathias continued to refuse.

The fat one took a step closer, but Mathias grabbed his pistol out of its holster and aimed it at him.

“One more step and you get a shot of your own.”  All the humour that Mathias had had in him earlier was completely gone.  Danny had never seen him so cold before.  He had never seen him threaten anyone.

“All right, all right.”  The thin man stepped back, encouraging the fat man to do the same.  “No more needles then.”

“We still have to go through your stuff though,” the fat man grumbled as he put the syringes down.  “We need to keep track of what’s in here.”

“Fine.”  Mathias lowered his pistol but didn’t holster it.

Danny and Mathias watched as the two men went through everything they owned, keeping a close eye to make sure they didn’t pilfer any of it.  It was odd to think of it that way, that these bags were literally all they owned.  Danny suddenly respected the homeless people he had seen on the streets.  All they had was with them, in a bag or shopping cart, or whatever.  He understood how defensive you could get about it too.  Danny was carrying quite a few of the medical supplies, having no idea what most were for, but if one vial or bottle went missing, he might get violent to get it back.  Mathias would definitely get violent to get it back.

It briefly crossed Danny’s mind, that he was glad he left the pilfered skin magazine in the mechanic’s shop.  If Mathias saw it, he would have been embarrassed.  He had also thought about bringing one of Alice’s horses, but decided that they should stay there.  They were the closest thing she would get to a grave marker.  Although as far as Danny knew, she didn’t even have a grave.

Eventually the inspection ended, and they repacked their bags.  They loaded up and headed back out the door they had first come through.  From there, they didn’t really know where to go, so they went forward down the hall.  They ended up in a cafeteria where they found Riley sitting at a table.  Danny wondered where they would have ended up if it turned out one of them was infected.

Lots of other people were in the cafeteria, but Riley sat alone, near the door they had come through, eating some sort of paste-like substance from a tube.  It was probably from her own bag, as she didn’t have a tray in front of her like everyone else did.  Danny and Mathias sat down at the little table with her.  The metal folding chairs scraped loudly against the floor, causing Danny to look around the room.  No one paid attention to them though; it sounded like their chairs scraped loudly as well.

“How’d it go for you?” Riley asked.

“He had sweaty hands,” Mathias joked.  They had worn gloves.

“Gross,” Riley commented without any emotion.

“Did you take the shot?” Mathias asked her.

“No, and I’m assuming you weren’t bone-headed enough to take it, either,” Riley told them.  “If you need any shots, I’ll be the one to administer them.”

“That sounds unpleasant,” Mathias frowned.  “You’d probably stick me in the ass deliberately.”

Riley laughed.

Danny kept looking from one to the other.  He had never seen his brother interact with a woman before; he never brought any home when they had lived together.  He didn’t think his brother was celibate or anything.  It was just something that had never crossed his mind.  He wondered if his behaviour around Riley was normal or if she got special treatment.

* * *

While they waited for Alec and Shoes, they got to talking about the others in the room.  Some of them looked like them: recently brought in, nervous, huddled in groups.  Others looked relaxed, clearly having settled in better.  They guessed that those were probably Keystone employees.  Danny noticed a few other kids around, some younger, some older.

Finally,
Alec wheeled up next to their table, Shoes sleeping in his lap.  “Fuckers wanted to give me a shot.”

“I guess that answers that question,” Riley half smiled.

“I told them if they stuck that needle in me or Shoes, I was going to stick one up their asses.”  Alec was pretty pissed.

“I bet they loved that,” Mathias laughed.  “Tell me, did you get the fat, gropey one?”

“Guy’s got fingers like sausages.”  Alec shuddered.

This caused everyone to burst out laughing, and that time they did draw the attention of some others in the room.

“You should’ve seen how he reacted to my legs,” Alec told them.  “He didn’t know what the hell to think or how to proceed with his examination.”

“I guess there’s a lot of scar tissue then?”  Riley didn’t know why Alec was in the chair.

“Yeah, shredded by bullets,” Alec gave her the really quick version. “So what now?”

“Well.”  Mathias leaned forward in a very conspiratorial way.  “Now we plan our great escape.”

Jovovich

Misha paced his little cell, back and forth, back and forth.  Rifle sat in a corner watching him, his skunk hanging out of his mouth.

When Misha had been grabbed from the cabin, his first reaction was to go for the revolver.  He managed to grab it and fire off a shot, but he missed terribly.  That just pissed off his kidnappers.  He had been knocked to the ground, and the revolver taken from him.  That was when he realized he was badly out-numbered and out-muscled.  When he saw Rifle’s skunk toy, he grabbed it to himself on instinct.  He then curled up to protect himself as he got pummelled.  His attackers didn’t say much, but they said enough for Misha to figure out they were friends with the soldier who had chased him the other day, the one who had gotten killed.  That thing he saw must have been a camera, or the person in the bubble suit gave an accurate description.  Maybe one of them had
been
the man in the bubble suit.

Rifle had tried valiantly to protect Misha, standing over his body, snarling and barking, biting at anyone who got too close.  One managed to get a hand on Rifle’s harness, scoop him up into his arms, and carry him away.  It was then that Misha feared the worst for his
bratishka
.  When he himself got hauled up, he started fighting and screaming his fool head off.  He was pretty sure he was yelling in his native tongue at that point, but he couldn’t actually remember that part so well.  He just remembered being sick with worry for his furry friend.

Then his terribly bruised and beaten body had been locked up in that ugly, white truck, with Rifle muzzled and chained next to him.  He was okay though, and didn’t look hurt.  Misha had managed to hold onto the skunk while he struggled and dropped it on the bench for Rifle.  Due to the muzzle, Rifle couldn’t clamp his jaws on it, so he settled for resting his big head on Misha’s lap.  Misha would have scratched his ears if he could, but his restrained limbs wouldn’t let him.

They had turned off the inside lights and shut the outer doors, plunging Misha into complete darkness.  He could only listen to the rumbling sound of the engine, which was, of course, no comfort.  When Rifle whined, Misha had started talking to him.  He told the dog inconsequential things, sometimes in Russian but mostly in English.  He figured that if Rifle could understand any human words, they were likely to be all English words.  He told the dog about home, both here in Canada and back in Russia.  He told him about his family and how they worked hard to get him through school.  He had no idea why they wanted him to go to school outside the country but he didn’t argue.  He didn’t mind getting as far away as possible.  Not that he had bad parents or anything; they could just be very smothering at times.  He talked about his classes and how all of them were pretty much useless at the present moment.  He had been going to school for metalworking, of all things.  After another year, he would have graduated.  Then, he would have signed up for a special, one year program for underwater welding.  Misha loved to dive.  Now, none of the knowledge he had learned would likely ever be useful.  He wasn’t upset about this, though.  He felt oddly free. 

Well, except for the fact that he was handcuffed in the back of a truck.  In the dark.  With no idea where he was going.  When the truck did stop, and the engine was turned off, Misha listened closely.  He could barely hear anything through the truck’s thick sides, just some muffled noise that was impossible to identify.  He knew when the doors were about to open though, because Rifle lifted up his head.  Even so, the light blinded him when they were opened.  Two women and a young boy climbed in, looking frightened.