Defensive Instinct (Survival Instinct Book 4) (42 page)

Within the concrete structure of the parking level, several of the invaders were busying themselves around the large elevator shaft. It wasn’t easy to see from a distance, but it appeared to Abby that they were lowering supplies down. They clearly planned on staying.

Logan directed the line of prisoners to a corner of the space, where a ring of folding chairs had been set up. The calm man who had told the stinking man not to kill Abby was there. He counted how many people had arrived tied up and removed two chairs from the ring, readjusting the others to form an even circle. Abby didn’t like seeing that man here. Something about him creeped her out, and knowing what this was likely to end up being, made his presence worse.

“Stand along the wall, please,” Logan ordered the line.

They did as commanded. The calm man started with Clive, untying him from the group and bringing him over to a chair. Clive kept squirming in his seat, threatening to slide off or tip it over while the man attempted to tie him to it.

With the speed of a striking viper, the calm man slapped Clive’s face; not as hard as he could, but hard enough to no doubt sting. Clive’s whine took on a higher-pitched note, but his body locked up, allowing the man to finish securing him. He continued along the line, tying one person to a chair at a time, so that Abby was second to last, and Crichton was put in the final seat. Abby noticed with ill-ease that she could clearly see each member of the group that had been brought down.

“This is going to be simple,” Logan spoke, circling around the outside of the ring like a shark. “I’m going to ask questions, and you’re going to answer. Easy, right?”

No one acknowledged her. Abby focused on Seth, worrying about him the most since he had been labelled the most co-operative.

“I’ll start with something simple. Who’s in charge of this place?”

No one moved, everyone continuing to ignore her.

“I’ll try again. When there’s a problem, such as me and my people breaking and entering, who do you all turn to?”

Silence and grim faces.

The man stepped into the ring, seemingly picking Brittany at random, and slapped her across the face. This time he slapped hard, the sound of flesh striking flesh loud within the concrete corner. A tear escaped Brittany’s eye, but she pressed her lips firmly together as the side of her face began to bloom red.

“No? No one is going to tell me?” Logan continued to circle, her voice never changing in tone. “Let’s try something else then. Who has a key to that door downstairs?”

No response.

Smack!
This time it was Crichton who was struck. His face remained unchanged beyond the handprint that formed.

“Who has a key?”

This time Abby felt the sting of the blow. There was a horrible bite to the way the man slapped, but Abby merely sat up straighter. She had been slapped before, when she was younger and by someone whose strike had a deeper emotional impact. This man meant nothing to her.

“Who has a key?”

Smack!
Clive this time, with his sad whimper.

“I want a key.”

Smack!
Abby again, this time on the same side of her face that was already swollen and bruised. She bore down on the pain, refusing to say a word. She thought of the time her mother had slapped her, not nearly as hard but even more painfully because of who she was. It was one of Abby’s last memories of her family. They didn’t want her to go to a school in Toronto; they wanted her to stay close where they could continue to drive God into her, hoping to cure her of her lesbian ways. Abby had always been quiet during those years, simply taking the emotional abuse, but once she had her escape, she let all her anger out. She told her mother all the things she thought about her and God at the time, a vile stream of words kept inside finally released. Abby hadn’t even been able to get it all out before her mother’s hand struck her face. They hadn’t spoken directly to one another since, and Abby felt fine knowing that she was most likely dead.

Logan asked about a key to the generator room until everyone had been slapped at least three times, some of them more. No one said a word, not even Seth who had locked eyes with Crichton’s cool, calm gaze.

“How do I get your people out of those other rooms?” Logan abruptly changed her question.

When still no one spoke, the calm man drove his fist into Clive’s belly. Clive couldn’t even whine, as his breath explosively escaped his lungs. Instead, the sound he made was an awful gasping, as his lungs attempted to suck air back into them.

“I’d rather not have to kill them all, so how do I get them out peacefully?”

Clive was struck again, this time the toe of the man’s boot striking the soft spot beside his kneecap. When Logan asked again, the top of Clive’s thigh was hit, and then his upper chest, and finally he was punched full on in the face. Blood trickled down the fence guard’s chin from a split lip. Before Logan could ask again, the man pulled out a pistol, although he held it by the barrel, ready to swing the thing as a club.

“Stop! Leave him alone!” Brittany finally cried out.

Thinking of her family, Abby glowered at her. Claire, and Peter, and Lauren were in those rooms, along with Hope, Cameron, Dakota, and Brunt. Brittany had no real family, and Abby wasn’t sure she had friends who had become like family. At least Seth had those, which might have been why he managed to keep quiet.

Logan stopped her circling behind Brittany and leaned down to speak in her ear. “He’ll stop hurting you and your friends when you answer the question.”

“I can get them out,” Brittany spoke, licking her dry lips briefly as she thought up what to say. “I’m their grief councillor, they’ll listen to me.”

“No they won’t,” Abby quickly spat out. “Sure, they come to you for comfort, but they’re not going to leave their safe zones because you ask them to. Maybe one or two, but the rest will stay put.”

“I helped evacuate the Diana,” Brittany retorted.

“Yeah, but you didn’t start the evacuation; no one would have moved if you had tried.”

“Will you tell me who your leaders are? Who
can
get them out?” Logan asked Brittany.

“No,” Brittany said sheepishly to the floor.

“And what can you tell me?” Logan turned her gaze to Abby.

“I’m not telling you anything.”

Logan drifted over to stand behind her and speak in her ear as she had with Brittany. “So you want the pain to continue?”

“Bring it on, bitch.”

The man who had been inflicting pain nodded, having seen some signal from Logan. He quickly flipped his gun around, pointed it at Brittany, and pulled the trigger. The gunshot pounded into Abby’s ears, her natural reflexes causing her to flinch and nearly knocking over her chair. She was shocked as she looked over at Brittany, a hole in her shirt expanding with red. The woman had been shot in the heart, not the head.

“And she was the one most likely to give me information based on her being the first to crack,” Logan said to the group. “The fact is, I still have a whole room of people up there. I’ll kill you all and bring down another group, let them see your corpses. Maybe then one of them will talk.”

The gun swung to point at Abby. Tears escaped her, unbidden, but she kept her teeth clamped firmly together. She would die for her family if that’s what was needed of her. She sent out only one silent prayer while she sat there, staring down the infinite blackness of the barrel. She prayed for a headshot, to not be turned into a zombie after her soul had departed.

“Stop,” Crichton spoke quietly before the trigger could be pulled.

“I didn’t expect you to crack,” Logan said to him.

“I’m not cracking. I’m not going to give you answers to your questions, not all of them, but I will negotiate.”

“And who are you to negotiate?”

“I’m one of the leaders you’re looking for.”

“Crichton—” Seth seemed ready to argue against him, but he was silenced by Crichton’s sharp gaze.

“Before we discuss anything, however, you have to do something for me.”

“Really?” Logan sounded intrigued. “And what might that be?”

“Keep that poor woman from turning. No one deserves that, and even you must see the danger in it. Never trust that you have control when a zombie’s in the mix.”

Logan walked around to look Crichton in the eyes, entering the circle for the first time.

“How do I know you really are one of the leaders?” She leaned down so that they were eye to eye.

“Abby, I want you to tell them what you know about me.” He spoke without looking at her, keeping his eyes on the woman before him.

“Crichton—”

“Just do it, Abby.”

Abby sighed. She didn’t want to talk, but it seemed that this was the way it was going to go. Crichton must have some sort of plan if he was willing to talk.

“Commander Crichton was a high-ranking mercenary for Marble Keystone,” Abby started, watching the reaction that always occurred when Keystone was mentioned. “During the evacuation of Leighton, he was put in charge of a prison outside the city that evacuees were brought to. Once it was obvious that Keystone had fallen, he loaded all the survivors into a convoy and headed for Toronto, where a pair of planes were waiting. These planes took us all to the ocean where a ship was being prepared for us. That ship was the Diana you heard Brittany mention. Crichton was in charge there, keeping us all safe for five years, until pirates finally managed to sink us. Crichton’s been protecting people from the start.”

“That’s a nice story, one in which a name could easily be replaced with another.” The entire time that Abby spoke, Logan hadn’t even glanced at her, keeping her attention on Crichton. “Who are the other leaders?”

“I won’t tell you that.”

“Do you even
have
other leaders?”

“I won’t tell you that.”

Logan sighed and stood up straight. She turned to the man with the gun. “What do you think, Aster?”

The calm man, Aster, shrugged. “Couldn’t hurt to talk to him.”

“Keep her from turning first,” Crichton insisted with a nod in Brittany’s direction.

Aster aimed and fired so quickly that Abby was startled again, having to bite back a cry, alert to the fact that the gun had been pointed at her up until that moment. Another hole appeared in Brittany, this time along the hairline of her hanging head. Bone and brain matter erupted out of the other side, splattering along the back of the chair and floor. Abby turned her head away.

“All right,
Commander
Crichton. Let’s talk.”

Abby found herself in yet another seat, but this time her hands were bound in front of her. She thought for sure that when Logan decided to talk with Crichton in a more comfortable room, Abby and the others would have been left behind with Aster, or brought back to the cafeteria. Instead, they were invited to come along; probably as a security measure, to make sure Crichton always knew who was really in charge of the Black Box now. It had been very surprising when a new pair of guards untied her arms from behind her back, and retied them in a way that allowed her to hold some ice chunks chipped out of the Black Box’s freezers and wrapped in rags. She wanted to refuse any help or act of kindness from these people, especially after what had just happened to Brittany, but she knew that if both of her eyes swelled badly, it would be a hindrance she couldn’t afford.

“There, this is better, isn’t it?” Logan commented, pulling over a chair to sit facing Crichton. Abby, Clive, and Seth were all kept to one side, separate from them.

“Thank you for the ice,” Crichton began politely as if his legs and waist weren’t bound to the chair he sat upon.

“You’re welcome. So, tell me, who has a key for that door downstairs?”

Crichton shook his head. “That’s not where we start.”

“It isn’t?” Logan wondered, a hint of laughter in her voice.

“No, we start with what your plans are for the people if they leave their apartments.”

“That depends on you.”

“In what way?”

“Co-operate, and they’ll be fine. Make things difficult, and they won’t be.”

“So you’re willing to let us all go? Or are you thinking of taking everyone prisoner?”

“It would be very tedious to hold you all prisoner, not to mention a drain on our supplies.”

“It would be, but that doesn’t mean you wouldn’t do it.” Crichton was clearly trying to get her to say the words.

Logan seemed to pick up on this and decided to stop dancing around it. “I would let your people go.”

“All of them?”

“Yes, all of them.”

“Crichton, too?” Abby spoke up.

“Yes, yes, Crichton, too, so long as you give me what I want.”

“Good, then we’re clear on what I want. I’m assuming what you want is complete control of the Black Box, which includes being able to get into every room.”

“I also want your supplies. Make no mistake, I’ll let you leave, but you’ll be taking nothing but the clothes on your backs.”

“We’ll die out there without supplies!” Seth cried out, to Abby’s confusion. “You have to let us take something.”

“That’s your problem, not mine. I’m sure you’ll find a way. Here, I’ll let you take this advice: break into smaller groups.”

It suddenly dawned on Abby that Seth was very clever. Based on the way Logan spoke, she had no idea about the colony at the container yard. It was unlikely that Logan would give them boats, so travelling around the large bay and crossing the rivers would take days and be dangerous, but at least they had a place to go. It would be crowded and supplies would be tight, but they had a safe place. At least, it was safe if they had dealt with their own problem better than the Black Box had. Were the two incidents related? Based on what Abby had heard from Cameron, she didn’t think so.

Crichton gave himself time to think, as if debating what Logan had said about not taking supplies. “How do I know you’re not lying?”

“You don’t,” Logan shrugged. “Now, how do I get into that room downstairs?”

“There’s already someone in there,” Crichton told her. “If I give the evacuation order, he’ll be the last to leave. Once he’s out, all you have to do is prevent the door from closing behind him.”

“And how do I know you’re not lying to me? That that room isn’t empty?”

“Take me to the control centre; I can talk to my man from there. I’ll get him to bang on the door as many times as you want, to prove to your men down there that I’m telling the truth.”

Logan leaned back in her seat, considering his words. “Very well. Let’s go prove the existence of this man of yours.”

With a gesture of her hand, a pair of guards flanked Crichton. Both he and Logan got to their feet and made their way to the door. Abby was left behind with Seth, Clive, and the two remaining guards. She didn’t dare speak a word to the others, not wanting to say the wrong thing and somehow give up the container yard. Instead, she watched Clive, who had calmed down considerably. Now that no one was touching him and his face was hidden behind his ice-filled rag, he had managed to relax. Evacuating, if it did indeed happen, was going to be hard on him. It always was.

Abby had trouble keeping track of time in the silence. She was exhausted. The night had been long and hard, and she wasn’t as young as she used to be. With the fear-induced adrenaline wearing away, she found it harder to keep her eyes open and her head up, but she managed until the overhead speakers crackled to life.

“Attention Black Box residents, this is Commander Crichton speaking.”

Abby hadn’t heard him use the commander title for himself in a very long time. Certainly not since the Diana sank. She found it odd that he used it now.

“This is an orange evacuation. I repeat, this is an orange evacuation.”

“What’s that mean? Orange?” one of the guards asked, stepping up to Abby and prodding her with the end of a rifle.

“It means we lost and to leave our stuff behind for you guys,” Abby had to bite back an insult. “Blue means we have time to pack, such as if there’s a slow rising flood. Red, which is usually issued via lights and sirens as you may have heard, means grab what you can and go. Black is get the fuck out as fast as possible, we’re all about to die.”

“I feel a bit insulted we weren’t a black,” one of the guards joked with the other.

“Mind untying us now?” Seth asked slowly. “So we can join the evacuation?”

The one who had prodded Abby untied her, and took away the ice. Apparently, they were very literal about giving them nothing, not even the rags. Abby rubbed her sore wrists and waited for Seth and Clive to be freed so that they could go together. She’d have to find her family once they were outside.

Clive whined and curled up in his chair.

“What’s his problem?” one of the guards sneered. “Come on, get up.” He pushed Clive, which only made him curl up tighter.

“Don’t touch him; it’ll only make it worse. Step back,” Seth told the guards, who hesitated, but then did as he had directed. “It’s okay, Clive. We’re evacuating. We’re going outside, won’t that be nice? We’ll be going back to your truck. Come on, I’ll make sure no one touches you,” Seth coaxed.

Slowly, Clive got to his feet.

“There you go. Come on, just follow Abby and we’ll be back at your truck in no time.”

Abby moved for the door, looking over her shoulder to make sure Clive was shuffling after her. Seth tailed behind him, making sure the guards kept their distance.

As Abby led the way toward the nearest exit stairs, she wondered how many more times in her life she’d be forced to move.