Survival Instinct Book Novels & Stories

My first instinct was to search for new plant specimens, but Malcolm's orders were clear; I was to stay inside, hidden from Rebecca or anyone else who might be looking to sabotage or hurt me. Pacing the room, I wore a path into the rug, my thoughts a frantic, unproductive whirl. Just as the mental fog grew too thick, I remembered the book of wilderness lore that Iona owned. I rushed to my suitcase, rummaging through it until my fingers closed around the familiar, worn leather cover. Settling back onto the bed, I opened it with a sense of reverence. Perhaps within these pages, I could find not just strategies for survival, but a small measure of the calm I desperately needed to think.

I could only hope that she would have settled in again by tonight, because otherwise I would be allowed to sleep on the couch one night again - and it was really uncomfortable. Sighing, I leaned back and opened the completely tattered book again, which I actually already knew by heart. But I wanted to repeat as much as possible today so that I could get off to a good start tomorrow. I ran my finger over the familiar table of contents. Foreword, evolution, instinct, social life, physiology, reproduction, ancestry, stem groups and subspecies. How many times had I made this movement with my finger? I couldn't count it anymore, but it was like a little ritual I had to go through before I could s

My body shuddered with terror as it fell to the ground, a loud thud responding in my ears. "What did you think? That you could run from us?" He asked, kicking my stomach, and all I felt was the hollow ache of worthlessness, deeper than the pain in my ribs or the gash on my thigh. I wasn’t just prey—I was forgotten. Disposable. And as the first wolf lunged, I closed my eyes. But instinct is a strange, cruel thing. Something inside me snapped. Not the delicate kind of break that shattered for survival— this was different, primal, sharp, the kind that explodes outward; a spark, something powerful, snapped inside me, lunging from buried in my muscle and marrow as the rogues moved closer.

I said. In my past life, I'd witnessed too many occasions of humans turning out to be more savage than zombies when they wanted to eat. They would do everything they could to get a mouthful of food. After the zombie outbreak, morals and laws meant nothing. Survivors would do anything to stay alive. The bad memories made me tremble uncontrollably, but a warm hand on my cheek pulled me back to my senses. Mom said gently, "Things must've been hard for you, sweetheart."

It gave us enough time to plan everything. There was a sharpening feeling of pangs in my stomach as I played the execution of our plan over and over in my head. The most of it was brought by fact that I was to act alone and Billy will only provide transport to and from the battlefield. I had to be scared. I was just a girl who came to the world class African city to enrich my mind with knowledge and make my family proud. Not to kill people. Immediately I thought of the reward. As sickening as it sounds, me being able to secure Billy as my boyfriend and MINE alone gave me enough courage and will to want to get rid of the problem. I deleted the fear from my mind by placing Billy’s face in it.

I wanted the blood and the heat; I wanted everything that reminded me that I still existed. "Lancelot, come back. You promised." Her voice. So small in front of the noise that came from inside. The words entered my head, but did not find a place to stay. I remembered the promise, but promises are fragile when instinct takes over. Instinct does not understand love, nor guilt, nor forgiveness. Instinct only understands survival. The body bent, the bones of the back cracked, and the skin opened in red lines. I felt the weight of the world on my shoulders: anger, hunger, and fear. It was all mixed. The human mind screamed to stop.

I chuckled as I shook my head. His brows furrowed because like me he thought it was the book of ultimate power. "So how am I still alive than?" He asked after a second. His voice finally not as scratchy. "The book within me. You saved yourself because you realized she was being consumed by the book that was still within her." I stated with a soft smile. The whole time she was being aggressive I thought I had made her to spoiled but in the end she was lost in the book within her.

Let the man keep his secrets. But I did not. Something inside me, the same something that had kept me alive all these years, itched with suspicion. With need. It was the instinct that had warned me of ambushes in the dark, of poison in offered wine, of lies in honeyed words. It had never led me astray, this primal knowledge of danger.

I was just sure that we both shared the same despair and survival instinct. My bag stayed in the car, and I wouldn't risk coming back in search of my cell phone. It seemed more logical to call help from those who were closer, so I kept pulling the woman, stumbling, and taking away any source of hesitation. I've always been very careful about offering help to someone. My instinct has always been, and will always be, to protect me. But I couldn't help thinking about what Jonathan was capable of when he was nervous, and there was a woman bleeding next to me to prove how far he had already come.

“ what's that supposed to mean?” “ just like every other single person has Instincts and I got that 12 of them whether something feels right, those same Instincts inside me may very well misguide me. while I understand your question I wouldn't wish to talk about it any further. Everyone does what they need to do to survive and no one should be judged for simply being a lot and avoiding any surprises. Do you not have anything that helps you stay alert? do you just sleep like a bag of luggage and pray to the moon goddess that the night is going to be safe and fruitful?”