“We retreat and come up with a plan. There’s nothing we can do at the moment,” Saul said, loathing every word. He longed to attack. To save his men and Tara, but it would serve no purpose. They’d die for nothing, and Tara would be lost forever.
Together, the two men retreated deeper into the jungle. From a high vantage point, they watched the proceedings in the camp below with gritted teeth.
The villagers showed no mercy. Tara was yanked to her feet, screaming with terror. Her attacker hit her with a fist in the jaw, and she cried out in pain. Another blow caused her lip to split, and blood dribbled down her chin. She fell to the ground, and he booted her in the ribs, shouting at her to keep quiet. She didn’t understand the language, and he kept kicking her until Mokoena roared in anger. “Leave the doctor alone!”
Three men fell on him, their clubs raining down on his head. The brutal beating continued for several minutes until he lay unmoving in the dust. Blood gleamed on his skin, thick and viscous. A couple of the other men tried to intervene, and they all received the same treatment.
Tara’s instincts for self-preservation had kicked in, and she lay curled up on the forest floor in a huddled ball. One hand was pressed to her bleeding lip, and the other to her bruised ribs. She was silent, no longer crying, and got to her feet without protest when prompted. She knew Saul was out there, and he knew she counted on him. I have to save her. I have to save them all.
The leader of the villagers, a hulking brute with a scar across his cheek, had noticed by now that the two men were missing. Most notably, Saul. He interrogated the other soldiers, but they refused to tell him anything. Frustrated, he shot two of them at point-blank range. He then sent out a search party to look for Saul and Johannes, but after an hour, they returned empty-handed.
The leader sneered. “Cowardly dogs, the lot of them. They must have run away and abandoned their people. If they come back, we’ll be waiting.” He examined the surviving soldiers and Tara with greedy eyes. “At least, we still have this lot. The woman will make a good wife. I wore out the last one.”
Raucous laughter met his words.
It took every ounce of self-control Saul had not to storm into the camp and shoot everyone in sight. Instead, he watched the scene with intense focus. His gaze traveled across each member of the opposing force, noting their features, build, and weapons. He’d need the information when he moved in on them later.
The villagers laughed and joked once their victory was established. They tossed all the weapons and supplies onto a pile and secured the soldiers with rope. Tara’s hands were tied behind her back, and a noose was looped over her head. The leader held the loose end in his hand, treating her like a dog on a leash.
Saul watched as they marched away, waiting until they had all gone back to the village. On swift feet, he ran to Mokoena and the other soldiers who’d been left behind. There were five bodies in the clearing, and he ran to the nearest. With two fingers, he checked for a pulse.
Nothing.
He moved to the next.
Also nothing.
Johannes checked two more.
“Anything?” Saul asked.
“They’re dead,” Johannes said with a sorrowful shake of the head.
Saul had left his second-in-command for last. A faint beat of the heart met his touch, and his hopes soared. “Mokoena! Are you still alive?”
Mokoena mumbled something through his smashed lips.
“Help me, Johannes,” Saul ordered, moving the man closer to the dying embers of a nearby fire.
Johannes stoked the flames while Saul scrounged around for a piece of cloth. He found a discarded blanket and cut a square from the corner. He wet the material with water from a flask in his pocket and washed away the blood that coated Mokoena’s face like a second skin. “Can you speak, Mokoena?”
Mokoena’s left eye fluttered open. The other was swollen shut. “I’m here, Sir.”
Saul sighed with relief, but his hopes faded when Mokoena dissolved into a fit of coughing. Bloody froth foamed on his lips, and Saul looked at Johannes with despair. They both knew what it meant.
Johannes shook his head and mouthed the words. “Punctured lung.”
It took three hours for Mokoena to die. Three hours in which Saul and Johannes took turns to sit with him. The rest of the time, they scouted out the village where a wild party was in full swing.
The attackers had been greeted like conquering heroes, and a huge celebration ensued. A bonfire burned in the middle of the village square while drums formed a steady beat. The women passed around gourds of home-brewed beer, which the men drank by the gallon. Luckily, the prisoners were forgotten for the moment, tossed aside to await their fate — all except Tara.
She sat at the leader’s feet, and he treated her with cruel contempt. Now and then, he’d yank on the rope, laughing when she choked as the noose cut off her air supply. After a few seconds, he’d loosen the line, allowing her to breathe again.
“Just hold on, Tara,” Saul muttered. “I’ll rescue you or die trying. That’s a promise.”
Saul was there when Mokoena breathed his last, and white-hot rage flushed through his veins. “Time for payback.”
He joined Johannes at the village perimeter, and together, they formed a plan. Johannes would create a distraction then circle around to free their men. Saul was in charge of getting to their weapons and freeing Tara.
“Ready?” Saul asked.
“I’m ready,” Johannes said, fading into the night.
Saul waited for the signal. It came when a cluster of nearby huts went up in flames. It didn’t take much for the thatch to explode into a raging furnace, and screams sounded as people panicked. Women and children tossed buckets of water onto the flames while the men staggered toward them in a drunken haze.
The village leader abandoned Tara at the fire. He stormed after his people, roaring out conflicting commands with a beer-soaked tongue.
While the villagers tried to quell the blaze, Saul moved in on the pile of weapons. He slit the guard’s throat and grabbed a couple of grenades. These he lobbed into the village center, taking care not to throw them anywhere near Tara. The explosions rocked the night, lighting the sky in brilliant flashes.
Johannes had freed their fellow men, and the soldiers ran toward Saul. He passed out an armful of rifles, and they let loose their rage at their captors. The villagers fell as bullets cut through their ranks, ruthless and indiscriminate.
Saul used the opportunity to grab Tara and cut her loose. She threw her arms around his neck and sobbed. “Oh, thank God, you’re here. I knew you’d come back.”
“Of course. I’d never leave you,” Saul said. “But, there’s no time. We have to go before the villagers can get their act together.”
Tara nodded then screamed when she spotted something behind Saul. Acting on instinct, he threw them both to the side. A machete whistled past his head, missing by a hair’s breadth.
Saul twisted around as he fell and pulled the trigger on his R4. It was set to fully automatic, and a burst of rounds tore through his attacker’s torso. It was the leader, his scarred face contorted into a look of befuddled surprise. He swayed for a moment before crashing to the ground.
Tara got to her feet and removed the noose from around her neck. She threw it onto the dying leader and spat in his face. “Die, you fucking monster.”
“Come on, Tara,” Saul said, grabbing her hand. “Let’s go.”
He ran toward Johannes, who stood guard over their supplies: A few backpacks loaded with food and water, and a duffel bag filled with ammunition.
“Ready to go?” Johannes asked.
“Sound the retreat,” Saul affirmed.
The soldiers, recalled by Johannes, formed up the rear. The group escaped into the night, taking only what they could carry. Behind them, the village continued to burn, the women keening with grief. Their losses were high that day, for they’d underestimated their victims. It was a mistake that cost them dear
ly.
But, it cost Saul even more. He lost several good men, including his friend, Mokoena. He nearly lost Tara, as well, and didn’t know what he would have done if that happened. She gave his life purpose and meaning, something he’d been craving for years. While the army gave him direction, it lacked substance. He was a killer. A fighter. With her by his side, it was different. He had a clear goal now. A noble one. Protect Tara, and save the world.
***
Saul contemplated the road ahead, wondering what they’d encounter on the way to Fort Detrick. One thing was for sure; he’d never forget the lesson he learned that night in the Congo: Never let your guard down, never trust a stranger, and always be ready for the worst.
Neither, it seemed, would Tara. She’d amply demonstrated her willingness to kill back at the clinic. That revealed a whole different side to the woman he loved. A side he hadn’t even known was there but was glad now that he did. She’d need it if she were to survive what was coming.
They all did.
Chapter 12 - Amy
Amy leaned over the railing with the binoculars pressed to her eyes. It was late afternoon, and she’d decided to keep watch while Alex cooked dinner. With only the two of them left, standing guard around the clock was impossible. Instead, they’d agreed to take a look now and then to ensure they were safe.
She scanned the area around their new home. As expected, it was deserted. No people, no traffic, no zombies. She panned further out in the direction of Fort Knox. A pall of smoke hung over it, and she frowned. It looked bigger than before. Was the place still burning? Even after a whole day had passed?
With grim fascination, she stared at the spot, though she couldn’t see anything at this distance. Just the thought that she was looking at the final resting place of hundreds of souls was enough to keep her attention. Or were they resting? More likely, they’d joined the ranks of the undead.
A deep rumble of thunder caused her to jerk away from the lenses. Thick banks of clouds had moved in from the east and turned the sky into a threatening gray. Lightning played through the rolling cloud cover in flashes of electric silver, and a raindrop plopped onto her upturned forehead.
Amy loved thunderstorms, and she lingered on the balcony for several more minutes as the rain began to fall in earnest. The smell of wet earth teased her nostrils, and a brisk wind tugged at her hair. Finally, she ducked into the house with a smile of anticipation and headed to the kitchen.
Alex turned to face her, a damp dishcloth and a wet plate in either hand. “How does it look outside?”
“It’s all clear. No zombies,” Amy replied. “Plus, it’s raining.”
“Raining, huh?” Alex said. “I guess that means we’re having pancakes tonight.”
“Yes, please,” Amy said, her eyes shining. It was an old Donahue tradition when it rained. Pancakes and syrup for dinner followed by a couple of board games.
Alex rummaged in the pantry and emerged with a pancake premix and a bottle of maple syrup. “Why don’t I whip up dinner while you look for a game to play?”
“Okay. I’m sure I’ll find something in this big old house,” Amy said, eager to get going. Her heart was still sore over Dylan’s departure, and she had to try very hard not to think about it. If she did, she might start crying all over again. “Not tonight. Tonight, Alex and I are going to have some family fun. Just the two of us.”
Thirty minutes later, Amy found what she was looking for in the attic. The previous family had stored a bunch of stuff up there in sealed boxes. One box contained Christmas decorations, and she set it aside with a note to herself to remember it. If they were staying for the winter, it meant staying for Christmas, a holiday she adored.
To her delight, she also found a box full of books and another filled with board games. It would keep them busy over the long days to come, and she lugged both boxes down into the living room. After dusting them down, she chose a book to read before bed and set up a game of Scrabble on the coffee table.
“I picked Scrabble, but we’ve got Monopoly, Uno, a deck of cards, and Clue to choose from,” Amy said.
“Scrabble is fine. I haven’t played it in years,” Alex said.
The rain was coming down hard, drumming on the roof with a constant beat. An occasional rumble of thunder vibrated through the air, and the wind whistled around the corners.
Amy smiled as she ran to fetch two blankets. One for her and another for Alex. He walked over with two plates piled high with fluffy pancakes and drizzled with golden syrup. Cups of hot cocoa put the finishing touches on their night, and Amy couldn’t contain her glee. “This is perfect. It reminds me of home.”
“Me too,” Alex said, making himself comfortable.
“These pancakes look delicious,” she said, digging in with her fork.
“I tried,” Alex said. “They won’t be as good as Mom’s, but I don’t think anything will ever be as good as hers.”
Amy nodded slowly as a stab of grief pierced her heart. “I miss her, Alex. Dad too.”
“I miss them too, Sis. More than I ever thought possible.”
“It happened so quickly, you know? I didn’t expect that. One day they were there, and the next, I was burying Mom in the backyard after Dad went missing.”
Alex gazed at Amy. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you, Amy. It must have been terrible to deal with all of that on your own.”
Amy shrugged. “It wasn’t fun, but I knew you were coming, Alex, and that’s all that mattered. You’ll always have my back, won’t you?”
“Of course, Sis. Always.”
After they’d finished their food, they started on the Scrabble. Around them, the storm raged on while they spent the next few hours playing, laughing, and joking. To Amy, it felt like the old times when her brother still lived at home. A storm was always the perfect excuse for family time, and the Donahue’s rarely let it pass unnoticed. She could almost imagine her parents sitting with them, arguing over who’d won what.
Around nine, Amy got up to run to the bathroom. At the same time, the sound of a crash caused them both to freeze.
“What was that?” Amy asked, her heart bouncing in her chest like a jackrabbit.
“I don’t know,” Alex said, getting up. “It sounded like rocks falling over. Or bricks.”
“Almost like an avalanche,” Amy agreed.
“I’d best take a look,” Alex said, running to the nearest window. He opened the curtain by a crack but dropped it again. “I forgot that the windows are blacked-out.”
“It’s okay. I’ll go to the balcony,” Amy said.
She jogged up the stairs, taking an extra lamp with her to light the way. Outside the main bedroom door, she paused to set it to its lowest setting and placed it on the floor. Next, she went into the room and opened the sliding door, taking care not to make a sound. Whatever it was they’d heard earlier, she’d better be careful.
It was pitch dark outside, and the rain was still pouring down by the bucketful. Within seconds, Amy was soaked to the skin. She didn’t dare use a light and hoped she’d be able to see something in the gloom.
As she peered over the railing, a weird noise caught her attention. It was a mixture of sounds, a melody of shuffling, bumping, grinding, and groaning. It rose above the rain, loud enough for her to hear. It was almost like a herd of cattle being moved through a narrow corridor before being shipped off to slaughter.
Amy narrowed her eyes, desperate to catch a glimpse of what it was that had her on high alert. Behind her, Alex appeared and whispered in her ear. “Do you see anything?”
“It’s too dark,” she answered, keeping her voice low. “But can you hear that noise? Listen carefully.”
After a couple of seconds, Alex replied, “What is that?”
“I don’t know,” Amy admitted, looking down again. Her hands clutched the railing, and nervous tension ran down her spine.
Suddenly, a flash of lightning cracked above their heads with terrific force, causing them both
to jump. Its bright light worked like a flash, illuminating everything within its radius for a fraction of a second.
Amy smothered a gasp, and her blood turned to ice. Right below them, hundreds of zombies milled about, their waxen features briefly lit by the lightning strike. They clawed at each other for space as more and more flooded into the small yard. A couple snarled at the heavens, reacting to the storm, and their eyes were like pools of darkness. Evil.
She fell backward, pushing Alex back into the house. With shaking hands, she closed and locked the sliding door. The action was pointless, but it made her feel as if she could shut out the danger.
“What is it?” Alex asked.
Amy shook her head, unable to form the words.
He shook her by the shoulders. “Amy, look at me! What did you see?”
Amy blinked and focused on Alex’s face. “Zombies. I saw zombies.”
“How many?”
“Lots of them. Lots and lots. They’re everywhere.”
“Damn it, how did they get in?” Alex cried. He stepped back with both hands in his hair, thinking. “The crash. They must’ve pushed over a wall.”
Amy swallowed. “How many would it take to do that?”
“Too many. It must be the horde from Fort Knox. Somehow, we missed them coming because of the storm.”
“The horde?” Amy said, her voice emerging as a high-pitched squeak. “What are we going to do? We can’t run through that many or kill them.”
Alex sighed, his panicking features smoothing into one of cold practicality. “We must hide, but first, I need to know how many there are. I have to go back out there.”
“No, don’t go,” Amy said, clutching at his hand. “What if they see you?”
“They won’t. In the meantime, I want you to do something for me, okay?” Alex said, his manner calm and soothing.
“What?”
“I want you to grab two backpacks and fill them with our clothes and stuff. One for you and one for me. Meet me at the top of the stairs.”
Rise of the Undead Box Set | Books 1-3 | Apocalypse Z Page 23