Children of the Apocalypse: Mega Boxed Set

by Baileigh Higgins

  The drive through the streets of his hometown proved challenging, but not as tricky as Welkom with its much larger population. When they reached the home of his sister Morgan, however, they faced a problem. Several zombies wandered about, and more had followed them from the previous block.

  “Are you prepared to back me up? I need to check if my sister’s here,” Max asked.

  Logan nodded, his face cold and remote. He pushed open his door, jumped out, and swung up his rifle. His every move spoke of intense and uncontrolled violence. It was evident he wasn’t thinking straight.

  “Logan, wait!” Max cried in alarm.

  Logan ignored him, taking down the nearest infected with a quick headshot. Max jumped out, scrambling to catch up before Logan could get himself killed.

  His feet barely touched the ground when an infected raced for him at full speed. Startled, he fumbled with his gun, all training deserting him in an instant. His first shot missed by a mile. Before he could shoot again, she pounced on him, and they rolled on the asphalt together.

  He grabbed her by the throat and pushed back. He couldn’t keep his grip, however, and his hand slipped down to her collarbone. Like a snake, she slithered from his grasp and bit him on his chest. Shock reverberated through his body like an earthquake. Instinct kicked in, and he lashed out, knocking her to the side.

  Grabbing his pistol, he shoved the gun into her mouth and pulled the trigger. Blood and brains exploded onto the pavement, splattering the right side of his body.

  Max got one foot underneath him before another zombie fell onto his legs. He kicked it in the chest before planting a bullet in its forehead. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, and his nerves steadied. Two more of the monsters were almost upon him.

  Taking a deep breath, he aimed and killed one after the other, still crouched on the ground. He jumped up, trying to get his bearings. Another hissed as it crawled towards him, its face twisted in a mask of bloody death. The gun bucked in Max’s hand, and its head exploded in a fine spray of red and gray. The ruby drops glittered in the sun as an uneasy silence fell.

  Max gazed around, his muscles tense as he readied for another attack, but the infected were all down. Logan nodded at him, his eyes remote and deadly. A circle of the undead surrounded him, a silent testament to his deadly aim.

  In a moment of clarity, Max remembered being bitten and grabbed his chest. There, on his tactical vest, bloomed a sticky wet patch with deep teeth indentations. Despite her best efforts, the zombie had failed to bite through the thick material.

  “Oh, thank God.” Max slumped in relief. “That was close.”

  Relief made way for anger. Furious, he rounded on Logan. “What the fuck were you thinking? We’re supposed to work together.”

  “I work alone,” Logan said.

  “Then you can die alone too.”

  A muscle ticked in Logan’s jaw, and his eyes were as hard as stone. His knuckles whitened as his fists clenched.

  Tensed for a blow, Max waited.

  After a long moment, Logan relaxed and blew a breath out of his nose. “Fine. We’ll work together. For now.”

  With a terse nod, Max pointed to the house and said, “Let’s go before the gunshots attract more of those things. We don’t have a lot of time.”

  He clapped the back of the Land Rover. “We’ll be right back, okay? Stay down and keep quiet.”

  The boy’s head popped up, eyes wide and frightened, but he nodded and ducked out of sight again.

  The gate stood open, and judging by the bloody tire tracks, someone had made a run for it. After a quick check revealed no zombies and no car in the yard, Logan said, “Seems like they got away.“

  “I hope so,“ Max replied as he opened the kitchen door and stepped inside. “This is probably a waste of time, but—”

  Brian leaped at him, howling in fury. Surprise froze Max to the spot, and he was helpless to defend himself. Logan yanked him back by his collar, hauling him out the door and onto his ass. Swinging his rifle like a cricket bat, Logan nearly decapitated Brian. With a thunk, the gun connected with his temple, crushing the bone and brains into mush. A second hit put him down for good.

  After a second, Logan nodded at the corpse, “Who was that?”

  “That…that was my brother-in-law, Brian,” Max said, shaky after his second near brush with death. He climbed to his feet, brushing off his pants with trembling hands. At this rate, I’ll be dead by sundown.

  He bent down and examined the corpse with a sense of grief and remorse even though he’d never known Brian very well. “Rest in peace, brother.”

  Logan took the lead as they searched the house. They found the bathroom with the bloodied railing and broken door, but no Morgan.

  “Well, looks like she put up a fight and got away. Any idea where she’d run to?” Logan asked.

  “My parents. That’s all I can think of. It’s the only family we have here. Our other sister lives in Johannesburg.”

  “We’d better hurry then.”

  They rushed back to the Land Rover and drove off without delay. Fifteen minutes later, they pulled to a stop in front of the house and sat there, surveying the scene. It looked like a war zone. Somebody had taken down a sizable group of zombies on the front lawn with what they guessed to be a truck.

  “I’m impressed. Your sister’s quite resourceful,” Logan said, a tinge of admiration lacing his voice.

  “That she is,” Max agreed.

  It didn’t take long to find the bodies. The sight of his father’s face, bloodied and still, shook Max to the heels of his feet. The horrific wounds and the gunshot told its own story. He didn’t even need to read the explanation in the note stuck on the fridge to know what had happened.

  He was relieved to learn everyone else was safe until he realized one crucial fact. He had no idea where they’d gone and had no means of finding them.

  “Shit.” Max scratched his head.

  “Now what?”

  “We have to find a place to fort up and survive. A base from which I can search for them.”

  “Any idea where that might be?”

  Max thought about it. “What about the riot police quarters? It has a sturdy fence, and it’s outside of town.”

  “It might still be occupied.”

  “Even better. We can team up with them.”

  “Worth checking out, I suppose.”

  A few minutes’ drive was all it took before they faced the entrance. Everything appeared quiet, and the gates stood wide open. There were no people and precious few vehicles left on the premises. No infected either.

  Being placed on the edge of town like it was, there weren’t that many people around, and those that were got an early warning from the riot police. Rolling through the gates, they kept watch but saw no movement.

  Half an hour later, after a quick and thorough search, they confirmed their suspicions. Whoever had been there had responded to the emergency situation and never returned. It was deserted.

  With relief, Max rapped his knuckles on the Land Rover’s back window. “You can come out now. It’s safe.”

  With some hesitation, the boy emerged, apparently unconvinced by this statement.

  “Thanks for saving me,” he whispered, ducking his head.

  “I’m glad we could help,” Max said. “What’s your name?”

  “Thembiso.”

  “How old are you?”

  “Sixteen.”

  Max sucked in a breath. “Your family?”

  Thembiso shook his head, his eyes fixed on the ground. “They’re gone.” Fat teardrops slid down his cheeks, dripping onto his torn t-shirt.

  “Did you get bitten? Scratched? Got blood in your mouth or eyes?” Logan probed.

  The boy shook his head.

  “Will you let me have a look?” Max asked.

  “Okay.”

  After a brief search, Max declared him clean, and they headed inside.

  “We should secure the place as best we can fo
r the night. Close all the windows and curtains and shut off any lights as you go. Look for the keys too while you’re at it,” Max said. “Oh, and shut off anything that can make noise. Phones, alarms, anything that could draw those things here.”

  “Good thinking,” Logan replied.

  They each headed off in their own direction.

  Thembiso stuck to Max like a shadow, and no wonder after everything he’d been through. The secretary’s office yielded a set of keys to the building and a stash of chocolate. Another office offered up half a bottle of Jack Daniels.

  In the equipment and storerooms, they found a bounty of uniforms, batons, shields, rubber bullets and stun grenades. Max wasn’t sure if the bullets and grenades would have much effect on the undead, but he wasn’t about to complain. Logan found the keys to the gate and the two Nyala anti-riot vehicles left behind in the parking lot.

  “These will come in handy,” Max said, dangling the keys. Though the army didn’t use them, Max knew that Nyala’s were uber tough.

  Together they searched the lockers and bathrooms, finding a wealth of personal items. It was sad to see all those people’s stuff, knowing that most of them were probably dead.

  While Logan slipped out to go lock up, Max set about making coffee in the small kitchen. In a cupboard, he found bread; the fridge yielded butter, an overripe tomato, cheese, and some leftover chicken. Somebody’s lunch.

  After a rough supper in the small sitting room just off the kitchen, Logan fetched the last beers from his Land Rover. Max posted Thembiso off to sleep with a stiff shot of Jack Daniels.

  “Poor boy needs it,” he said with a shake of his head.

  They had no bedding, but it wasn’t cold, not with summer in full swing. Seating themselves in the central office with the beer, Max tried to raise someone on the radio but with no success. They tested all the phones again.

  Nothing.

  “I hate feeling so damn isolated,” Logan said.

  “Yeah, it sucks. Not knowing what’s going on out there. Let’s try the Internet.”

  To their surprise, the Internet still worked.

  “Must be because it’s an ADSL line. The land lines are still going for now,” Max explained.

  They found one horror story after the other, flooding the web like viruses. It was apparent the world was in chaos, and billions of people had died.

  “Please, if anyone can help me, I’m trapped in my apartment. They’re at the door, and I don’t know how long it will hold. Please, can someone help me?” a young girl begged on her Facebook page. She wasn’t the only one.

  Some governments were telling people to fort up and survive while others, including their own, told people to go to their nearest hospital or community center.

  “Big mistake,” Max muttered. Too many individuals in a confined space spelled disaster if the infection got in. Some sites offered advice to survivors: aim for the head, watch out for fresh ones because they’re fast, stick together.

  The list went on and on.

  There was more. Too much to take in.

  Max sighed, rubbing his stiff neck. He glanced at his watch. “It’s late. Let’s bed down for the night. Tomorrow will be a long day.”

  The last thought he had as he tried to stuff his tall body onto a couch was of Lilian. Are you still alive, Sis?

  Chapter 5 - Breytenbach

  The night air was cold with just the barest hint of a breeze. It rustled through the leaves on the trees, granting a whisper of sound to the quiet surroundings. With complete confidence, the group moved through the shadows. They operated as a unit, running in concert to hand signals passed between them.

  They passed through the wealthiest suburb in Johannesburg with as little sound as possible, heading towards their target. Only once, as they flowed around a car parked on the sidewalk with the passenger door open, did a sound disturb them. A low growl shivered through the night as a zombie lurched out.

  With quiet efficiency, one dark figure dispatched the corpse with a powerful thrust from a fearful looking knife. He stabbed up into the brain through the soft tissue beneath the chin. Without a sound, it crumpled to the ground.

  A gleam of white teeth showed in the faint glow of the moon, all the more startling against ebony skin. The owner of the knife cleaned it on his trouser leg and thrust it back into its sheath. His massive frame moved with the grace of a cat as he took up his position at the back of the group again.

  One, two, three more blocks they walked, well on the way to their target, until they heard it. A dark, low thrum that issued from the throats of countless undead to form one collective groan. The source of this unearthly sound soon became evident. Not far to the left, a horde of infected pushed against the fence of a kindergarten school.

  Inside, lights shined, and the cries and screams of children could be heard if the group listened hard enough. The fence bowed beneath the horde’s onslaught. It wouldn’t last. Even as they watched, it buckled under the combined weight of so many bodies.

  Captain Breytenbach could only shake his head at the blatant stupidity of the people inside the school. With all the lights and noise, they’d put up a virtual sign saying: Attention all Zombies. Fresh food!

  It was a miracle they’d lasted this long already. Then again, people never thought straight in a crisis, and panic usually overcame common sense. Either way, it was none of his business. He was on a mission to rescue a billionaire’s son hiding in his family mansion not far away, a job he’d been paid handsomely for.

  Ex-military, Breytenbach and two other members of his team used to be part of the South African Army’s special forces. Having fought and trained together for years, they were happy to sign up when Breytenbach opened his own security company, one that catered to the super-rich. Over the years, other professionals had joined the team. Mercenaries one and all, they lived for the action and the money.

  Now he weighed their options, considering the risk to his team. The simplest thing would be to slip past the zombies and carry on with their mission. That’s what they were paid to do, but the thought of children being torn apart while he did nothing didn’t sit well with him. Mercenary he might be, but he still had honor. He looked at each of his team and asked a silent question. Detour?

  One by one they nodded. With a faint smile of approval, he motioned Lenka to the right flank. With his knife skills and incredible strength, he was a fearsome adversary. Johan, his right-hand man, took the left, while he and Ronnie took the lead. Kirstin and Mike stayed in the back, providing cover fire to the rest.

  Shots fired through silencers filled the night with muffled pops as they picked off the undead. They fell by the dozen, thinning the crowd as Breytenbach’s group advanced. A few stragglers caught on, charging them only to be intercepted by the flankers.

  At the front, the throng finally pushed over the fence, trampling each other in their rush to get to the school. Glass shattered, the bell-like tinkling followed by hysterical screams as the infected broke through the windows. Urgency descended on the group. They sped up their efforts and closed in on the building.

  The doors dangled on their hinges, granting easy access. They slipped inside. The foyer was empty, and a pot plant had toppled over; the only sign of disturbance. The screams were coming from the left.

  The Captain placed Ronnie and Mike at strategic points in the foyer to cover their rear while the rest advanced. They moved down a corridor and passed two offices. The first was deserted, while the second revealed a trio of undead feeding on a woman. Her vacant stare burned into Breytenbach’s mind as he put a bullet between her eyes, preventing her corpse from rising while Lenka took care of the infected.

  Breytenbach pushed aside all feelings of horror and pity, to be taken out and examined at a later date. For now, his entire focus was on the sounds issuing from a set of double doors, smashed open. It led to a large hall, likely used for functions and concerts. Now it played host to a macabre scene of pain and suffering.

  Sc
reams ripped through the air as harsh to the ears as nails on a chalkboard. The bodies of tiny children were strewn about. Broken porcelain dolls stained with the dark red of arterial blood. A few were still alive, trying to crawl away from the monsters tearing at their flesh. Others lay silent, their sightless eyes staring up at the ceiling as their bodies jerked in concert with the feeding mouths.

  It was a traumatic scene that burned itself into the mind forever, flashing to the forefront with all the shock and brilliance of a lightning strike at times. Breytenbach lifted his gun and pulled the trigger. Beside him, Lenka, Kirstin, and Johan stepped up, their shots joining the swirling chaos.

  The infected dropped like fat, bloated ticks off a hide, their thick, black blood draining out to mingle with the fresh, crimson blood of the living. The smell of it hung in the air and coated his tongue with a coppery tang.

  In a corner, three teachers were fending off attacks with an assortment of makeshift weapons. A small knot of children cowered behind them. They were the last left standing. With controlled haste, Breytenbach moved his squad closer.

  The undead continued to fall until the last dropped to the ground with a loud groan, protesting the injustice of its final death. The thundering of Breytenbach’s heart slowed to a murmur. He lowered his gun, surveying the scene.

  “Fucking hell,” Johan said, staring.

  Dozens of bodies were thrown about, the walls and floor coated in blood. Breytenbach looked at the remaining women, settling on one. “Miss, can you move everyone to the foyer, please?”

  She wielded an umbrella like a cricket bat, eyes so large they almost popped out of her head.

  “Miss? I need you to take these children to the foyer. You’ll be safe there.” She gaped at him before managing a shaky nod.

  “Johan, go with them. Make sure they’re all right. Check them for bites,” he ordered.

  With the survivors out of the way, Breytenbach turned to the grim task ahead. “Kirstin, Lenka, move out. We need to take care of the injured and the dead. You know what to do.”