“Please,” the man croaked through cracked and bleeding lips.
Logan kneeled on the floor and examined the stranger. “He’s close to death.” Looking up at Armand, he added, “We don’t have time for this. We need to get those guns.”
Armand was shocked. “Let’s make time.”
Logan debated then shook his head. “No. We leave him.”
“We can’t. I can’t.” Armand squared his shoulders and looked Logan in the eye. “I’ll take him back on my own if I have to.”
Logan sighed. “He won’t make it.”
“We have to try.”
With a final shake of the head, Logan gave in. “Fine. Let’s carry him out, but you better hope we make it in time.”
“Thank you,” the man whispered before closing his eyes, worn out by the effort of speaking.
They each took an arm and lifted the stranger off the floor. He weighed almost nothing so was hardly a burden, but the smell that wafted off his body was enough to make anyone hurl.
“He’s been here all this time. Hiding. Living off the cafeteria food until it ran out,” Armand said as they walked out, shock evident in every word.
“Yes. Too scared to come out.”
Armand swallowed. “The girl. What an awful way to die.”
“We’ll all die if we don’t move faster.”
They hurried along, their sense of urgency causing them to drop their guard. They rounded a corner and stepped right into the middle of a crowd of infected.
With a guttural growl, the nearest flailed a hand at Logan. He threw up an arm, backpedaling to gain distance. “Get back!”
Too late.
Several hands latched onto the stranger. For the briefest of moments, Logan resisted their pull. He let go when a hand closed on his shoulder and jerked. Armand was shoved aside by the weight of two infected, fighting fiercely.
The zombies wrenched the stranger into the center of the group. With a cry, he fell, one hand outstretched. They shredded his flesh like a school of piranhas. Warm blood spurted out, coating Logan’s face in a red mist.
He fought, swinging his ax with lethal precision. The undead fell, but it was the stranger’s death that saved their lives. It distracted the mob and gave them enough time to kill a few, evening out the odds.
The last one fell, and Logan stared down at a heap of bone and innards, all that remained of the stranger. Whether he knew it or not, he saved our lives.
Armand pointed at the previously barricaded door they’d passed earlier, standing wide open. “They must have heard us.”
“Yes.” Logan turned back the way they came. “Now, let’s go.”
Armand stared at him, shell-shocked. “What?”
“We need to go,” Logan repeated, enunciating each word with care. “We need to get the guns.”
Armand stared at him, mouth working.
Logan sighed. Why was it always up to him to be the hard ass?
“If we don’t go now, Max will get back with a horde of zombies on his ass, and we’ll all die. If we don’t get the guns, the people back home might very well die. Understand?”
With that, he spun on his heels and made his way back, trusting that Armand would follow.
He did.
They skirted around the woman’s corpse in the cafeteria, and five mercifully uneventful minutes later, they reached their goal.
The armory turned out to be a gold mine. Whistling, Logan eyed all the guns lined up on the walls. “Let’s get cracking. There’s not much time left.”
They unslung two duffel bags from their backs and loaded up. Guns in the one, ammo in the other. When both were full, Logan nodded. “Let’s go.”
They ran back, pausing outside to let their eyes adjust. It was still clear. No sign of Max. Come on, buddy. Where are you?
They ran to the Nyala, slinging both bags into the back. “Get in. We’ve got to be ready to go.”
Slamming the door shut behind Armand, Logan scanned the streets. He jogged to the driver’s side and waited beside the open door. The seconds ticked by. He itched to move, shifting from one foot to the other. Just when he was about to go, a distant yell resounded. Max rounded a corner with a horde of infected on his tail.
There were quite a few of the fast variations in the crowd, and they were hot on Max’s heels. Red-faced and stumbling, it was evident he was spent. Logan doubted he’d make it on his own. With icy calm, he swung his rifle off his shoulder and rested the muzzle on the frame of his door.
In quick succession, he dropped three of the infected closest to Max. His next two shots went wide, and Logan took a moment to center himself before dropping two more. Always a good shooter, he’d never needed his aim to prove true more than then.
The fallen zombies tripped up some of their comrades, and Max gained a small lead. From inside the Nyala, Armand’s rifle boomed. Good boy. He’s firing through the loopholes.
More zombies dropped.
The gap between man and horde widened.
“That should do it.” Logan slung the rifle back onto his shoulder and climbed into the vehicle.
He watched as Max shot around the front to the passenger door and jumped in with seconds to spare. The front-runners thudded into the doors and bonnet, howling in frustration as their meal disappeared behind solid steel.
Logan pulled away with a roar of the engine and crunched over anything in his path. They made a clean getaway. After a few minutes, Logan stopped and turned to Max. “You okay?”
“I’m all right,” Max gasped, still breathless from his exertions. Sweat dripped down his face and ran in runnels onto his shirt, pooling underneath his arms.
“Really? Cause you look like shit.” Logan reached behind the seat and pulled out a bottle of water. “Here.”
“Thanks.” Max chugged it down in one long swig. “Now I know what Morgan felt like. Running for your life from a pack of rabid wolves is not fun.”
“Must run in the family,” Logan agreed, grinning. “Home?”
“Home,” Max agreed, closing his eyes as he leaned back in his seat.
Logan steered back onto the road, glad his friend was okay. I’ve never had a friend before. Then again, I’ve never experienced a zombie apocalypse or been in love before either.
An image of Morgan’s brilliant smile and mischievous eyes rose in his mind. He knew she was the one. She just needed to realize it too.
Max dozed off while Logan drove until he spotted activity to the left. He shook Max, rousing him from his nap.
“What? What’s happening?” Max asked, struggling upright.
“Survivors.”
Fully alert now, Max looked around. “Where?”
“Over there.” Logan pointed to a row of shops. They were deserted, standing forlorn and forgotten. Except one. The pharmacy.
A small crowd of infected were gathered in the front, moaning as they banged on the doors. “There’s something in there they want. That means people.”
“You’re right. Up for a rescue mission?”
“Sure. Why not?”
They filled Armand in on the plan and left him behind to provide cover with his rifle. Limbering up, Max and Logan pulled out their weapons. The zombies didn’t even notice the two men approach so intent were they on the shop.
With the advantage of surprise on their side, it only took a minute to get rid of the infected. It was a dance now so familiar it might as well have been choreographed.
“We make a good team,” Max grinned afterward.
“We’ve had plenty of practice,” Logan replied.
He hung back as Max peered inside and yelled, “Hello! Anyone there?”
A pale face appeared in the gloom, staring at them with wide-eyed surprise. It disappeared and was followed by rattling and scraping. The door swung open to reveal a man. He was short with a pot belly, salt-and-pepper hair, coupled with spectacles perched on the end of his nose. Logan guessed him to be in his late fifties.
“Thank you
, thank you. You don’t know how glad we are to see you. We thought we would die,” the man gushed. “Oh, I’m David, David Nelson.”
“We?” Logan asked.
“Well, there’s four of us.” Behind him in the gloom, three more faces popped up wearing similar looks of surprise and relief.
“Have you been here all this time?” Logan asked.
“Yes, we were trapped from the start. Luckily we had plenty of meal replacements, vitamins, protein bars, bottled water and so on, but it hasn’t been pleasant.”
David talked fast, a nervous tick in his right eye. Logan decided they needed to get him out of there before he had a nervous breakdown.
“Max? We need to move.”
“You want to come with us?” Max offered. “We’ve got a safe place.”
“What about our families?” David asked. “We must go to them.”
Max sighed, “Look, I’m sorry to say this but your families are likely dead, or they’ve fled town. If you come with us, we can offer a safe place to stay and maybe later we can look for them.”
David nodded, struck dumb at the news.
From the back, a girl asked, “Is everybody dead?”
“Most everyone,” Logan answered. “Listen, we can talk on the way, but right now we’ve got to go before more infected arrive.”
After a brief whispered conference, the group agreed. Everyone piled into the Nyala after grabbing bags of medical supplies. Logan was happy to learn that David was a pharmacist and Hannah, a middle-aged woman, was a nurse working in the clinic. This added valuable medical personnel to their group.
Liezel, a young girl, used to be David’s assistant and Rosa, a student, was trapped with them during the outbreak.
As they drove off, Logan reflected that it had been a terrifying but prosperous day. I just hope Morgan’s trip proved equally fortunate.
Chapter 16 - Morgan
Bare thorn trees and brittle, dry grass flashed past the window. Morgan stared at the landscape, lost in thought. Jacques drove with Angie squeezed in between them. They bickered back and forth, and she’d long since tuned out.
That day she’d been trapped in the shower was still burned into her mind with ferocious intensity. Her life had been safe and predictable until that moment, although she’d struggled with silent depression.
After her teenage years, she’d taken great care to hide her feelings from everyone, including her husband. Her often unpredictable mood swings and insecurity had strained their marriage at times, especially because Brian didn’t know where the real problem lay. Despite that, it had been a happy union, warm and loving.
That day in the shower changed everything. The one person she’d never feared, became the being that tried to murder her. Not only did she lose Brian, but also any certainty in the status quo. Now, she felt challenged to rise above herself and become a stronger person, one able to overcome adversity, not just live with it.
Morgan found herself excited at the prospect. The depression was fading, her mind responding to their situation by becoming tougher. Though she missed Brian, he was receding into the background, becoming part of a life she once had but now couldn’t even visualize.
Morgan scrutinized their surroundings while absentmindedly rubbing the stock of her handgun. It can’t be far now.
A kilometer further, she saw the sign signaling the turnoff. The next few minutes were spent jostling and bumping along on a rocky dirt road. A tall iron link fence ran along their right, and soon they reached the gates.
It was closed. Keeping a wary eye out for trouble, Morgan jumped out and opened it. She noticed a padlock and chain lying to the side. They’d been cut through, and she frowned as she considered the implications. We’re not the first ones here.
She jumped back inside the vehicle and showed Angie and Jacques the cut chains. “The place could be occupied. Either way, expect trouble.”
They drove through the gate, leaving it open for a quick getaway and trundled further up the dirt track. When the tops of the buildings showed through a screen of trees, she called a halt.
“Listen, guys. We’ve got no idea what’s waiting up ahead. I propose we leave the Nyala here and sneak in, make sure the coast is clear.”
Agreeing, they got out and approached the tree line, keeping quiet. A faint breeze stirred the grass stalks, creating the sense of a rolling beige ocean. The ground rose, sloping upwards into a long ridge. The grass petered out, and the pines soared overhead, the wind susurrating through the needles. No other sounds could be heard. It was eerie.
Morgan crouched down, studying the clearing ahead. She had an excellent view, afforded by the high ground. A long, flat structure that served as the restaurant, hall, and bar area, lay to the left. A patio ran along its length, decorated with lawn furniture. It edged onto a big, square swimming pool.
She remembered a distant weekend spent at the reserve with Brian. It had been summer, the days hot and lazy. They’d had breakfast on the patio, followed by a swim in the cool, blue pool. Cottages dotted the lawns, interspersed with a play park. It looked very different now. The grass was overgrown, and the kids equipment broken down. The pool resembled a swamp, thick with algae and sludge.
The dirt road wound past the base of the ridge and through a gate set in a low wall surrounding the buildings. Past that, it led to a camping site with stands and ablution blocks.
Even further along lay a dam stocked with fish and an inner reserve, fenced off and filled with wildlife, mostly buck. The place was perfect for their needs but also occupied. Trucks were parked next to the bungalows, and rubbish lay strewn across the ground. Her shoulders slumped. Someone beat us to it.
“No go,” she mouthed, jerking a thumb back toward the Nyala.
Angie and Jacques nodded, inching back the way they came. Morgan’s heart was heavy, but approaching the strangers was out of the question. That was a decision for the group to make.
Easing back, a strong gust of wind swept through the trees. It carried the taint of death, and Morgan paused. Her senses kicked into high-alert, and her hand hovered over her gun. Movement caught her eye. Toward the end of the tree line, closest to the cottages, a body swung from a rope. Morgan frowned and looked closer. What the…?
It was the corpse of a young woman, swinging slowly back and forth. She was naked, long dark hair covering her face. Purple bruises adorned her body. Morgan smothered a gasp, her mind skittering like a frightened mouse at the implications. Who did that?
Jacques noticed her reaction. He followed her gaze. The color leached from his ruddy skin until it matched his ash blond hair. Angie looked at them, a question mark on her face.
Movement below the dead girl’s feet drew Morgan’s attention. She moved closer, making out the shape of two women huddled against the tree trunk. Curiosity stirred, and she turned to the others. “Wait here. I’m going over.”
“You can’t,” Angie hissed. “What if it’s zombies?”
“They’re not acting like infected.”
“So? You don’t know that. Leave them,” Angie insisted, her dark eyes flashing.
“No.” Morgan’s eyes narrowed, surprised at Angie’s reaction. “Maybe they need help, and I’m going to find out.”
“We can come back later with more people.”
“They could be dead by then,” Morgan replied, her eyes going back to the hanged girl.
“She’s right, Angie. We have to try,” Jacques argued.
Angie shot them both a glare but gave in. “Fine, I’ll cover you from here, but if something happens, I’m getting out of here.”
Ignoring her, Morgan and Jacques moved closer to the girls. On closer inspection, it appeared they too were naked and in bad shape. Both were chained to the tree. What’s going on here?
In a soft voice, she called out to them. The nearest girl turned her head. She appeared dazed. Then her eyes lit up, and she scrambled upright, rising out of the nest of pine needles she’d burrowed into.
Morgan gasped at the purple bruises covering her thin frame, fading to mottled yellow in places. Her lips were split and bleeding, and a gash festered above her cheekbone.
Morgan’s gaze shifted to the dead girl’s toes swinging not far from her face, and her shock hardened into resolve. Whatever’s going on here, we’ve got to save them.
“I’m here to help,” she whispered.
The girl nodded, a look of hope flashing across her face. She turned to her companion, shaking her awake. Shooting upright, the second girl stared wildly at Morgan and Jacques before bursting into tears.
“Shh, be quiet,” Morgan pleaded. After frantic hand gestures and pleading, the girl stopped crying though she still hid behind her friend. They’re both so young.
Morgan examined the chains binding them to the tree. “Jacques, get the ax and tell Angie to bring the Nyala closer. Be quiet.”
He slipped away, and she turned back to the girls. “I’ll cut your bonds, then you run to our vehicle, okay?”
“Okay.”
“What’re your names?”
“I’m Lisa. This is Michelle.”
“Is it just you two?”
Lisa shook her head, pointing a trembling finger to the cottages. “No, Jackie’s down there.”
“Shit.” Morgan thought for a moment. “How many of them are there? Are they armed?”
“There’s eight of them, and they’ve got guns.”
With regret, Morgan let go of the idea of trying to rescue the unfortunate Jackie. “I’m sorry, but there’s only three of us. We can’t take on eight armed men.”
“Please,” Lisa pleaded. “She’s my friend. You’ve no idea what those men did to us…what they’ll do to her. We have to save her.”
Michelle began to sob while Lisa spoke, small broken gasps that shook her tiny frame.
Tears burned Morgan’s eyes, but she shook her head. “I can’t. I’m sorry. I have to think of my friends too.”
Lisa swallowed, looking down. “I understand, but…”
“We can come back for her with reinforcements,” Morgan offered.
“Would you?”
“We’ll try,” Morgan promised. The thought of leaving Jackie behind sickened her, but there was no choice. We’ll be back, but right now we have to get out of here.
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