She rushed in the direction he showed, followed by Max. Breytenbach and his group had shifted to the side, watching the scene unfold with grim expressions, neither participants nor bystanders.
Lisa too had drifted apart. She stared at Angie, and a strange emotion washed across her face, almost accusatory. Logan knew that she’d been friends with Morgan and now hoped she was on his side.
Elise ushered the kids and Michelle away from the spectacle, dragging a protesting Thembiso by the arm. The crowd thinned.
Logan turned back to Angie. His face hardened, becoming a mask of stone. “Tell the truth. There’s no point in lying, and it won’t save you. That I promise.”
“You’re crazy.” She backed away, looking like a hunted doe. “You need help, Logan. The only killer here is you.”
“Last chance.”
“Leave her alone,” Ben said, shielding her with his body. He looked like he had before. Strong, determined, and protective. The air of fragility that had hovered about him for weeks disappeared.
“Stay out of this, Ben. She’s manipulating you,” Logan replied.
Ben didn’t answer, but neither did he move. Angie retreated further behind him, her eyes glittering. To Logan, she looked wicked, like a malignant tumor that clung to Ben’s side. Why can’t they see it?
“Don’t listen to him. He’s trying to blame me for what he did,” she said. A sneer twisted her lips. “You killed her in a jealous rage, didn’t you Logan? Who did she screw this time?”
Logan felt violent anger twist inside him. He itched to wrap his hands around her neck and squeeze the life from her. With an effort, he remained calm. His next words dropped into the atmosphere like a stone. “Did you know she was pregnant when you stabbed her? Did you know you were killing a baby?”
Confused emotion flitted across Angie’s face. She stuttered. “No…I’m not…it wasn’t me.”
“She was pregnant? Why didn’t she tell me?” The choked words alerted them to Julianne’s presence. She stood next to Max who carried Morgan in his arms. She looked like a broken doll, her head cradled against his chest, arms and legs limp.
“Yes, she was.” Logan tried not to look at the lifeless body of his beloved lest he break down. “I’m sorry, Julianne. I’m sure she would have wanted you to know, but she only took the test this morning.”
“This is insane! My daughter is dead, and…and…” She grabbed Max’s arm for support, swaying. “Just tell me. Which one of you did it?”
“I already told you. She did.” Impatience turned Logan’s tone brusque. Despite his pity for Julianne, he felt angered that people were so ready to turn against him. “This is a waste of time. You all know me. I’ve been here from the start, helping you, all of you, to survive. Why would I kill Morgan?”
The crowd shifted, uncertain whom to believe. Breytenbach stepped forward, looking first at Logan and Angie facing off, then at Max. “Examine their knives. Whoever stabbed her will have blood on the blade.”
His words fell into the tense atmosphere, causing a ripple of speculation. Max nodded. “Good idea. Logan? Will you show us your knife?”
“Here,” Logan replied, pulling his from the sheath. He held it up. The steel edge glittered in the sun. It was spotless.
Calculating eyes turned toward Angie. She paled, taking a step back. “This is ridiculous. I don’t even have a knife on me.”
“She dropped it on the grass,” Logan said.
“I’ll get it,” Breytenbach said, slipping away.
While he was gone, the tension grew. Each second ticked by slowly. Angie fidgeted, her head swiveled as if looking for an escape route. Breytenbach returned, holding up a bloody dagger. It was long and slim, pearl handled. He turned to her and asked, “Is this yours?”
“No. No, it’s not,” she replied, but her eyes had gone wide.
Ben stared at the knife for several seconds. He paled. “Angie? What did you do?”
“Nothing. It’s not mine.”
Ben backed away from her, shaking his head. “I gave you that knife.”
“But…I…it’s not mine, I swear. It’s a different one.” Her lips quivered. She reached out to Ben, grasping at air and pleaded, “Please. You must believe me.”
Ben shook his head. He did not take her hands.
Naked rage flared in her eyes. Her hands clenched into fists, and she stamped her foot. “Stupid old man. You’re supposed to be on my side.”
“But…Morgan. Why? Why kill her?”
“Why not?” she said. Her dark eyes glowed. “She deserved it.”
Ben looked stricken. His mouth worked soundlessly, and she laughed.
“Armand got what he deserved too, running after her like a stupid little puppy dog.” She pounded a fist on her breast. “He could have had me! But no, he only wanted her!”
“Armand? You killed Armand too?” Max asked.
Angie smirked, folding her arms. “I’ll never forget the look on his face when I shoved him off that roof. The betrayal. Now he knows what it feels like.” Her smile grew wider. “He screamed like a girl while they ate him.”
A collective gasp went up, and people retreated from her like a wave from the shore. She turned in a circle, glaring. Her face had sharpened, lips drawing back to expose the canines. She looked like a demonic child.
“Oh, I see. You’re all staring at me like I’m crazy. You know what? I don’t care. You’re all just a bunch of cowards, hiding behind your walls, pretending to be civilized. Civilization is gone, people. Only the strong can survive now.”
A subtle shift occurred, a ripple through the crowd. The strongest members of the camp stepped up, closing in on Angie while the rest retreated. Too late, she realized what she’d done. She was surrounded.
“No, wait. I didn’t mean it.” She tried to retreat. “I was confused.”
“Shut up, Angie. We all heard you. It’s over,” Max said. “You’re guilty by your own admission.”
“No, please.”
“Do what you want with her, Logan,” Julianne said. Her face was white, her eyes like chips of glass. “No one will interfere.”
Angie tried to run. Logan grabbed her by the wrist, and she screamed. He locked his hand over her mouth, picking her up off the ground. She wriggled like a worm on a hook and kicked her legs. He ignored her struggles, dragging her to the Landie. With a length of rope, he tied her arms behind her back and tossed her into the back. She never stopped screaming.
“Logan, please.” Ben approached him, wringing his hands. “I know what Angie did was unforgivable, but don’t kill her. She’s still…she’s like a daughter to me. I couldn’t bear it if she died.”
Logan stared at him and struggled to control his anger. “She killed Morgan. She murdered our unborn child.”
“I know, but…” Ben broke down in tears, his large shoulders shaking. Joanna led him away, whispering words of comfort in his ear. Logan felt a twinge of sympathy for the man. It was not enough to prevent him from doing what he planned to, however.
Logan slid behind the wheel and drove, never registering the scenery flashing by. To him, it was all just a blur of nothingness. In the back, Angie struggled against her bonds, but she wasn’t going anywhere. He knew how to tie a knot. She cried out until her throat became raw, pleading for him to let her live. He hardly heard it.
Morgan is gone. She’s dead. His grief knotted inside his chest in a ball of pain. It had to wait, though. He had a job to do. Koppie Alleen loomed in the distance. The lone hill towered above the flat landscape like a beacon and heralded the entrance to Riebeeckstad. Hence its name—which roughly translated to Lonely Hill. A white cross adorned the top, mocking him with its promise of eternal love and forgiveness. There’s no forgiveness for what I’m about to do.
He drove through the abandoned streets of the small town until he reached its center. A heart that was now as dead as the body, no longer pumping with life and commerce. Parking the Land Rover in front of the nearest shop, he cli
mbed out and opened the back.
A terrified Angie scooted away from him, eyes wide with fear. Her face was streaked with tears and snot. He grabbed her ankle and pulled her out onto the pavement. She fell hard, unable to brace herself. Closing the door, he bent down and pulled out his hunting knife. Logan stared at it for a few seconds, contemplating all the things he could do.
She watched him, naked fear flickering across her features. “Please don’t.”
Logan was surprised to find he felt nothing. No pleasure, no satisfaction, nothing at all. He lowered the knife. She flinched. He cut the ropes binding her.
Angie stared at him in shocked surprise. “You’re letting me go?”
“I’m leaving you here.”
“Really?” She pushed herself upright, blubbering. “You’ll never see me again, I promise.”
“No, I won’t.” In one smooth motion, he unslung his rifle from his shoulder and shot her in the knee. At such close range, the high caliber bullet packed a brutal punch. Her knee exploded in a shower of blood, flesh, and bone. She uttered an inhuman cry, unlike anything he’d ever heard before.
Angie collapsed in a crumpled heap, alternating between wailing and sobbing. She clutched at her leg, trying to stop the bleeding. It pushed out between her fingers in a dark crimson stream.
Logan walked away and climbed into his truck. The first shambling corpse appeared in the rearview mirror. Others joined it, the shot drawing them in. They closed in around her and cut off all escape. She crawled, dragging the shattered leg and leaving a trail of blood behind her.
The first corpse fell upon her, sinking its rotting teeth into her open wound. Its fingers hooked into the splintered bones like claws, ripping the joint apart. Sinew and muscles tore. Raw animal cries issued from her throat.
Logan watched. Still, he felt nothing as they feasted on her flesh. Once Angie ceased to exist as a human being, he drove away. Halfway back to camp, he pulled over. For a long time, he sat, staring at nothing.
Unmoving.
Empty.
Hollow.
He turned his head and looked at the cubby hole, popping it open. The cigarettes Morgan had indulged in, lay there. He took them and got out, the Land Rover’s door creaking. He put one of her smokes between his lips and lit it. The acrid smoke filled his lungs, a hit of nicotine entering his blood vessels.
He used to nag Morgan to stop smoking. An ex-smoker himself, he knew what a bad habit it was. She’d never quite managed. Now, it didn’t matter anymore. She was gone. He’d never see her again.
The empty feeling inside him built and built, growing until he couldn’t contain it. He crumpled the cigarette in his hand, burning his fingers. A tightness built up in his throat, demanding release. A howl of fury tore loose. Rage infused his mind. “Why? Why her?”
He screamed until his voice broke then slumped to his knees. His rifle rested in the dust next to him, and for a moment…but no. He couldn’t. He wasn’t a quitter.
A shambling figure on the road got him to his feet, and he climbed back inside the Land Rover. He drove past the zombie, not paying it any heed. As the camp drew closer, his heart grew heavier. He didn’t know if he could face the questions, the sympathy, the attention. In the end, it didn’t matter.
He didn’t plan on staying long, anyway.
Epilogue - Breytenbach
Julianne looked both beautiful and frail in a black dress; her hair was done in an elegant twist that exposed her slender neck. She stared at Morgan’s grave without a tear in sight, grieving silently for the daughter she’d lost and the grandchild that would never be born.
In the few days he’d known her, Breytenbach had come to admire her. She had a quiet strength, a grace that appealed to him. He had not shown Julianne how he felt, though. Not yet. It was too soon. For now, he would just be there when she needed him.
At her side stood a tearful Meghan, clinging to her mother’s leg. Her eyes were wide as she stared at the grave. To her, death was still a mystery. A frightening specter that took people away forever, just like her daddy.
Max stood beside them, likewise grieving for the sister that had been so close to him, almost like a twin. His eyes were dry, but the tension in his shoulders and mouth betrayed his emotions.
Breytenbach shook his head, remembering the insanity reflected in Angie’s eyes when she spat out her hatred like bile. The depths of the human psyche never failed to amaze him. What a senseless tragedy.
Then he looked at Samantha squirming in his arms and reflected that even though they had all lost so much, they still had each other. He had found his family at last, and he knew he’d protect them with his dying breath.
The rhythmic thud of dirt hitting Morgan’s shroud sounded loud in the late afternoon air. Sunlight bathed the clearing in a golden haze, reflecting off the circle of grim faces gathered together. The whole world was quiet, as though it too attended her funeral.
Big Ben was the worst off, perhaps. His eyes were lost, swiveling around without focus while his mouth worked soundlessly. The once great stature he’d possessed was gone, his body crumbling in on itself like an ancient statue. Joanna stood next to him offering silent support, but he hardly seemed to notice her.
The quiet drone of Dave’s voice filled the air as he recited Psalm 23 from the battered Bible he always carried in his pocket. It had been Morgan’s favorite, chosen by Julianne for the service.
‘The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.
He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.’
The words offered hope and absolution to all except Logan. Since his return, he had not said a word nor looked at anyone. Nobody dared ask what had happened to Angie. Her fate was apparent to all, etched into the grooves that lined his features.
There had been no mercy for her, Breytenbach knew. He also knew the deed would change Logan forever. A man cannot kill with such cold-blooded cruelty and not have it stain his soul with the act. No matter how justified.
The old Logan was gone. He looked like a man fashioned of steel. No emotion was reflected in those hard gray eyes, and Breytenbach wondered what he would do next. For a man to have nothing, only to find everything then lose it again was a hard, hard thing.
When the last shovelful of dirt covered the grave, Logan turned and walked away. Breytenbach watched as he climbed into his rusted Land Rover and pulled away with a roar of the engine. He left only a cloud of dust in his wake; a void echoed in the hearts of many.
The service was over. One by one, people drifted away, their murmured condolences humming around Julianne. She thanked each with a stiff nod, her hands clutching Meghan’s shoulders in silent despair.
Max hugged her close before leaving to take up his shift at the wall. Even now, the infected could not be forgotten. They had to remain vigilant.
Breytenbach turned his attention to Julianne, leading her and Meghan away. What they needed the most now was privacy. That and time to process their loss.
Sam was the only one who seemed oblivious to the atmosphere. A monarch butterfly flitted past her face, brushing across her baby-soft skin. She giggled, swinging pudgy fists through the air. Her laughter prompted smiles from Julianne and Meghan while her innocence promised hope for the future.
The sun dropped toward the horizon in a slow descent, streaking the sky in a splendid display of cosmic glamour. As the day drew to a close, Breytenbach felt sure there would be another. Days filled with sorrow, perhaps, but also joy an
d happiness. We will last another day.
The End.
Survive Another Day - Bonus Novella
Chapter 1 - Brian
The smell of frying onions filled the air, creating a pleasant atmosphere accompanied by the rattle of pots and pans. Brian stared at the computer screen in front of him and blinked as the light assaulted his tired brain. His report on the effectiveness of their latest marketing strategy was due on Monday which was why he was still working on a Saturday night.
A pair of warm arms slid around his neck, and the scent of vanilla and honey filled his nostrils, soothing his frayed nerves.
“Are you still working on that report? Why don’t you call it a night, and I’ll pour us a glass of wine?” Morgan’s voice was low in pitch, with a sexy roughness to it that never failed to excite him.
He sighed and shook his head. “Sorry, love. Just give me another hour, okay?”
“If you must.” She pressed a soft kiss to his temple and retreated, hips sashaying.
Brian immediately missed her nearness and stared after her with regret. He loved her so much it felt like a physical ache in his chest, but he often got the feeling she had settled for him. That she chose him because he was solid, dependable, and loyal. Boring. That’s what I am. The safe bet.
But to be honest, it didn’t matter. He would take whatever she offered just for the chance to be near her, to touch her and hold her. That’s what he lived for, and it was enough. Most of the time.
Brian sighed and refocused on the screen in front of him. His fingers flew over the keyboard. The minutes sped past, and he was nearing the end of the assignment when Morgan called from the kitchen.
“Honey! Won’t you get us some bread? I want to make french toast in the morning, and we’re out.”
Brian pushed back his chair and stood up, stretching the tense muscles in his back. Glancing at his watch, he saw it was a quarter past eight. “Shop’s closed. I’ll have to go to the petrol station and buy from the 24-hour shop.”
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