Children of the Apocalypse: Mega Boxed Set

by Baileigh Higgins

  “Ugh. Their bread’s usually stale, but it’ll have to do, I guess.”

  He grabbed his car keys and stepped outside. The night was pitch-black, the moon hidden behind a thick bank of clouds. Brian crossed the space to his truck with long strides, enjoying the fresh evening air accompanied by a chorus of crickets.

  It was a short drive. He hummed as he drove, drumming his hands on the wheel in time to the beat of the song playing on the radio. Along the way, his headlights fell on a lone figure that staggered across the road. A pale face flashed by, illuminated by the yellow glare. For a moment, Brian could swear the man was snarling at him. He shook his head and dismissed the thought. Probably drunk, the poor bastard.

  He pulled into the parking area and walked to the shop, nodding at the petrol attendant on duty. It was a cheerless place. Gray concrete lit with flickering lights and staffed by grudging people unwilling to crack a smile in rebellion to their paltry salaries.

  Brian took a loaf of bread, picking the freshest of the lot. On the way to the till his eyes fell on a slab of hazelnut chocolate, Morgan’s favorite. Dumping his purchases on the counter, he fished out his credit card and handed it to the cashier who was half asleep in his chair.

  A moth fluttered around his face, and he brushed it away, eyes wandering to the windows. Through the dirty glass, he noticed the drunk from earlier stumble into the lot. Brian frowned. Something about the stranger was off.

  A sense of unease stirred. His attention remained fixed on the stumbling figure as he took his receipt and card. He pushed open the door and stepped outside, digging in his pocket for his keys.

  Brian watched as the drunk’s head swung towards him, the eyes like those of a predator. The lips peeled away, and Brian froze. Alarm bells went off in his head, and he took a step back. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

  The stranger broke into a run, closing the distance with frightening speed. There was no time to think, no time to act. He slammed into Brian with terrific force. The bread flew, and the chocolate slab tumbled to the ground.

  Clawed hands latched onto Brian’s left wrist. He cried out when a sharp pain shot up his arm and jerked back, shoving the man to the ground. A quick glance showed a crescent bite mark on the flesh just above his wrist, blood trickling from the puncture wounds. He bit me! The son of a bitch bit me!

  The stranger snarled and got to his feet, fingers grasping at the air. Acting on instinct, Brian clubbed his attacker in the temple with a fist. Once, twice, three times, sending him tumbling backward. It wasn’t enough. Those fingers kept reaching.

  Brian back-pedaled, his mind reeling with the possibilities. Recent disturbing news reports of cannibals and an infectious disease surfaced. Stories he’d laughed off as a hoax.

  The door to the shop slammed open, and the cashier rushed out. He latched onto the stranger’s arms. They struggled, the crazy man making insane noises as he jerked and pulled. The clerk cried out to the shocked petrol attendant who’d been standing there the entire time, gaping at the spectacle.

  Brian swung his head, looking for something to use and spotted a length of electrical cord. He snatched it up and together, the three of them tied up the man.

  Heaving for breath, Brian stared down at the wriggling form. He took in the rolling eyes, blackened gums, and blood-encrusted shirt.

  “What do we do now?” the cashier asked.

  “I don’t know. Call the police.” Brian scooped up his fallen car keys. “They can figure it out.”

  The petrol attendant did not agree. “He’s been bewitched. This is the work of evil spirits.” He spat on the ground and backed away with a shake of his head.

  “Whatever,” Brian replied. He wanted nothing more than to go home. He thumbed a business card out of his wallet and winced when a stab of pain shot through his hand. “If the police want to talk to me, they can call me at this number.” Handing the card to the cashier, he left before anyone could argue.

  He drove home in a hurry, only realizing when he pushed open the kitchen door that he’d left the bread and chocolate at the garage. Morgan was in the kitchen, dancing to a song on the TV, hips swaying from side to side.

  She turned when he walked in and noted his pinched expression and empty hands. “What’s wrong?”

  Brian showed her his arm. The crescent bite wound was swollen and puffy. It leaked droplets of blood.

  “Oh, my God! What happened?”

  “Some crazy guy attacked me out of nowhere. I fought him off, but he got me.”

  “He bit you?” Morgan gaped at him, aghast.

  Brian told her what happened, but made light of the event. He convinced himself and her it was just a bum, hopped up on drugs or alcohol. The alternative was too frightening to entertain.

  Morgan pulled out her first aid kit and cleaned the wound with antiseptic, laughing when he winced. “Don’t be such a baby! It’s no big deal.”

  “He took a chunk right out of me,” Brian protested.

  “Oh, please. It’s not very deep,” she scoffed, but a frown marred her forehead while she wrapped it up with a bandage. “I hope this doesn’t get infected. Human mouths are filthy.”

  Brian had to agree.

  “I think you’d better see a doctor tomorrow, just in case.”

  “Anything you say, love.”

  She tied off the end of the bandage then leaned over and kissed him on the lips. “Hungry?”

  “Starving.”

  “Good, because I made extra.”

  Brian set the table while Morgan poured a glass of wine for each of them. “To relax you after your harrowing ordeal,” she joked.

  “If the wine’s for me then how come the bottle’s half empty?”

  “Because cooking supper was a harrowing ordeal for me,” she replied, giggling. “Tomorrow’s your turn.”

  “Deal.”

  She toasted him across the table, and Brian marveled at how beautiful she was when she smiled. Her green eyes sparkled, and the soft skin at the corners of her lips dimpled. God, I love her.

  Silence fell, broken only by the clinking of crockery. With his knife, Brian cut off a big chunk of steak. The pink juices squeezed out to mingle with the gravy. His stomach rumbled in anticipation, saliva flooding his mouth. A few more bites and the meat was gone, but not his hunger. “Is there more?”

  “Sure. On the stove.”

  Brian lifted the lid on the oven pan and smiled with pleasure when he spotted the thick piece of rump. Loading it onto his plate, he returned to the table and dug in with enthusiasm.

  “You’re hungry today,” Morgan remarked.

  “Can’t help it,” he mumbled around a full mouth. “It’s delicious.”

  Brian polished the steak, then the potatoes and carrots, his stomach languishing warm and contented afterward. He pushed back his plate and looked at Morgan. A frown cut grooves between her brows while she stared at her fork, peas hovering on the edge of the tines. “What’s wrong? Not still worried about me getting sick, are you?”

  “No, it’s not that. Well, not just that,” she replied. The peas lost the battle and tumbled off. With a sigh, Morgan laid down her fork and reached for her glass.

  “What’s bothering you then?”

  “It’s Lilian.”

  “What about her?”

  “Earlier today, I received three missed calls from her, but when I phoned back, she never answered.”

  “I’m sure she’ll call you soon. She’s probably just busy with the kids and all.”

  “It’s not like her,” Morgan insisted. “I tried to phone Ronald too. No answer. I’m getting anxious.”

  “I’m sure it’s nothing. Why don’t you try again tomorrow?”

  “What if something happened to them? What if they got robbed or…” Morgan trailed off, chewing her lip. “Johannesburg’s a dangerous place.”

  “It’s not that bad, love, and they stay in a secure complex. Tomorrow Lilian will phone you, and everything will be okay. You’ll see.”


  “I suppose.” Morgan turned her attention back to her plate, spearing an unfortunate pea with a vehement stab of her fork.

  Despite his reassurances, Brian could see she was still worried about Lilian so kept quiet about his own growing discomfort. During the meal, he’d noticed a burning sensation spreading from the bite wound on his arm. His fingers tingled until the tips became numb. Reluctant to worry Morgan further, he ignored it, but by slow degrees, the feeling was spreading throughout his body.

  After dinner, they settled on the couch to watch a movie. Morgan curled her warm body into his and put her head on his shoulder while he looped an arm around her back. The fragrance of her skin tickled his nostrils, and Brian leaned back, trying to relax.

  The burning sensation had abated somewhat which was a relief, but he still felt hot. Sweat trickled down between his shoulder blades and pooled beneath his armpits. Suddenly, his stomach cramped, and he convulsed.

  Morgan sat up. “Are you okay?”

  Another cramp gripped him, and he gritted his teeth. Nausea set in. Taking a deep breath, Brian tamped down the feeling. “I’m fine. Just a cramp.”

  “Are you sure? You look pale.”

  “I’m okay. Really.”

  After a few seconds, Morgan lay back down and resumed watching TV. Brian’s stomach continued to churn, but he ignored it. He bit his lower lip and leaned his head back. I’ll go to the doctor tomorrow. It’s nothing serious. No reason to spoil our night.

  After the movie, Morgan got up. “Ready for bed?”

  “Why don’t you go ahead? I’ll be right there.”

  He waited until she was in the bedroom before he rushed to the guest bathroom in the hallway. Slamming the door shut, he fell to his knees in front of the toilet. The contents of his stomach came up in a rush and forced its way out through his throat. A noxious mixture of bile and masticated food filled the bowl. Trembling, he got to his feet and flushed the toilet before splashing cold water on his face. A look in the mirror revealed a haggard visage, his eyes bloodshot and puffy.

  “I look like shit.”

  A knock on the bathroom door interrupted him.

  “Babes, are you okay?”

  “I’m all right,” he replied. “Be right out.”

  “Okay.”

  He waited until he heard her footsteps recede down the passage then unwound the bandage covering his wound. Swollen and inflamed, it pulsed with heat and dark purple lines, almost black, radiated from the bite mark.

  “Shit,” he muttered, staring at his forearm in disbelief. Again, the recent news reports of an infectious disease spreading across the continents flashed through his mind. He shook his head and refused to consider it. It’s bullshit. It’s not real. It can’t be.

  But the evidence was staring him right in the face. Mystery illness or not, his wound was infected. “Fuck it. I’ll go to the doctor in the morning. Probably just needs antibiotics and a tetanus shot or something.”

  He rewound the bandage after sloshing antiseptic from the bathroom cabinet over the crescent bite mark. It burned like fire, and he convinced himself it would fry any bugs that clung to the flesh.

  Brian splashed water on his face, rinsed his mouth and fixed a relaxed smile on his features. Morgan awaited him in the bedroom, already dressed in silk pajamas. With a casual demeanor, he prepared for bed. She wasn’t fooled and frowned at his bloodshot eyes and flushed face.

  Pressing a cool hand against his forehead, she gasped. “You’re burning up!” She grasped his forearm, studying the bandage. “Is it your arm? Let me see.”

  Her fingers reached for the cloth, but he snatched his hand away. “It’s not necessary.”

  “How can you say that? You’re running a fever, Brian. I’m taking you to the emergency room.”

  “No, you’re not. There’s nothing wrong with me that a good night’s rest won’t fix. I’ll see a doctor in the morning, okay?”

  “But…”

  “Morgan, I’m fine. It’s just a bug, that’s all. I won’t ruin our night by dragging us to the hospital for nothing.” Brian turned his back on her, hiding the fear he felt inside and turning down the edge of his duvet.

  A soft touch on his shoulder turned him around to face her. “You’ll tell me if I should be scared, won’t you? You’ll tell me if something’s wrong?”

  Brian reached out and brushed his fingers across her cheek. “Of course, love.”

  She hesitated. “Promise?”

  “I promise. Now let’s go to bed, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Sliding between the crisp sheets was a relief to his overheated skin. Morgan lay on her side facing the wall with her buttocks pressed against his hip. He switched off his bedside lamp and stared up at the ceiling, allowing the darkness to soothe him. After a few minutes, he drifted off.

  Burn.

  I’m burning.

  Tongues of flame are licking my skin…what’s happening?

  Where am I?

  Brian jerked awake and shot upright. His heart banged in his chest. Sweat poured down his face, stinging his eyes and dripping onto the sheets. Morgan mumbled and stirred next to him. He hardly heard her so focused was he on the heat that consumed him. What’s happening to me?

  He fumbled in his bedside drawer for the bottle of ibuprofen he took for his tennis elbow and swallowed several, choking on the bitter pills. Using the remote, he cranked the air conditioning up, the blast of cold air a blessed relief. There. That should do it. Ibuprofen is for inflammation and fever right?

  Several anxious minutes later, the burn subsided, the heat bleeding off to a bearable level. With a sigh of relief, Brian settled down and fell asleep again.

  Hours later, he awoke. The sheets beneath him were soaked. His breathing was ragged and his mind foggy, a desolate landscape covered in mist. He struggled to remember…remember what? Morgan.

  He reached out a hand to the space next to him. Blinking, he looked over and saw she was gone. He turned his head and noticed the light in the hallway was on. Maybe she wanted a glass of water.

  A shudder tore through him. Every muscle clenched and spasmed. Fluid bubbled up from his stomach, and he leaned over the side of the bed to vomit black blood. The aftermath left him dizzy, and his head ached.

  There was something he needed to tell…tell her…who…tell who? A thick blanket settled over his thoughts. Brian reached for his memories, grasping at the fading remnants of self that still existed.

  Morgan’s in danger.

  I’m…I’m…I have to…what? Who am I?

  …

  …

  Brian fell to the floor next to the bed, his head landing with a thud. His vision faded as his body shut down systematically. One by one, his organs failed until at last, his heart stopped beating.

  I…

  I’m…

  Hungry.

  Chapter 2 - Lilian

  Lilian’s day started out much like any other. She arose early that Friday morning, got the kids ready for school and made breakfast, all while juggling doing her hair and finding the lost car keys. It was chaos. Little Michael insisted on helping her, while Samantha sat in her high chair and giggled at the show.

  She tossed an over easy egg onto a plate and added two slices of toast, blackened around the edges because the toaster was set too high again. “Breakfast’s ready.”

  “Coming,” Ronald answered. Seconds later, he rushed into the kitchen, red-faced and flustered. “I’m going to be late for my meeting.”

  “Calm down. There’s still plenty of time left. Have something to eat,” Lilian replied. She smiled as she placed the plate in front of him, followed by coffee. “Here’s your lunch.” She handed him a Tupperware bowl. “And your car keys.”

  “I don’t know what I’d do without you, sweetheart.” He smiled at her through a mouthful of egg and toast.

  “You’d languish in despair, or you’d still live with your mom,” she laughed.

  She turned to Sam and s
pooned out a mouthful of purity, making animal noises for the baby’s amusement while keeping a sharp eye on her son.

  “No, Michael, eat your food. You know you can’t feed Snowy at the table,” she admonished. The chihuahua in question looked up at her with pleading eyes, and her stern demeanor softened somewhat. “Don’t worry, Snowy. Your breakfast is on its way too.”

  Afterward, she saw Ronald off to work with a quick kiss and bundled the kids into the car. Twenty minutes later, they were on their way to the kindergarten, including Snowy who loved car rides.

  Lilian eased into the stream of traffic, noting that the volume of cars was a lot higher than usual. The line of vehicles slowed to a crawl, a gigantic metal worm that gleamed in the sunlight. She sighed and mentally prepared for a long drive.

  Samantha squealed with displeasure, and Lilian reached back on autopilot to put the fallen dummy back into her mouth. Fumbling in her bag, she applied a smooth layer of lipstick in the rearview mirror and cranked up the volume on the radio.

  “A viral outbreak that started weeks ago in Europe and Asia has reached the borders of South Africa despite efforts by the government to screen incoming flights. Cases have been reported in all the great cities, and citizens are cautioned not to panic.”

  The news report carried on before breaking off for an advert. “Outbreak? What outbreak?” Lilian asked.

  The next moment, a squad of police vehicles forced their way through the traffic, driving on the shoulder of the highway, followed by an ambulance. “What on earth is going on?”

  She craned her neck to see whether there was an accident ahead, but her view was obstructed by a large truck. Cars were honking their horns, and angry drivers made rude signs at a taxi that took the same route the police had, ignoring the laws of the road.

  “Michael put your seatbelt back on.” She leaned over and clipped it back in place then rummaged in her bag for her cell phone. A feeling of unease had taken hold, and she dialed Ronald while keeping a weather eye out for traffic officers. The last thing she needed was a ticket.

  The phone rang several times before the familiar sound of his voice mail came on. After three more tries, she threw her hands in the air. “Dammit, Ronald, answer the phone.”