The soothing voice smoothed over the ragged edges of Lilian’s nerves, and she nodded. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”
The strange woman fussed around her, clearly in command. She ushered Lilian toward a chair and handed her a glass of water while two others looked after Sam and Michael.
Lilian sat, too tired to move. Her hands cupped the glass of water, and she watched as a young woman, a teacher probably, jiggled Samantha up and down on her hip. A sense of euphoria filled her, and for the first time in days, she felt safe.
Chapter 3 - Max
Max lay as still as a rock, listening to the other soldiers that shared the barracks. He noted their deep, regular breaths and occasional snores. When he was satisfied everyone was fast asleep, he slipped out of his bunk.
On tiptoe, he crept to the bathroom and opened the door, wincing when it creaked. The tiles were cold beneath his bare feet. Faint moonlight streamed through the dusty windows and granted enough light to navigate by.
He opened a window and pulled himself up, arm muscles bulging with the effort. It was an act fraught with risk. Until this moment, he could have used the simple excuse of needing to take a leak if someone walked in, but climbing through the window negated any such explanation. He’d be in big trouble.
The window was small and could barely accommodate him, leaving little choice but to tumble through headfirst. He hit the ground hard and clipped his tongue between his teeth. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth.
“Fuck,” he swore, shaking his head.
Max spat out a mouthful of bloody saliva before ducking into a clump of bushes. Surreptitiously, he scrabbled in the dirt for the plastic bag of clothes he’d hidden earlier. It was a standard army uniform used for fieldwork. He slipped it on by memory, feeling less exposed once he had dressed. There was no turning back now, and he couldn’t afford to get caught. His family needed him.
Max glanced at his watch. Five minutes to go. He looked around, checking to make sure it was clear before setting off for the designated rendezvous. He hoped Martin had gotten out. If he hasn’t, there’s nothing I can do about it now.
He reached the ammo shed that was their designated meeting place without incident and hunkered down. No sign of Martin. He waited. One, two, three, minutes. Still nothing. Max couldn’t afford to wait any longer. Time to go.
From the darkness, a rough whisper carried to his ears. “Max? Is that you?”
“Yes, it’s me. Where were you?”
“That damn fool Peterson kept fucking around instead of sleeping.”
“Never mind. Come. We haven’t got time to waste.”
They set off, keeping out of sight until they reached the gate. It was a peripheral entry point to the base, one not used often and lightly guarded. Spotlights lit the area. They hesitated on the edge, hidden in darkness. Max looked over at Martin and saw his uncertainty reflected back at him. If their attempts to bribe the guards had failed, they’d soon find out.
Max stood up and stepped forward. The soldiers, two in number, tensed. Their rifles came up fast. Max froze, his stomach muscles clenching. The guard closest to him smiled and lowered his gun. “Dumela,” he greeted. “It is you.”
“Everything ready?” Max asked. Behind him, Martin emerged from the gloom but kept his distance.
The guard nodded, jerking his chin toward his companion who dragged forward two duffel bags. He dumped them in front of Max with a thud and stepped back, one hand caressing his rifle stock. “Go on. Check it.”
Max hesitated, not liking the looks the two exchanged. Watching them from the corner of his eyes, he bent down and unzipped the nearest bag. It was stuffed with supplies: guns, grenades, ammo, and MRE’s.
“Everything there?” Martin asked.
Max looked up, nodding. “Looks like it.”
He made a slight movement with his eyes towards the two soldiers who stood watching. Martin caught his meaning, a subtle tightening of the skin around the eyes his only tell.
“Are you sure it’s all there?” Martin asked. He addressed his question to the guards, his tone heavy with bluster. “You’re not cheating us?”
“Of course not,” the nearest guard exclaimed. “Are you calling me a thief?”
His companion likewise moved nearer. With their attention fixed on Martin, Max slipped a loaded handgun into his waistband. He flashed Martin a quick grin and stood up, raising his hands in a placating gesture. “Hey, guys. Relax. It’s all there, I checked. No one’s cheating anyone.”
Silence reigned for a few seconds before Martin backed off, mumbling an apology. Mollified, the soldiers relaxed, but the atmosphere remained thick.
Thick enough to cut with a knife, Max thought as he caught another look between the two. Something’s up.
He gestured at the gate. “Let’s go.”
The guard who had initially greeted Max sauntered across the grounds, a wide grin on his face. He opened the gate, standing back with a flourish of his hand. “You can leave.”
Max picked up one bag and slung it over his left shoulder while leaving his right arm free. With careful steps, he approached the opening in the fence. His heart thudded a slow beat. Instinct warned him of trouble to come.
Behind him, Martin followed with the second bag, hanging back a few steps. Max knew he could count on his friend, no matter what. One of the best he’d ever seen, Martin was a master at knife fighting.
The guard’s eyes were inkblots against the caramel hue of his skin, his smile taunting. He looked like the cat that got the cream, the canary, and the mouse; all rolled into one. Even considering the massive bribe Max had used to lubricate the transaction, the man looked far too pleased with himself. He’s playing with us.
As Max drew even with the man. The smell of rancid sweat filled his nostrils, and he readied himself for action. Soon.
A subtle shift in posture warned him just in time. The soldier swung the barrel of his rifle up, aiming for his chest. Without thinking, Max’s hand flashed down for the hidden gun in his belt. In one smooth motion, he pulled it out and snapped off a shot then sidestepped, removing himself from the line of fire.
His bullet smacked into his opponent’s chest with a meaty thud, the sharp crackle of bone sounding as the sternum shattered. Max shot again, and the soldier collapsed in a heap on the ground. In death, his hand spasmed, pulling the trigger on the R4 rifle he carried. A spray of bullets whipped past Max and a few plowed furrows in the earth.
Max ducked to the side and spun around, ready for the second guard. But Martin had him in a choke-hold, his forearm bulging across the man’s throat. His other hand was thrust up behind the guard’s back, a knife buried to the hilt between his ribs. Shouts in the distance sounded as the alarm went off.
“Come on. We’ve got to get out of here now!” Max cried.
“Right behind you,” Martin answered, dropping the now dead guard at his feet with a shrug, pausing only to wipe his knife clean and return it to its sheath inside his boot.
They sprinted through the gate, hampered by the weight of the duffel bags. Inside his head, Max let loose a steady stream of swear words. Now he’d be wanted for desertion and murder. If the army caught up with him, he was looking at a lengthy prison sentence.
The only thing that would make this venture worthwhile was if he was correct in his analyses of the future. If things went to shit the way he thought it would, the army would cease to exist. I’d better be right, or Martin and I are screwed.
After a few minutes, Max slowed and turned to Martin. “We’ve got to get off the road.”
“Agreed.”
They chose a rocky patch to leave the path, their boots making no tracks on the stony ground. Settling into a steady jog, they moved fast, their movements oiled with long years of practice. The only sound was their breath puffing out in little bursts of mist into the chilly air. Several hours passed as they put distance between themselves and the base.
Close to dawn, they reached a fence
and climbed over, finding themselves in a vineyard. The plants were heavy with fruit, their groaning branches promising a fruitful season. Max and Martin pushed on and made their way through the fields until Martin called a halt.
“Sorry, bud. I’ve got to take a break.” He sucked in a deep breath and bent over, his hands resting on his knees. Sweat dripped from his forehead, and his skin was pale.
Max frowned. It was unlike his friend to get winded so quickly. The man could run all day in the scorching sun with a ton of bricks on his back without voicing a single complaint. “What’s wrong?”
“I got nicked back there when that idiot let loose with his rifle.”
“Why didn’t you say so? Where’d you get hit?”
Martin dumped his bag with a pained grimace and peeled his jacket away from his side, revealing a large bloodstain.
“Bloody idiot. You should’ve said something earlier.”
“No time. Besides, it’s just a scratch.”
Max grunted in answer. “We’ll see. Lift your shirt.”
The material came loose with a sucking sound, revealing the wound.
“Thank fuck. It’s not too bad.”
“Told you,” Martin said, studying the jagged groove above his hip. The bullet had cut into the meat above the hip bone, causing a raw cut the width and depth of a finger. It wept blood but wasn’t serious. A flesh wound.
Martin cut a strip of cloth off his shirt while Max rummaged in his bag for a canteen. Rinsing the cut with clean water, they bound it up with the material and tightened Martin’s belt over the makeshift bandage.
“There. That should hold until we can get proper meds for it,” Martin said, lips set in a thin line.
“Let’s catch a break before we push on,” Max suggested.
They sat on a rock, watching the sun rise while sharing the canteen. The sky lit up, strips of lavender, pink, and gold streaking across the clouds. It was beautiful, and for a minute or two, neither man said a word.
“I’m going to miss you, buddy,” Martin said, at last, breaking the silence.
“Yeah, me too.”
“Maybe, once I get Susan and the kids, we can meet up somewhere.”
“When the shit hits the fan, I doubt communications will last.”
Martin was quiet, thinking it over. “True enough, but if you ever need to, you know where to find me. If I move away, I’ll leave you a sign, and you do the same for me.”
“Yeah, okay. It’s a plan.” Max pushed to his feet. “Time to leave. We’ve got far to go today.”
They set off again, traveling throughout the morning and afternoon, keeping off the roads and avoiding populated places wherever possible. A sense of urgency propelled them onward. The situation in the country was a ticking time bomb, just waiting to explode, and nobody was prepared for it.
At the base, all communication with the outside world had been cut off. Even their cell phones were confiscated, a fact much bemoaned by the soldiers. Crazy rumors did the rounds.
Max was skeptical at first, but friends in high places warned him of what was to come. After he saw the hurried preparations for war underway, he became convinced of his plan. He pulled strings to get brief access to the internet and his bank account which enabled him to bribe the guards at the gate.
The zombie apocalypse was here, had already begun in the big cities, and the government had screwed themselves by their lack of decisive action. Instead, they frittered away valuable hours in meetings that yielded no results, arguing among each other. Now the country and its citizens would pay the price. Not my family. Not if I can help it.
Around midday, they stumbled upon a farmhouse, necessitating an extensive detour. The army would be looking for them, and they couldn’t risk capture. Two soldiers wandering about on their own would be sure to raise questions. In the distance, a dog barked, and once they spotted workers in the field but remained hidden from sight.
Hours passed while they walked, the sun acting as the hand of a clock across the face of the sky. It was brutally hot, the air stifling and the earth like molten lava. Martin never complained, keeping up the pace and never showing signs of discomfort or pain.
After sunset, they reached a crossroad and halted to rest and eat. Along with the weapons in their bags, they also had a few ration packs to tide them over. Using the fuel tablets, they made coffee and heated up their food. The meals were straightforward and bland, but hunger provided flavor.
Max chewed on a biscuit without tasting it, their imminent separation weighing heavy on his mind. He’d much prefer to have Martin by his side, especially considering what was coming. The two of them had been to hell and back together over the years and trusted each other without question. It was a bond stronger than blood. A crescent moon rose, and Max knew there could be no more delays. Time to go.
They faced off, neither saying a word until Max stuck out his hand. “Guess this is it.”
“Guess so.”
“Good luck. Send Susan my regards.”
“Will do, bud. Keep safe.”
“Same to you.” They shook hands and departed in different directions, each with a duffel bag slung over their shoulders.
Gravel crunched beneath Max’s boots as he walked into the night. In the trees above, an owl hooted, the sound mournful. A last look over his shoulder showed him nothing but darkness. His friend was gone.
Chapter 4 - Martin
Martin turned away from the crossing with a sense of reluctance. He did not want to leave Max behind. Their friendship was precious to him, a brotherhood built from years of shared experiences, but there was no choice. Not when they stood on the brink of extinction. “Damn it, Max. I’m going to miss you. Good luck to you and yours.”
Settling his gear in place, he set off. His feet carried him alongside the road, boots crunching on the asphalt. The night enveloped him like a lover, the rustling of small nocturnal animals his only companion. He still had far to go.
This thought did not sit well with him. Events were moving faster than either he or Max had anticipated. Their desertion had been planned on the fly. Now, Martin wondered if they’d be in time to save their families.
He thought of Susan. Her kind eyes and broad smile rose in his mind’s eye. She can charm the gold away from a leprechaun with that pretty face.
Then there were Ashton and Kimberley. Still a child, Kim was the apple of his eye. A bright young girl with a sense of adventure. Ashton, usually quiet and withdrawn, had just hit puberty. According to Susan, he was becoming hard to handle. But that’s the least of our problems right now.
Martin quickened his pace, pushing onward. After a few hours of steady walking, he decided to take a breather. Turning off the path, he found a small clearing in the brush. He made a fire and heated a cup full of water in his dixie.
With the hot liquid and a piece of cloth, he washed the bullet wound in his side and bandaged it. The flesh was red and swollen but didn’t look too bad. If he could get his hands on antiseptic cream or wash, it’d be okay. With the backpack serving as a cushion, he lay down to sleep.
At dawn, he woke with a start. He stretched, yawning wide. From the duffel bag, he retrieved a rat pack and made breakfast. A quick check revealed he still had two left. More than enough.
The biscuits he dumped in his coffee, waiting until it swelled and reached the consistency of porridge. It was filling as hell and tasty too. The canned food was disappointing, viennas and yup…more viennas. Ugh.
He forced it down anyway, knowing he’d need the energy. From his backpack, he removed an everyday outfit and put it on. Jeans, boots, and a t-shirt. Beneath his clothes, he concealed a sidearm. Within minutes, he was ready to go.
Martin set off with the sun on his face. He felt refreshed after the rest, brief and uncomfortable though it was. With long strides, he ate up the distance between him and his home.
Around noon, he caught a lift. The farmer who gave him a ride was curious but seemed to believe the story he gave
about his wife giving birth within a week. Martin quizzed him about current events but learned little from the man who didn’t appear to believe in either television or the radio.
“I don’t care for it, son. I’ve got a farm to look after and no time to waste on idle chit-chat and news.”
“Fair enough,” Martin replied, suppressing his urge to ask more questions.
At a small town, the farmer prepared to drop him off. Before he could leave, Martin asked, “Can I borrow your phone, please?”
“Sure. Just make it quick.”
Martin walked a few steps away for privacy then dialed Susan’s number. It rang. His hands began to tremble while he counted out the rings. “Come on, come on.”
“Hello.”
“Susan?” Martin’s heart bounced wildly at the sound of her voice. “Suzy, is that you?”
“Martin?”
“Yeah, it’s me. I can’t talk for long so listen carefully.”
“Martin, what’s going on? The army called. They said you ran away! Is that true?”
“I don’t have time to explain, baby. Just trust me, and do what I say.”
A brief silence passed. “Okay.”
“I need you to get the kids and barricade yourselves inside the house, all right?” He took a deep breath. “Lock the gates and the doors, block the windows. Make sure you have enough food and water.”
“What?”
“Just do it.” Martin glanced at the impatient owner of the phone.
“But―”
“Hey, can you hurry up over there? Don’t use all my airtime,” the farmer called.
“Sorry, almost done.” Martin waved a placating hand. “Suzy, please. I’ll explain everything when I get there.”
“O…okay.”
“Take the gun out of the safe too. You might need it.”
“The gun? Martin, you’re scaring me.”
“I know, baby, and I’m sorry, but there’s no other way. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “I’ve got to go now. Promise me you’ll do everything I said.”
Children of the Apocalypse: Mega Boxed Set Page 30