Logan jogged over, falling in beside Breytenbach. “I just came in now and heard about the meeting. Are you on your way there now?”
“I am.”
“Then I’ll join you,” Logan said, waving at Nadia who threw him a bright smile over her shoulder.
“Your friend seems to be settling in well,” Breytenbach remarked after the exchange.
“Yes, she is, and I’m happy for her. She deserves it.”
“One day you must tell me the story of how you two met,” Breytenbach replied. “I bet it’s a strange one.”
“Not really. I found her on top of a roof, injured and surrounded,” Logan replied. “I rescued her only to find she was every bit as annoying as I thought she’d be. Typical teenager.”
“You still stuck with her, though,” Breytenbach.
“She grew on me,” Logan said with a chuckle. “She’s as tough as nails and has a heart of gold. Once you get to know her, that is.”
“I’m sure,” Breytenbach replied. “How’s her injury?”
“She’s doing okay, though she doesn’t have full use of the hand yet. Jonathan says it will take a while.”
“Glad to hear it. We need fighters now. More than ever.” Breytenbach’s tone was grim as he mulled over everything he’d learned that morning.
Logan shot him a look. “Bad news?”
Breytenbach shook his head. “Maybe, but I’ll leave it for the meeting.”
They’d reached the building that housed Max’s office by then. He’d moved it a while back when his other room became needed for supplies. Now it was housed within a tiny bungalow hardly big enough to fit them all. The door was open, and the air buzzed with subdued voices as they approached.
Logan turned to Breytenbach with a wry smile. “Ready for this?”
“Not on your life. I’d rather face a horde of zombies than the shitstorm this is going to be,” Breytenbach replied even as he plastered a pleasant smile on his face.
“You and me both,” Logan agreed.
As they stepped inside, Breytenbach had the fleeting idea to turn and run, but it was too late. Julianne had already spotted him and was picking her way through the throng of people toward him. With a sigh, he reflected that it just wasn’t his day.
Chapter 5 - Martin
Martin turned in a slow circle, his eyes drifting over the bland concrete and tar that surrounded them. A faded sign on a nearby lamppost advertised cheap penis enlargements and phenomenal luck at gambling, all with the pop of a single pill, while the shop in front of him used to be an Adult sex shop.
Its windows were smashed, and its contents looted, though a few lone magazines littered the sidewalk. He wasn’t surprised. Not even the end of the world could change certain things.
Next to him, Ronnie had spread his map over Tallulah’s bonnet, and the man squinted at the squiggly lines in the weak wintry sunlight. It was old and creased, faded by time and use.
“I can hardly make out a thing, damn it,” Ronnie said.
“Let me see,” Mike said, shoving his head between Ronnie and the map. His once curly hair was cut short and close to the scalp, exposing the pink patches of barely healed skin on his face and neck. With his twinkling blue eyes and irrepressible grin, he looked young and boyish, not at all the troublemaker Martin had learned he was.
The first time he’d found a dead spider in his shoe, he’d thought it was a coincidence. The one in his bathtub too. The live one that “fell” down his shirt not so much, and neither was the one he nearly munched on in his sandwich. How Mike had found out about his arachnophobia, he’d never know. What he did know was that the next time the Irishman played a joke on him, he’d wring his scrawny neck.
“Shove off,” Ronnie mumbled.
“Oh, come on. Let me help,” Mike protested.
“The day I let you help we’ll end up on the North Pole,” Ronnie said, raising one bushy eyebrow. “And it’d probably be on purpose too.”
Mike gasped. “I’d never.”
Martin sighed and stepped in. “Let’s get a move on, guys. We haven’t got all day, and this place is getting busy.”
As if to emphasize his words, a rasping groan announced the arrival of yet another infected to add to the growing pile next to them. The zombie man, still dressed in the remnants of his business suit, sped up when it saw potential food. His face looked almost pathetically eager at the thought of a meal.
With negligent ease, Lenka grabbed the creature by the neck and buried his knife in its eye socket, twisting the blade for good measure. The zombie stiffened for a second before it slumped into true death, its features seeming almost at peace for once.
Martin turned away from the spectacle. It didn’t matter how many times he saw it; it always bothered him when they died. That moment when the look of feral hunger crossed over into serenity as if they were being released from a living hell never failed to get to him.
It raised thoughts he’d prefer not to ponder. Questions such as: Did they know who they once were? Did they remember their past? If so, were they prisoners inside their own minds? Helpless, except to watch themselves rot away day after day while killing and eating others?
He shuddered. The mere thought gave him nightmares, and he grabbed the map to distract himself, instead. After a second, he pointed at a row of red crosses. “This street is where we are, right?”
“Right,” Ronnie replied.
“Well, all the shops and businesses here are tapped out. We need to move a block over.”
“Okay. Let’s saddle up.”
“And afterward, you’ll help Dr. Lange get what he needs?” Martin asked though that had been the agreement from the start.
“No problem, but supplies first.”
“Cool,” Martin said, jumping into the back of Tallulah where a nervous Dr. Lange waited, an ancient leather bag clutched to his chest. “You okay, Doc?”
“Yes, I’m fine,” the elderly scientist replied, though his shaky hands belied his words.
“Just relax. We won’t let anything happen to you, I promise.”
Dr. Lange nodded. “Thank you.”
“One question. Why did you pick me to accompany you on this raid?”
Dr. Lange blinked, his eyes owlish through his thick lenses. “You’re an outsider, so less likely to blab to the people in the camp. Plus, you’re respected by Ronnie so he wouldn’t turn down your request.”
Martin nodded. “Smart.”
“That’s the one thing I’d never say I’m not.”
Tallulah rumbled as Ronnie fired her up, and they made their way around the block to the neighboring area. Like the first, it wasn’t much. Two rows of shops set inside the poorest district in town. It lacked any grand touches. Hell, it lacked any touches at all. No big signs or fancy window displays.
Instead, it was all grey concrete and littered sidewalks, overflowing rubbish bins and broken neon signs. Rats scurried in the alleyways while graffiti adorned the walls. For once, even the infected didn’t look out of place.
Ronnie drew to a stop in front of a convenience store, and they all jumped out except Dr. Lange who stayed tucked away in the relative safety of Tallulah’s metal bulk.
Martin’s booted feet hit the road, and he flexed his shoulders underneath the brown leather jacket he wore. In his left hand, he held a knife. In the right, a machete, the blade honed to a sharp, gleaming edge.
A stiff breeze blew in from the East, ruffling his hair and stirring up the drifts of rubbish on the sidewalks into mini-tornadoes of whirling plastic and paper. The sour tang of rotting flesh teased his nostrils.
Already a knot of infected was headed their way, drawn by the movement and sound they made. Moving as one unit, Ronnie, Lenka, Mike, and Martin readied themselves for the coming fight.
The zombies moved with more speed and agility than Martin would’ve thought possible in corpses so old and decayed. Despite their state, they proved to be tough opponents. Still, against fighters as skilled as them,
the infected stood no chance, and the fight was a short one.
While they fought, Martin studied each individual’s fighting style, an old hobby of his. His own manner was two-handed and spoke of strength and discipline. He ducked beneath one infected’s grasping fingers and stabbed upward with the machete, sinking it into the soft tissue beneath the chin. At the same time, his knife hand hamstrung another undead, causing it to drop to its knees. A swift reversal with the machete followed by a horizontal slash decapitated the kneeling zombie leaving Martin in the clear. He stepped back, breathing hard as he observed the others.
Mike grinned while he fought, his slender body swift to deliver death with sweeping cuts and whirling blades. Ronnie was both steady and economical in his movements, each one calculated to incur maximum damage with minimum effort. Lenka, on the other hand, rained down destruction with each blow of his hammer, sending bits of flesh and bone flying all over the place.
Martin nodded his approval. He was in good company. The best, judging by their survival skills. He could understand Max’s unwavering faith in each, despite their personality quirks.
Once the last zombie dropped, he followed them into the store. They stripped it of anything useful before moving on to the next shop. In this fashion, they managed to collect a full load within a few hours.
“Right, guys. Tallulah’s loaded to the brim, so it’s time to head back. If we hurry, we can make another two trips today,” Ronnie said, rubbing a loving hand over the side of the truck. “Let’s drag her fat ass home.”
“What about Dr. Lange’s request?” Martin asked.
“Oh, yeah, Forgot about that, sorry. What will he need, and how long will it take?” Ronnie asked.
“He needs blood from a living…well, you know what I mean…from a zombie.”
“For his research?”
“Yup.”
“Mmm. Should be simple enough. Let’s go back and see if we spot a loner we can corner,” Ronnie said.
“All right.”
Once more, Tallulah rumbled to life, and they hit the road home, but at a slow pace as everyone searched for a likely candidate for Dr. Lange’s experiments.
“There,” Mike cried, pointing to a single shambling figure making its way across an overgrown lawn.
Ronnie slammed on the brakes, and they all jumped out. Martin grabbed a rope brought along for the purpose. He’d formed a loop at the end and attempted to lasso the infected around its neck. Luckily, it was an old guy and moved even slower than usual, so he succeeded after the third try.
Working together, Martin lashed it to a lamp pole while Mike and Lenka held its arms. Once it was securely tied down, Dr. Lange climbed out of the truck with his suitcase while Ronnie kept watch.
With macabre fascination, Martin watched while the scientist filled a row of tiny glass vials with the zombie’s infected blood. It was thick, almost like sludge, and black instead of the rich vibrant red he was used to seeing.
Once Dr. Lange was done, they put the infected out of its misery and took off once more, this time headed for home. While they drove, Martin looked over at the scientist. “Did you get what you need, Dr. Lange?”
“I did, thank you,” the doctor replied. “I’ll need more eventually, but this will suffice for now.”
“Good.” Martin pondered his next question. “How close to a cure are you?”
“Cure?” Dr. Lange let loose a dry laugh. “There is no cure. Never will be.”
“But…”
“I’m not God. I can’t resurrect the dead. Once a person becomes infected and dies, they move past whatever I or any other miracle worker can do for them.”
“I see,” Martin said. “A vaccine then? To prevent infection?”
“There you have it. That’s what I’m working on. As to how close I am, it’s hard to say. Months, years, never?”
“Good to know,” Martin said, disappointed despite guessing the odds already.
“I understand your frustration, but science is fickle. Sometimes the answer lies right in front of you; sometimes it’s light years away from discovering.”
Martin was silent, thinking back to the moment he’d discovered his wife and son in zombie form. The horror, the desperation, the lack of all hope. He’d have given anything for a cure then, even his soul, but he also understood Lange’s point. There was no cure for death.
“I’ve noticed a change in the virus, though. A change that I’ve begun to pick up in the infected themselves,” Dr. Lange continued.
“Oh?” Martin said, sitting upright. “What change? When did you observe this?”
Dr. Lange shrugged. “I’ve been studying the bodies at camp, gathering tissue samples and blood.”
“And?”
“It appears they’re becoming more resilient. Their deterioration is slowing, and at a certain point, it stops altogether.”
Martin stared at the scientist as dread seeped into his veins. “You mean…”
“Yes, our fond hope that the infected will die off with time is in vain. They’re here to stay.”
“Shit,” Ronnie said from up front, adding his two cents to the picture.
“You’re serious?” Mike said, nearly falling over the back of his seat as he leaned over to ogle the scientist.
Even Lenka grunted in what could be construed as a sign of alarm.
Martin leaned back as he absorbed this information. It was a frequent topic of debate among his people. Would the zombies eventually starve? Or decompose to the point of nothingness? Or would they carry on forever, shuffling their way through the years to come until every human being alive today was dead?
“It might even account for their increased levels of activity,” Dr. Lange continued, much to Martin’s dismay.
“What?” he asked.
“Surely you’ve noticed?” Dr. Lange asked. “All of you?”
Mute looks met his gaze.
“I thought it was the recent fight drawing them to us,” Ronnie said. “All the carrying on and the noise, you know?”
“That accounts for part of it, yes, but I believe there’s more at play here,” Dr. Lange said. “Once a few days had passed, and the camp went back to normal, the influx of undead should have slowed, but it didn’t. I believe the virus is changing them, making them hardier but also hungrier. They’re hunting.”
“If this is true, you have to warn Max,” Martin said. “He needs to know. Everyone does.”
“I’ll tell him as soon as I’ve gathered more evidence.”
“No, Dr. Lange. I believe you should do so right now,” Martin insisted.
“But what if I’m wrong?” Dr. Lange protested. “Most of this is speculation based on observation.”
“Rather you be wrong than the whole camp is caught unawares by another horde of the hungry undead, Doc,” Ronnie said.
Dr. Lange’s mouth worked for a few seconds before he nodded. “All right. I’ll share my suspicions with Max as soon as we get back.”
Martin nodded, his heart heavy with the implications of the scientist’s words. If Lange was correct, their lives were about to get a whole lot harder.
Chapter 6 - Lisa
Lisa filed into the small room last and chose a spot nearest the door. She didn’t like crowds. Or small spaces. A plastic garden chair provided a seat, and she settled down to wait for the meeting to start. She wasn’t looking forward to it. These gatherings rarely delivered anything other than a bleak look at their circumstances and a boatload of arguing.
As usual, Max opened the floor. “Good morning, folks. Sorry to drag you all here, but I thought an overview of our situation was needed.”
“Situation?” Jonathan asked. “Is something wrong?”
“That’s what we’re here to determine,” Max replied with a brief smile. “First off, I’d like to begin with a report from each of the heads of their teams. Who’d like to go first?”
Phillip raised his hand. “I’ll go.”
“The floor is yours,” Max s
aid.
“The winter crops are doing as well as can be expected given the late planting. Frost could be a problem later on. I’m hoping for at least a few balmy days, but we’re looking at a decent yield if all goes well.”
“Decent, as in?” Max asked.
Phillip shrugged. “Supplementary at best. If we preserve it properly, it can augment our normal food stores by about twenty percent.”
“That little?”
“It depends, of course. On the weather, how many mouths we have to feed, the quality of the harvest. The summer crops will be much larger. I’ll have more time, more space, and hopefully, more hands,” Philip said.
“But for now, we’re still reliant on other food sources?” Max asked.
“Very much so,” Phillip confirmed.
“All right,” Max said. “Elise? How are things on your side?”
“We’re running low on everything, though Ronnie and Logan’s recent raids have alleviated the problem. We’ll need more, lots more, to see winter and spring through.”
“What about the plots?” Max asked, referring to the small vegetable patches Elise and Dave had going outside the kitchen. “Won’t that help?”
“We’re producing, but its small amounts at best. It lends variety to our diet, but we can’t rely on it to feed us if the stores run out,” Elise replied, shifting in her seat. “Don’t count on the chickens, either. There’s too few of them to deliver more than a couple of dozen eggs per week, and the fruit trees will only carry in summer.”
“I see.” Max sighed and looked around. “I’m almost afraid to ask. Anyone else?”
A few chuckles did the rounds before Julianne chipped in. “We can slaughter a few goats if we have to though I’d prefer to breed them. Their milk means more to me at this stage with all the babies in camp.”
“What about the wildlife reserve?”
“The population is holding steady with a slight increase from spring. We lost a few animals when that tree crushed the fence, but we could hunt a buck or two to top up our meat supply.”
“Good news at last,” Max said. “Logan, are you up for it? You’re the best hunter here.”
Children of the Apocalypse: Mega Boxed Set Page 76