Children of the Apocalypse: Mega Boxed Set

by Baileigh Higgins

  After the previous small towns, Michael had a fair inkling of what to expect from Hiran and was proven right when he reached an open square between a bunch of shops and saw a familiar sight.

  As before, Hiran had ordered his men to clear and secure a space for their comfort and safety. They’d eradicated any undead in the vicinity, then dumped their corpses in a heap where they lay rotting like so much discarded rubbish.

  Unlike the other places he’d found, this one was fresh. The bodies were only a few days old. Along the way, he’d caught up to Hiran, and now he was sure he was close.

  Parked cars were used to block off any open gaps between buildings and secure all possible approaches while empty metal drums provided warmth once fires were kindled inside. The surrounding shops were looted for anything useful, and the town searched for survivors. With their camp set up and their bellies filled, the men’s thoughts soon turned to entertainment. In this, they were led by their sadistic leader, a man whose soul was blacker than the night.

  Bitter bile rose in Michael’s throat when he spotted their first victim, a young woman lying face down on the tar and wearing no clothes. Bruises mottled her skin, and dried blood pooled around her slit throat.

  A man hung from a lamppost; his belly yawned open, and maggots crawled through the innards lying at his feet. Three more were nailed to shop doors, their faces twisted into agonizing expressions. Another girl lay against the wall where she’d crawled to die, a trail of blood marking her passage. She was barely more than a child.

  Michael closed his eyes and turned away. How many? How many more would die at the hands of Hiran and his men? How many more innocents would suffer a horrifying death while such scum walked the earth?

  His hand found the necklace riding in his pocket. Mpho’s gold cross. He gripped it with one hand and repeated his vow. I’m coming for you, Hiran. Mark my words. If it’s the last thing I do, I’ll rip the beating heart from your chest and squash it beneath my heel.

  Chapter 8 - Hiran

  Hiran sucked hard on the cigarette dangling between his fingers. He stepped over the sprawled limbs of a corpse and danced away from the wriggling fingers of another body, this one still living.

  “George,” he barked, nodding toward the man attempting to crawl away from the light.

  George walked over with casual strides, a sneer hovering on his lips. He reached the man Hiran had pointed out and kneeled beside him. With a violent twist of his hands, he snapped the man’s neck, ending his futile struggles before straightening up again.

  Hiran nodded. “Good, good. You did well, George. Better than I ever expected.”

  “Thank you, Boss. It was easy. These people were like sheep. Too trusting.”

  “Too trusting? Or were you too devious? The wolf hidden among the flock?” Hiran asked as he turned in a slow circle, surveying the scene.

  Where once a community had thrived, now lay a wasteland of death and destruction. Flames flickered where buildings and vehicles had been set alight, casting the hill in a deep orange glow.

  Smoke curled upward from the bones of a charred tent, its occupant caught beneath the burning canvas before he or she could escape. Bodies lay strewn about in the various attitudes of death, more than Hiran would’ve thought possible.

  The Naval Hill Refuge had been strong with a fighting force that numbered in the dozens. It had to be to clean up a city the size of Bloemfontein and clear it of the dead, yet he wondered how they’d managed.

  A knot of crying woman and children huddled in a corner, guarded by two of his men. Most still wore their pajamas, testament to their utter unpreparedness for what befell them.

  The takeover had been a complete success, coordinated perfectly from within and without through a system of secret messages passed to and fro every night. Hiran struck at midnight after George poisoned the guards with contaminated drink. They died in agony, lying in puddles of their own vomit and excrement.

  With the place wide open, it was an easy matter to sneak in and strike while the inhabitants slept unawares. Even the hunting dogs had died without uttering a single howl, struck down in a welter of blood by George who’d won their trust with treats and affection.

  Hiran allowed himself a satisfied smile. “Have the gates been secured?”

  “Yes, Boss, and the fence has been checked. We’ll be safe for the night, at least.”

  “Excellent, but double the guard, nonetheless.”

  “Will do, Boss.”

  “Where’s the leader?” Hiran asked. “I trust you kept him alive?”

  “I did. She’s over here.”

  Hiran’s eyes widened. “She?”

  “Yes. Their leader is a woman,” George replied.

  “That’s interesting,” Hiran replied. “She must be strong.”

  George snorted. “She was their weakness. No woman should be a leader. They are in this world to bear children and serve us. No more.”

  Hiran resisted the urge to roll his eyes. While his second-in-command was old school, Hiran didn’t share his sentiments. Not completely. While some women were weak, it was true, he’d also met plenty in his lifetime who were not.

  “Let me give you a little advice, George,” he said as they walked across the packed earth.

  “Yes, Boss?”

  “Never underestimate a woman. You’ll wake up one night with a knife sticking out of your guts and blood running down your chest. Mark my words.”

  “Boss?” George eyed him with disbelief.

  “It’s true, George. Just ask my father.”

  By then they’d reached their destination, and George pointed at one of two kneeling figures. “This is her. Their leader. They call her Agatha.”

  Hiran eyed the woman before him, studying her features. She was tall and slender, but sturdy, her shoulders broad. Her eyes were as black as night, and her hair formed a perfect halo around her head, an afro of tight black curls. Her lips were twisted with derision, and he could almost feel the hatred radiating from her body.

  He whistled. “Well, what do we have here? You’re the leader of this fine establishment? Or should I say were the leader?”

  Her eyes narrowed to slits, and she stressed the words. “I am the leader.”

  “I find that surprising. Then again, your camp did just fold like a cheap game of cards, so maybe not so surprising,” he taunted.

  Her cheeks flamed. “Your men lied to me. They betrayed me.”

  “Of course. That’s the whole point of deceit.” He tapped his chin with one finger. “I’m surprised you’ve lasted this long if you can’t even spot a spy or two.”

  “Why?” she asked. “Why do it? Why destroy us? You could have joined us. We could’ve fought as one, eradicated the undead from all corners of the earth.”

  “I’m not much of a joiner,” Hiran said. “Besides, why join when I can simply take?”

  “Please, my son. Have mercy on these people,” the second kneeling figure pleaded, shuffling forward into the light.

  Agatha shook her head. “Stay out of this, Father. Please.”

  “I cannot. Surely, these people can be reasoned with.”

  Hiran eyed the man with interest, noting the dog collar around his neck. He noted the man’s soft, pudgy appearance and watery eyes. “A priest? That explains all the ‘pure of heart’ bullshit.”

  “Please, my son. Listen to―”

  “I’m not your son, and I can’t be reasoned with,” Hiran interrupted, his lip curling with disdain. “Tell me something, priest. Have you once dirtied your hands with the blood of the infected, or have all these other people been protecting your neck thus far?”

  The priest stuttered. “As a man of God, I cannot kill.”

  “Not even to save yourself?”

  “N…no.”

  “I’ve heard enough,” Hiran said. “George, lock him up with the rest of the surviving men. I’ll deal with him tomorrow.”

  “You heard the Boss.” George gestured at two of his me
n waiting nearby, and they stepped forward to drag the priest away. He protested weakly, and they jerked him to his feet with little regard for his person.

  Agatha gasped. “You can’t do this. He’s a priest!”

  Hiran snorted. “Try again.”

  “Tell your men to let him go, you coward. Take me instead.”

  “I already have you,” Hiran pointed out.

  “Then face me like a man,” she cried, struggling against her bonds. “Fight me.”

  Hiran laughed. “Why should I? You’re no man. You’re brave, though. I’ll give you that.”

  “You stinking jackal.”

  “Now, now. There’s no need for that. We can talk like two civilized people, can’t we?”

  She gasped. “Civilized? You call this slaughter civilized?”

  He shrugged. “You have a point, but there’s no need for such negativity. Consider this a hostile takeover. A change of management, shall we say.”

  She sputtered. “What? Are you insane?”

  “Perhaps. Some might think so. I prefer the word ruthless,” Hiran said, before switching direction. “Tell me. How did you and your pathetic priest manage to clear an entire city of the dead?”

  She blinked, taken aback. “What?”

  “You can’t tell me you did all of this on your own.”

  Agatha’s eyes narrowed before she spat at him, a globule of saliva landing on his shoe. “I’ll never tell.”

  Suddenly, Hiran grew tired of the cat and mouse game he’d initiated. “Fine. Suit yourself. George, what shall we do with her?”

  George’s eyes glowed as he watched the struggling woman, his desire oozing out of his pores. “I’ll take care of her, Boss.”

  “Mm. You do deserve a little something for your efforts today,” Hiran said, pretending to mull it over.

  “You can’t do this! I’m not your property! How dare you?” Agatha cried. “Let me go.”

  Her struggles had caused the zip tie around her wrists to tighten to the point where it cut into the flesh, and blood leaked from the wounds. It pattered onto the ground, forming little balls of rust-colored sand.

  Hiran ignored her protests. “She’s all yours, George. Consider it payment for your loyalty. Don’t damage her too badly, though. I want to question her again later.”

  “Sure thing, Boss,” George replied as he grabbed Agatha by the arm.

  “Maybe you’ll be more forthcoming in the morning,” Hiran said to the enraged Agatha.

  “Fuck you, you stinking piece of―”

  Her words were abruptly cut off when George hit her with his fist, knocking her unconscious. Hiran watched with approval as his second-in-command tossed her over his shoulder and walked away. “She doesn’t know it yet, but she’s in for a rough night.”

  After issuing a few more orders, Hiran made himself comfortable by the side of the fire. He basked in the glow of the flames, sipping on a cold beer served to him by a captive. That same captive now sat by his feet, sobbing quietly into her hands.

  Triumph filled his being, and he allowed it to wash over him in waves of elation. He had everything he needed. A proper base, guns, ammunition, and supplies.

  Even a little bit of fun, he thought as he eyed the pretty girl below him. She was much more his speed than the Amazonian Agatha. He preferred his girls to be meek and dutiful. Adoring even. Everything that bitch Mpho should’ve been.

  For a moment, his mood darkened, but it didn’t last. It couldn’t. Not when everything he wanted lay within his grasp. He closed his eyes and savored the sounds that emanated from the camp around him. Whimpers and screams, crude laughter, and the smack of flesh on flesh. The sound of his men subjugating their victims.

  He tossed the beer aside and got to his feet. “Come, girl. Time for bed.”

  “Please, don’t,” she sobbed, shaking her head.

  Hiran grabbed a fistful of her hair, ignoring her pained cries. “Please me, and you might live to see the morning. Piss me off, and I’ll feed you to the dogs. Understand?”

  She nodded through a web of tears, and he felt himself harden in anticipation of the pleasure to come.

  Victory was sweet.

  The next morning he found himself sitting at the head of a long table being served breakfast the likes of which he hadn’t had in a long time. He smiled with satisfaction as he sipped at a hot cup of coffee and reflected that life was good. Can’t get much better than this.

  The smell of fried onions, canned bully beef, and corn teased his nostrils as steam wafted from his full plate. He dug in with gusto, copied by his most trusted men who shared the table with him.

  The rest sat on tables scattered around the periphery or outside while some stood guard. They were served by the women who’d survived the night, and they were utterly cowed and beaten.

  When he’d chewed and swallowed his last bite, he sat back and waved at a nearby girl to refill his cup. She did so with haste, and again, he experienced the thrill of victory.

  “It’s time, George,” he said when all the men had finished their food and the tables had been cleared.

  “Of course, Boss,” George replied before waving at two men near the door.

  They disappeared for a few moments while Hiran and George waited. When they reappeared, they had four more men with them, all chained and bruised.

  Hiran ran his eyes over them. “George?”

  “These are possibles, Boss. They talked readily enough when questioned, bowed down when beaten, and in the week I stayed here, they seemed to dislike Agatha and her rule.”

  “I see. Bring them forward,” Hiran said. The men were prodded closer until they stood with their heads and shoulders bowed, dirt-streaked and beaten. “So, you didn’t like Agatha? Why is that?”

  It took some more prodding to loosen their tongues which had frozen from fright, but at last, their hidden resentments became known.

  “She was a real bitch, that Agatha. Always lording it over me. ”

  “I don’t like a woman being my boss.”

  “Her and that priest, they were forever preaching and praying at us.”

  “I should’ve been in charge, not her.”

  Hiran snorted at that. “Well, sorry to hear that, but I’m in charge now. Have any of you got a problem with that?”

  They all shook their heads.

  “Good.” He fixed them to the spot with a baleful stare. “This is a one time offer. Refuse, and you die. Disobey, and you die. Got that?”

  They nodded.

  “Join me, and you’ll have food, shelter, women, and a share in any spoils. All I require in return is absolute obedience. Who’s in?”

  All four raised their hands, much to his satisfaction. Good little mice. “Excellent. Welcome to the fold. See to it that they’re fed and clothed, George.”

  “Yes, Boss,” George replied, waving a hand. The new recruits were led away by two other men to receive their reward for joining.

  Hiran’s eyes narrowed. “Watch them, George. If any of them prove false…”

  “Will do, Boss.”

  “Good.” Hiran tapped his fingers on the tabletop. “Tell me, how’s Agatha this morning?”

  “She’s just fine, Boss. In peak shape, I might add.” While George spoke in a joking fashion, Hiran detected a hint of chagrin in his voice which peaked his interest. What had the woman done to so upset his second-in-command?

  “Bring her in,” Hiran replied. “The rest, as well, including the priest.”

  When the prisoners arrived, Hiran took a moment to study them. They formed a motley group. The priest, despondent and sagging, but still hopeful of reasoning with his captors. A few surviving men, all the worse for wear after the fight and a night spent in captivity. A few were defiant and glared at Hiran, but most were not.

  Agatha surprised him the most. He was familiar with George’s ways, had seen his work before, and was expecting to see a gibbering wreck of a human being. Instead, she stood proud and tall, her chin raised in
a manner a queen would be proud of.

  He turned to look at George. “Are you losing your touch?”

  George flashed him a forced smile. “I didn’t want to damage her too badly, as you commanded.”

  “But still, it seems you’re growing soft in your old age. Or you’ve met your match.”

  George’s teeth ground together, but he didn’t reply, much to Hiran’s amusement.

  Hiran waved at Agatha. “Come sit, my dear.”

  She shook her head, but two men forced her into the seat next to him, cuffing her on the head when she resisted. She cast a baleful glare at George who seemed on the verge of exploding then stared at Hiran with all the hate she could muster.

  He chuckled. “I trust you slept well? That George here treated you nicely?”

  “Piss off, you monster,” she ground out between clenched teeth.

  George moved as if to hit her, but Hiran waved him back. “Leave her be, George. I want her conscious for what comes next.”

  “Yes, Boss,” George grumbled.

  Hiran waved a negligent hand at the assembled men. “Crucify them, and leave the priest for last. Perhaps, he can pray for their souls before it’s his turn.”

  “What?” Agatha cried, echoed by the priest and a few of the others. “You can’t do this!”

  “Oh, but I can, and I will.” Hiran stood up. “Let’s move this party outside, shall we?”

  The men were dragged out by their chains, kicking and screaming as they realized what was to come. George had a hold of Agatha, his arms wrapped around her waist as she struggled. The surviving women knotted together in a corner, watching the unfolding spectacle with horrified eyes.

  Wooden crosses had been hastily assembled and planted around the clearing throughout the night. Where it might have brought comfort before, the symbol of Christ now inspired terror in the hearts of all.

  The priest broke down in tears as he blubbered for mercy, going so far as to crawl toward Hiran on his hands and knees. “Please, my son. Don’t do this. We are all children of God.”