Dangerous Days (Book 2): Survive Another Day [Short Story Collection Vol. I]

by Higgins, Baileigh

  “Damn it, woman! Answer me!”

  But Maria was gone. Everything that once made up her life, all her hopes, and dreams, were snuffed out in an instant. What remained was a soulless eating machine, much like her husband.

  The bathroom door burst open to reveal Rolf, cheeks puffing like a bull frog. The sight of his wife on the floor brought him up short. He bent down, poking her with a fat finger. “Maria?”

  Her head reared up, teeth clamping down with crushing force. Blood spurted out, droplets spattering the tiles. Rolf screamed as she crunched through cartilage and bone, severing the finger. He fell back with a thump. Gibbering, Rolf crawled away, heading for the sanctuary of his bedroom.

  Maria followed.

  Like a monstrous spider, she scuttled after him. Blood covered her mouth and chin while her bared teeth mocked her erstwhile husband. In the same room where she once shivered in terror, Maria pounced, digging into Rolf's exposed gut. Tearing through flesh, fat, and membranes, she ignored his futile struggles, pausing only to chew and swallow.

  Rolf's breath gurgled in his throat, blood pushing up his esophagus and into his lungs. The crimson fluid drenched the thick carpet, their movements squelching through the mire.

  Reduced to faint whimpers, Rolf could only watch as Maria pulled out his entrails, the slimy ropes bulging between her fingers. The metallic smell of blood was replaced by the stink of feces as he bathed in his own shit.

  Weakening, his head fell back. His rolling eyes fixated on the silhouette of a man framed in the doorway. Rolf blinked, his vision blurred. The figure looked familiar. He raised a shuddering hand, pleading. A muzzle flash and then...nothing.

  Maria looked up, into the eyes of her son. She growled. Another flash of the muzzle and she was flung down. Her head lolled to the side, a single bullet hole between her eyes leaking blood. From the doorway, her son looked on, a silent witness to her final moments.

  6

  Chapter 6 - Angie

  Angie stared at her reflection in the mirror, analyzing her looks. Would George like the way her black hair curled around her shoulders? Would he admire her petite figure? Find her sexy?

  Everything depended on tonight. For two years, she'd dreamt of this moment, hoping he'd notice her. Surely he must know they were meant for each other.

  Never in her life had Angela Kostopoulos been denied anything. An only child, she had led a pampered existence. Whatever Angie wanted, Angie got. It had frustrated her to no end that George failed to see her. Until now.

  “Stop fussing, Angie. You look great,” Susan said.

  “Are you sure? You really think so?” Angie asked.

  Susan threw a pillow at Angie who turned in front of the mirror, plucking at her cotton pink top with nervous fingers.

  “For the hundredth time, yes!”

  “Okay, if you say so.” Angie chewed on a plump bottom lip, dark eyes huge as she contemplated the upcoming date. “I want tonight to be perfect.”

  “It'll be fine, Angie, you'll see. Now stop eating your lip gloss.”

  A loud knock on the door made the girls jump. A muffled shout rang through the thick wood. Susan laughed, casting a look over her shoulder. “Go on, Angie. That must be Georgie boy. He sounds impatient.”

  Angie paled, her hand fluttering at her throat. “I don't know if I can do this. I'm going to be sick.”

  “No, you're not. This is what you wanted, right?” Susan raised her eyebrows, mocking. “You and Georgie Boy? Together forever?”

  Angie frowned. “Yeah, yeah. Stop calling him that. It's George. And we are going to be together forever.” Her voice carried a heavy dose of condescension.

  Susan sat back, shrugging. “Whatever.”

  Another knock on the door, more prolonged this time. Angie smoothed her hands over her jeans. “Here goes.”

  She fixed a welcoming smile on her face, opening the door. It was George, just not the way she was expecting. The handsome rugby player was covered in blood and a big chunk of flesh was missing from his cheek. The hole gaped open in an obscene display of muscle and tissue.

  Angie gasped. “George!”

  “Help me.” He fell to his knees, grasping at her jeans. She screamed, jumping back. George fell to the floor, shudders wracking his frame.

  Frozen, Angie stared at him, one hand covering her mouth. She was pushed aside by Susan, who knelt next to the stricken boy. Her friend pressed a wadded up shirt to his face. “What happened, George?”

  “People are going crazy. Allen bit me, even Matthew. My best friend.” George raised his arm. It too carried jagged bite marks, deep and ragged. His wounds wept, growing stains on his clothes testifying to the loss of blood. “They're all crazy.”

  Susan looked at Angie. “Help me get him inside.”

  Angie approached with reluctance, not wanting to get blood on her clothes. “Shouldn't we call someone?”

  “Hurry up,” Susan urged.

  Together, they dragged George's tall frame inside and shut the door. His eyes rolled in his sockets, his words incoherent. Angie stepped back. George wasn't supposed to look like that. George was supposed to be strong, indestructible, a hero. Not...this.

  “He's going into shock,” Susan said. Her hands examined his body, looking for further injuries. Her face remained calm, her smile reassuring. A fourth-year medical student, her movements carried the aura of competence as she tore up a t-shirt to make bandages. Once the blood flow had slowed, she lay him on his side in the recovery position.

  “We need to call someone. The police. An ambulance.” Susan rushed about, looking for her phone. She found it and thumbed in the numbers. Before she could dial, George interrupted.

  “No, we've got to get out of here. It's crazy out there.” He struggled upright, his face pale. “Please.”

  “Calm down, you can't leave. You need medical attention, George.” Susan tried to push him back down, but he batted her hands away.

  “No! Listen to me!” He got to his feet, face contorted. “We need to get out of here now or we're all going to die.”

  Susan looked at Angie, a stunned expression on her face. A shrill scream from the hallway drew their attention. The strident notes cut through the air, piercing their ears. Then with shocking abruptness it stopped, only to start again elsewhere.

  “They're coming. I warned you,” George cried, terror underpinning his jerky movements. “We have to run. Now.”

  Despite Susan's best efforts to restrain him, he opened the door and stumbled outside. “Follow me.”

  Angie stared at his retreating back. In the confusion suffusing her mind, one clear thought stood out. He's leaving. George is leaving. “Wait!”

  She ran after him, followed by Susan. Outside their room, they were met with a nightmarish scene. Students stood framed in their open doorways, gaping at others who grappled with each other. Three doors down, a girl lay on the floor. She choked on the blood bubbling from her mouth. Her attackers kneeled above her, their hands and faces covered with the crimson fluid.

  Angie ground to a halt, stuttering. “What are they do...are they...eating her?”

  A rough hand grabbed her wrist, and she whirled, a frightened cry escaping her lips. It was George. “Come on, Angie. For fuck's sake, run!”

  She ran.

  Through the corridors of the dorm, they fled, surrounded by death. George led the way, bulldozing through anything that stood in his way. They navigated the stairs to the ground floor, emerging into a hellish scene. The lobby jostled with bodies, a sea of limbs waving to and fro in the current of panic that swept them along. The din was incredible, a mixture of pain, panic, anger, and fear. George hesitated, searching for a way through.

  “What's happening?” Angie clung to his sleeve. Susan drew level with her and they shared a terrified look.

  “No time.” George swayed, his wounds and their headlong flight had weakened him. “Stay behind me.”

  He forged ahead and Angie had no option but to follow. Lowering
his head, George plowed through the crowd like a battering ram, never stopping. Angie dropped her chin, clinging to his back with Susan close behind.

  Together, the trio crossed the floor. The doors beckoned with the promise of safety. Fingers hooked in Angie's hair, tearing a few strands loose. Tears welled up, but she dared not stop. Her foot landed on something soft. She looked down, then looked away, the image of blood-soaked hair and pale flesh imprinted on her mind. Behind her, Susan cried out, but she didn't turn back, didn't even look over her shoulder. It's each man for himself, she thought.

  George made it to the doors, and they fell through the opening. The bright sunlight burned Angie's eyes, black spots dancing in front of her eyes. Once her sight adjusted, her heart sank. The same chaos that reigned inside had taken hold here.

  People chased each other across the grounds, the green grass was drenched in the fresh blood of innocents. Screams rang out, echoing inside her head until she wanted to hunker down and cover her ears. In the distance, columns of black smoke rose above the city, smudging the blue sky with streaks of charcoal.

  “No, it's not fair,” she cried. Her feet were rooted to the spot, her muscles refusing to move. “It's not fair.”

  “This isn't the time,” George replied, tugging at her hand. “We have to keep going.”

  “Not the time? Do you see this? Do you see what's happening?” Angie's voice rose in pitch with each question until it came out in a shrill screech. “We're all going to die! That's what's happening!”

  George hesitated then shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

  He turned and ran, disappearing into the throng of people stampeding towards the gates. Angie gasped at his retreating back. “George, wait! Don't leave me!”

  Tears welled up in her eyes and she looked around for help. There was none to be had. Her eyes fixed on a figure. It was a student crouched over the prone body of another. His hands were buried in her stomach. As she watched, he lifted slippery ropes of entrails to his mouth, blood dripping down his chin and chest.

  The world spun. Angie's legs wobbled and she collapsed to her knees. “No, no, no. This can't be happening.”

  Rough hands grabbed her arms. She shrieked, batting at the blurred figure looming over her. “No, don't touch me. Leave me alone.”

  “Angie!” An insistent voice penetrated the fog in her mind. “Angie, it's me...Susan.”

  “Susan? It's you?” Susan's red hair and freckled face came into focus and she sobbed. “Oh, thank God.”

  “Get up. We have to run.” Susan hauled her to her feet, ignoring her protests. “Now, damn it!”

  Susan turned to run, dragging Angie behind her. Pushing through the fleeing bodies, all pushing and jostling for space, they reached the gates and stumbled through. A rough shoulder shoved Angie off balance. She fell with a cry, her hand tearing loose from Susan's grip.

  Her knees burned, the jeans torn in the fall. Time slowed down, feet and legs moved past her in a blur. A boy wearing a familiar red t-shirt caught her eye. It was George. He was lying on his stomach, face twisted in agony. Two of the crazy people had him pinned down, ripping gobbets of flesh from his bones.

  His eyes found hers and Angie experienced the strangest emotion. Triumph. She smiled, teeth bared in a grin of satisfaction. You left me. You left me behind and ran, you traitor.

  Suddenly Susan was back, hauling her to her feet. The moment passed. “Come on!”

  Time sped up. Together, they ran, swept along on the current of people that flowed down the street. After a few blocks, the crowd thinned, individuals becoming distinct.

  A snarling face confronted them, hands reaching towards them like claws. Angie screamed, clinging to Susan. A flash as a piece of metal descended, crunching into their attacker's face. Two more blows and the infected man lay unmoving on the ground.

  “Are you girls okay?”

  Angie could only nod, mouth dry with panic. Their savior looked down at them with faded blue eyes set in a worn face, the corners crinkled with age and laughter.

  “Over here. Come with me.” He hustled them towards a waiting car.

  Angie allowed him to shove her into the vehicle, her body squeezed in between the steering wheel and Susan.

  The chaotic sound outside became suspended, banished to a distant realm. Angie's mind detached, her thoughts moving with the slowness of syrup oozing down the side of a glass. This is a dream. It must be. This can't be real.

  The car lurched forward, scraping against another with a loud screech. Then it picked up speed. The scenes of horror outside the windows became a blur, adding to the disconnectedness she felt. None of this is real.

  The engine roared, revving as the driver changed gears while weaving through traffic. Angie's eyes fixed on the road, noting the debris, wrecks, and other things that littered the road. She was tossed from side to side as they swerved between the obstacles, tires screaming. Everything snapped back into place with the suddenness of a rubber band stretched to the limit. This is real.

  “Susan?” she whimpered.

  “Shh, Angie. It's okay. We're okay now.”

  Angie shook her head. How could any of this be okay?

  Buildings were replaced by rolling hills and low mountains. The chaos of the dying city faded into the distance. Bit by bit, Angie relaxed. Her muscles ached after the release of tension. The buzz of adrenaline faded, and exhaustion set in.

  “Where are we going? Who are you?” she asked the driver.

  “I'm Ben. Big Ben.” He sighed. “As for where we're going, somewhere safe, I guess. This infection or whatever is moving fast. Cities are the worst place to be right now.”

  “What's happening?” Angie asked.

  Ben told them what he knew, which wasn't much. A virus causing people to go nuts and eat each other was spreading through the populace. The whole world was affected. Getting bitten meant you became one of them. That much Angie could gather from his carefully chosen words.

  Afterward, he appraised them both. “Do you girls have anywhere to go? Your parents? Family, maybe?”

  “I stay with my grandparents,” Susan answered. “They're back in the city. In Bloemfontein.” Her voice was small, as though she realized the impossibility of going back.

  “And you?” Ben asked Angie.

  “I don't have anyone,” she answered, the lie tripping off her tongue with ease. It was true in a way. Her father was too busy to have time for his only daughter. Not that she cared. As long as he bought her happiness with gifts it didn't matter to her what he did. As for her mother, she was a simpering idiot, always bitching about Angie being a spoiled brat. They were useless to her now. There was no chance of her returning to that hellhole for them.

  That night, they slept in an abandoned shed on a farm. It was the first uncomfortable night of many as they roamed from town to town looking for safety.

  Susan got a call through to her grandparents on the first night with Ben's cell phone. It was too late for the old folks. Their house was surrounded by infected and they begged her not to go back. After that, all communication ceased.

  It didn't take long to figure out what was really going on, that the infected were zombies. It took longer for Angie to learn how to wield a weapon and defend herself. Not that she needed to really. She quickly learned that the best way to stay safe was to stick close to Ben or Susan and let them handle it.

  A few days later, they picked up two more survivors, Tsekiso, and Adam. Adam only lasted two days before he was surprised by a zombie in a shop they raided for supplies. Another lesson to be learned in survival.

  Two weeks after fleeing Bloemfontein, Angie found herself crouched in the corner of a convenience store, clutching a rusty iron pipe with trembling hands. It was one of those twenty-four-hour deals you saw at garages, selling overpriced snacks to those who stopped for petrol.

  A breeze filtered in through the broken windows of the shop front. Sunlight bathed the racks in gold. Angie shivered. The hair on the back of her ne
ck rose. She was not alone. Something or someone was in here with her.

  Her eyes swiveled, looking for either Ben or Susan but there was no sign of them. Anger warred with fear within her breast. Where are they? I need them!

  At least she knew where Tshekiso was.

  He was dead.

  After going for almost three days without food, the group had gotten desperate. Desperation was never a good companion in dire times. It made a person careless. Like they had been to attempt this without a thorough recon first.

  They stopped here an hour ago, hoping for supplies. Tsekiso offered to siphon petrol from nearby vehicles while Ben and Susan went to the hardware shop next door. The convenience store was deemed the safest and assigned to Angie.

  Unhappy at the thought of being alone, Angie nevertheless gathered her courage. She picked her way through the shattered glass, ears pricked for any noise that didn't belong. The icky taint of moldy sandwiches, sour milk, and rotten deli meat filled her nostrils. Stepping over the window frame, she searched the aisles for any undead. It was empty. With a sigh of relief, she picked up a basket, tossing in anything useful she could lay her hands on.

  Seconds later, she froze when Tsekiso let rip a bloodcurdling scream. It was the kind of scream that made it clear he was a goner, cut off moments later to be replaced by eerie silence. It was too late, though. The idiot had been loud enough to draw a whole bunch of infected. They filled the lot, cutting her off from the car and trapping her in the store.

  Angie ducked out of sight behind a rack and huddled in the corner. The minutes ticked by as she waited, certain that either Ben or Susan would come for her. They never did. Now she was no longer sure they ever would.

  The sound of shuffling footsteps made her heart hammer. The tinkling sounds that followed told Angie that whoever it was, had entered through the open shop front. A soft groan confirmed her fears. Zombie.

  She clutched the pipe to her chest, knuckles bleached paper white. With quick, shallow breaths, Angie nerved herself to fight. The infected shuffled around the corner of a shelf. It was a little girl, about ten years old. Her hair was long and golden, her eyes blue. She seemed intact but for a small bite mark on her arm and she was fresh.