Seize Another Day (Dangerous Days - Zombie Apocalypse Book 4)

by Baileigh Higgins

  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 knowing the odds.

  “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.

  Even Lenka grunted in what could be construed as an alarm.

  Martin leaned back as he absorbed this information. It was a frequent topic of debate among 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 said.

  “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 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.”

  “No problem,” Logan said, extending his long legs in front of him.

  “Other than that, our water supply is adequate with the current rationing system, and we’re barely staying afloat with guard duty and chores though everyone is overextended,” Julianne continued.

  “Once the repairs are done, we should have more hands,” Max said. “That should even out the workload.”

  “If they ever get done,” Joseph said with a wave of his hands. “The fences need work. So do the gates, both inside and out. And that breach in our inner wall where that truck slammed through…that’s what worries me the most. We need more material.”

  “Ronnie is doing his best, I’m sure,” Breytenbach protested.

  “I know he is, but it’s not good enough. If he could bring me what I need, we could all band together and fix our defenses within days. It needs to be done,” Joseph said, his tone of voice rising in pitch. “I have a child, Max, and his safety is of the utmost importance to me.”

  “I know that Joseph, it’s just hard with so much else going on,” Max said. “Important tasks like the harvest. We all need to eat, don’t you agree?”

  “None of that will matter if our defenses fail and we die. Don’t forget about the plumbing and electrical systems either,” Joseph added. “They might be holding up, for now, thanks to Julianne’s rationing system, but come summer we’ll have a problem.”

  “What do you suggest?” Max asked.

  “That Ronnie focuses on the materials I need for the next two weeks or so and every spare hand pitches in to help. Once our defenses are stable and we have a steady supply of water and electricity, we can look to the rest,” Joseph said.

  A murmur of protests did the rounds as each person voiced their own opinion, convinced that what they required was more critical. Lisa shook her head at their stubbornness. Couldn’t they set aside their differences? Privately, she agreed with Joseph on the need to do the repairs first. Everything else came second to that consideration.

  Max raised his hands. “Okay, everyone. Settle down. Joseph has a point. Dead men don’t eat.” A reluctant silence fell as everyone subsided in their seats. “But before we discuss it further, does anyone else have anything to add to the meeting?”

  Lisa raised her hand. It was her turn, at last. “I do.”

  “Go ahead,” Max said.

  She lifted her chin and stood up. “As you all know, I’m in charge of the security team. We do moat patrols every day as well as occasional raids, sweeps of the area, and guard duty.”

  Nods and half-smiles did the rounds. This encouraged her to press ahead even though she doubted anyone would believe her story.

  “As such, I work near the dead. I see them every day. I study their patterns and behaviors, and…” For a few seconds, Lisa hesitated. “I’ve come to conclude that they’re changing.”

  “What?” Max said. “Changing in what way?”

  “There’s more of them for one thing. Lots more. Every day the moat is filled with the infected.”

  “That means nothing, though, does it?” Julianne said. “With all the activity and noise around here, it was bound to draw them in.”

  “Maybe, but their numbers should have slacked off by now. The fight happened weeks ago. Even Dr. Lange says so,” Lisa replied.

  “Dr. Lange? What does he have to do with this?” Breytenbach asked with narrowed eyes.

  “He’s been studying them too,” Lisa replied. “And he agrees. The infected are changing.”

  “That’s impossible.”

  “It can’t be.”

  “Changing?”

  “What are we going to do?”

  The angry buzz of voices drowned out Lisa’s next sentence, and she pressed her lips together while she waited them out. One foot tapped the floor in a rapid beat. Patience had never been a virtue of hers.

  “Where is Dr. Lange?” Max asked. “I’d like to hear from him on this matter.”

  Jonathan spoke up. “He went on this morning’s raid with Ronnie.”

  “Whatever for?” Max asked.

  “He’s gone to study more infected, hasn’t he?” Breytenbach interjected.

  With reluctance, Jonathan nodded. “So he says.”

  “Well, this is an interesting development,” Max said, leaning back in his chair. “I suppose they’re not back yet?”

  “They are due any moment,” Kirstin replied, standing up in one fluid motion. “I know where they went. I will wait at the gates and escort them here.”

  “Thank you, love,” Max murmured with a grateful smile before turning his attention back to the meeting. “All right. Until they arrive, I propose we talk about less important matters first. Get that cleared from the agenda.”

  Lisa sighed as she sat back down. As she’d feared, this meeting was turning into a long, tedious waste of time. Her only hope was that Dr. Lange would prove to be her ally, though the last time she spoke to him, he’d been reluctant to voice his opinion to Max.

  A half hour passed during which the group discussed the children and their schooling, laundry and cleaning duties, the possible expansion of the vegetable plots, and combat training.

  Lisa perked up at that last bit. While she’d been given a crash course in fighting by Ronnie and Lenka, she was keen to learn more. So were Nadia and a few others she knew. “Captain? Would you be interested in giving a few one on one lessons?”

  “One on one?” Breytenbach asked.

  “Yes. I know enough to keep me
alive, but I’d like to learn more.”

  “Maybe,” he replied, not looking sold on the idea. “Depends if I’ve got the time. You know I mostly work with the kids.”

  “Oh, okay,” Lisa replied with a disappointed shrug.

  Next moment, Julianne elbowed him in the ribs, though, and Lisa suppressed a grin when he agreed to give her a few pointers after all. “Around dusk today? By the far east corner?”

  “I’ll be there,” she agreed, and then there was nothing left to do but wait for Dr. Lange.

  Luckily, the scientist showed up a short while later, hustled inside by Martin and Kirstin. Once they were seated, Max urged Dr. Lange to share his side of the story.

  “It’s simple. The virus is changing. Mutating. It’s adapting to its environment and its human host. In turn, it’s making the infected more resilient as well.”

  “In what way?” Max asked.

  “We’ve all speculated at one point or another that the undead would rot away eventually. That there’d be nothing left of them except bones, perhaps. Well, this is untrue. Once decomposition reaches a certain stage, it slows and then stops altogether. The zombies are here to stay.”

  “Well, that is indeed bad news to all of us who dream of a free world,” Max said.

  “Truly, but that’s not the worst of it. The infected are also becoming stronger. As decomposition slows, they become tougher. This makes them more dangerous too.”

  “You’re serious?” Max asked, his facial expression echoing the horror of everybody else gathered there.

  “Very serious,” Dr. Lange said, opening his hands wide. “Imagine this. A zombie, old but intact, no longer rotting. It becomes tougher, less prone to falling over for the slightest reason. It’s hungry. Hungrier than ever before as the virus prompts it to spread the disease, so it actively searches for food instead of waiting for outside stimulus. It’s hunting.”

  Lisa’s mouth fell open. That little titbit was something she hadn’t known. Sure, she’d noticed the undead’s increasing activity levels, their tendency to swarm, and even a certain toughness of late, but that was all. The doctor’s been hiding things from me, from all of us.