Logan stared at her, bleary-eyed.
“Open up, damn it.” She pulled on the handle, desperate.
Still, he did nothing, his slack mouth indicating that he was on the verge of passing out. She looked over her shoulder into the black. Her skin crawled as she imagined zoms lurching toward her.
Nadia slammed on the glass, ignoring the pain in her hands. “Logan, so help me…open the fucking door. Now!”
“Fine, fine,” he mumbled, shaking his head. He leaned over and unlocked the passenger side. It took several tries. “Just shut up, will you?”
She climbed in next to him, wrinkling her nose at the musty alcohol and tobacco laden atmosphere. “Man, it stinks in here.”
Logan didn’t answer, a faint snore the only sound he made. The empty whiskey bottle slid from his fingers onto the floor, and she pushed it aside with the rest of the rubbish littering the cab.
With a disgruntled sigh, she tried to make herself comfortable and prayed she’d be able to sleep. “What the hell have I gotten myself into?”
Chapter 5 - Breytenbach
Since their arrival, Max had granted them any vehicle of their choice for use during their supply raids. Breytenbach had chosen a Casspir; an old military truck Max had recovered from a police barricade.
The thing was uber tough and spacious. The only problem was that Mike and Ronnie had gotten drunk one night and decided to name it Tallulah. They proceeded to spray paint the name on the sides of the Casspir in pink, using a pretty flowery script.
Every time Breytenbach saw it, he didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or swear at them. Everyone else thought it was hilarious, and raids quickly became known as ‘Tallulahing.’
Upon sighting him, Lenka, Mike, and Ronnie climbed into the back, big smiles adorning their faces. The prospect of action thrilled them. It was why they became mercenaries in the first place. Mike and Ronnie jostled for position, cracking jokes while Kirstin joined him in the front.
“Where are we going, Captain?” Ronnie asked from the back.
“The main hospital in Welkom.”
Silence fell. The jovial atmosphere vanished.
After a few seconds, Mike cleared his throat. “I know you said the raid would be dangerous but…”
“That’s suicide, Captain,” Ronnie finished.
“Are you backing out?” Breytenbach stared them down in the rearview mirror. Neither answered, their cheeks reddening under his gaze. “Jonathan needs this stuff, boys. The camp needs it. We’ve got two pregnant ladies and a bunch of kids. Are we letting them down?”
“No, Captain,” they chorused.
Breytenbach started the engine with a roar and glanced at Kirstin. He noted her lips were pressed together. “Any objections?”
“Yes.” She turned those icy blue eyes on him. “This is a mistake.”
“I know it’s dangerous, but it’s urgent.”
She turned her head away and stared into the distance. Her face remained expressionless. It was always hard to tell what went on in her head. “There is an alternative, Captain.”
“Such as?”
“The State hospital. It is closer,” she replied. “It is not in the town either. Fewer people.”
Breytenbach considered it. She had a point. “It’s an idea.”
“It is the only way we stand a chance, Captain. There you can use your guns, even grenades, without drawing the townspeople out.” She paused. “If that happens, we are all dead.”
It was the truth. One gunshot and the entire population of Welkom would come running. At the state facility, they only had those infected already there to worry about.
“State hospital it is,” he said. “But you realize we’ll still have hordes of the buggers to deal with.”
“Døden er en del av livet.”
He cast her a quizzical look. “I’ve no idea what that means.”
“Death is part of life.” She smiled. “It comes to us all.”
“I’d rather Death didn’t come for me, just yet.”
“Me neither,” Ronnie said.
“Amen to that,” Mike said.
Lenka snorted his contempt. “Cowards.”
“Oh, come on,” Mike protested.
“Forget it, Mike. The man’s made of stone,” Ronnie replied.
With their bickering ringing in his ears, Breytenbach pulled out of camp, waving at Joseph who closed the inner gates behind them. At the outer fence, he waited for Lenka and Ronnie to open the second set of gates and remove the barrier.
It was a bulky contraption resembling a wooden block with steel spikes and was quite heavy. The moat which encircled the fence, could not cut across the road. This caused a weak point in their defenses. The barrier and enforced gates were a temporary solution.
Once everyone was back inside, Breytenbach took off. A watchful silence fell inside the cab as everyone prepared themselves for what was to come. On the side, the turn-off to Riebeeckstad flashed by. A few more minutes, and the crossing appeared.
He turned left to the State institution. The long building squatted in the veldt; an ugly, brown toad. Dilapidated even before the onset of the outbreak, it now exuded an air of abandonment and neglect, underscored with a hint of menace.
The Casspir slowed to ease over the pitted road. Breytenbach did not want to announce their arrival in any way. The boom gates came into view, the left side an entrance and the right an exit. A guard’s booth sat in the middle, the windows stained and dirty.
“There,” Kirstin pointed.
Breytenbach zeroed in on the glass, his eyes picking up slight movement. A blackened handprint stood out.
“I’ll take care of it,” Kirstin offered.
“No, I can’t risk you,” he replied.
“I’ll go,” Lenka said. He dropped out of the vehicle, followed by Ronnie and Mike. Unsheathing his knife, Lenka pulled open the booth’s door with a swift yank. At the same moment, he stepped aside.
A diseased body dressed in a security guard’s uniform, fell through the opening, tripping over its own feet. With a downward stab, Lenka ended its struggles.
Working fast, the trio lifted both boom gates, securing the poles in place with a coil of rope. This ensured a clear escape route.
The activity drew more zombies. They appeared around the truck, shuffling toward the humans with eager moans.
“Drive, Captain,” Ronnie said. “We’ll clear them out as we go.”
With a nod, Breytenbach crept forward. Lenka stayed in front with Mike and Ronnie flanking the sides. In this manner, they progressed through the parking area. The men were efficient, killing the encroaching infected without pause.
When they drew near to the emergency entrance, Breytenbach stopped. He turned the truck around with its rear facing the building. The entrance doors were dim, the glass covered in smears and handprints. No movement could be seen inside, but Breytenbach knew appearances were deceiving.
“Strange. The lot’s almost empty,” Breytenbach noted.
“Inside will be different,” Kirstin replied.
“I know.” He eyed the parking lot. “I need you up high. Somewhere you can cover us.”
“Not inside?” she asked, frowning.
“No. Your rifle is no use at close quarters. You will have to cover our entrance and retreat.”
“Are you sure? I can fight. Rifle or no.” She narrowed her eyes. “Once you are inside, I cannot help you further.”
“I know. If we don’t come out, go.” He handed her the keys to Tallulah and closed his eyes for the briefest of moments, calming his inner self. This raid would require one hundred percent focus. No distractions. No emotions.
Kirstin picked out her spot and made her way there. Lenka, Mike, and Ronnie gave the parking area a final sweep. Breytenbach walked a few steps away from the Casspir, and his eyes fixed on distant buildings.
The University. He studied it, worry gnawing at his gut. A flimsy fence and a stretch of open land were all that separated
it from the hospital.
“Problem, Captain?” Ronnie asked.
“I hope not.” Breytenbach pulled Jonathan’s list from his pocket. “Right. Listen up.”
The four huddled together. He showed them the things they needed to obtain and explained each item. “This is all stuff they keep in the operating theaters.”
“Do we know where that is?” Ronnie asked.
Breytenbach shook his head. “Once inside, we find a floor plan and follow the directions. We move as quickly and quietly as possible. Got that?”
Everybody nodded.
“Keep your guns as a last resort.” He thought for a moment. “And the grenades for an absolute last resort. A no-hope kind of situation, okay? We don’t want to draw attention.”
Lenka smiled, testing the tip of his knife with his thumb.
“Whatever happens, stick together. If we get separated…” There was no need to finish the sentence.
“Relax, Captain. You know we love you,” Mike said with a grin. “We’ll stick as close to you as a leprechaun to his pot o’ gold.”
“If you get your crazy ass in trouble, don’t expect me to save it,” Breytenbach replied.
“Understood, Sir. After all, there be a very pretty lady waiting for you back home.” Mike danced out of reach as Breytenbach swatted at his head. “Let’s get going then.”
With a sour look, Breytenbach unsheathed his knife then strode to the entrance. An ambulance stood nearby, the driver’s door open. He moved to the front, checking inside the cab.
Empty.
With a nod to the others, they split up, going around the sides to the back. A gurney dangled halfway out. Strapped onto it was the corpse of a woman. She’d been shot through the head.
Leading away from the ambulance was a trail of dried blood. It led through the double doors into the emergency ward. Breytenbach nudged them with his foot. They swung open with an ominous creak.
He motioned to his team, and they moved through the opening, two to a side. The entrance hall was empty of life, but death was everywhere. Dried blood spattered the walls, arching as high as the ceiling in places. Puddles encrusted the floors. Bodies were tossed about in careless attitudes. It was hard to make out any details on the corpses, but all shared one common trait; a bullet to the brain.
They moved through the ER, never staying still for long, operating solely on hand gestures. Everywhere, they encountered the same scenes. Someone had come into the hospital and shot everyone―both the undead and those still living but infected. None were allowed to rise. That meant the people in question had knowledge of the virus and had been sent in to contain it. Perhaps a military unit.
“It’s a tomb,” Ronnie whispered.
Privately, Breytenbach agreed. The rancid smell of blood, shit, and decay filled his nostrils, while the sight of so many bodies pushed his nerves to the limit.
Part of the supplies they needed, was available in the ER. Together, they loaded a trolley with portable oxygen, suction, and monitoring equipment. An emergency defibrillator, boxes of masks, gloves, syringes, and swabs followed. They pushed the lot outside, loading it into the Casspir with controlled haste.
“We done, Captain?” Mike asked.
“Not yet.” He called them into a huddle and pointed out the stuff they still needed on the list.
“Ready?” he asked, looking each in the eye. He found himself hoping one of them would back out. That would give him an excuse to call the whole thing off.
None did. Whatever else they might have been, they were his team, loyal to a fault and ready to follow him to the grave. He steeled his faltering resolve. If they were willing to go on, then he was too.
Breytenbach propped open the exit doors and those leading from the ER into the rest of the hospital. He had a strong feeling they would be leaving in a hurry. “Ready?”
The other three fell into place behind him, single file, with Lenka taking the rear. Each had his rifle set on semi-automatic and slung over his back. In their hands, they held a combat knife and a flashlight.
The hallways were dim. The few windows were stained, blocking the sun from filtering in. The reception wasn’t far, and they encountered no infected. Plenty of corpses, but no live zombies. Once again, all sported a neat hole through the head.
The smell grew worse, the air thick and musty. Dust coated the furniture. The reception resembled something out of the pages of Hell’s Interior Decorating.
A nurse sat in the chair behind her workstation, arms dangling down the sides. Her empty eye sockets stared at them. Another nurse lay slumped across her desk, arms flung wide. Brass shell casings littered the floor. Bullet holes peppered the walls.
Breytenbach stood frozen, staring at the scene until Mike tugged at his arm. “Over there.”
It was a board depicting the map of the hospital. Breytenbach studied it until he found what he was looking for. “There.”
He pointed at the operating room and ran his finger over the fastest route. “We’ll need to take the stairs.”
“Maybe whoever did this, cleared out the entire hospital,” Ronnie said, gesturing at the bodies. “That’ll make this trip almost too easy.”
Breytenbach didn’t reply. He hoped Ronnie was right, but every nerve in his body was telling him something was wrong. “Let’s go.”
They moved on, setting a brisk but cautious pace. The rest of the building mirrored the reception, and they reached the stairs without mishap, but the way was blocked. Breytenbach swore, eyeing the pile of furniture that throttled the opening. “Shit. We’re going to have to remove this.”
They worked fast, dragging out desks, chairs, and cabinets, all the while mindful of the racket they made. When the opening was cleared, Breytenbach wiped the sweat from his brow. “Someone didn’t want anything to get up to the other floors.”
“Question is…who?” Ronnie answered.
Breytenbach cautiously shone his light up and down the stairwell. “Looks clear, but be careful.”
They moved up the flights with caution. Their footsteps echoed through the gloom, a hollow sound that unnerved them all. On each floor, they stopped and carried out a quick inspection. Each time they found nothing. No infected, no living people. Only bodies.
“Whoever these guys were, they were good,” Lenka grumbled, a hint of envy in his voice.
When they reached the correct floor, at last, Breytenbach headed to the operating rooms. “Please, let this go off without a hitch.”
“Captain,” Mike said. “Look.”
At first, Breytenbach couldn’t see what Mike pointed at and grew impatient. “What, Mike? Spit it out.”
“No bodies, Captain. No blood either.”
Breytenbach stopped in his tracks. Mike was right. The hallway looked nothing like the rest of the hospital. It was clean. There was no smell. He’d been in such a rush, he’d failed to notice.
He unslung his rifle, flicking off the safety. The others followed suit, and they moved forward slowly, clearing each room they passed. The yellow glow of their flashlights revealed pristine surroundings. At first, it was mostly storage rooms, filled with medical supplies, until they turned a corner in the corridor and saw something unexpected. Light. Artificial light.
Breytenbach turned to Ronnie and Mike. “You two stay back. Don’t be seen. Lenka and I will go on alone. Got it?”
They nodded.
“Search the floor. I want to know what’s going on here.”
“Got it, Captain,” Ronnie replied.
The two disappeared into the gloom, and Breytenbach continued down the hall. He approached the lit room with caution, gun held at the ready. Lenka followed on silent feet, and his presence was reassuring.
Breytenbach entered the room and froze. A young woman with frizzy black hair and cut-off jeans was dusting the furniture. She hummed under her breath, her voice sweet to the ears. The scene was one of surprising normality, rooting him to the spot.
At that moment, she turned a
round, and her eyes fell on him. With a cry, she jumped back, knocking over a trolley. The contents clattered to the floor and created an awful racket. Her mouth opened, and she screamed. Breytenbach raised his hands, trying to calm her down, but to no avail.
From behind him, a gruff voice commanded, “Freeze,” followed by the unmistakable cocking of a gun.
Breytenbach stilled, grateful when the woman stopped screaming. Then he heard Lenka say, “I got him, Captain.”
He turned around, moving with care. In the hall, stood a man of stocky build, aiming a gun at him. Lenka had not been caught off guard, however. His rifle pointed at the stranger’s stomach.
The stranger studied them both, his eyes a deep inky black that showed little emotion. “Seems we’re in a standoff.”
“Seems so,” Breytenbach agreed.
“What do you want?” the stranger asked.
“We came here for supplies. Equipment. We had no idea there’d be people here.”
“Well, now you know.” He jerked his head in the direction of the stairs. “Get out.”
“Not without the things we need.”
“Get it somewhere else.”
“No.” Breytenbach kept his face stony, refusing to back down. The stranger likewise stood his ground.
“M…Michael, perhaps you should take them to the doctor,” the woman interrupted, her voice soft and halting.
Michael seemed to consider this. “Fine. Follow me.” He shot Lenka a cold look. “Don’t try anything.”
Lenka flashed him a contemptuous look.
“Nombali. Come with us,” Michael said.
“All…all right,” she replied, falling in behind the trio.
Breytenbach studied her. Her eyes were wide, honey brown against her coffee colored skin. She seemed frightened, terrified even. Not a fighter.
Unlike Michael. Breytenbach had seen his kind before. The sort that made bad enemies and good friends. The man moved with ease, his posture and alertness speaking of combat experience. Soldier, maybe?
Three doors down, they entered an operating room. Bright fluorescent light streamed onto gleaming metal trolleys that boasted an array of instruments. The air smelled of antiseptic and decay. A peculiar mixture.
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