Mike prodded one of the dead infected with his foot, nodding. “I think you’re right.”
“Someone who had lots of ammo,” Kirstin agreed, pointing to the walls of the building. Bullet holes peppered the mortar in crazy patterns, a macabre display of power. “They did not even try to conserve their ammunition.”
Ronnie found himself agreeing with her. “Let’s check inside. Just to be sure.”
The inside of the station had seen the same destruction as the outside. Shell casings and dead zombies painted a stark picture. The raiders had stormed in, meeting little resistance before the hail of gunfire they rained down. The armory was stripped clean. Not a single gun or bullet remained.
“Shit,” Ronnie muttered. “One down, two to go.”
They left the derelict law enforcement building behind, driving in silence. Ronnie glanced at the map on the dashboard. Three red circles dotted the paper. One was now useless to them, and he sent up a fervent prayer that the other two would deliver.
He approached the parking lot of their second target, and his heart sank. It looked the same. He jumped out, raw anger coursing through his veins. He kicked the tire of the Casspir. “Fuck. What’s the point of taking all the guns and ammo, if they’re just going to waste it? I mean, look at this!”
The other three said nothing, their expressions somber as they studied the destruction around them. Once more, shell casings and bodies littered the lot.
They checked inside, just to be sure, but they neither expected nor got anything. To Ronnie, it felt like their mission was a worthless one. He fired up the engine of the truck and drove toward the third and final destination. If that one yielded nothing, they’d be going home empty-handed.
Minutes later, Ronnie parked the Casspir in front of their designated objective and switched off the ignition. The mood inside the cabin was serious. They all felt the pressure.
“This is it,” Kirstin said, pointing at the red circle on the map.
“Are you sure?” Ronnie asked. His eyes drifted over the unassuming storefront, fixing on the bicycles advertised in the window.
“Very.”
Ronnie had reached the end of his patience. “Let’s hope so.”
They fanned out as they approached the store with Kirstin providing cover from Tallulah’s roof. The doors creaked when he pushed them open, the hinges stiff from months of disuse.
Puffs of dust billowed around his boots, raised by each step he took inside. He took that as a good sign. It doesn’t look like anyone’s been here in a long time.
The interior was dark, lit only by faint light streaming through the glass front. He clicked on his flashlight. The bright circle of light cut through the black, spotlighting the various articles it landed on.
Bicycles.
Display stands filled with odds and ends.
The decayed face of a zombie lurching towards him.
Ronnie swung his knife from left to right, the weapon held with the blade pointed at his forearm. The tip pushed through the temple, embedding the blade into the thing’s brain. The infected fell with a raspy growl.
Mike wrestled with a zombie that had hold of his ankle, teeth poised to sink into his lower leg. Before it had the chance to latch on, Lenka brought his enormous boot down on its head. The cranium collapsed inward with a crackle followed by a dull pop and wet squelching sounds. The brain oozed out onto the floor, bits clinging to Mike’s trousers.
“Oh, yuck. Man, that’s gross,” Mike said, dancing away. He shook his leg, trying to dislodge the rotting brain matter. “Why’d you do that? I could have taken him.”
Lenka ignored him, searching behind the counter for more zombies. Ronnie grinned but quickly sobered when he remembered their purpose and continued to canvas the shop.
“Clear,” he shouted when he finished.
“Clear,” Mike and Lenka echoed.
They found the keys to the gun safe in the pocket of an infected Ronnie had dispatched, identified by the name tag on his breast as Mr. Richardson.
“Sorry dude, but we need it more than you do,” Ronnie muttered when he unlocked the safe. He swung the door open, holding his breath. “Here goes.”
Rows of neatly lined up guns and boxes of ammo met his eyes. It was not the score that he’d hoped for, but after the disappointments of earlier, he’d take it. A deep sigh of relief escaped his lips. “Right, guys. Let’s load ‘em up.”
With swift movements, the duffel bags they carried were filled to the brim. Shouldering his bag, Ronnie jerked his head at the front door. “Let’s go. Back to Tallulah.”
They jogged outside and unloaded, then returned to the store until it was stripped clean of weapons and any other useful supplies it carried. All under the watchful eyes of Kirstin and the long reach of her Galil.
After they’d made their final trip, Ronnie paused next to the driver’s door of the Casspir, hands on his knees while he caught his breath. Sweat dripped off his forehead, splattering onto the tar. He straightened up and glanced at the others. “Ready to go?”
They nodded and seconds later pulled away. Ronnie stared at the white lines in the middle, streaming past in a hypnotic blur. He had something on his mind. Something he had to share with the others.
Ronnie thought back to what he had seen that morning on the dirt track. Cigarette butts. Fresh ones. His mind flashed to the emptied armories at the police station and industrial. He thought of all the empty houses they’d encountered in the past few weeks, the occupants murdered in acts of wanton barbarity. He remembered the rooms full of blood and the silent screams that still echoed.
“Listen up, guys. I’ve got something to tell you.”
Three sets of eyes turned his way.
“Yesterday’s attack was no accident. That horde was led to us on purpose.”
“What do you mean?” Mike asked.
Ronnie told them about the cigarette buts.
“You are sure of this?” Kirstin asked.
“As sure as it’s possible to be at this stage without more info.” He paused, considering. “I think it’s them.”
“Them?” Mike asked.
“The same lot that has been killing innocents, looting and stealing.”
“It is possible,” Kirstin agreed.
Lenka grunted.
“I think they’ve mopped up all resistance…except for us.” Ronnie sighed.
“That’s why they took all the guns. To prevent us from getting our hands on it.”
“What about that last place? It had some,” Mike said.
“I don’t think they knew about it. According to Max, it wasn’t common knowledge.” His hands tightened on the wheel. “And now that they’ve got it all, they’re coming for us. Luring the zombies there was just the first step.”
“I believe you are right,” Kirstin said. “We should warn Max.”
“Soon as we get home,” Ronnie agreed. I just hope we’re not too late.
Chapter 16 - Nadia
The late afternoon sun filtered through gaps between the wooden boards that covered the window, casting a pool of golden light onto the couch. Nadia sat curled up in that spot, licking her finger as she thumbed through the pages of a book.
“It’s time.”
Nadia looked up at Logan, startled. “Time for what?”
“It’s time for us to leave,” Logan replied. “Your hands have healed, and I’ve even managed to teach you some manners. You’re officially house trained.”
Nadia pulled a face. “Haha, very funny.”
A knot of anxiety formed in the pit of her stomach. Though she’d been waiting for this day, she now wondered if she was ready. Can I cope with being around other people? What if I infect someone? Will they even want me?
Her hand flew to her head, fingers brushing through the short, blonde tendrils. She’d cut her hair, removed her piercings, even changed her clothes. She’d changed everything about herself to please these people of whom Logan spoke with such fondness. But will
it be enough?
Logan’s eyes rested on her face. “Relax. They’ll love you.”
“You think so?” she asked, hating the plaintive note that crept into her voice.
“You got me to like you. A pretty amazing feat, I might add.” He smirked and ducked to the side. Nadia’s book fluttered past his ear. He scooped up the battered copy, smoothing the creased pages. “But you might want to work on your people skills.”
“Screw you, Logan.”
“And your language.”
Nadia rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”
Logan sauntered over to the kitchen, digging into the cupboards. “Hungry?”
“I’m always hungry.”
“True. I feel sorry for Max and Elise. Keeping you fed is a full-time job.”
“Now we know why you left. They kicked you out for being such a pig,” Nadia replied.
Logan’s mouth quirked as he put a pot of water on the stove, turning on the gas flame. It sputtered before catching, burning blue then settling in a mild yellow. Logan dumped a few packets of instant noodles into the pot and turned back to her.
“We leave in the morning. Be ready.”
Nadia chewed her lip, gazing at him.
“What is it?”
“Nothing.”
“Don’t nothing me. I can see something’s bothering you. Spit it out.” He narrowed his eyes, glaring at her over the rim of his glass before downing the amber liquid in one swallow.
“You talk about these people as if they’re…” Nadia hesitated.
“As if they’re what?” Logan prompted, his impatience showing.
“Nice. Decent. Good people,” she finished.
“Yeah, so?” Logan frowned at her, dragging the whiskey bottle closer with one hand for a refill. It was already half-empty.
“What if…what if I hurt them? What if I infect someone?” She paused, searching for the right words. “I couldn’t take it if I did that again. I can’t be responsible for their deaths. It would kill me.”
Logan unscrewed the top of the bottle, filling up the glass in a slow trickle. The alcohol frothed and swirled before settling into golden calm. Already he was showing the first signs of drunkenness; a slight sway in his gait, the hint of a slur in his voice.
“I won’t let you hurt them, Nadia. They’re my friends.” He took a sip from the glass and shrugged. “Well, some of them anyway.”
“How are you going to do that? Are you staying there with me? To watch me?”
Logan shook his head, grimacing. “No. I could never live there again.”
“Why not?”
“Because.”
Nadia eyed him, wondering at the pain she saw lurking beneath the surface. Logan didn’t want to go back. He was only going there for her sake. What had happened to make him so bitter and angry? Over the past few days, she’d tossed out hints, trying to find out what lay in his past, but no matter how well they got on, Logan remained a closed book.
Another thought occurred to her. The moment he dropped her off at this camp, he’d disappear into the sunset. She’d never see him again. A stab of pain lanced through her chest at the realization. I’ll miss him.
“Couldn’t you even try to stay there? For me?”
Logan shook his head turned his back on her, busying himself with the food. He drained the water, added the spice packets and mixed it through with a fork before dividing it in half onto two plates. After a moment’s consideration, he scraped a portion from her plate onto his before handing it to her, prompting a grin from Nadia.
“Glutton,” she muttered.
Nadia took the plate of steaming noodles and held it on her lap, waiting for Logan to answer. If he ever did. Often he just ignored her questions. The tough ones in particular. Nadia had learned not to pressure him. It yielded nothing except to sour the atmosphere.
Logan sat down opposite her and picked up his fork. Without a word, he dug into the food, chewing with care while never looking her in the eyes. With a sigh, Nadia picked up her own and took a bite, giving up. Doesn’t look like he’s gonna answer this one.
The minutes ticked by in silence as they ate, each lost in their thoughts. Nadia began obsessing about the camp and its people again, wondering what they were like and forgot about the question entirely. She scraped up the last few noodles then swirled her finger around, wiping up the juices before sucking it off her finger.
“Still hungry?”
Nadia looked up into Logan’s eyes, his hand held out for her empty plate. “No, I’m good.”
“Are you sure? Because you’re polishing that thing to a shine there.” His eyes twinkled, and she couldn’t help but smile back.
“I could use a burger and chips if you’ve got some.”
Logan blew out a breath and walked to the kitchen, dumping the dishes in the basin. “Would be nice.”
“What do you miss the most? Now that everything’s gone?” Nadia asked, twirling one finger around a curl.
He looked back over his shoulder and shrugged before walking over and slouching down in the chair opposite her. “Don’t know. I spent most of my time out in the bush back before the zombies. Didn’t have much then that I don’t have now.”
“What do you mean?”
“I slept on the ground most of the time, ate meat I cooked on a fire, bathed in ice cold rivers and hunted poachers. It was pretty dangerous. Snakes, spiders, mozzies, angry hippos. They’re all out to get you if you’re not careful.”
“Angry hippos?”
“Oh, yeah. Don’t be fooled by all that fat. A hippo can run faster than you can.”
“No way.” Nadia frowned at Logan, sure he was pulling her leg. He leaned back in his chair as he launched into the tale, surprising her with his openness.
“I stayed in a reserve up in the Okavango a few years ago, helping out. It paid a few bucks, gave me a place to stay. It was pretty primitive. My house consisted of a single thatched room and a wooden porch. No plumbing or electricity.”
Nadia wrinkled her nose, wondering why anyone would choose to live like that. “No toilet?”
“Nope. You dig a hole and hope nothing jumps you while you’re busy.” Logan smiled at the look on Nadia’s face. “Anyway. I’d been notified of an aggressive hippo rampaging along the river banks and terrorizing the locals. So I set off one morning with my rifle and gear, hunting it. Now there are some things you should know about hippos.”
“Like what?”
“Males can reach close to three and a half tons and can bite a crocodile in half without blinking so much as an eye. Trust me; you do not want to come between that monster and the water. Once it gets going, it’s like a train. There’s no stopping it.”
“Three and a half tons?”
“Yup. Imagine what would be left of you after something that massive steamrollers over you.” Logan took a sip of his whiskey. “So, I got to the village, and they took me to the site of the latest attack. There wasn’t much left of the poor guy.”
Nadia tried not to envision the image of blood and guts churned into the dirt that Logan’s words invoked.
“So what happened?” she asked. Despite herself, she was intrigued by this glimpse into Logan’s past life and the man he’d been before.
“I tracked it back to the water but lost it there, so I scouted further upriver, hoping to get an idea of the terrain. It was bad.” Logan shook his head. “It was the dry season, and the water levels were dangerously low.”
“What does that have to do with it?”
“A hippo’s skin will dry out if it doesn’t spend most of its time in the water. It cracks and blisters, causing painful wounds. During the dry season, there’s not enough space for all of them, so they fight for territory. The losers are kicked out and drift around, angry and in constant pain. That’s what happened there.”
“Poor thing.”
Logan snorted. “That poor hippo killed three men and a woman by the time I got there. As I said, I scouted upriver and enter
ed a dense stand of reeds. The sun was high, and damn was it hot. I could see barely a meter in front of me, and the mozzies were feasting on my blood.”
Logan paused, got up and refilled his glass while Nadia waited, bouncing one foot up and down. He sauntered back, taking his time. Nadia had to stop herself from screaming at him. Finally, he continued.
“Soon as I stepped into those reeds I knew it was a mistake. It was quiet. Too quiet. Even the birds had shut up, and I knew I wasn’t alone.”
“Was it there? In the reeds?” Nadia held her breath, suspense turning her muscles to stone.
“Oh, yes. It was there all right, waiting for me. All three tons of it.”
“What did you do?”
“Do? Wasn’t much I could do. When those reeds started shaking and snapping I raised my gun and aimed for the head. Or where I thought it would be. That hippo burst through almost on top of me. I snapped off a shot and threw myself to the side, praying I’d get clear.”
He paused again, taking a sip of his whiskey and drawing out the moment.
“So what happened?” Nadia shrieked, jumping up and down.
“Turns out I’m a pretty good shot under pressure. The bullet destroyed the brain, and that thing plowed through the ground right next to me.”
Nadia blew out a breath and slumped back into her chair. “You’re a lucky bastard; you know that?”
Logan grinned and acknowledged her statement with a salute. “Guess you could say that.”
“With a life like that no wonder the zombies don’t faze you.”
Logan shuddered. “Oh, they’re nasty all right. But there isn’t much that can scare me now. And not a lot I miss either.”
“Really? There isn’t anything you want from before?” Nadia prodded, thinking about the hot showers and pizza she longed for nearly every day.
“What’s there to miss?” A faraway look entered Logan’s eyes, and his mouth twisted. “The only thing I want now is something I found after the apocalypse, not before.”
“What’s that?”
“Nothing.”
“It can’t be nothing.”
“It’s nothing you need to know about.”
“I told you my secrets.”
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