“It’s fine, Max. I’ll watch him, but if you ask me, it shouldn’t even be necessary. He should’ve been executed like the criminal he is.”
“I understand how you feel, Lisa, but―”
“Really? Are you honestly gonna go there? You have no bloody clue how I feel. None of you do.“
Max paused with a pained expression on his face. “I shouldn’t have said that sorry. You and Michelle―”
“And stop comparing me to Michelle, for fuck’s sake. I’m not her. She’s a sweet girl, and I’m sorry for her, but that’s not me. I don’t want your pity.” Lisa fixed Max with a fierce look. “I’m a fighter, Max. Not a victim. Get used to it.”
Max now wore a hunted look, like a mouse cornered by a cat. He raised his hands to fend off her attack. “I get it. I do. I’ll stop treating you like that if you want.”
Lisa felt her anger drain away. “Just stop treating me like glass, okay? You and everybody else.”
“Noted.” Max pointed at Kabelo and changed the subject. “Need any help?”
“I do. He stinks. Take him inside and get him cleaned up while I fetch him some clothes.” Her lips twisted. “No way is he going around with me like that.”
“Okay, I’ll take care of it.” Max directed the prisoner to the nearest shower.
Lisa watched them go inside and marched off to find clean garments, muttering under her breath. “Damn murdering son of a bitch can feel lucky he’s getting free food, clothes, and a wash. More than he deserves.”
Along the way, she encountered Elise who wore a worried frown. “Lisa, can I talk to you for a second?”
“What do you want, Elise?”
Elise blanched, backing up a step. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry―”
“Sorry for what, Elise? Saving that murdering piece of shit’s life or endangering us all with your misplaced compassion?”
“He’s just a kid, Lisa. He deserves a chance.”
Lisa pointed a furious finger at the other woman. “He deserves nothing, and I swear on my life. I’ll kill him if he so much as looks at me wrong.”
Leaving a stuttering Elise in her wake, Lisa marched off to the storeroom where she rummaged around for clothes that she thought would fit. Her entire body quivered with impotent rage. She slammed her fist into the wall, scarcely feeling the pain in her knuckles. Hot tears burned her eyes, but she dashed them away. “I’m not crying again. Never again.”
Half an hour later, she was presented with a scrubbed up prisoner compliments of an apologetic Max. “Here you go.”
“Thanks, Max. Sorry about earlier.” She’d calmed down enough to feel a little guilt over her outburst.
“No need to apologize. You had every right.” Max hovered for a moment. “Would you perhaps like to join Breytenbach’s group? He’s been talking about training recruits for his team.”
“Yeah? You’re serious?” Excitement at the prospect filled her. For a moment, she even forgot all about Kabelo.
“I’m serious. Breytenbach’s group is the best, and they could use new blood. Maybe when all of this is over, we can arrange it. Would you like that?”
“Of course, I mean, assuming we make it through this.”
“Oh, we will. Trust me.”
Lisa stared at Max’s retreating form and wondered how he could speak with such confidence. From what Julianne had told her they were facing the fight of their lives. She squared her shoulders. I’ll be there every step of the way. I’ll prove to everyone I’m a fighter.
She turned her eyes to Kabelo and motioned him toward the common room. “Time to eat.”
When he didn’t move, she mimed eating movements with her hand and pointed at the cafeteria. He caught the gist, and his pace picked up, eagerness suffusing his face.
Inside the common room, lunch was in full swing. The buzz of chatter surrounded them. Silence fell when they walked in, and wondering eyes fixed on her and Kabelo. She ignored the curious stares and chose a table. “Sit.”
Already the news had spread regarding Ke Tau and his gang. None of the stares directed at Kabelo were friendly, and the boy squirmed beneath their collective scrutiny. Lisa felt a hint of satisfaction at the evidence of his discomfort and allowed herself a small smile.
She saw Elise serving food behind the bay marines, and their eyes met for a brief moment. Lisa turned away from the woman’s disapproving stare. Don’t give me that look.
A brooding Ben brought over two plates, concern lining his aged face. “You okay, Lisa?”
“I’m fine, Ben. Just keeping an eye on our new guest here.” Liking for Ben softened her voice, causing her to smooth over the sharp edges of her anger. For him, she felt nothing but respect and sorrow. He’d lost too much ever to be the same again.
“Have you heard about Breytenbach?” Ben asked.
“Julianne told me. It’s pretty good news.” She looked around. “Where is he?”
“At the clinic. He’s still weak, and Jonathan wants to keep an eye on him.”
“Okay. That’s good.” Lisa thought for a moment. “Any word on Dr. Lange?”
“He’s helping out in the clinic. The man seems to have shaken off the loss of his lab. Word has it he’s trying to jot down his old work from memory. That bodyguard of his, Michael, carried over a whole armful of notebooks and pens yesterday.”
“More power to him. Hope he succeeds. We could all use a vaccine or something.”
“It would make life easier,” Ben agreed. “Anyway. See you, Lisa. Call me if you need anything.”
“Will do, Ben. Thanks.”
He nodded and walked away, and she turned to her food, picking up her fork. Today it was rice and beans, not her favorite but filling enough. She dug in, her stomach growling in anticipation. The boy watched her for a few seconds until she motioned to his plate. “Go on. Eat.”
His fearful expression abated, and he scooped up a portion with his fingers, shoving it into his mouth. Lisa watched in horror as he shoveled it in, grains of rice falling from his lips to the table.
“Oh, hell no,” Lisa cried, causing him to freeze. His eyes rolled in terror, showing the whites. She felt a twinge of guilt and modulated her tone. Picking up his fork, she held it to him. “Here, use this.”
He stared at the implement with uncertainty and reached out a hesitant hand. With slow, deliberate movements, she showed him how to eat. After a moment, he copied her. It was frustrating to watch him. More food ended up on the floor than in his mouth, but eventually, he got the hang of it.
“Man, didn’t you learn table manners as a kid?” she asked, shuddering as he chewed with his mouth open.
Until Lisa remembered where he was from. It was likely his education had fallen by the wayside because of circumstance. A surge of sympathy filled her, one she crushed with ruthless determination. Don’t feel sorry for him. Remember what he’s done.
Despite her resolution, a seed of doubt had been sown, and she found herself wondering what sort of life he’d lived. Lisa made a mental note to find Lenka after lunch as he was the only one who seemed able to talk to Kabelo. Though he’ll probably scare the living crap out of him again.
Swallowing her food, she regarded Kabelo. “What am I going to do with you?”
Chapter 21 - Ronnie
Ronnie shifted. His legs had gone numb from holding the same position for too long. With one hand, he rubbed his eyes and positioned the binoculars. Through the magnifying glass, he watched the old Inn. It was nothing like he remembered.
A few weeks back he’d been in the vicinity looking for supplies. It had been nothing but an abandoned relic filled with the walking corpses of former guests and staff. A place to be avoided.
“See anything?” Mike asked.
“Oh, I see plenty. Just not enough yet.”
A fence resembling an iron hedgehog bristling with steel spikes had been erected around the premises. From a set of fortified gates, men came and went constantly. All were armed, carrying knives, machetes
, and automatic rifles.
After two days, Ronnie had yet to settle on an approximate tally. It was hard to tell with so much coming and going. The building itself remained a mystery. Its windows were shuttered with corrugated iron plates bolted to the walls, and the main doors were never left unguarded.
For a block in each direction, the infected had been wiped out. Body parts were stuck to sharpened sticks, serving as a warning to the living and dead alike. A few had been lashed to lamp poles, their decayed mouths gnashing, and their groans carrying on the wind. Barricades blocked the roads leading in and out while the surrounding shops and businesses had been pillaged.
Breytenbach and Ronnie lay on the roof of one such place. They each carried a bag of supplies, enough to last three days if they were careful. It took all their ingenuity to sneak in without being discovered. The only plus was the lack of zombies to deal with.
“This is going to be a tough nut to crack,” Ronnie said. “The place is a fortress.”
“That it is.” Mike laughed. “Nothing we can’t handle, I’m sure.”
Ronnie pulled a face. “This is no time for jokes. The Captain depends on us.”
“I know, I know.” Mike rubbed his chin. “If only we could get a look inside.”
“Or get hold of someone who has,” Ronnie finished. “That Kabelo gave us info on the layout, but we’ve no way of knowing if he spoke the truth or not.”
“Catching someone shouldn’t be too hard. They wander around enough for that,” Mike said, referring to the guards who patrolled the area. They were often alone, arrogant in their certainty that they were safe.
“You’re right. Success has made them cocky, but remember what the Captain said. This is strictly a recon mission.”
“Ah, come on. We can always say he found us first.” Mike’s tone took on a wheedling note. “It’ll be fun. I’m bored shitless over here.”
Ronnie hesitated. The lure of excitement was tempting, a siren’s call to his stiff body. He’d been stuck on the roof for almost forty-eight hours. “What do we do with him afterward? If we kill him, we risk alerting the rest, and we sure as hell can’t let him go either.”
“Fuck, you’re right. Didn’t think of that.”
They were quiet for a moment, and Ronnie resumed watching. He was startled when Mike grabbed his arm, pointing. “Look, there she is again.”
Ronnie put the binoculars to his eyes and looked where Mike was pointing. Sure enough, it was her. The same woman from the day before. Ronnie put her age around seventy, maybe more. Her back was bowed beneath the weight of her burdens, and her face was lined with hardship and suffering. Rheumy eyes surveyed the world with resignation and defeat.
She exited the gates carrying a bucket and a bowl. Going from one guard to the next, she scooped up something for the men to drink. Ronnie guessed it was Mageu, a thick liquid made from fermented maize meal.
She’d done the same the day before, once in the morning and once in the afternoon. Ronnie checked his watch. Seventeen hundred hours on the dot. In silence, they watched as she traced a circle around the compound, feeding each guard in turn. That was not what drew their attention, though. It was what she did next that so saddened Ronnie.
Instead of going back, she’d pick her way through the car wrecks and debris that littered the road. Her gait would slow and falter as she approached the corpse of an infected man lashed to a pole. He’d growl and gnash at the air, straining to reach her. She’d drop to her knees and pray, tears streaming down her cheeks. It was a ritual, one she performed each time without fail.
In silence, they watched. Afterward, she gathered up her bucket and her dignity, shuffling back inside the Inn. Pity welled up in Ronnie’s heart. Each time he saw her, she looked a little older. I wonder how long she’ll last.
An idea took hold in his mind. He blew out a slow breath as he contemplated it. “What if the person who gave us the info we needed, wasn’t an enemy?”
Mike stared at him then down at the old woman’s retreating back. “You mean her?”
“I do.”
“How?”
“We catch her tomorrow morning when she does her rounds.” Ronnie contemplated the layout before them and pointed at a spot. “There. If one of us can get there unseen, we can talk to her without the guards noticing.”
The spot in question was behind a crashed bus that no one had bothered to move. It listed to the side with one wheel on the pavement and the bonnet wrapped around a concrete trash can. The old woman had to walk behind it to get to the captured infected, shielding her from the guard’s eyes.
“What if something goes wrong?” Mike asked. “It wouldn’t take much for one of them to get suspicious.”
“It’s risky,” Ronnie agreed, “but I’ve noticed they don’t pay much attention to her. She’s just an old woman to them. What is she going to do? Run away?”
“That’s true.” Mike chewed on his thumb. “What if she won’t help us? She might scream or something. Then we’re in for it.”
“She might,” Ronnie replied. “But something tells me she won’t protect those who did that.” He gestured to the object of the woman’s prayers. The corpse was in bad shape, left exposed to the elements like that. It groaned through desiccated lips drawn back into a death’s head grin. Is it her husband? Son, maybe?
“Do you want me to go in?” Mike asked.
“No, I’ll do it. You can cover me from here if the shit hits the fan. You’ll have a good field of fire.” Ronnie studied the area around the bus, mapping out the best route to get there. “It won’t be easy, but with a little luck we might pull this off.”
“Here’s hoping.” Mike scratched around in his pocket, pulling out his silver flask. He unscrewed the top, and the sharp scent of scotch wafted out.
“Really, Mike?”
“What? It’s just a nip.” Mike shrugged, taking a deep swallow.
“You’ve been having a lot of those ‘nips’ lately.” Ronnie shook his head, casting a sidelong glance at his friend. “Is something going on with you?”
“Everything’s dandy,” Mike replied, waving it off. “I just like to drink. You know that. What’s the problem?”
“The problem is you’re drinking on the job. You’re going to get yourself, or someone else, killed if you keep it up.”
“I can handle it.”
“The Captain will have your balls if he catches you.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Mike rolled onto his side, presenting his back to Ronnie. “I’m going to grab a snooze. Wake me when it’s your turn.”
Ronnie turned back to watching the hotel, frustration burning within him. Mike was on a slippery slope to nowhere good and refused to see it. Maybe the Captain should find out. Might do some good.
***
A rough shake awakened him. Ronnie’s eyes popped open, one hand going to the hilt of his knife.
“Time to get up.” Mike’s familiar whisper cut through the sleep-induced fog, and he relaxed.
It was still dark, the air like ice. Dew drops beaded his coat and pants, soaking into the material. He suppressed a groan as he got to his feet, his spine and joints stiff from the damp.
“Getting too old for this, hey?” Mike asked.
“Definitely.”
It had been a rough night. The two of them had taken turns to keep watch with Mike catching the pre-dawn shift. It was cold, their camo clothing doing little to keep the heat in. He had slept with his boots on, ready to move at a moment’s notice. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he rinsed his mouth with water and had a drink.
“You still set on doing this?” Mike asked.
“I am. That old woman might be just the edge we need to win this fight.”
Mike shifted closer and handed him a strip of biltong. Ronnie chewed on the dried beef, working his teeth along the corner. The stuff was old, every last drop of juice long since wrung from the fibers. Mold had set in, fuzzy white patches peppering the edges. He was glad he couldn
’t see it in the dark. “Shit, this meat’s tough.”
“It’s like eating salted boot leather,” Mike agreed. “How do you figure the old lady’s going to help? Besides giving us info, that is.”
“Who knows?” Ronnie shrugged, squinting at the horizon. Black was giving way to gray. “We better hurry.”
His aching jaws finished chewing, and he swallowed the masticated pulp with a grimace. Right then, he’d have given anything for a cup of coffee and a plate of eggs and bacon. Wishful thinking.
Rinsing the taste from his mouth, he packed his gear. After checking his guns, he turned to Mike. “Anything?”
“It’s quiet. The guards are huddled around a fire.”
Ronnie looked where he pointed, his eyes fixing on four figures huddled around a trash can. Yellow flames flickered around the top, casting an amber glow on the men sitting around it. “Any patrols?”
“None so far. I figure the cold is making them lazy.”
“Cold’s making me lazy too.”
“Yeah, I’m looking forward to my bed, I’ll tell you that.”
“Makes two of us.” Ronnie shifted his rifle and pack into position. “If I get pinned down or caught, make a run for it okay? Warn the rest.”
Mike nodded but didn’t answer.
Not wasting another second, Ronnie turned to go. His eyes had adjusted. With the lightening sky, he had enough vision to make out where he was going. He picked his way across the roof, and dropped his body over the side, feeling for footholds. His toe landed on the edge of an open window, and he shifted sideways until he stood on the ledge. With one hand, he felt for the brink of the windowsill and pulled his body through. He landed with a muffled thump, holding still for several seconds.
All was quiet.
The upstairs office he was in was still empty, the thick layer of dust covering the furniture undisturbed. Ronnie shifted his pack, settling it in place and unslung his rifle. This is where the shit starts.
He slipped out of the room into the hallway and made for the stairs. The absolute quiet was unnerving, the lack of light rendering him blind. He dared not use a flashlight and had to navigate by feel. Each step had to be taken with care.
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