Bit by bit, he worked his way through the building. His ears were tuned for the slightest hint of noise. A rustle. A scrape. Anything to warn him of the presence of others. His nostrils flared, searching for smells that were out of place.
On the first day, they’d checked the place, making sure it was empty. That didn’t mean it was safe now. A zombie could have found its way inside through the broken windows, a guard on patrol could have decided to take a look-see inside and stayed. Anything was possible.
It was this thought that set his nerves on edge and caused his heart to thump in his chest. Minutes felt like days, the corridors impossibly long. It was with infinite relief that he reached the front doors. A whisper escaped his lips. “Thank fuck.”
Outside, the sky had turned to mottled gray, thick clouds promising rain. Ronnie checked his watch. He didn’t have much time. The woman made her first round at six, and he’d better be in position before she did.
The night before, he’d mapped out a route to the bus from his perch on the roof. After a quick check to make sure it was clear, he set out. Using every available bit of cover, he crossed the street, praying the guards wouldn’t move from the warmth of their fire.
His path took him right past the body of a zombie lashed to a pole. Its decayed lips peeled back when it saw him, exposing blackened teeth. It rasped, struggling against the ropes that held it. The elements had eaten away at its flesh, rendering the infected sexless and without discerning features.
The hulking shape of the bus loomed ahead, and he sped up, reaching its rusted metal sides within moments. Dropping to his knees, he checked under the bus, looking for movement. Then he glanced up at the roof where Mike lay, waiting for the signal. Seconds passed. The saliva in his mouth dried up. Was someone coming? Had they spotted him?
A flash of movement showed. He narrowed his eyes, picking up the flutter of white cloth. It was a small enough action so as not to be easily seen by the guards. His cramped shoulders slumped with relief. The all-clear signal. Ronnie wedged himself into the corner where the bus and concrete trash bin connected, rifle at the ready and checked his watch. Five to six. She’ll be here soon.
With one eye on his surroundings and another on the roof, he settled down to wait. Time passed slowly, his senses set to red-alert the entire time. At last, he heard the crunch of footsteps. On the roof, Mike waved the white cloth again. It was her, and she was alone.
The old woman rounded the corner of the bus; her eyes were fixed on the ground. She drew closer until she lifted her head and saw him. Her mouth fell open. Ronnie shook his head, a single finger held across his lips in a frantic gesture to be quiet. She closed her mouth.
“I’m here to help,” he whispered.
She looked over her shoulder then back at him. Her expression was guarded. “Who are you?”
“I’m a friend. I won’t hurt you; I just want to help.”
Terror and hope chased each other across her face. Hope won the battle. “Help? You’re here to help?”
“Yes.” Ronnie got to his feet, moving slowly and with care. He reached out a hand, palm out. “Please, I just need to talk to you.”
“Talk?” She glanced over her shoulder again.
“I need to know a few things. Quick, before someone comes or they miss you.” He drew closer, looking into her old eyes. “You can trust me, I promise.”
She hesitated.
“Please. If you help me, I can save you from Ke Tau and his men.” Her expression changed when he named the leader of the gang, hate deepening the lines on her face.
“You will kill him?” She stepped closer, a claw-like hand gripping his forearm. “You swear?”
“Yes,” Ronnie replied. “I do.”
“What do you want to know?”
Chapter 22 - Breytenbach
Breytenbach rubbed his temples, massaging the ache lodged between his eyes in the hopes it would go away. A bottle of painkillers mocked him from the table, alluring in its promise of freedom from pain. It was a false hope, one that carried consequences. He couldn’t allow narcotics to cloud his judgment. With a sigh, he pushed it away, taking a deep swallow of water instead. The cool liquid revived him, clearing his mind for the ordeal ahead.
Since he had awoken from the coma, much of his strength had returned. Within days, he was walking around and overseeing gun practice, even volunteering for kitchen duty. The headaches continued to plague him, nagging at the edges of his existence. That and a debilitating weakness in his left arm that struck at odd times.
“Are you all right?” Julianne’s soft voice drifted to him from the chair to his left, her eyes fixed on his face with an expression of concern.
Breytenbach nodded and cleared his throat. “I’m fine. Just tired.”
“It’s been a long night,” she agreed. Her hand reached out to rest on his forearm, her fingers imparting a pleasant warmth to his skin. “Shouldn’t we postpone the meeting, perhaps?”
“No, we can’t afford to. It’s been two weeks already since Ke Tau and his men ambushed Ronnie and the others.”
“Surely it can wait a few more days?”
“Ke Tau won’t wait. He will be planning his next move, perhaps even striking soon. In the meantime, we’re confined to this camp, wasting precious resources guarding our walls against attack. Resources that could rather be used to resolve our other pressing problems.”
“I know but…” Her fingers squeezed his wrist. “You need to rest, Christo. You’re not fully recovered yet.”
“I’m all right, sweetheart. I’ve had enough rest to last a lifetime.” Breytenbach offered Julianne a smile. “I need to move, to be active. I can’t lie around in bed all day while people need me.”
Julianne bit her lower lip, teeth worrying at the flesh. “Just promise me you won’t kill yourself in the process. I need you as well.”
“I’m not going anywhere. That you have my word on.”
He gathered up the scattered notes in front of him, aligning their borders until they represented a neat pile. A tremor worked through his arm, rustling the papers until they shook. Before Julianne’s sharp eyes could spot the movement, he slammed his hand down on the table and placed the other over it.
Despite Jonathan’s objections, Breytenbach had insisted on chairing this meeting alongside Max. The good doctor felt he was overexerting himself, but this session was of the utmost importance. It was one that might very well decide their future. “What’s on the itinerary first?”
Julianne glanced at the list in front of her, pursing her lips. “Dr. Lange has requested to speak to us.”
“Lange? That’s odd. We hardly ever see the guy.”
“I know, and he never goes anywhere without that brute following him either.”
“Michael?” Breytenbach frowned. “He’s not so bad. Just loyal to a fault.”
“Well, in any case, they should be here soon.” Julianne glanced at her watch. “Five minutes to be exact.”
“Where’s Max?”
“He’s checking the state of the fences and walls with Joseph. They’ll be along any moment.” Julianne ran her eyes over the list. “Lucas is working on the grid. I doubt he’ll show. Too much work. Elise can’t make it, either.”
“Can’t make it?” Breytenbach eyed the spot in the middle of the table where Elise usually put the snacks. His stomach rumbled upon being reminded that it was empty.
“She’s busy.” Julianne refused to meet his eyes, her gaze fixed upon her hands.
“Did you two argue?”
“No.”
“Julianne?”
“All right, all right.” She sat back with a huff, crossing her arms. “We had a minor disagreement, okay? Nothing serious.”
“Let me guess. It’s about a particular young prisoner, am I right?”
“Yes.” An indignant look crossed Julianne’s face. “She treats him like a…a…”
“Like a child?” Breytenbach finished in a mild tone of voice.
&
nbsp; “Exactly!”
“That’s because he is a child, Julianne.”
“No, he isn’t. He’s young but not a child. Not by a long shot.” Julianne’s lips thinned to a fine line, and her eyes narrowed. “As a criminal, he doesn’t deserve special treatment.”
“You don’t know what he is. We don’t know anything about him. Not for sure, anyway.” Breytenbach sat back, suppressing a sigh. “At this stage, it’s all speculation.”
“Now you sound like Elise.”
“That’s because she has a point.”
“Better to be safe than sorry.” Julianne’s voice took on a sharp edge, her cheeks flushing with angry blood. “Until we know for sure, I’m not trusting him for one second.”
“I’m not asking you to trust him. I’m asking you to trust me.” Breytenbach leaned forward and took her hand in his. “I’d never let anything happen to you or the kids. You know that.”
“I know.” Julianne sighed, squeezing his fingers. “It’s just so hard, seeing him walk around eating our food and wearing our clothes, knowing what he’s done.”
“If he has done any of those things, we’ll find out, and he’ll get his just punishment.” Breytenbach paused. “In the meantime, give him the benefit of the doubt, at least.”
“Fine, just don’t expect me to act like he’s just a regular teenager because he’s not. I don’t want him anywhere near either Meghan or Sam.”
“Lisa wouldn’t let him anywhere near them.” Breytenbach chuckled. “That’s one mean-tempered little girl.”
The corner of Julianne’s mouth quirked, and she looked away.
“Come on, admit it,” Breytenbach teased.
“Yeah, okay. She’s a firecracker. Goes with the red hair, I suppose,” Julianne admitted. “Still, I feel kind of bad for asking her to babysit Kabelo.”
“Don’t feel sorry for her. Lisa needs to work through her feelings of anger.” Breytenbach tapped his fingers on the table in a rhythmic jig. It relieved the shaking in his hand somewhat. “It’ll be good for her.”
“Really?” Julianne’s brows lifted.
“Or she might just kill him. Who knows?”
“You think she might do that?”
“If he pisses her off enough…” Breytenbach trailed off. “She certainly is capable of it. At any rate, I’ll be keeping an eye on those two. Both of them, all the time.”
“Maybe we should—”
A sharp rap on the door interrupted her and Michael walked in, followed by Dr. Lange. Breytenbach stood up and extended his hand, shaking theirs briefly. “Dr. Lange, Michael. Nice to see you.”
“Captain,” Michael greeted. His dark eyes cut around the room, missing nothing. “Where are the others?”
“They’ll be along shortly. Today’s meeting is a small one.”
“But an important one, I hear,” Michael said.
Breytenbach’s eyes narrowed. “Where did you hear that? We kept it quiet so as not to alarm everyone.”
“I have ears.”
“So I see. Sit, won’t you?” Breytenbach gestured to the table. “Dr. Lange, have a seat.”
“Thank you, Captain,” Dr. Lange replied, sliding into a chair.
Michael ignored the proffered seat, choosing instead to make his way to the corner where the coffee waited. He poured himself a cup then leaned against the wall, sipping the bitter black brew while his hooded eyes flickered over each of them in turn.
Breytenbach took his seat, proffering a smile to the doctor. “Julianne says you asked to meet?”
“Yes, indeed.” Dr. Lange nodded. “Let me get straight to the point. I understand we’re in a bit of a pickle? The camp, I mean.”
“Understatement of the year, but yes, we find ourselves in an awkward position.”
“Do you know what you face? Do you have a strategy in place to deal with the problem? Backup plans? Anything?” Dr. Lange’s earnest eyes fixed on Breytenbach, and he leaned forward, placing a thin hand on the table. His features were lively, the fingers of his hand moved ceaselessly, plucking at a seam in the wood.
Breytenbach’s eyes traveled to Michael, taking in the latter’s alert state of rest before cutting back to Lange. “May I ask why you’re so interested?”
“Besides the obvious? That I live here now and have a vested interest in keeping my body from expiring? Becoming a plaything to some gang member with glorified ideas of self?” Dr. Lange shrugged. “I’d like to help. As I said, I live here now. I’m one of you.”
Breytenbach studied the doctor for a moment, taking in minute details. The man had filled out, his cheeks no longer gaunt and his eyes bright instead of haunted. The shirt he wore was clean, the old lab overcoat free of stains. Quite a change in such a short time.
“I’m glad you feel that way, and I’m sure we can use all the help we can get. You’re welcome to stay for the meeting if you like. Suggestions are always welcome.”
“Thank you.” Dr. Lange sat back with a faint smile.
“May I say you are looking well, Doctor,” Julianne said.
Lange nodded, the movement quick and birdlike. “You may. I feel well. The loss of my lab hit me hard, but it’s time to move on. Recoup.”
“Recoup?”
“Yes, I have begun writing down my findings and discoveries. Copying the work that I lost.” Lange laughed. “What I can remember, at any rate.”
“Which is a just about everything,” Michael interjected. “The doctor here has an eidetic memory.”
“Really?” Julianne sat up straight. “That’s amazing. Does this mean your work isn’t all lost? Can you continue with your research?”
“Yes, and no.” Lange shook his head. “Yes, my work is not lost. Not all of it, at least. But without the proper facilities and equipment, I cannot continue my research.”
“That’s a shame.”
Julianne’s face mirrored the disappointment Breytenbach felt. “Perhaps,” he interjected, “when this is all over, we can revisit the idea of getting you the equipment you need.”
“Perhaps,” Lange agreed. “Now, can you get us up to speed on the current situation?”
“All right. Here’s the deal. Mike and Ronnie went on recon. They returned this morning and will present us with their findings. I have already been briefed.” Breytenbach drummed his fingers on the table, nervous energy tingling through his veins. “Max and Joseph are inspecting our defenses. At the meeting, they too will present their thoughts. Then we decide on a plan of action.”
“I see. We shall simply have to wait.”
“You won’t have to wait long,” Max said, his large frame filling the doorway. “Joseph and I are done with our inspections.”
Joseph walked into the room, slumping down in the nearest chair. He looked tired, and the worry lines on his face were more pronounced than usual.
“So?” Julianne asked. “What do you think?”
Max shook his head, pulling out a chair. The legs scraped across the floor, the metal legs settling slightly off-kilter on the uneven tiles. “Let’s wait for the rest to get here first. Who are all coming?”
“Besides you and Joseph, nobody. Lucas is repairing an electrical fault, and Elise is busy.”
“Elise is here,” the woman in question interrupted as her head appeared around the doorjamb. Her face was followed by two hands gripping a tray piled high with biscuits. She placed it in the middle of the table, avoiding Julianne’s gaze. An uncomfortable silence fell.
Breytenbach cleared his throat, shuffling the papers in front of him. “Everybody is here so we can begin. Max. Joseph. What is the state of our defenses?”
Joseph leaned forward in his chair, placing his hands on the table. “We’ve cleared a wide swath of vegetation around the camp, allowing for an open field of fire. The gate has been fortified as has the walls and watchtowers.”
“Can we hold if another horde arrives?”
“I don’t know.” Joseph shook his head. “It depends on the size of the swarm
. I’ve done all I can with the material available.”
“We could dig more trenches at strategic points,” Max offered. “Fill them with sharpened sticks like the moat.”
“That didn’t stop the infected the last time,” Julianne pointed out. “They simply filled the hole until their bodies formed a bridge.”
“Yes, but if we dig enough trenches, it will thin the herd and slow them down, at least.”
“Do we have the manpower to dig that many?” Breytenbach looked at Joseph.
He shrugged. “Hands are few, but we’ll do our best. At least we’ve got the backhoe.”
“All right. See what you can do.” Breytenbach looked at Elize. “How are our supplies holding up?”
“We’re doing well. Dave is busy cataloging the stores with the help of Michelle and the kids. Keeps them out of trouble.” She shrugged. “A rough estimate puts us at a few months if we’re careful. Plus it’s hunting season. We can cull a few animals from the game farm and store the meat. Our crops weren’t large, but helped a lot.”
“Good. That gives us breathing room, at least.” Breytenbach stared at the scarred wood of the table, following a seam with his eyes.
“Our more pressing concern is weapons training,” Max added. “Nobody has the time, and we need to be prepared to defend ourselves against an attack.”
Breytenbach thought about it. Able-bodied people were scarce and the work plentiful. There weren’t enough hours in the day to do everything. He sighed, aware that the dull ache in his skull was growing sharper by the second. “Why don’t we discuss this at dinner tonight in the common room? Everybody will be there. We can decide who to assign to what, work out a duty roster and squeeze the training in somehow.”
“Some of our younger and older members can take a more active role, perhaps,” Julianne suggested. “Also, we must implement stricter water rationing.”
Nods and murmurs of agreement followed each other around the table even though nobody was thrilled at the prospect of more infrequent baths.
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