Live Another Day

by Baileigh Higgins

  “Really?” Max craned his head toward the far outer gates. As yet, he could see nothing but prayed Liezel was right.

  “She said four vehicles, right? Breytenbach only had two,” Michael pointed out.

  “I know.” Max considered this. “We’d better be on our guard. This could be a trap.”

  “Right.” Michael turned and whispered instructions to Peter and Thembiso. They each shot in a different direction as they spread the latest news and orders to everyone assembled.

  Together they watched and waited. At last, Max spotted movement. “There.”

  “I see,” Michael replied.

  A convoy of vehicles emerged from the tree line and sped toward the barriers blocking the gates. They braked in a flurry of dust as their wheels kicked up sand, and figures emerged from the opening doors. “Can you see anyone? Breytenbach? Kirstin?”

  “No,” Michael replied.

  “Shit,” Max swore while he suppressed his irritation with the man. One minute he can see in the dark, now he can’t make out one lousy person’s face.

  Max longed for a pair of binoculars as he watched the figures drag the spiked contraption out of the way before unlatching the gates. Behind them, the first straggling line of undead appeared from the brush. “They’re not going to make it.”

  Nervous tension coiled in Max’s breast as he watched the growing spectacle playing out in front of him. Two of the figures dragged apart the barred gates, while two more shot at the approaching infected. Hurry, hurry, hurry!

  The last vehicle in line was swallowed up by the horde. Like ants over a pile of sugar, the infected covered it with their squirming bodies. The third truck suffered a likewise fate, and Max chewed on the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood. Meanwhile, the people outside the cars ran back to their doors and jumped inside with seconds to spare.

  They raced through the entrance of the camp. To Max’s relief, the two swamped cars made it out as well, shedding their layer of decomposed bodies like an old skin. It was too late to close the gates or the barrier, however, and he considered the outside area lost. Not that he’d expected the fence or moat to hold them off for long anyway.

  Max looked around him, mentally ticking off each person he came to. Because of their lack of numbers, he’d been forced to abandon the outer fences and concentrate on the inner walls, a decision he hoped wasn’t a mistake. Still, he knew he could count on each and everyone assembled. They were family, and family stood together.

  He motioned to Abraham and Phillip. “Get ready to open.”

  They nodded.

  He looked at Michael. “If it’s not them, shoot.”

  “Will do.”

  He looked around. “Everybody ready?”

  Yells of assent rose.

  We’re ready.

  The four vehicles raced up, and he held his breath as he waited. His eyes searched for Kirstin’s. Then he spotted her familiar blonde head, and his knees threatened to buckle. “It’s them, open up!”

  The bars were flung aside, and the weighted metal sheets pushed open. Breytenbach and the mystery trucks pulled inside with a flourish. The dead followed them in a straight line up the road, their faces decayed and contorted. A low hum of groans rose from their unified throats.

  “Close it now, hurry!” Max shouted at the ground unit even as he bounded down the ladder. He flung himself onto the left half of the gate and helped Abraham push the monstrosity shut with a clang. Together, they lifted the bars and slid it across.

  With their defenses intact once more, Max allowed himself a brief second to relax. Behind him, the first zombies reached the walls and began clamoring to get inside. He ignored them and searched for his beloved. There.

  “Kirstin!” He bounded forward and swooped her up in a crushing hold. His arms circled her waist as he lifted her slender body off the ground and spun her around in a circle.

  “Max.” Her lips found his, and they kissed until their surroundings faded away to nothing. Nothing existed but them and their embrace.

  “Where have you been? I’ve been so worried,” he murmured. “I’m never letting you go again, ever.”

  “And I you.”

  He kissed her once more, but she chuckled and pulled away. “You might want to put me down, Max. Old friends have come to see you.”

  “I don’t care.” He nuzzled her neck with his nose and breathed in her familiar scent.

  “You will once you see who it is.” She pushed him away with a firm nudge and turned toward the convoy of vehicles.

  Max’s gaze slid over them and came to rest on a familiar Land Rover, old and rusty but trustworthy. His brows lifted in amazement. “Logan?”

  Long legs clad in muddy boots and jeans slid from the driver’s side followed by a lean torso topped by broad shoulders and messy dark hair. Piercing grey eyes found him and lightened with instant joy. “Max!”

  “Logan, you son of a…where’ve you been? I’ve been worried sick.” Max leaped forward and grabbed his friend, enfolding him in a big bear hug.

  Logan laughed. “Come on. You always knew I’d be back, didn’t you?”

  “I’m surprised some zombie didn’t eat your skinny ass,” was Max’s acerbic comeback.

  “Nah, I’m too tough and gamey.” Logan clapped him on the back. “Anyway, I’ve got a surprise for you.”

  “Another one?” Max frowned as he looked in the direction Logan pointed.

  When he spotted Martin’s face, his jaw hit the floor. “Martin? It can’t be.”

  Martin grinned. “The one and only.”

  They clasped hands and hugged with much guffawing and exclamation until Breytenbach interrupted. “Hate to break up this happy reunion, but we’ve got an undead problem outside our gates.”

  Max sobered immediately. “You’re right. We’ve got a fight on our hands. Ke Tau is attacking tonight.”

  From the walls, battle cries sounded as the defenders stabbed at the encroaching undead with long spears. Max spotted both Abraham and Philip up there, along with Lisa, Mpho, Elise, and a few others under the leadership of Michael. Joseph and a couple of helpers were running down the sides, picking off those dead that seemed intent on encircling the camp.

  “Seems we arrived just in time, little brother,” Martin said, using Max’s old nickname with easy familiarity. “Do you need guns?”

  “We do.”

  “I’ve got a small cache stashed in the back of my truck.” Martin led the way and opened up a metal trunk containing several shotguns, R4’s, 9mm’s, AK47’s, and even a few grenades.

  Max allowed himself a satisfied smile and pocketed several of the explosives along with a few extra cartridges for his R4. “Just what we need to get rid of these fuckers hounding our doorstep.”

  Martin turned to a younger man at his side. “Josh, see to it that everybody is armed according to his or her expertise, okay?”

  Josh nodded. “I’ll still get to fight, won’t I?”

  Max laughed. With Martin and Logan at his side, he felt invincible. “There’s plenty to go around, trust me.”

  A few others hovered in a semi-circle, and Martin introduced them as Jed, Donya, and Caleb. “They’re all good fighters.”

  “Good to know.” Max spotted another girl hiding behind Logan. She had the most striking blue eyes he’d ever seen, and he paused. “Hello there. Who are you?”

  “Nadia,” she replied with a touch of defiance in her voice, almost as if she expected him to distrust her on sight. Weird.

  “Nadia’s a friend,” Logan said, one hand going to the girl’s shoulder.

  Interesti
ng. I’d like to hear more of this friendship later, Max thought. He clapped his hands together. “Right, let’s go.”

  He marched toward the wall but paused when he saw Ronnie and Lenka helping an injured Mike from the truck. The Irishman’s face was covered in bandages stained yellow with disinfectant. His right arm was likewise wrapped and held in a sling. One foot hovered in the air, shoeless, while patches of his skin were red and raw.

  Max turned to Breytenbach. “What happened? Is Mike okay?”

  “He’ll live,” Breytenbach replied in a strained voice. “We had a spot of trouble in town, that’s all.”

  Kirstin appeared at Max’s elbow and whispered in his ear. “The Captain is ill. He needs to go to the infirmary with Mike. Make sure he does.”

  With those cryptic words, she pecked him on the cheek and ran up the ladder towards the tower with her sniper rifle slung across her back. “What? How come I have to do it?”

  He looked at Breytenbach more carefully, and alarm filled him. The Captain stood with his arm around a tearful Julianne, leaning on her. That in itself was unusual. His face was pale, and his lips tinged with blue. “Captain, why don’t you and Julianne take Mike to the infirmary? We can handle things from here.”

  Breytenbach shot him a sharp glance. “Don’t patronize me.”

  Julianne tugged at his sleeve. “Christo, please. You’re not well. I just got you back, and I won’t lose you again.”

  Breytenbach hesitated then drew himself upright even while he swayed like a reed in the wind. “No, I can fight.”

  Max decided a more forceful approach was needed. “Captain, you’re of no use to anyone in this condition. You’ll only be a liability. Go.”

  Breytenbach blanched, but after a second, he lifted his chin and said, “Ronnie, Lenka, stay here. We’ll take Mike to the clinic.”

  “All right, Captain.” Ronnie saluted smartly before hurrying to the wall to join in the pitched battle raging along its length. Lenka followed more slowly, and only after a respectful bow to his leader.

  Breytenbach propped the suffering Mike up with one shoulder while Julianne took the other side. “Call me if you need me, Max. I’m not over the hill yet.”

  “Of course,” Max replied then watched as the trio walked off. Once they were gone, he sighed with relief. “Thank, God, he listened.”

  Logan jabbed him with an elbow. “Breytenbach and your Mom? That’s new.”

  “We’ve got lots to talk about,” Max agreed.

  “You have no idea.”

  “Later, guys. Right now, we have a job to do,” Jed reminded them.

  “You heard the man.” Martin grinned. “Let’s go to war, little brother.”

  Max and his group threw themselves into the fray with abandon. Eschewing the cumbersome spears, they used their guns to take out the zombies threatening their survival.

  Each volley of shots dropped a number of the undead, a testament to the marksmanship of Martin’s group. Not to mention Logan. He’s always been an excellent shot.

  Gradually the swarm of undead thinned with more dropping away by the second. Cries of triumph rose along the wall, and Max allowed himself to share a grin with Logan and Martin. “Good times, hey?”

  “So where’s this Ke Tau that Breytenbach told us so much about?” Logan asked during a lull.

  “Yeah, you can’t tell me this is all he’s got,” Martin added.

  “I’m expecting the snake to show his hand any moment now. He’s bound to, I mean,” Max replied.

  Max was proven right mere minutes later when a squad of off-road bikes wheeled onto the grounds. Each motorcycle carried a passenger armed with an automatic rifle of some sort and let rip at the walls as they flew past.

  People fell to the floor as bullets peppered their surroundings. A pained cry alerted Max, and he twisted his head to see Nombali crouched on her knees with blood pumping from her shoulder.

  “Peter, Thembiso,” he cried. “Get her to the infirmary now. The rest of you stay down.”

  He ducked beneath another hail of bullets and reached for the radio at his side. Martin shot him a confused look. “What’s that going to help?”

  Max grinned. “Kirstin. Can you take care of our little problem for us?”

  The radio crackled, and Kirstin’s smooth voice replied. “If I must.”

  Moments later, a rifle report cracked, and a biker cartwheeled through the air to crash land spectacularly. “What the hell was that?”

  “That,” Max replied as another rider was blown clean off his ride, “is my girlfriend.”

  Martin whistled. “You’d better hold onto her tight, or someone just might steal her.”

  Max’s face took on a funny look as a thought occurred to him. “You know what? You’re right.”

  When the last bike saw its early demise, Max clicked on the radio again. “Kirstin?”

  “Yes?”

  “Will you marry me?”

  Silence fell, and everybody around Max craned their heads to hear her reply.

  “Ja,” came the simple reply in her native tongue.

  “Yes,” Max crowed, fist-bumping Logan. “It’s a yes!”

  People cheered as he raised the mic to his lips and said in a dignified voice, “I’m honored you accepted my proposal.”

  She sighed audibly over the radio. “We have company, Max.”

  “Oh, yeah. Right.” He placed the radio on his belt and turned back toward the fight. This time, it was trucks with homemade armor. He pulled a grenade out of his pocket. “Up for some fireworks?”

  Martin grinned. “Thought you’d never ask.”

  Chapter 20 - Michael

  While Max met with Breytenbach and the strangers, Michael got himself ready for the onslaught of the undead. Like a herd of cows, they followed after the vehicles, drawn by the noise and movement that lured them forward.

  They crashed against the walls in a tidal wave of rotting flesh, their stink rising above them to fill the nostrils of the defenders. They reached upward with searching hands, and their fingers scratched at the barrier until the meat fell off the bone. The sound rising from their mouths was like the humming of a beehive. It vibrated through Michael’s skull until his jaw ached.

  “Right, all together now,” he shouted to those around them. “Quick and easy. Don’t get pulled over.”

  He jabbed downward with his spear and slid the point into the eye socket of the nearest infected. It stiffened and fell to its feet to disappear into the roiling mess of bodies. Pulling back his arm, he repeated the maneuver over and over.

  Mpho stood next to him, and her cry of triumph when she killed one, warmed his heart. Despite his protestations, she’d insisted on fighting today, and he felt proud to have her next to him.

  Not far off, Elise was dealing out death and destruction on a scale he’d never have thought possible from the middle-aged mother. She was a lot tougher than he’d given her credit for. She caught his look and flashed him a smile. “Like fish in a barrel.”

  “Indeed.”

  He lost himself in the rhythm of killing and scarcely noticed when Kirstin came flying past to scale the steps of the tower. A minute later, Abe descended and joined him with a spear in hand.

  “And now?” Michael asked. “Aren’t you one of our marksmen?”

  “Was,” Abe replied with a rueful shrug. “Kirstin kicked me out. She kept Liezel, though.”

  Michael snorted. “Women. Always trouble.”

  “Hey,” Mpho cried in mock protest.

  “Okay, fine. Some women.”

  Minutes later, they were
joined on the wall by Max and the newcomers, none of whom Michael knew. They were armed to the teeth and eager to fight, though, and that’s all he cared about.

  The till-then sporadic gunfire grew until the sound rolled across the clearing and even cloaked the sounds of the infected. Heads exploded, and bodies jerked as the bullets cut them down. One by one, they dropped to the ground to form a carpet of writhing corpses. Most dead, but some still clinging to unholy life.

  Mpho tugged at his sleeve. “We must watch for Ke Tau. He will attack soon. The dead are just the beginning.”

  “I know.” Michael straightened up and brushed the sweat from his brow.

  As if to bear out the truth of her words, a squad of dirt bikes raced through the open outer gates. Each rider wore full gear and carried a passenger armed with an automatic rifle. They blasted past the people on the walls and let off a volley of shots.

  People hit the decks, and someone screamed, though Michael couldn’t make out who. Exposed and vulnerable, the people of the camp were sitting ducks. Until Kirstin and Liezel opened fire, that is. With perfect precision, they picked off the riders until they were all down.

  Ke Tau wasn’t done yet, however, and sent a convoy of vehicles in next. They raced past the camp kicking up clouds of dust as their wheels spun out clods of grass. More gunfire came their way, and once more people ducked. Sniper fire was less effective against the drivers in their armored vehicles, and for a moment, things looked bleak.

  Max had an ace up his sleeve, though, and the first grenade took out two trucks. Explosions rang through the air, the vibrations running through the ground and up the walls to shake the foundations.

  Screams rang out, and the remaining undead were only too eager to descend on the wounded attackers stuck in their broken vehicles. Michael nodded with satisfaction and waited for the next attack to come.

  Something bothered him, though. The attacks, while attention-worthy, lacked any hint of cunning. More than that, they were missing a particular scar-faced warrior. Where is he, and what’s he up to?

  “Mpho, do you think this is it?”