Seize Another Day (Dangerous Days - Zombie Apocalypse Book 4)

  Baileigh Higgins

  Seize Another Day

  Book 4 Dangerous Days

  Copyright © Baileigh Higgins, 2018

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

  First edition

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  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1 - Michael

  Chapter 2 - Hiran

  Chapter 3 - Max

  Chapter 4 - Breytenbach

  Chapter 5 - Martin

  Chapter 6 - Lisa

  Chapter 7 - Michael

  Chapter 8 - Hiran

  Chapter 9 - Michelle

  Chapter 10 - Logan

  Chapter 11 - Breytenbach

  Chapter 12 - Nadia

  Chapter 13 - Max

  Chapter 14 - Michael

  Chapter 15 - Hiran

  Chapter 16 - Agatha

  Chapter 17 - Breytenbach

  Chapter 18 - Michelle

  Chapter 19 - Agatha

  Chapter 20 - Lisa

  Chapter 21 - Nadia

  Chapter 22 - Logan

  Chapter 23 - Martin

  Epilogue I - Julianne

  Epilogue II - Nadia

  You're a Survivor!

  Sneak Preview

  About the Author

  Acknowledgments

  Many thanks to my family and friends for their tireless support and dedication to me during good times and bad. Also, a quick shout-out to Angie from Pro_ebookcovers for the lovely book covers she designed for this serial.

  I love and appreciate you all!

  Chapter 1 - Michael

  For the third time that night, Michael was awoken by screams. He bolted upright and reached for Mpho’s shivering form. “It’s okay. Shh. It’s just a bad dream.”

  She whimpered as he pulled her closer, her cheeks gleaming with salty tears. “I keep seeing her every time I fall asleep. Why can’t I stop seeing her?”

  “It’ll get better in time, I promise,” Michael said. He spoke from experience. How many nights hadn’t he jerked awake gasping after seeing Valerie’s swollen face and glazed eyes for the hundredth time?

  Mpho shook her head. “I keep imagining what it must have been like for her, my grandmama. The pain and the suffering she endured before she finally died. Did she feel them eating her? Was she still alive when they found her?”

  “Don’t,” he said. “You’ll go mad if you do that.”

  “I can’t help it. It’s my fault. I left her there; I angered Hiran.” Fresh sobs wracked her body. “She died because of me.”

  Michael closed his eyes as cold anger welled up inside his breast. It coiled there like a snake, feeding his desire for revenge. Deep hatred for Hiran had taken root inside his heart, the kind of hate that could only be washed away by blood.

  Mpho’s haunted voice cut him to the quick. She was the first woman he’d cared about since Valerie, the first person he’d allowed anywhere near his heart. In her, he had a second chance. A real shot at happiness. I can never change what I did to Val, can never take it back, but I can try my best to make up for it by looking after Mpho.

  Which was why Hiran’s deed enraged him to the point of madness. It was that monster’s fault Mpho couldn’t sleep at night, that she walked around casting fearful glances over her shoulder and hardly ate anything until her body resembled that of a little bird’s. I’ll kill him. I swear it. One day, I’ll find him, and I’ll rip his intestines out with my bare hands.

  The next morning, he got ready for his shift on the wall while Mpho dressed for her stint in the vegetable gardens. She was quiet, even more so than usual. Before he left, he paused to take her in his arms. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m okay,” she mumbled even though her tone indicated she was anything but fine.

  He kissed her gently on the lips, rubbing his thumbs over her cheeks. “I love you. Just remember that whenever it gets rough. I love you, and I’ll always be there for you. Always.”

  She nodded and lowered her eyes. “I know, and I love you too.”

  “I’ll see you later,” he said before leaving the small cottage he shared with her.

  The sun rose later now, and its bright rays did little to dispel the chill in the air. A stiff breeze cut through his jacket, and his breath puffed out in clouds of white. He sped up to a jog, and by the time he reached the wall to take up his shift, he’d worked up a light sweat.

  “Am I glad to see you,” Max said as he abandoned his post. “I’m freezing my nuts off here.”

  Michael grinned. “Get some coffee in you. You’ll feel better in no time.”

  “Man, I hope so.”

  Michael took Max’s spot next to the main gates, while Liezel relieved Kirstin up in her tower, and Lenka swapped posts with Josh and Jed. During the day, three guards were enough while at night they preferred four.

  After exchanging greetings, Michael began to patrol, walking from one end of the wall to the other with restless energy. He kept an eye on the activity within the grounds and marveled at the people’s resilience.

  In the days since Ke Tau’s disastrous attack, the inhabitants had recovered quickly. Everyone worked overtime to keep the place running, waking at dawn and going to bed only when their chores were done.

  It was tough, but nobody complained. He didn’t mind either; it kept his mind off things. He only wished he could spend more time with Mpho.

  Once again he thought of Hiran, and bitter bile rose in his throat. That day was still branded into his brain with all the clarity of a lightning strike on a moonless night. Rebecca’s ravaged corpse, the message carved above her head, the dead women and children inside the building. All the work of one man.

  Restless, Michael stalked along the length of the walls. His gaze panned over the horizon, but there was nothing but winter crops, dead grass, and bleating goats as far as the eye could see.

  A voice broke into his brooding thoughts, and he turned to see Lisa climbing onto the wall. “Hi, Michael.”

  “Hi,” he said.

  “Are you too busy to talk?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Do I look that busy?”

  She shrugged and came to stand next to him. “Sorry.”

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  She hesitated for a brief second. “It’s Mpho.”

  “What about her?”

  “I haven’t seen her all day,” Lisa said.

  Michael frowned. “She’s supposed to work in the vegetable gardens today.”

  “I know, but she never showed.”

  “Maybe she changed her mind and went somewhere else.”

  Lisa shrugged. “Maybe, except I’ve asked around, and nobody else has seen her either.”

  Michael’s stomach dropped. “What?”

  “I went to her room and knocked, but got no answer, and the door’s locked.”

  A sense of foreboding stole over him, and the skin on his arms pebbled. It wasn’t like Mpho to flake on her duties, nor did anyone in camp bother to lock their doors. What was the point? They had nothing of worth to steal.

  “Can you take over for me?” he asked. “I’ve got to make sure she’s okay.”

  “Of course. Go ahead.”

  “Thanks.”

&nb
sp; “Michael,” Lisa called as he turned away. “Be careful. I think…I think she might be a danger either to herself, or others.”

  Michael jumped down the ladder in one swift move and landed hard on the ground. Ignoring the stares of curious onlookers, he sprinted through the camp at full speed. When he reached the single room they shared, he rattled the handle.

  Locked.

  He banged on the door with his fist. “Mpho! Are you in there?”

  No answer.

  He squinted through the windows flanking the entrance but could see nothing through the thick curtains. “Mpho!”

  When all he got was more silence, he threw himself at the door. His shoulder connected with brutal force, and it shuddered in the frame. Another blow caused the wood around the lock to splinter, and a final hard push burst it open. Michael half fell inside and paused to collect himself. “Mpho, where are you?”

  A slight creak sounded from the bathroom, and he made his way across the small space while his eyes adjusted to the gloom. The door was open a crack, and he raised a hesitant hand to nudge it with his fingertips. “Mpho?”

  The door swung wide with a low creak, and Michael sucked in a breath. His eyes fixed on the sight of Mpho’s slender body swaying gently to and fro. A stool lay toppled over beneath her feet, and her long braids framed her face. He reached out to touch her hand. The skin was icy to the touch.

  Pain lanced through his heart, cutting him to the quick. His mind whirled in all directions, a tornado with no purpose. For a second, Valerie’s dead face became superimposed upon that of Mpho’s. Again. You lost her again. It’s your fault. You didn’t love her enough.

  He shook his head. “No, I loved her too much. That’s why I killed her…I…I couldn’t let her go…not with him. Never!”

  Guilt poured through his veins as the barely repressed memories surfaced after all these months. He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes and tried to deny the truth. He was a killer. Always would be. “No.”

  He looked up at Mpho’s face. She’d forgiven him. She’d made him a better man, taught him to forgive, showed him how to love. But she’s dead, and once again it’s your fault.

  “No,” he whispered in fruitless denial. He’d loved Valerie too much to let her go, and Mpho not enough to convince her to stay with him. He was a failure. A killer.

  “Mpho. Why? Why did you do it?” he asked, his voice hoarse with the need for control. “I was here, right here. All you had to do was hold on.”

  There were no answers for him.

  Nothing but silence.

  Michael leaned his forehead against her middle and clung to her body. He squeezed his eyes shut as the pain inside threatened to consume him. The hurt and anger coalesced into a knot of feeling so intensely bitter, he blocked it off utterly.

  Finally, he let go.

  After righting the stool, he cut the rope she’d tied around the beam and carried her body outside. Muted gasps rose when others spotted him and noted his terrible burden. Blurred figures rushed over, and voices rose in the air.

  “Michael?”

  “What happened?”

  “What did she do?”

  “What’s going on?”

  The questions buzzed around him like angry bees, but he ignored them all and made his way toward the burial plot on the far side of camp. Dr. Lange was already there, summoned by Max, his face sorrowful. “Michael.”

  “Doctor,” Michael answered though he barely noticed the doctor.

  Lisa walked over, her eyes brimming with tears. “I’m so sorry. I should have come to you sooner.”

  He didn’t listen to her either.

  None of them mattered as he lay Mpho down on the grass and removed the rope from her neck. Purple bruises mottled her throat, the delicate skin broken. Her eyes were wide and staring, filled with blood from tiny burst blood vessels. He closed them, still fighting the grief that threatened to tear loose with every breath he took. Why? Why did you leave me?

  Max approached but wisely said nothing. Instead, he offered Michael a shovel, while he held the second one himself. Together, they dug the grave, joined after a few minutes by Logan and Breytenbach.

  Martin appeared with a wooden cross, painted white and engraved with Mpho’s name. Elise and Julianne covered her form with a sheet, and Dave brought out his Bible. As they lowered Mpho’s body and covered her, Dave read from Psalms before ending off with a prayer.

  Michael functioned on autopilot, the drone of Dave’s voice just background noise to his ears. None of the words meant anything real. Without uttering a word, he turned and walked away.

  Once inside the room he used to share with Mpho, he fished out a backpack from underneath the bed. With studied movements, he packed his things and armed himself. Clothes, toiletries, rifles, sidearm, knife, ammo, a bedroll, and canteen.

  He was ready to leave when something caught his eye. Mpho’s necklace, the one she’d inherited from her mother and never took off, lay on the dresser. Beneath it was a folded scarf.

  Michael picked up the delicate gold cross necklace and stared at it. The scarf, crimson red, still held Mpho’s scent, and he pressed it to his nostrils. She’d left these things for him, he was sure of it.

  A final farewell.

  He slipped the jewelry over his head, and the cross came to rest above his heart. The scarf he stuffed into his backpack. The items would serve to remind him of his loss...and his newfound purpose.

  Revenge.

  Chapter 2 - Hiran

  Hiran stared into the flickering flames of the campfire. The swirling orange and yellow designs fascinated him. If he looked hard enough, he could almost see faces in the patterns. The faces of his enemies, mostly dead now. The faces of his family. All gone now. The faces of his friends. Not many of those. He wasn’t the type to kindle casual relationships. They required too much effort for too little reward.

  The fire crackled, and he squinted, concentrating on the soft features that emerged before him. Full lips, high cheekbones, a smooth brow, and dark eyes framed by long lashes. Mpho.

  Hiran hissed in anger and shifted forward, leaning closer to the flames. Yes. It was her. The siren who’d sung her treacherous songs, drawing him into her web. Something about her had appealed to him even though he resisted at first. Love was a waste of time, and affection a distraction from the reality of life.

  As if she could hear his thoughts, Mpho’s lips twisted into a mocking smile. Her gaze burned into his, and his breath caught in his throat. Even now, he desired her. Witch.

  A log cracked, split in half by the fiery heat, and settled into the coals with a thud, sending up a spray of sparks. They flashed like tiny fireflies, floating for a few seconds before turning to ash. Mpho’s image was gone.

  Hiran leaned back in his chair, lips twisted in anger. With casual disdain, he extended one booted foot before him as his thoughts winged back to the day of the attack.

  He’d planned it all in the finest detail. After helping Ke Tau to win a great victory over the inhabitants of the camp, he would have asked for Mpho as his reward. The leader would have given her to him; there was no doubt about that. He’d have taken her for himself, saved her from the attention of Carlito and his ilk. You could have been my queen.

  It was not to be, however. Rebecca interfered, sending her beloved granddaughter out into the night to inform the camp of the surprise attack in an unprecedented act of rebellion. Not only that but Ke Tau lost his mind, refusing to listen when Hiran warned him they’d lose the fight.

  All the signs were there. The camp held the superior position, and once their reinforcements arrived, it was over. Yet, Ke Tau, in his arrogance and hatred, decided to push ahead with the plan and lost.

  Stupid fucking asshole, Hiran thought with a shrug. Now I’m the leader.

  It was bound to happen at some point. He’d have betrayed Ke Tau in any case. Wrested the power from his hands, but it would have been after they got rid of their enemies. After they consolida
ted their hold on the town, and after he got Mpho.

  Mpho. The little bitch had betrayed him. After everything he’d done for her, all the times he’d saved her from Carlito, given her extra food and clothes, this was how she repaid him.

  With smooth motions, he lit a cigarette and took a deep drag. The smoke curled from his nostrils before exiting his lips in a billowing cloud as he exhaled.

  It didn’t matter. None of it did. He was here, alive and in charge of several dozen men. Once he had enough, he’d go back. Go back and finish what Ke Tau started. And I won’t botch the job as he did. I’ll kill every last one of them. Except her. Mpho will beg for mercy once I’m done with her. Just like her grandmama.

  With a smile of satisfaction, Hiran got to his feet. It was getting late, and he needed his sleep. Tomorrow was going to be a long day, after all. One filled with big plans.

  He stubbed out his cigarette and walked around the perimeter, checking that everything was in place. They were encamped in an abandoned caravan park on the outskirts of Bloemfontein.

  The place was a dump. The fence was in tatters, the grounds overgrown, and the ablution blocks a nightmare of overflowing sewage. Still, it suited his current need for invisibility. It was unlikely either he or his men would be discovered there.

  When they’d first arrived, the men had opened up a clearing and strung wires from one tree to another in a rough circle to form a barrier for the undead. It was crude but effective.

  Around the clock, guards took care of any of the wandering corpses, and for the most part, they lay low, keeping quiet, cooking on small concealed fires, and leaving the site at night time only to travel under the cloak of darkness.

  Hiran walked past the guards, satisfied when he saw they were all alert and upright. They nodded as he passed, greeting him with respectful murmurs. Either that or fear. He didn’t care which. While he wasn’t as needlessly cruel as Ke Tau had been, the men knew better than to mess with him. A figure approached him from the dark, and he slowed. “George?”

  “Yes, Boss, it’s me.”