Last Another Day Read online

  Waving to the full shelves, he couldn't help but smile. “That we did, Vicky. Help yourself.”

  “Oh, thank God! I was so worried there'd be nothing to feed people tonight.” Going through the shelves, she chose rice, salt, soup powder, and bully beef. Feeding three-thousand people was no joke. “There are even veggies here!” she cried, spotting cans of curried vegetables.

  Boxes of cereal and long life milk for breakfast rounded out her selection as Lieutenant Nathan loaded everything onto the forklift outside. “I'll send someone over with the stuff. See you tonight.”

  Smiling, she said, “See you both at the mess hall tonight.”

  “Will do, Vicky,” Breytenbach replied, watching her retreating form.

  Turning back to Lieutenant Nathan, they discussed the state of their supplies. It was a pitiful amount, and they were in dire straits. According to the Lieutenant, they only had enough to last two or three more days.

  “I'll go back to that grocery store tomorrow. The town is untouched. I'm going to need help, though. We can't load enough supplies into one vehicle and we'll need backup now that the townspeople are out of the church.”

  “I'll arrange with our other teams to join you tomorrow. I'm expecting them back any moment now.”

  “Have them meet me at the gates at dawn.” Breytenbach gestured to two backpacks. “I'm taking this to Jonathan. He asked for meds and vitamins this morning. Sounds like things are going from bad to worse.”

  “That it is.”

  Breytenbach trudged off in the direction of the medical tent, leaving the Lieutenant to his job. On the way, he stopped off at a large, khaki colored tent. The soldiers had donated it to a group of single women who were looking after orphaned children and babies.

  Ducking through the entrance, he spotted Mannuru, one of the teachers he had saved from the kindergarten weeks ago. She smiled when she saw him and walked over to a playpen. Inside, Samantha was sitting upright, playing with colored blocks. She was plump and pink-cheeked.

  “There's my little angel.” He reached inside one of his backpacks and produced a small teddy bear for her amusement. Giggling, she grabbed it and proceeded to smash its head into the bars. “You take after your mother, I see. A real fighter.”

  “She's doing well. So are the others,” Mannuru said, indicating the other children in the tent. They ranged from the ages of a few months to ten years of age and all of them were orphans.

  More casualties of war, he thought.

  Setting down the backpacks, he pulled out formula, vaseline, diapers and baby wipes. “I know it's not enough, but I'm getting more tomorrow, I promise.”

  “It's alright. I know you try,” she assured.

  “Any special requests?”

  “Yes. I request that you get some rest, Captain. You look exhausted and we all rely on you for our survival.”

  “I'll try.”

  He bent down on one knee next to the playpen and watched Samantha for a few minutes. He smiled when she chewed on the teddy bear's ear, drooling all over it. Acting like a proud father, he cheered when she pulled herself to her feet and stood there, swaying.

  “That's my girl.”

  He noticed it was getting late and took his leave of Samantha and Mannuru, sad to leave their happy little world. He made his way over to the medical tent where the doctor tended to a long line of the sick and suffering.

  “Captain. You made it, I see. Got anything for me?” Jonathan asked as he pulled off a pair of disposable gloves, tossing them into an overflowing bin.

  “I got you vitamins and over-the-counter cold and flu meds. It's not much but I should be able to get more tomorrow.”

  Breytenbach eyed the doctor, recognizing the signs of burnout. He was young, barely out of med school—which was probably why he preferred being called Jonathan—and idealistic.

  Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out two protein bars and handed it to Jonathan, ignoring his protests. “You need it more than I do. You're overworked and the only doctor we have. Eat.”

  Blushing, Jonathan took the bars, promising to eat them later but Breytenbach knew he'd give them to a sick patient or hungry child, instead.

  Oh well. I tried. God knows we all do.

  When Breytenbach reached the mess hall, dinner was being served. After queuing for fifteen minutes, he received a plate of rice with a generous portion of bully beef and curried vegetable stew from Vicky along with a cup of precious coffee.

  Sitting down on a plastic chair that groaned dangerously underneath his weight, he leaned his elbows on the rusty table and savored the food one bite at a time. Little by little, the ache in his stomach subsided, and the cramping stopped.

  Halfway through, he was joined by the rest of the team and they all ate their food in silence. They knew how little there was and enjoyed it to the full whenever they had it. Even Mike kept his mouth shut until his plate was empty.

  After everyone had finished their food, Breytenbach cleared his throat and looked at them. “Right everyone. So we've found a town that's still untouched by raiders so far. Tomorrow, we'll be setting out on a joint expedition with members of the SANDF. Hopefully, we’ll be able to empty all those stores of their supplies before anyone else finds it. Any questions?”

  “How many are going to join us?” Lenka asked in his signature deep voice.

  “I'm not sure. Lieutenant Nathan promised at least two trucks and twelve men, maybe more.”

  “Bah, we don't need them,” Lenka boomed, throwing a look of contempt at a nearby soldier, barely out of his teens. The poor boy took one look at Lenka's bulging muscles and hostile face and decided to have his dinner elsewhere.

  Laughing, Breytenbach said, “Maybe not but they can load the supplies.”

  Mollified by the idea that the soldiers would do the grunt work, Lenka relaxed into his chair with a grunt. Nobody else volunteered anything further, and they said their goodbyes, trudging off to their sleeping quarters.

  When he reached his tent, Breytenbach collapsed onto his stretcher. He was passed out and snoring within seconds, even forgetting to take his boots off. He slept fitfully, tossing and turning until he awoke several hours later, confused and disoriented.

  What the hell? Was that an explosion?

  Echoes of the blast rang in his ears and got him up in record time. He shoved his knives and sidearm into their holsters and grabbed his rifle, rushing outside. Another explosion rocked the night, and he pinpointed the direction. It was on the Western edge of camp, close to the gates.

  Grenade. It must be another breach.

  All around him, people were waking up, screaming and panicking. The whole camp had erupted into total chaos, with people running around like headless chickens. Pushing through the throngs of frightened people, Breytenbach made his way over to the blast area. It was dark and he tripped over tent poles and people, until a flare shot up, brightening the night sky.

  What the fuck? What idiot shot up a flare? Does he want to signal to the entire country's zombies that there's an 'all you could eat buffet' tonight?

  Another flare lit the sky.

  “I’m going to kill the bastard that did that.”

  Halfway to the fence, he was joined by Ronnie and Johan and together they forced their way through. When they arrived, Breytenbach's heart dropped into his boots. A whole section of the fence had been flattened and a horde of infected jostled for position, flooding the camp. Soldiers valiantly tried to stem the tide without success.

  There's hundreds of them!

  With a scream of pain, one soldier disappeared beneath the onslaught but only after pulling the pin on his grenade. It exploded, and a shower of dirt and body parts erupted into the air.

  Breytenbach grabbed a fleeing soldier and shoved him back. “Stand fast. We can’t let them in.” He turned to the breach, yelling at the faltering defense. “Hold them back. Hold!”

  He took a stand, flanked by Johan and Ronnie and they laid down suppressing fire on the horde
pouring through the gap. “Somebody man the damn RPG’s!”

  His rifle clicked on empty and he tossed it aside, picking up another dropped by a fallen soldier. His eyes landed on the man’s belt filled with grenades, and he fumbled for the buckle, pulling it off. With swift movements, he pulled the pin on one and tossed the entire string into the gap.

  A series of booms erupted, rendering the scene in brilliant light and awful silence as his ears sang. Lit by the explosions, Breytenbach saw the sheer amount of infected clamoring to push their way inside.

  It’s too late.

  Making a decision, he screamed at the soldiers, “Fall back. Evacuate now. Evacuate!” Turning to Johan and Ronnie, he added, “Get people to the vehicles. Spread the word then meet me at the Mamba in ten.”

  With that, he turned and ran for the orphan tent, shouting to people to get to the vehicles along the way. Here and there, he stopped to kill an infected but hardly slowed in his headlong rush. Bursting through the tent flap, he was met by screaming children and babies with the volunteers barely keeping order. “Get to the vehicles now. We're evacuating the camp.”

  Screams of panic met his announcement, but the women acted quickly, scooping up toddlers and babies and herding children outside. Breytenbach ran to Sam's crib, snatched her up and bundling her into a blanket. Clutching her with his left arm, he wielded his gun with his right.

  “Follow me,” Breytenbach ordered, storming into the night. It was absolute chaos outside, but he forged ahead with single-minded determination, checking now and then that the others were still behind him. An infected stumbled out of the darkness and onto him but he shot it without pause. Continuing on, he was joined by more people as he shouted at everyone to evacuate.

  Samantha screamed, but he ignored her. Someone was taken down by an infected and fell away into the darkness but Breytenbach didn't stop, knowing that salvation lay in getting to the vehicles.

  As the convoy came into view, he was relieved to see his team were all there, taking a stand against the growing tide of infected as people flowed around them. A handful of soldiers stood with them under the command of Lieutenant Nathan.

  “Come on!” Breytenbach shouted to the motley group behind him. His team spotted them and laid down cover fire until they reached safety. Visibility was poor, but the floodlights positioned alongside the fence took them out of the total darkness, at least.

  Reaching the Mamba, Breytenbach pushed Mannuru and a bunch of women and kids inside. “Johan. Get behind the wheel and get them out,” he ordered.

  Johan jumped in and pulled away, followed by a steady stream of other vehicles, all loaded to the brim. Breytenbach watched them go with a heavy heart. Most of the people in the camp were going to die tonight. There weren't enough vehicles to evacuate everyone. Samantha screeched like a banshee and with a start, he realized he still had her in his arms.

  “Fuck!”

  I should have given her to Mannuru.

  More people pressed in around them, screaming for help. Behind them, the infected swarmed like locusts, devouring everything in their path. The panicking crowd pushed forward, savage in their all-consuming fear.

  Bellowing to be heard above the screams, Breytenbach shouted, “Fall back. Fall back!” His team pulled together around him, forming an island of calm in the storm and together they backed away from the tide of people and infected.

  He aimed his 9mm with calm, taking down infected as they lunged out of the gloom. One appeared from the side and unable to get his gun up in time, he shouldered it hard, bowling it off its feet. It fell with a hiss, clawing for his boots until a bullet from Kirstin finished it off.

  Lieutenant Nathan closed the door on the last of the available trucks. It pulled away with seconds to spare as a large group of zombies swarmed him and the rest of the soldiers, engulfing them. The last Breytenbach saw of the lieutenant was a pale hand reaching out.

  The realization that all the vehicles were gone hit him then. He knew they'd never make it out on foot. Despair settled over his shoulders like a blanket, killing all hope. He didn't care so much about himself but Samantha. He looked down at her tear-stained face. He wouldn't let them touch her. Slowly, he raised the 9mm, heart hammering at the thought of what he was about to do.

  “Captain. Captain!” Breytenbach heard from behind.

  He looked around and saw Mike grinning at him. “The chopper. Get to the helicopter.”

  The crushing weight lifted off his shoulders and he lowered the gun. “You heard him. Make for the chopper.”

  Retreating steadily, his little group made for the Puma. Mike jumped in and began the process of lift-off.

  “Kirstin. Get in and cover us.” Breytenbach ordered the Norse sniper. She obliged while the rest of them circled the chopper, keeping the zombies at bay while Mike did his thing.

  As for the camp, it was finished. The zombies had done their work and most of the inhabitants were dead. The last survivors ran around, looking for a way out while infected lurched about, tracking their prey.

  From the camp, a low hum arose. Breytenbach froze, eyes searching for the source of the noise. At the edge of the light, his keen eyes picked out the first figure, running towards them with savage intent. “The camp's dead. They've turned.”

  “We've got runners!” Ronnie cried.

  The figure dropped as Kirstin picked it off but more surfaced from behind. Young and old, big and small, they were coming.

  The rotors were picking up speed, and the air swirled, damp and cold with the threatening rain. Backing up until he felt the vibrating metal of the chopper against his back, Breytenbach prepared to jump in after the last of his team. A hoarse shout drew his attention. Jonathan emerged from the gloom, clutching a leather bag to his chest. Behind him was a figure in full pursuit.

  Vicky.

  Her pale face shone in the poor light and her frizzy red hair formed a halo around her head. She was running fast, with all the concentration of a predator on her face. Jonathan would never make it.

  Kirstin sighted on Vicky's face. Her trigger finger moved imperceptibly, and a neat little hole punched into Vicky's forehead. Her body jerked backward, halting her headlong rush. She plowed into the mud. Jonathan gained a small lead but more took her place behind him.

  “Run!” Breytenbach screamed. He jumped into the chopper and took a knee, snapping off shots to clear a path for the hapless doctor. Jonathan reached the chopper with seconds to spare and dived in.

  “Go, Mike!”

  The Puma rose into the air, higher and higher until they were safe from the grasping hands of the infected. Thrusting Samantha into the arms of the red-faced Jonathan, Breytenbach leaned out to survey the camp as they gained altitude. Blood red streaked the sky to the East, bleeding into yellow and orange as it heralded the arrival of the sun.

  Below him, thousands of fresh infected overran the camp, flushing out and killing anything that still lived. He spotted a group of people running for the gates, seeking to escape. Like the bloodhounds they were, the infected followed and a mass exodus from the camp ensued.

  “God, I hope they make it,” Ronnie said.

  “Me too.”

  “What about the convoy?” Ronnie asked.

  “They should be well on their way by now,” Breytenbach replied. “We'll follow, find a safe place to hole up.”

  The Puma turned in a graceful arc, picking up speed as they flew over the snarling heads of the infected and the small group racing to safety on foot.

  “Wait! Wait for us!” one young woman screamed, tears streaming down her face as she stumbled on, supported by a young boy. The infected caught up, and they fell to the tearing hands and teeth, the small group disappearing beneath a mass of bodies.

  Minutes later, the infected moved on, following the convoy. Behind them, droplets of blood clung to the grass, glittering like rubies in the sun as silence fell.

  19

  Chapter 19 - Breytenbach

  Breytenbach gripped
the metal sides of the chopper with numb fingers and leaned out into the cold wind. Strands of hair whipped across his eyes as he searched for the convoy, although such a motley assortment of vehicles could hardly qualify for the word.

  Not that it mattered now. The only thing that mattered were the lives on board—the last remaining souls to escape the massacre. Mike dipped the chopper's nose and flew over the vehicles, heading for the front with Breytenbach squinting into the wind.

  A dark mass on the horizon alerted him to trouble. “Mike!” Breytenbach pointed at it and Mike flew towards it. As they neared the shapeless mass, individual forms became clear.

  Next to him, Kirstin sucked in a breath. “Captain,” she shouted over the rotors. “Infected.”

  “Oh, fuck,” Breytenbach swore as the truth sunk in. A horde was headed towards the convoy. Thousands and thousands strong. “We have to warn them. They've got to turn back.”

  “It's too late, Captain.” Kirstin leaned out and pointed to the lead car.

  It bounced and rattled on the rough dirt track, sliding around a corner as the wheels struggled to find grip in the slippery mud. The driver, seeing the mass of zombies ahead, slammed on the brakes.

  The car slid across the road, seemed to hesitate for a moment before the balance tipped and it flipped through the air, rolling to a stop near the lead zombies. The windows had smashed in the crash, allowing them easy access and they plucked the hapless victims from the wreck like sardines from a can. Breytenbach shut his eyes and turned away from the sight.

  The second car was close behind the first. It too tried to stop, ending up in a ditch on the side of the road. The third followed, making a frantic turn only to plow into the fourth, showering the road with glass and twisted metal.

  Breytenbach swallowed on the bile that rose in his mouth. “Mike. Find Johan. Now.”

  Mike complied, swinging the chopper low across the convoy. Towards the back, Breytenbach spotted the Mamba. “Radio Johan. Tell him to turn back.”