Last Another Day Page 7

  The doors were locked. Logan tried to pry open the security gates with a crowbar but they were impossible to break into.

  Eyeing the fence, Logan asked, “Give me a boost?”

  Balancing on Max's back, he peered over and studied the yard. In the far corner, he spotted movement. “I see something.” After a moment more, Max eased him to the ground. “There's one infected in the yard, probably a security guard.”

  “Let's go then.”

  They climbed over and approached the lone zombie. The ex-security guard stood with his back to them, moaning plaintively at something on the other side of the fence. Creeping up, Logan dispatched him with a swift blow.

  He bent down to wrench free his ax and search for the shop keys when Max whistled. “Would you look at that.”

  Logan looked up, through the chain-link fence into the next yard. A large warehouse dominated the grounds, surrounded by scraggly grass and patches of gravel. Attached by a chain to a tree, lay a large dog. Or at least, it used to be big. Now it was a mere shadow of one.

  “Ah, shit,” Logan swore. At the sound of their voices, the dog moved its head, gazing at them with glazed eyes. It was still alive.

  “That's what he was after,” Max said, nudging the dead security guard with his foot. “What do we do now?”

  “We try to save it,” Logan replied.

  They used the guard's keys to get inside and search the premises. They found a small truck, big enough to load everything they needed, a generator, a tank of fuel and bolt cutters.

  Filling a bowl with water, they headed back to the fence. After making a hole, Logan slipped through while Max stood guard. The dog was emaciated, but it had enough strength left to drink the water. Empty bowls next to the dog explained how it had managed to last till then.

  Probably drank rain water too.

  Logan rubbed its head, “There you go, boy. Drink up. We're taking you home.” He looked at Max. “Let's load him in the truck with the rest of the stuff and go home. We've got what we need.”

  “Yeah, let's not push our luck. The next place might not be so easy to hit,” Max cautioned. “We can always come back.”

  An hour later, they returned home to an astonished Elise and three excited kids. “Can we keep him?” Thembiso begged, deep brown eyes fixed on the dog.

  “Yes, we can keep him. If he lives,” Logan replied.

  “Oh, he'll live. I'll make sure of that,” Elise replied. “What he needs is some nourishing food. Thembiso, warm up a bowl of last night's soup. Peter, get him some water. Anne, why don't you make him a nice, warm bed?”

  Satisfied that the dog was in good hands, Logan and Max returned to their work. They unloaded their booty and spent the next few hours setting up the generator.

  “We should get a backup generator,” Max said. “And fuel. More water too.”

  “We're in deep shit, aren't we?”

  “I didn't want to say anything but yes, we are.” Max sighed. “What if a horde of those things attack? None of the others can fight and scavenging is dangerous with just the two of us. How long before one of us gets killed?”

  “I know.” Logan felt kinda good at the thought he was needed, but also stifled. On the one hand, he wanted nothing more than to run, on the other, to stay.

  They trudged back inside and sat down at a table. The kids chattered, excited by the new addition to their home whilst Elise dished up their food.

  As he ate, Logan looked around at the smiling faces that surrounded him. It was so warm, so comforting. Like home.

  I can't leave. Not now.

  The days passed, filled with ceaseless activity and hard work. The dog survived, his ribs filling out under Elise's care. They reinforced the doors and windows while Max taught Elise and the boys to shoot. He tried to teach Anne too but she cried every time they put a gun in her hands.

  Then, on the morning of the fifteenth day, something unexpected happened.

  Logan woke up with a start, ears pricked for danger. He was certain he had heard a noise. Getting up, he got dressed and looked out the window through a slit in the boards. It was still dark but the promise of dawn glimmered on the horizon.

  A hoarse cry of pain stole his attention once more. He spotted movement at the gate. People. He was sure of it. Logan moved fast, waking up Max and Elise.

  “Elise, stay here. Watch the children.”

  She nodded, eyes wide in her pale face.

  None of them knew what to expect.

  Together, Max and Logan approached the gate, guns at the ready. A small group of people huddled in front of it.

  “Who's there?” Max cried.

  A shadow detached itself from the group. “Are you survivors?” The voice belonged to an older man with iron-gray hair that could be seen even in the faint light of day. “Please, let us in. I'm begging you.”

  “Who are you?” Logan asked.

  “We're just like you. Survivors. Running from those things.”

  “Why should we trust you?”

  "Please. We mean no harm. We've got a pregnant lady here and a girl who's wounded. If we stay out here, we'll die."

  Logan glanced past him at the group. They looked like a pitiful bunch. A girl with red hair clutched a bloody rag tied around her arm, crying softly while supported by two young men. Another girl with black hair and eyes stared at Logan while a pregnant woman clung to her husband, exhausted.

  Logan gestured to Max. “Your call.”

  Max stared at the group. “Let them in.”

  7

  Chapter 7 - Elise

  Elise watched the sad little group troop into her home with a mixture of apprehension and fear. Who were they? What were they doing here?

  More importantly: What did they want?

  These questions and more milled through her mind as she struggled to keep the two boys and the over-excited Buzz under control. She needn’t worry about Anne, though. Her daughter was entrenched behind her, both fists knotted into her shirt-tail.

  Elise’s eyes traveled over the members of the group. An older man with a lined face and husky build was in charge, hustling everyone inside like a mother hen with her chicks.

  Two young men, brothers by the looks of it, half-carried a red-headed girl. Sweat beaded her forehead and her skin had a waxen sheen that boded ill. Elise spotted a wound on her arm, seeping blood.

  That will need attention.

  A dark-haired girl stuck to them like a shadow, looking about her with mistrust which Elise put down to fear.

  Lastly came another man, middle-aged, tall and slim, supporting his pregnant wife. Her bulging belly spoke of a pregnancy in its later stages and it was here that Elise’s attention fixated. The poor woman was in labor, arousing Elise's motherly instincts.

  “Peter, put water on to boil. Thembiso, fetch clean towels,” Elise ordered.

  She turned to Anne, prying her fingers loose. “Anne, sweetie. Take Buzz to your room and keep him busy. I need to help these people.”

  With eyes as large as saucers, Anne nodded and coaxed the dog away. Buzz wasn’t keen on going, his protective instincts aroused, but he loved Anne and after a while, followed her.

  “What do we do with them, Elise?” Max asked. She found it amusing that he would turn to her for direction. His consternation was clear, though, when the pregnant woman cried out, causing him to flinch.

  “We need to get the rest of them settled while I see to her, Max. She’s in labor.”

  “Oh, shit,” he muttered, turning pale.

  “Why don’t you help her husband take her to one of the spare bedrooms? I’ll be along shortly.”

  “Okay,” he replied.

  Elise was grateful she’d prepared extra rooms in case they found more survivors. Not that she’d been expecting an entire group to show up on their doorstep.

  Elise turned to Logan. “Why don’t you check them for bites?”

  “She’s been bitten,” he replied, pointing to the red-haired girl.

&n
bsp; In an instant, the atmosphere in the room changed.

  The older man in charge placed himself in front of the sick girl. “No one is harming her.” The rest of the group likewise clustered around, forming a barrier and lending their silent support.

  It was an explosive situation. They were all armed and Logan did not inspire confidence with the stony expression on his face. The two brothers, in particular, watched him with wary caution.

  Max stepped to the forefront, raising a placating hand. “No one will hurt her. But we need to check the rest of you for infection and we will have to take precautions.”

  “What precautions?” their leader asked.

  “Either Logan or I have to guard her at all times. She’s infected and there are children on the premises. We cannot put them at risk.”

  The older man considered this. “Seems fair.”

  Elise stepped forward. “Logan put her in the bedroom furthest from the rest. I’ll bring a first aid kit to treat her wound.”

  He nodded, and they trooped away.

  “Max, get going.”

  Once they all left, Elise rushed to the storeroom, grabbing supplies as she went. Her mind was surging along, considering the possibilities. She did not foresee the night ending well.

  Max had led the couple who were having a baby to the nearest spare room. Elise thrust a first aid kit into his arms. “Here. Go check on the wounded girl.”

  She then puffed up several large cushions on the bed to offer a backrest and laid a bundle of stuff on the side table.

  Elise turned to the woman. “Ma’am, I need to make sure you haven’t been bitten. Will you let me take a look before you lie down?”

  The woman glanced up at her husband, fear in her eyes. After a few seconds, he nodded and Elise shut the door.

  Together they undressed her, Elise scanning her smooth dark skin for bites. She was clean. They dressed her in a clean nightgown and helped her to lie down, propping her up until she was comfortable.

  Elise turned to the husband. “Sir, if I may, I’d like to help your wife with the baby.”

  The man who’d been silent the entire time scanned her face with serious eyes. He must have been comforted by what he saw because he nodded.

  “Her name is Tumi and I am Joseph. Joseph Masakale.”

  Elise smiled, relieved. “My name is Elise.” She glanced at Tumi, moaning on the bed. “How far along is she?”

  His brow knitted in confusion and Tumi answered instead. “Seven months.”

  Elise’s stomach knotted at the words. Seven months.

  It’s not enough. Not without a hospital.

  She gave Tumi a wide smile, though. “Don’t you worry. We’ll take good care of you.”

  Tumi nodded, some of the tension leaving her face. A knock on the door announced Thembiso with a stack of towels, followed by Peter.

  “Have you boiled the water?” she asked Peter. When he nodded, she said, “Bring it in a clean bucket but rinse it first with antiseptic. Thembiso, bring bottled water and fruit juice for the lady then you both go keep an eye on Anne, please.”

  They left and Elise turned back to Tumi, examining her. The news wasn’t good. There was no way to halt the contractions. She was fully dilated.

  Elise turned to Joseph and led him aside. “The baby is coming, and it’s too soon. Do you understand?”

  His eyes darkened, the lines around his mouth deepening.

  “I will do what I can but you need to be prepared. The baby may not survive.”

  After a moment, he nodded and turned away. She let him be, focusing on Tumi who writhed as another contraction gripped her. Minutes later, it passed and Elise turned to Max who hovered in the doorway.

  “How are the others?” she asked.

  “I’ve treated the girl’s wound and given her painkillers,” he replied. “She’s all right for the moment but the virus is progressing fast. It won’t be long.”

  “Poor thing. What will happen once she turns?”

  “Their leader, Ben, has assured me he will take care of it when the time comes but I’ve left Logan to guard the door.”

  Elise closed her eyes for a moment. So young to die.

  “They’re all clear? The rest of them? No bites?”

  “They’re fine.” He pointed at Joseph. “But I still need to check him.”

  Joseph, who’d been listening, stepped forward. “I am clean but you can examine me if you want to.”

  Elise left them to it, returning to Tumi. Once Max finished, he left to organize food and drink for the group while Joseph paced up and down, worry furrowing his brow.

  Elise briefly left to check on Anne and the boys. They were in the common room, playing board games with Buzz hovering over them.

  Once she was sure the kids were okay, she checked on the others. They were all sitting on the red-headed girl’s bed when she entered, faces drawn. Max must have given the girl strong stuff because she was pretty out of it, staring at the ceiling with glazed eyes.

  The man she now knew as Ben rose when she entered, extending his hand to her. “Thank you for helping us, Ma’am.”

  “Elise,” she answered. “And you’re welcome.”

  “I’m Ben or Big Ben as most like to say. This is Jacques and Armand.” He pointed to the brothers. “And that is Angie.”

  Angie nodded, her dark eyes showing no expression while the brothers each shook her hand.

  “What’s her name?” Elise asked, gesturing to the stricken girl.

  “Susan,” Big Ben answered.

  “What happened?”

  “Our shelter was overrun. In the chaos, one of them got her.” His shoulders sagged. “I should have protected her.”

  “It’s not your fault, Ben,” Armand answered. Ben did not seem comforted by the words and Elise felt her insides tighten with sorrow.

  “Your daughter?”

  “No.” He shook his head. “But as good as.”

  “I’m sorry.” Elise’s eyes traveled to Susan. Her freckles stood out against the pallor of her skin, light blue eyes swimming with the knowledge that death was coming for her. Even the drugs could not ease that.

  Elise swallowed hard, thinking of Anne.

  That could be her on the bed.

  “You’ve had something to eat? Drink?” she asked to distract herself.

  “Yes, thank you.” Ben looked at her. “How is Tumi? We've been worried about her.”

  Elise decided the group needed no more bad news and plastered on a smile. “She’s fine for now. I’m helping her to deliver the baby. In fact, I’d better get back now.”

  He nodded. “Well, thank you again.”

  She left the room, noting Logan who kept watch like a stone statue. A hard man, she was nonetheless grateful he was there. He’d make sure Susan did not turn and hurt anyone else.

  Elise returned to Tumi’s side, focusing all her attention on delivering the baby. Long hours passed during which Tumi writhed and cried. Elise sponged her brow, gave her water and juice to drink and helped her to the bathroom. There wasn’t much else she could do.

  At some point, Joseph left the room, preferring to stand outside away from her screams. Elise understood. It was hard to witness a loved one in pain.

  A little later, Max reported that Susan had passed. A muffled shot confirmed that someone had taken care of it. Elise didn’t know whether to be sad or relieved and pushed her feelings aside for the moment.

  It was mid-afternoon before the head of the baby crowned. Elise crouched between Tumi’s legs, helping the baby out of the birth canal. The umbilical cord was wrapped around the neck and one look at the grayish pallor of the skin was enough to confirm her worst fears. That, and the silence.

  The baby was stillborn.

  Small enough to fit into her cupped hands but perfectly formed, Elise cried silent tears as she handed the tiny form to Tumi, who burst into heart-rending sobs.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said to Joseph when he entered, standing beside the
bed with a stricken expression. As a mother, she knew exactly how they must feel.

  It would have been a perfect little boy.

  8

  Chapter 8 - Morgan

  The dull thunk of an ax blade echoed through the humid air. Two pieces of wood landed in the grass on either side of an old stump. In the distance, dark clouds promised rain but the heat was unrelenting.

  Morgan wiped the sweat from her brow then lifted the ax high again, bringing it down in a smooth arc. For half an hour, she split logs until there was enough to last them a few days.

  She groaned, straightening up to ease the nagging ache that nestled in the small of her back. Her skin prickled with heat and she longed for an ice cold drink.

  Morgan loaded the split logs into a wheelbarrow then headed towards the house. She added the firewood to the small stack next to the kitchen door before heading inside.

  Weathered by sun, wind, and rain, the battered old farmhouse welcomed her into its shadowed confines. She pulled off her work gloves, tossing them on the table before slumping into a chair.

  Hannelie stood by the counter, chopping tomatoes and onions while Joanna stirred a boiling pot. Flames flickered in the old coal stove Henri had dug out of storage. If it wasn’t so hot it would be homey.

  “Finished, my dear?” Hannelie asked.

  “For now,” Morgan replied. “I still have to check the fences with Henri. Where is he?”

  “In the barn, but have a drink first before you go.” Hannelie pressed a lukewarm glass of water into her hands and Morgan swallowed it gratefully.

  These past few weeks, she’d learned not to complain. Her thoughts wandered back to the first day of the outbreak. They’d been lucky to make it out alive, she realized. If a large group of those things had mobbed them, they would have been overwhelmed.

  They barely made it out of town before getting a flat tire. If old Henri hadn’t found them and offered them shelter for the night, she shuddered to think what would have happened.

  It all seemed like a bad dream now. Brian, her father, all of it. A nightmare they had yet to awaken from.

  Henri’s wife Hannelie, had welcomed them into her home. One night turned into two and before they knew it, a week had passed. The farm workers disappeared one by one, leaving to be with their families.