Live Another Day (Dangerous Days - Zombie Apocalypse Book 4) Page 9

  The clouds moved again, and the moon reappeared. Its cold light shone down on a growing throng of infected, all drawn by the noise. They shuffled across overgrown lawns and tripped across hedges. Gleaming eyes peered at her from all directions.

  Lisa jumped to her feet and sprinted down the road. Her legs carried her away from the swarm, but they streamed after her like locusts in search of green pastures. Warm blood flowed down her shins, and her palms burned, a legacy of her fall on the road. At least, she still carried the flashlight and knife. I need to hide. Somewhere. Anywhere.

  She fumbled for the button until a stream of yellow light illuminated the way ahead. With the flashlight as a guide, she looked for a house with sturdy walls. Her eyes fell upon one such. A quick glance over her shoulder showed her she had a few precious seconds to spare.

  She ran up to the gates and rattled them with all her might. They didn’t budge, and a chain confirmed they were locked. She threw the beam around the yard and noted that nothing stirred in the long grass. The driveway was empty too.

  A hand grabbed her arm, followed by the scrape of teeth on her sleeve. She tore away before the zombie could bite down on her flesh. With a swift stab, she drove her knife into the thing’s temple. It collapsed, but behind it was another, and another.

  Lisa kicked the closest one in the chest before tossing her light and knife across the gates. She threw herself at the metal bars and hauled her body up. A hand grasped her ankle and yanked. With a cry, she slipped down a notch.

  Her fingers got a grip on the chill metal bars, and she pulled. Her other leg kicked out and hit something. The grip on her leg loosened. She kicked again before throwing herself over. Off balance, she tumbled over the gate and landed on her back on the concrete. Her breath left her lungs in a rush.

  Lisa gasped like a fish out of water even as hands reached through the bars to latch onto her clothes. Bit by bit, her body was dragged closer. She turned her head, and her watering eyes fell on several pairs of gnashing teeth that strained through the gaps to reach her.

  The closest infected had a grip on her shoulder. Its face pushed at the bars until the flesh peeled away from its cheeks. Vomit pushed up her throat, and with a cry, Lisa flung herself to the side.

  Her jacket ripped and cold air bit at her skin, but she was free. With searching fingers, she felt for her knife and flashlight. She almost cried with relief when she found them and immediately jumped up, prepared to fight.

  The flickering yellow beam of her torch lit up the strange yard she found herself in. It cut across the long grass and overgrown beddings before she trailed it up the driveway. Nowhere could she spot any movement. A sigh of relief escaped her lips. “Oh, thank God.”

  That didn’t mean the house was empty, though, but she’d take that any day over the crowd of zombies that clawed at the gates with a desperate hunger. She cast a last glance at them over her shoulder before jogging up the driveway and out of sight. The sooner they forgot about her, the better.

  The neglected front garden gave way to a concrete landscape at the back of the house. A walkway led from the garage past a row of potted succulents to a patio bare of furniture. There a door awaited, its glass window seeming to stare at her like an empty eye.

  She made sure the garage was locked first and did a quick search for anything dangerous. The place was deserted, devoid of either people, infected, cars, or pets, and she surmised the owners had fled when the zombies rose.

  “Maybe I’m lucky.” Lisa shook her head and reminded herself that there was no such thing as luck, only caution, and brains. “Use your head, Lisa. There could be zombies in the house. No cars do not equal no people.”

  She closed the distance and walked up the steps to the yawning security gate. She nudged it all the way open before knocking on the door. The seconds ticked by as she waited. Nothing happened.

  With a deep breath, she reached out and turned the latch. The door swung open with a long, drawn-out creak. The dim interior of a kitchen greeted her eyes. Stale air washed over her face. It was devoid of rot; a good sign.

  With her torch lighting the way, she explored the kitchen and pantry. Here she found signs of flight. A discarded cooler box sat on the floor, and bottled spices lined one counter. An empty wrapper crinkled beneath her foot. Someone had packed a few things in preparation for a trip and left the rest behind in haste. That’s why the security gate was open.

  She cleared the area before moving deeper inside. The house was as silent as the grave. Not even the ticking of a clock could be heard. The deeper she moved, the more confident Lisa became that it was empty.

  A thick layer of dust coated everything. There was no blood. No smell of decay either. More than that, the curtains were open, and a few things lay strewn about. Remotes, scatter cushions. Whoever used to stay there, had packed in a rush and left the house in a hurry.

  She kept her guard up until she cleared the bedrooms, though. Here she found more evidence to support her theory. Cupboard and drawers yawned, devoid of clothes and personal knick-knacks. The inhabitants were gone. “Good luck to whoever you are. Hope you got away.”

  Lisa sighed and slumped onto the corner of a chair. For the first time in hours, she allowed herself to relax. Exhaustion quickly set in, and she forced herself to her feet to secure the house before she passed out.

  With quick movements, she closed all the doors, windows, and curtains. She picked through the kitchen and found a carton of mango juice, water, a few cans of food, and a box of dry cereal.

  With these items in hand, she barricaded herself in the master bedroom. After a frugal supper, she washed and dressed in clean clothes courtesy of the previous lady of the house. A fresh shirt, jacket, and jeans comprised the simple ensemble.

  Only then did she curl up on the bed to sleep, clutching her knife in one hand and a claw hammer she’d found in a toolbox in the other. Sleep overcame her.

  ***

  The next morning, Lisa was jerked awake by the sound of screams. They were long and loud, harsh to the ears and soul. She scrambled to her feet, eyes wide and heart pumping. “What the hell?”

  She whirled around on the bed, scrambling for her shoes and weapons while wiping the hair off her face. The screams continued, full of agony and pain. It sounded like a man or a boy. It was hard to tell, though. It had an inhuman quality to it.

  It took a few seconds for her to realize the screams weren’t coming from anywhere nearby. It came from outside the house, outside the yard. This knowledge didn’t make her feel any better, and she rushed about to gather her things. “I’d better get out of here fast.”

  She pulled her hair into a ponytail and tucked in her shirt before tossing her meager stash into an old backpack she’d found. With her gun holstered, and the pack in place, she snuck out of the house.

  The zombies clamoring at the gates were gone, drawn away by the awful sounds of human suffering. Lisa climbed over the barriers and used a thick hedge as cover while she surveyed the street. It was empty except for the odd shambling figure, and her route of escape lay open.

  Now and then, the screams let up only to resume seconds later. It was painful to hear, and Lisa hesitated while she pinpointed the direction. There!

  The racket issued from a house further up the street. Its gates were closed, but a truck was parked in the driveway, and a man sat on the bonnet. She edged closer to get a better look.

  Smoke curled from the man’s lips as he smoked. He ignored the crowd of infected banging on the gates as if he didn’t even know they were there. His every move spoke of supreme confidence. Or arrogance. Who is he? What’s happening?

  Either way, it was none of her business, and she prepared to leave. Until she spotted another man loitering by the front door. She recognized the bull shoulders and short, stocky build in an instant. Michael!

  Despite the danger to herself, Lisa crossed the distance between them in a hunched run. She kept close to the ground and used parked cars as camouflage until
she hid right across the street.

  While the other man still had his back turned, she risked waving at Michael. On the third try, he spotted her. His eyes widened, and he took a step forward but stopped. With one hand clenched by his side, he shoed her away, careful not to let the guy on the bonnet see.

  She stayed put, not moving a muscle. The screams stopped, and silence descended on the neighborhood, broken only by the zombies rasping at the gate. Someone inside called to Michael. “Michael, time to show us what you can do.”

  Michael froze. His eyes cast around for an escape route. He looked at her once more and shook his head. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. He looked lost.

  “Michael! Are you one of us or not?” The strange voice did not sound happy with Michael’s hesitance.

  “I’m coming,” he answered in a gruff voice.

  The man sitting on the bonnet chuckled as Michael stepped inside. With casual movements, he drew a knife from his boot. It was at least a foot long, the blade as deadly as a shark’s gaping maw. The man stood up and sauntered into the house.

  Michael’s in trouble, Lisa realized. This knowledge brought its own set of problems with. If he was in trouble, what did she do about it? Help him? Or run back to camp?

  She hovered for a second before another drawn-out scream decided her. This time, the voice belonged to a girl. It shook Lisa to the core and touched on the raw, quivering mass of memories she harbored inside. No, not that.

  With this single denial, aimed at she knew not what, Lisa shot to her feet and ran across the street. She gripped the top of the palisades and vaulted up and over before any of the infected at the gates even realized she was there.

  A few shuffled over, but she was already gone. Her feet carried her across the length of the yard toward the open door Michael, and the other had disappeared into. At the same time, she took out her gun and clipped the safety off.

  At the entrance, she paused and peered around the corner. Immediately she jerked her head back and squeezed her eyes shut. The sight was burned into her corneas, however.

  A room of torture and blood. A boy was tied to a chair with crimson blood puddling around his feet onto the white tiles. A man stood next to him with a smirk on his face while vomit leaked from the boy’s lips onto his lap.

  Two more men held down a girl, her legs spread-eagled while another cut away her clothes. Michael hovered next to another man with a blind eye and a scarred face. Ke Tau.

  Lisa swallowed hard as she realized what she was up against. Ke Tau and four of his men. Too many for her to take on. But there’s Michael. He’ll help. I can’t let them...that poor girl.

  Another piercing scream from the girl’s lips decided Lisa, and she cast around for a plan. Her eyes fell on the truck, and an idea formed. She ran toward it and opened the door. The keys dangled inside the ignition. “Yes!”

  She turned toward the gates and aimed her gun at the chain and padlock that held it shut. Three shots. That’s what it took. The metal links broke apart, and the gate opened inwards, a floodgate letting in a wave of infected.

  Even as shouts rang from the house, Lisa threw herself into the truck and slammed the door shut. A second later, the first zombies clawed at the windows. They surrounded the car, but she ignored them and reached for the ignition.

  More yelling and gunshots drew the crowd of infected away from her and towards the tantalizing meat inside the house. A garbled scream signaled the end of somebody’s life just as the engine caught on. The truck roared to life.

  Lisa jammed it into reverse and shot back several meters before shifting into first. She aimed the nose at the doorway where a man fired shots at the oncoming swarm. Not far from him lay another man, curled into a defensive ball as several zombies ripped into his flesh. His screams could hardly be heard above the din.

  Another shooter joined the first. Together, they cut down a swathe of infected. When it looked like they might be gaining, Lisa jammed her foot onto the accelerator and raced toward them. They froze in wide-eyed terror, mouths hanging open.

  The nose of the truck slammed into the doorway. The first shooter crumpled beneath the hood in a spray of blood and gore. The other managed to leap aside.

  Once more, she reversed, leaving a clear path for the remaining infected to get inside the house. Screams and shots rang into the air. Lisa cast around for a way to help Michael, but her mind had hit a blank. Her plan had never progressed beyond this point. “Shit, what now?”

  She debated getting out and going in herself. It would likely mean her end, though. The yard was full of the undead, all jostling to get into the house. Movement on the upper story drew her attention. Her eyes fell on a large window facing the street as the curtains were swept aside. Michael’s face appeared in the glass, flanked by two others. One frightened and the other bloody. He’s got them.

  He dropped out of sight and returned with a chair, smashing the window wide open. Lisa caught on and maneuvered the truck forward until it rested underneath the opening. She craned her head and spotted Michael lowering first the girl then the boy. A third thump indicated he was down as well. A fist on the windshield was accompanied by a loud yell for her to move. “Go, go, go!”

  Wasting no time, Lisa reversed out of the driveway, parting the sea of undead with the mass of metal at her disposal. She was careful not to jostle too much and made it out with the roof party intact. Then she gunned it down the street until they were clear.

  Rolling to a stop, she opened the door and got out. Two young faces met her eyes, pinned to the roof by Michael’s ham fists. “Ready to go?”

  “More than ready,” Michael growled.

  Chapter 11 - Max

  After Breytenbach and his party left, Max got down to the business of survival. First, he pulled everyone off the outer walls and shut the gates. Next, he went around and assigned each person to their new duties. It was hard. They were low on numbers and even lower on morale, but it had to be done.

  Sean, Michelle, Dr. Lange, Dave, Abraham, Sharyn, Thembiso, and Peter were assigned to guard duty and put on rotating shifts of four. Liezel was placed in the watchtower and given a long range rifle and binoculars. She’d proven herself a good shot in the past and had good eyesight well suited to the job.

  Joseph, Abe, Nick, Phillip, Jonathan, and Ben were hard at work repairing the damage to the wildlife reserve’s fence and clearing out the area. This left only a few others.

  Hannah, he put in charge of the infirmary. When he left, she was hard at work sorting out supplies and preparing extra beds. “We never know when we might need them,” was her sage advice, and Max agreed.

  Erica and Tumi, occupied with their infants, volunteered to tidy up the bungalows, sort out washing, and repair clothes. It was a menial job, but an important one. It would help to keep people’s spirits up when they returned home to a made bed and clean clothes after a long day.

  Nombali was given the role of runner. She ferried messages, water, and food between the various groups, keeping each informed.

  The dining area was his next stop. The room echoed when he walked in and felt strangely empty for that time of the day. It drove home the reality of their situation, and he dragged a tired hand through his uncut hair.

  Elise, dressed in carrot stained slacks with her hair in a bun, greeted him with a wan smile. “How can I help you, Max?”

  “Elise, can you manage the kitchen on your own? I need all the help I can get at the moment.”

  “Sure, Max. I’ll manage.”

  “The kids can help you with the washing and tidying up. Megan, Anne, even Mark, and Jenny,” he continued.

  “What about school?” she protested, brushing a stray lock of blonde hair out of her face.

  “I’m suspending it for now.”

  “I see.”

  “I know it’s not ideal, but this is an emergency.”

  Elise nodded. “I know, Max. I understand.”

  “Thanks.” He turned to leave but hesitated
. “Are you all right?”

  Elise nodded. “I’m fine.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “It’s okay. You have more important things to worry about than me.”

  “Elise…”

  “Please, go.” She turned her back on him and picked up a vegetable peeler.

  With a sigh, Max made his way to the stores where he found his mother, Julianne, counting canned food. “Hi, Mom.”

  She straightened up from her crouched position with a frown. “Something wrong?”

  “No, I’m just assigning duties to everyone. While Breytenbach is gone, we’re shorthanded.”

  Her face tightened at the mention of Breytenbach but remained calm. “What are my tasks?”

  “This.” He waved a hand around. “Can you manage the stores and make sure everybody sticks to their rations? No freebies.”

  “I can do that.”

  “Good. Thanks, mom.” He stared at her for a second, pensive. “Can I ask you something else?”

  “Sure.”

  “Can you keep an eye on Elise? I’m worried about her.”

  Julianne sighed. “I’ve spoken to her already, but she won’t listen.”

  “She’s beating herself up.”

  “She is,” Julianne agreed.

  “She shouldn’t. It’s not her fault. It’s Kabelo’s.”

  “Tell that to her.” Julianne stared into the distance. “You know, I was so eager to be proven right about him, that I never stopped to think about the consequences.”

  “None of us did. We played a dangerous game,” Max agreed. “I shouldn’t have let her persuade me to spare his life in the first place.”

  Julianne laid a gentle hand on his. “You did right, Max. I see that now. We’re not murderers.”

  “Perhaps, but now he’s out there, armed and dangerous, and two of our people are gone.”