Children of the Apocalypse: Mega Boxed Set

by Baileigh Higgins

  “I’m Elise. This is Peter and Anne. Have you seen my husband? In the garage?” she asked. A tense look flitted across her features.

  Logan remembered the infected man he’d killed earlier and hesitated, not sure what to say.

  Elise eyed him. “I locked him in there for our safety. Is he gone now?”

  “Yes, ma’am. He’s gone,” Max said, stepping forward and saving Logan from having to answer.

  “I thought so.” For a moment, her shoulders slumped, but her kids were looking at her, and she straightened. “Are you here to rescue us? You’re with the army, aren’t you?”

  Max glanced down at his uniform. “Well, ma’am. I’m not with the army anymore, and this is not a rescue mission. We’re just survivors, like yourself.”

  Her shoulders drooped with disappointment. “So what do we do now?”

  “You can come with us. We’re setting up a base in the riot police headquarters up the street,” Max offered.

  “Is it safe?”

  “I can’t guarantee your safety, ma’am, but it’s better than staying here. We’ll do our best to protect you,” he replied.

  “Well, I suppose that’s all I can ask for at the moment.” She clapped her hands. “Come on, kids. Let’s pack our things.”

  She took charge of the house while Logan disposed of her dead husband’s body. After loading the two vehicles with as much as they could salvage, they headed back. It was just after three in the afternoon, and after unloading, they collapsed into chairs.

  “I’m beat,” Logan said, rubbing his face. “And hungry.”

  “Me too.” Max’s shoulders drooped.

  “Why don’t you boys relax? I’ll make something to eat and sort out all this stuff.”

  “Thank you, ma’am,” Logan said, looking forward to a decent meal.

  “Call me Elise.”

  Chapter 8 - Julianne

  Half an hour passed while Julianne drove, searching the side of the road for a sign. Anything or place that offered safety. She found none. The needle of the fuel tank dipped steadily, inching its way from three-quarters to less than half.

  Her fear grew with each passing second. They needed to find something soon, somewhere to spend the night or…the alternative didn’t bear thinking of. Maybe leaving the house wasn’t such a good idea, after all.

  The roadside swept passed in a blur of nondescript browns. She missed the vibrant colors of her rose garden. The vivid reds, pinks, oranges, and yellows were a delight to the senses. Her memory conjured up the heady scent of the blooms, and the buzzing of bees gathering nectar until their legs were fat with the yellow powder.

  “Mom! Turn back.”

  “What? Why?”

  “There’s a sign back there. Like a farm sign or something.” Morgan twisted in her seat, bouncing with excitement.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive.”

  Julianne made a U-turn. She saw the sign Morgan had spotted and turned onto the rutted dirt track. For several minutes, they bounced and jostled along until they saw a building.

  Hope rose in Julianne’s chest and bolstered her waning strength. She guided the vehicle to the entrance and drew to a stop in front of the place, idling the engine. Her eyes took in the details of what looked like an old farmhouse. “Oh, no.”

  Peeling paint and a collapsed front porch dashed her hopes. It was abandoned, the windows shattered and all useful materials stripped away.

  Morgan slumped back into her seat. “I’m sorry Mom. I thought…”

  “It’s okay, sweetie. It’s not your fault.”

  She reversed out and returned to the tarred road, fighting back the hysteria that threatened to overwhelm her. We’ll find a place. We have to.

  They continued on their way, each passing moment lowering their spirits to match the dropping needle of the fuel indicator. Even the typically exuberant Princess was quiet and sat huddled next to Meghan. She sensed the fear they all felt.

  “What’s that?” Joanna asked.

  Julianne looked at the object she pointed to. A garage. “We need to stop and refuel.”

  “We can ask for help too. There must be someone here,” Morgan replied. “Maybe they’ll know of a place we can stay.”

  They rolled to a stop next to a petrol pump and looked for any signs of life. There was none. It was deathly quiet, and the windows of the single shop were dark, grimy with long-accumulated dirt.

  “Doesn’t look like there’s anyone here,” Joanna said, echoing what Julianne already suspected.

  “I’ll look,” Morgan volunteered.

  “No, it’s too dangerous,” Julianne protested, but Morgan was already gone.

  With her heart in her throat, she watched helplessly as her daughter walked across the cracked concrete floor, one hand on her gun holster.

  Princess whined, adding to the tension while Julianne scanned their surroundings with paranoid intensity. The place had an abandoned feel, the bulk of a rusting car in a patch of brush reinforcing that perception. A dove took flight, and a single feather drifted down. Maybe it will be okay. There’s no one here.

  Morgan reached the small building and knocked on the shop’s front door, calling out. “Anyone there?”

  Nothing happened.

  She knocked again, louder this time.

  Still nothing.

  Morgan turned back to them and shrugged. “I think it’s desert…”

  A body slammed into the glass behind her. Morgan screamed and threw up her hands in an instinctive reaction. The thing that used to be a person threw itself against the door, pushing it open.

  Julianne gasped as Morgan flung herself against the frame, preventing the infected from getting out. She strained as she held on, her booted feet scraping across the gravel.

  The zombie went berserk, smashing its head into the glass until it shattered. It thrust a hand through, ignoring the jagged shards that cut into its flesh. Its grasping fingers hooked onto Morgan’s ponytail and pulled her head toward its gaping maw.

  “Mom, help me!”

  “I’m coming! Hold on!”

  Ignoring the cries of Meghan, Julianne jumped out of the truck and raced across the gap. She reached the struggling duo, pistol in hand. The zombie had thrust its head through the opening, and its teeth gnashed at the air mere centimeters from Morgan’s face. Spit drooled from its grinning lips, and the broken glass had peeled back the skin from its cheeks in a gruesome display.

  Fury flooded Julianne’s veins. “Let go of my daughter!”

  She pushed the gun to its forehead and pulled the trigger. The bullet entered the skull, mangling the brains which exploded out of the exit wound in a spray of rotting gunk. The zombie slumped, releasing its hold on Morgan who slid to her knees, gasping.

  “Are you okay? Did it hurt you?” Julianne grabbed Morgan’s shoulder, pulling her upright and into a tight hug. “Oh, my God. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you. Don’t scare me like that ever again.”

  Morgan’s chest heaved as she fought for air. After a moment, she gulped and stepped back. Her trembling hands examined her scalp and face, checking for possible injuries. “I’m okay, Mom. It’s all right.”

  It took a few more moments before they’d calmed down enough to return to the truck. Julianne gathered the hysterical Meghan into her arms and soothed her while Princess caused a ruckus.

  “Are you two all right?” a concerned Joanna asked. She fussed over Morgan, wiping the blood spatters off her face with a tissue.

  “We’re okay, but what do we do now?” Morgan said.

  “I guess we get what we came for. We need supplies and petrol,” Julianne replied.

  “What about him?” Morgan pointed to the shop.

  “He’s dead, and anyway, it looks like he was alone.”

  Morgan nodded. “Okay, but we better make sure first. I don’t fancy any more nasty surprises.”

  “This time, I’m coming with you,” Julianne said.

  Togethe
r, they searched the building. It consisted of the shop front, a single bathroom, and a tiny storeroom. Out back, they found a parked car, probably belonging to the infected man Julianne had shot.

  Once they determined it was safe, Julianne dragged the corpse out of the way and stashed it behind the counter. She covered it with an old towel before examining the contents of the shelves. Outside, the afternoon had flown, and the sun dropped toward the horizon. A thought occurred to her, and she turned to Morgan. “It’s getting late. Why don’t we stay here for the night?”

  “Really?”

  “Why not?” Julianne shrugged. “There’s a toilet, food, and water.”

  “It’s not safe.” Morgan gestured to the shattered door.

  “We can sleep in the car.” Julianne looked around. “It’s better than spending the night beside the road.”

  “I suppose.”

  “Why don’t you get Joanna and Meghan? We can all use a bathroom break and have something to eat.” Julianne paused. “One of us has to keep watch, though.”

  “Okay.”

  Julianne returned to the task of scrounging up a meal from the shop’s limited supplies. When Meghan appeared, her eyes still swollen from crying, she smoothed a hand over her child’s hair and steered her to the bathroom. “Let’s wash up, sweetie.”

  A meal of questionable nutritional value followed: Sandwiches cobbled together from stale bread, processed cheese slices, and margarine, served with potato chips, cold drinks, and chocolate bars. At least, it filled them, but Julianne longed for a hot meal.

  Meghan giggled as she fed Princess bits of bread and cheese, hiding the pieces in her shirt for the dog’s quivering nose to sniff out. Julianne was glad to see her smile again.

  They took turns to attend to their ablutions, including the dog, and Morgan loaded up the truck with more supplies. The card for the petrol pump they found in the till and used it to top up the tank plus a few jerry cans as well.

  Night approached, the light fading inside a murky soup. Clapping her hands together, Julianne called, “Into the truck everyone. It’s getting dark.”

  Nobody needed to be told twice.

  ***

  It was close to midnight, and try as she might, Julianne could not sleep. In the passenger seat next to her, Morgan shifted. Her breath hitched in her throat, and a whimper escaped her lips. On the back seat, Meghan and Joanna were in similar states of distress. Julianne could only imagine what nightmares plagued them.

  It was these same dark dreams that kept her awake, preventing her mind from escaping their current situation. What are we going to do? Where do we go tomorrow?

  It was hot inside the airless cab without the air conditioner, the heat of the day slow to dissipate. Sweat dampened her clothes, while mosquitoes took advantage of the opportunity to prey on her skin leaving a trail of red bumps in their wake.

  The events of the day played over and over in her mind, threatening to derail the delicate equilibrium she’d balanced all day. John, Max, Lilian, Ronald, and their children…all lost. She could only pray that some of them still lived.

  Julianne pressed her cheek to the cool glass and stared into the night. Tears trickled down her cheeks, a sob lodging in her throat. I miss you, John.

  Finally, she nodded off, exhausted by her emotions. The next morning she awoke in the pre-dawn hours with the sun yet to put in an appearance. She pushed herself upright and groaned at the ache in her back and shoulders. When she noticed the empty seat beside her, she gasped. “Morgan!”

  Julianne twisted around, reassured to find Joanna and Meghan still fast asleep. Casting about, she searched for her other daughter and spotted her figure a short distance away from the car. A cigarette glowed in Morgan’s hand, the red tip burning brightly in the gloom.

  With a muttered curse, Julianne jumped out and hissed, “What the hell do you think you’re doing? You scared me half to death.”

  “I’m sorry. I needed space to think.”

  Julianne prepared to let loose a barrage of fury until she saw the silent tears that streamed down Morgan’s face. She sighed and shook her head. “I understand, just warn me next time. I can’t lose you too.”

  Morgan nodded. “Okay, Mom.”

  Julianne let her be, preparing instead for their departure. Meghan woke up soon after that followed by Joanna. In silence, they had breakfast and freshened up in the bathroom.

  “Time to go,” Julianne said at last.

  “Where to?” Morgan asked.

  “I don’t know. Guess we’ll find out.”

  Julianne drove off, silent worry haunting her every thought. The road stretched ahead, and she scanned the sides for signs of life. Come on, come on. There has to be something.

  After forty minutes of fruitless searching, she saw a sight that caused her to cry out. “Look!”

  Morgan sat upright. “What is it?”

  “Over there,” Julianne replied, pointing at a battered truck parked behind a gate. A fence stretched to either side, and a dirt road led to a sign that welcomed visitors to Sweet Water Valley Farm. A man of small and wiry build stood beside the tall metal gate, evidently on his way out.

  Julianne jerked the car off the tar and onto the dirt before slamming on the brakes. Amidst a cloud of dust, she got out. “Wait here, guys.”

  The farmer watched with a perplexed frown as she strode over, lifting her hand in a wave. He doffed his faded khaki hat in a gesture reminiscent of the old days and smiled. “Good morning, ma’am. Can I help you, perhaps? Are you lost?”

  Julianne shook her head. “No, we’re not lost, but we do need your help.”

  “Yes?” he asked with infinite patience.

  A sudden sob lodged in Julianne’s throat, causing her to choke on her words. “You have no idea how good it is to see you, to see another person alive and uninfected.”

  “Uninfected?” Surprise flitted across his weather-worn features. “What do you mean?”

  “You don’t know what’s going on?” Tears blurred her vision, and the farmer took a step closer. “We’ve been so scared.”

  With a concerned look, he patted her on the back. “Why don’t I take you back to the house? You can tell me all about it over a cup of coffee.”

  “Yes!” Julianne cried. “Thank you, thank you so much, Mr…”

  “Henri. Just call me Henri.”

  Chapter 9 - Breytenbach

  “Captain,” Mike shouted, his voice faint above the helicopter’s rotors. “We’re being diverted.”

  “What?”

  “We’re being diverted to a quarantine camp outside Pretoria and Johannesburg.”

  “What for?” Breytenbach frowned, leaning forward.

  “Just got a message from the base, Captain. We can’t land.”

  “That’s crazy! Why? Do we even have enough fuel?”

  “We should make it, Captain. Just.” Mike glanced over his shoulder, shaking his head. “Thaba Tshwane has fallen. It’s a hot zone now.”

  Breytenbach sat back with a thump, his mind a blank. Fallen? The military base in Pretoria has fallen? Impossible.

  Thaba Tshwane was a massive joint operation military base, home to the South African Army College, the Military Police School and Hospital, a Parachute Battalion, and much more. It even boasted the Pretoria Regiment, tanks. That it had fallen was beyond belief. If that was true, they were in even worse trouble than he’d thought.

  Samantha, who’d fallen asleep in Zelda’s arms awoke. She bawled, her face red and contorted. He stared at her tiny, scrunched up features and waving fists, and his heart stuttered as he remembered his promise. I’ll take care of you, little girl. I swear it.

  A short while later, they reached their destination, and the chopper landed. Breytenbach hustled the survivors out while Mike cut the engine. The noise and wind died away, leaving an eerie calm in its wake.

  He looked around, curious to see where they found themselves. A flat expanse of dusty ground surrounded by barbed wire greeted hi
s eyes. Military vehicles littered a square concrete lot, and soldiers in field gear patrolled the fence. A sea of tents covered the packed earth, and hundreds of people swarmed between the lines.

  “Captain Breytenbach?” A young voice interrupted his study, and he turned. The owner of the voice turned out to be a young Lieutenant with light blue eyes and an earnest expression. His uniform was new, too new to have seen any action, and he looked what he was: As green as grass.

  “Former Captain Breytenbach,” he corrected.

  “Lieutenant Nathan. At your service.” The soldier shook his hand before looking at the small knot of women and children. He gestured toward another soldier hovering nearby. “You can accompany Second Lieutenant Smith here. He’ll take you to your new lodgings.”

  The women hesitated and looked at Breytenbach for guidance.

  “Where’s that?” he asked.

  “We’ve set aside a tent for orphaned kids. They’ll be well-taken care of, I assure you.”

  Breytenbach nodded at Zelda. “Go with him. I’ll check on you later and make sure everything’s okay.”

  “Okay.” With faltering steps, they gathered up their few belongings and left.

  Breytenbach turned back to the Lieutenant. “Who’s in command here?”

  Lieutenant Nathan hesitated. “I am. Major Smart was in command, but he died a few days ago.”

  “Infected?”

  “Yes, we had a breach.”

  “Breach?” Breytenbach looked around, his unease intensifying. “How are the defenses?”

  “Piss poor, Captain.”

  This straight-forward admission took Breytenbach off guard, and he sucked in a breath. “That bad?”

  “Let me show you.”

  It was far worse than Breytenbach had initially thought. Three thousand souls were squeezed into the quarantine camp, stuffed into canvas tents with few supplies and even less water. No ablutions, either. A latrine trench had been dug, and already the stench was unbearable.

  The site was indefensible, manned by a handful of soldiers with very little in the way of munitions. Twice already, the fence had failed with infected forcing their way inside. A small burial site hosted the dead, growing larger by the day.