Children of the Apocalypse: Mega Boxed Set

by Baileigh Higgins

  Shooting him a glance, she shrugged, “You know how it is. We’re almost out of everything. No supper tonight.”

  “I’m going out today. I’ll see what I can do.”

  She smiled her thanks before turning back to her task, and Breytenbach left the tent with no food himself. He wouldn’t be able to stomach it anyway with all those gaunt faces staring at him.

  He realized why he felt so depressed. It wasn’t his own situation that bothered him. He’d been through worse. It was the sight of all those sick and hungry women and children that sapped his strength.

  “Captain Breytenbach! Wait up!” A familiar voice called out from behind him, signaling more bad news to come.

  Turning around, he spotted Jonathan, the resident surgeon. Although Breytenbach liked and respected the man, he also felt his heart sink into his boots whenever he saw him. There was only one reason the doctor would single him out. “Yes, Doc. What can I do for you?”

  “Are you and your men heading out today?”

  “Yes, we are, and before you ask, I will look for medical supplies. I always do.”

  Jonathan flushed. “I know you do, Captain, and I appreciate it.” He looked at Breytenbach, his eyes tired. “Could you also look for vitamins, please? I’m seeing the first cases of scurvy now.”

  Breytenbach reassured the doctor as well he could and hurried away. Scurvy. That’s just great.

  Then again, he’d expected something like that to happen. It was inevitable. Breytenbach reached the gates, squinting at the two soldiers stationed there. They looked miserable.

  At the camp’s vehicle convoy, Mike and Ronnie lounged against their truck, bouncing a cigarette. Spotting him, they straightened up and nodded a greeting.

  “Where are the others?” he asked.

  “Johan’s on his way, and Lenka’s over there,” Ronnie answered.

  Breytenbach turned his head and spotted Lenka questioning one of the patrols.

  Stubbing his cigarette out with his boot, Ronnie blew out a stream of smoke through his nostrils. “Oh, and Kirstin’s waiting inside the Mamba, cleaning that rifle of hers.”

  Breytenbach walked over to the military vehicle. It used to belong to the army, but he’d appropriated it for his use since they’d arrived. Nobody argued as long as they brought in the goods.

  Going out on raids was dangerous for more reasons than just the infected. Several gangs had made themselves known in the past few weeks, and they were armed and dangerous. The Mamba offered protection from both gunfire and landmines and was suited to rough terrain, making it perfect for their use.

  “Get everyone together, ASAP. We need to get going. We’re burning daylight here.” He pulled himself into the driver seat and started the engine.

  Mike jumped in, grinning. His green eyes glistened with excitement through a mop of reddish-brown curls. Slender, of average height, with a mischievous smile and pointed ears, he was formerly part of the Army Ranger Wing in Ireland. A first-rate fighter and helicopter pilot, he was also crazy in Breytenbach’s opinion.

  “Take your boots off my dashboard.” Breytenbach shoved Mike’s feet away.

  Ignoring his Captain’s ill humor, Mike twisted around in his seat and eyed Kirstin with a cheeky grin. “How about you and me go on a date tonight, love? I’ll be sure to make it worth your while.”

  Kirstin stared at him for a long second. “How about I shoot your balls off instead?”

  Laughing, Mike turned back and fiddled with the radio. It was an old dance between the two. No matter how many times she turned him down, Mike kept asking. Breytenbach couldn’t figure out if he was genuinely interested or just trying to irritate the shit out of her.

  Johan and Ronnie jumped into the back, grunting under the weight of their gear. Pure Afrikaner, they were large, brawny men with open faces and straightforward manners. They had both served with him in the bush war, and the three were like brothers. Lenka followed, an erstwhile member of the military police. A bear of a man, he bulged with muscle and towered over everyone.

  Glancing back, Breytenbach met the icy blue eyes of Kirstin. She nodded a cold greeting before turning back to her high-powered Galil sniper rifle. Born in Norway, she was as Viking as they came with a tall, athletic body and stern features. Her platinum blond hair was smoothed back into a thick braid, and her skin was as flawless as marble. Beautiful but cold, she rebuffed all overtures of friendship. In all his life, Breytenbach had never met anyone who shot as accurately as her. I couldn’t ask for a better team.

  “So, where are we goin’ this time, Captain?” Mike asked.

  “You’ll see.”

  The night before, Breytenbach had spent an hour pouring over maps trying to find a nearby place they hadn’t raided yet. He’d decided on a small community thirty minutes from camp. It was a short drive, and as he pulled up to the little town, he hoped they would find what they needed there.

  Strangely, the place seemed deserted—devoid of the usual signs of chaos and bloodshed. A few cars were parked along the main street, but no infected showed. It looked like any small town on a rainy Sunday afternoon.

  Breytenbach spotted a shopping complex to the left and slowed to a halt in the parking lot. They surveyed the area, looking for signs of life, but it was deserted. Breytenbach shifted in his seat, uneasy with the lack of zombies.

  “Right. Let’s go,” he decided. “Whatever’s going on here, we need those supplies. You know the drill.”

  Kirsten pushed open the hatch in the roof and positioned herself with her sniper rifle. Putting her eye to the powerful scope, she examined the surrounding area before giving the all-clear.

  They wasted no time, having performed the maneuver countless times. Mike and Lenka circled the perimeter, their knives at the ready. The other three followed behind, relying on them for safety.

  Breytenbach could see the gleam of Mike’s teeth in the gloom as he hummed the Jaws tune to himself. It was unnerving. Exasperating. The man was a basket case, but Breytenbach knew better than to rebuke him. It delivered nothing but trouble. He consoled himself with a muttered, “Idiot.”

  A brief scuffle broke out when Mike spotted an infected lurking by the cigarette counter. A few moments later, Lenka took out two more in the aisles.

  “Clear,” Lenka called, and Mike echoed him.

  “Anything special?” Ronnie asked.

  “You’re on baby stuff,” Breytenbach directed, “and you’re on food, Johan.”

  They sprang into action, loading supplies into large bags while Mike and Lenka kept watch. In the beginning, Breytenbach had made the mistake of putting Mike on bag duty. Bored with the job, Mike loaded up with what he deemed to be a necessity: Whiskey. Bottle after bottle of whiskey. Premium stuff too.

  Breytenbach had only found out once they got back to camp and nearly throttled him. Mike just shrugged it off and said they could all use a party. After that, Breytenbach carried his bags.

  Today, he was surprised to find the shelves in the store fully stocked. Everything looked in order as if nothing had ever happened. The only discordant note in that little fantasy was the lack of electricity and the smell of rotting food.

  Remembering what Jonathan had asked for earlier, Breytenbach headed to the medicine aisle and loaded up with remedies and vitamins. He stuffed the large bag until it was bursting. Once they each had a full load, they moved back to the Mamba, exchanging the full bags for empty ones.

  Kirsten kept watch and once again gave the all-clear but only after sighting on Mike’s crotch, face emotionless and cold. “Do you have a favorite?”

  “Favorite?”

  “Favorite ball. I’ll let you keep one.”

  Mike paled, raising his hands. “Now, now, love. Don’t be like that.”

  She smiled, canine tips showing and mimed pulling the trigger.

  Wouldn’t want to get on her bad side.

  After three more trips, the bags were full, and they had several loads of rice and canned goods. Breyte
nbach signaled everybody back to the Mamba, satisfied for the moment.

  “Let’s scout around.” Perhaps if the town was deserted, they could consider relocating everyone there. It would be much better than staying in that hellhole of a camp. Safer as well.

  Breytenbach drove up the main street, scrutinizing the shops. Turning into the suburbs, he explored the rest of the town and came upon a few lone zombies, wandering around. But it was nowhere near as many as usual.

  Deciding to head back, he turned down a small side street where he spotted a beautiful, ornate old church. Admiring the building, he felt a sudden lump form in his throat at the sight of the cross silhouetted against the sky. Never a religious man, he gave little thought to such things. Still, the cross seemed sad and forlorn now. A relic from a time when man ruled, not the dead, and God was revered, not forgotten.

  So engrossed was he in his thoughts, Breytenbach didn’t hear Kirstin speaking. “Captain, Sir.”

  “Huh? I mean, yes, Kirstin? What is it?”

  “Look at all the cars, Sir.” She pointed at a double row of cars parked along the street next to the church just as his gaze drew even with the doors. His mind scrambled to make the connection; then it hit him. The townspeople.

  Spotting movement from the corner of his eye, he was in time to see the first infected push through the doors and run towards them. Its eyes locked on his, and it seemed to smile at him with demonic hunger. As if a dam wall broke inside the church, more infected flooded out. Abandoning all thoughts of exploration, Breytenbach raced away.

  When the last figure disappeared from view, Lenka voiced what they were all thinking. “They sought refuge inside the church when the infection hit.”

  “Only to have that sanctuary turn into a tomb when somebody inside turned,” Breytenbach confirmed, shuddering as he pictured the bloodbath that must have ensued. It took him back to the night at the kindergarten, full of dead and dying children. A night he would never forget.

  In a sudden rage, Breytenbach slammed his hands against the steering wheel as his dream of an infection-free town flew out the window. Damn it. This place would have been perfect.

  Silence fell inside the cabin, the atmosphere heavy. Mike shattered the somber mood. Propping his feet up on the dash, he sang a song, oblivious to everyone’s stares.

  “Take me to church; I’ll worship like a dog at the…something, something. I’ll tell you my sins, and you can sharpen your knife. Offer me that deathless death, woohoo…” He broke off and looked around, shrugging. “What? It’s a great song.”

  After a moment of dead silence, Ronnie burst out laughing. “The singer, what was his name?”

  “Hozier.”

  “That’s right. He’s probably dead now.”

  “More than likely.”

  “That’s too bad.”

  “Who’s Hozier?”

  “Never heard of him.”

  Breytenbach burst out. “You’re all a crazy bunch of fuckers, you know that?”

  “Ah, but you love us all the same, don’t you, Captain?” Mike fluttered his eyelashes, and Breytenbach tried to suppress a grin.

  “Yeah, yeah,” he muttered. “Now get your feet off my dashboard!”

  It rained once more on the way back to camp. A damp, dreary drizzle that misted up the windows and turned everything into a monotonous gray canvas. Isolated inside his mind, Breytenbach tuned out the quiet talk of the team. He was tired. So tired. If only he could shake off the mind-numbing apathy that held him in its grip.

  Up ahead, Breytenbach saw a figure stumbling along the side of the road. He slowed. Excitement gripped his heart when it became apparent that the person was a young girl. She was dressed in a pair of skinny jeans and a tank top, her head crowned with a wet and bedraggled looking ponytail.

  Like a slow-motion scene in a movie, his window drew alongside, and he glimpsed her face. His heart dropped when he recognized the signs of infection. The blank eyes that stared ahead but turned hungry when they registered life, the thin lips that pulled back like a shark’s, exposing her teeth, gray skin crinkling with decay.

  Breytenbach sunk lower into his seat as he drove past, ignoring the girl who now stumbled after them with outstretched arms. Just one more victim sacrificed to the plague. He felt like he’d swallowed a stone and wondered if he had the strength to make it through the day.

  He pushed such thoughts aside as they neared the gates of the compound. It was mid-afternoon, and the weary soldiers on gaurd had been relieved with fresher ones. They looked no less miserable, though.

  “Any luck today, Captain?” one of them shouted as he drove through. His pale complexion and hollow eyes reflected the same hunger and hopelessness they all suffered from.

  “We’ll eat tonight, soldier,” Breytenbach called back, tossing them a box of smokes and two protein bars. It was a tradition. The soldiers looked forward to it as their only relief during a long day.

  Parking the Mamba in its spot, they piled out, and each grabbed a bag of goods, preparing to drop it off at the supply depot. Walking through the crowds of people, dejected faces brightened up when they saw the bags. His weariness fell away at the relief and joy on the starving faces. This is why I carry on, day after day.

  At the depot, they were greeted by a harassed-looking Lieutenant Nathan who ran around with a clipboard and a calculator. “What have you got for me today, Captain?”

  “We got lucky, Lieutenant Nathan. We found a grocery store that’s intact. I’m planning to go back tomorrow, but this should hold us for now.”

  “You’re a lifesaver, Captain.”

  Turning to the team, Breytenbach said, “I’ll help the Lieutenant here. See you at dinner.”

  Nodding, they disappeared to their various haunts. He spent the next hour unpacking as the Lieutenant arranged the goods on the shelves and wrote everything down on his clipboard.

  He was just about finished when Vicky showed up. “Hey, Captain. I heard you came back and brought goodies for us.”

  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 the people tonight.” Her freckled face shone as she sorted through the shelves, picking rice, salt, soup powder, and bully beef.

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

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

  “Will do, Vicky,” Breytenbach promised.

  Turning back to Lieutenant Nathan, he discussed the state of their supplies. They were in dire straits, with only 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. Plus, we’ll need backup now that the townspeople are out of the church.”

  “I’ll arrange with the other teams to join you tomorrow. I’m expecting them back any moment.”

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

  He trudged off in the direction of the medical tent, leaving the Lieutenant to his job. On the way, he stopped off at the orphanage. His heart quickened at the thought of seeing his little girl again. That’s what she’s become. My daughter.

  Ducking through the entrance, he searched for Mannuru. She was the only remaining teacher of the three he’d saved at the kindergarten. Both Zelda and Linda had moved on, going their way. He wished them luck.

  Mannuru took care of Sam when he wasn’t around, and he relied on her to keep the baby healthy and happy. He spotted her head of dark bushy curls, the thick twirls brushing her shoulders when she moved.

  She saw him and smile
d, motioning him over to a playpen. Inside, Samantha sat upright, playing with colored blocks. She was plump and pink-cheeked, wisps of platinum blonde hair caressing her skin.

  “There’s my angel.” He kneeled by the pen and reached out, brushing her cheek. She giggled, grabbing his calloused finger with both hands. Within seconds, she was chewing on it with spit drooling down her chin.

  “Whoa, there, tiger. That’s nasty. Chew on this instead.” He reached inside his jacket and produced a small teddy bear for her amusement.

  She squealed, reaching out two chubby fists to grab it and proceeded to smash its head into the bars. “You take after your mother, I see. A real fighter.”

  “She’s doing well,” Mannuru said.

  “Thanks to you.”

  “And you,” Mannuru protested.

  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 all right. I know you try.”

  “Any special requests?”

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

  “I’ll try.”

  With a soft touch, she left him alone with Sam. These times were precious to him, moments of peace snatched from the jaws of the beast. He watched her, smiling when she chewed on the teddy bear’s ear and drooled all over it.

  “You mean the world to me, little one. More than you’ll ever know.” He glanced upward. “Hope your mom’s watching you. I’m sure she’d be proud to see you grow so big.”

  It was getting late. He took his leave of Sam, reluctant to leave her side, but duty called. Time to get back to reality.

  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.