Children of the Apocalypse: Mega Boxed Set

by Baileigh Higgins

  Deciding it was time Julianne signaled to Elise, and the children were fetched from the school room. They filed in, and Michelle settled them down on cushions in a half circle around the Christmas tree.

  They giggled with excitement, and Julianne winked at Meghan which earned her a toothy grin. Peter, Elise’s boy, entered in a Santa suit. He looked ridiculous. The clothes were far too large, and the beard kept falling off. None of that mattered to the children.

  Peter made it to a chair without losing his belly and sat down. One by one he doled out the presents, booming out their names in a jolly voice. It hadn’t been easy, but they’d scoured their supplies for suitable gifts earlier. Each child got something, including the baby.

  Watching the happy scene unfold, Julianne felt tears pricking her eyelids, and she swallowed hard on the knot in her throat. The past three months had been brutal—filled with the loss of loved ones. Watching those happy faces shining with joy reminded her why they couldn’t give up. Why they all had to keep fighting for a future.

  With the presents gone, the children returned to the schoolroom, clutching their new toys. Santa departed amidst loud cheers, tripping once when his fake stomach fell out.

  “All right, people. Food’s ready!” Elise announced. A mini-stampede followed with Logan first in line, as usual.

  “We’d better dish up before there’s nothing left,” Julianne said.

  “Agreed,” Breytenbach replied when Mike staggered past with a plate loaded to the brim. “That man eats like a horse.”

  “You haven’t seen Logan in action yet,” Julianne snorted.

  The food looked amazing. The table groaned beneath the weight of the dishes displayed—honeyed carrots, fresh garden salad, and beans. The Springbok took the place of pride in the center. Enterprising as ever, Elise had used every single bit of the buck. The ribs and chops were marinated and barbecued, the legs slow roasted in the coals and a mouthwatering stew made with the rest. A huge jug of gravy and big bowls of rice rounded out the spread.

  “You people don’t joke around when you feast,” Breytenbach said.

  “Elise never does. She comes from good old-fashioned Boer stock. But don’t think we eat like this every day.”

  “The simple fact that you have food to spare is a miracle.”

  “You can thank Max, Logan, and Elise for that. In the early days, they scavenged freezers from people’s houses and froze everything they could get their hands on.” Julianne laughed. “Either that or preserved it.”

  “Clever.”

  “Hi, mom. Enjoying the party?” Morgan asked, joining them at the back of the queue.

  “I guess.”

  “You guess? Then you haven’t had enough to drink yet,” Morgan said, raising a beer in a mocking salute.

  “I could never keep up with you youngsters.”

  They reached the front of the queue and Julianne dished up a generous amount of honeyed carrots, her favorite.

  Morgan, as usual, dished up nothing but meat and pudding as she eschewed vegetables of any kind. This was ironic considering the career path she’d chosen in her old life.

  “If you don’t mind, I’ll eat with my team,” Breytenbach said, excusing himself. Julianne watched him go, a little sad at the empty space his departure caused.

  “Come on, Mom.” Morgan found them seats at a nearby table. Logan joined them, already on his second plate.

  Julianne watched with disapproval as Morgan downed her beer in one gulp before tucking into her food with gusto. “Slow down. You’ll make yourself sick.”

  Morgan groaned and rolled her eyes. “Relax. Live a little.” She punctuated her advice with a forkful of roast and gravy.

  Logan joined in on the fun. “Listen to your mom. You’ll get fat,” he joked, poking her in the ribs.

  “What? Don’t you dare call me fat.” Morgan shoved another forkful into her mouth. She chewed with relish before swallowing it with another swig of beer. Logan’s beer.

  “Hey, get your own,” Logan said.

  Julianne sighed, watching them. Kids. They never grew up, and a mother never stopped trying to teach them manners. She noticed Morgan go pale. First pale, then green as a light sheen of sweat broke out on her forehead. “Morgan? Are you okay?”

  Mumbling something incoherent, Morgan clapped a hand over her mouth and ran from the table. A startled Logan followed her, only to return a few minutes later.

  “Don’t worry. She’s just nauseous. Too much booze.” He sat down and scraped the food from Morgan’s dish into his own, and dug in with pleasure stamped all over his face.

  Shaking her head in amusement, Julianne said, “I warned her. But she’s incredibly stubborn.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  After dinner, Julianne decided to have a last drink before retiring for the night. She grabbed a cider and walked outside, hoping for fresh air. The breeze was pleasant against her hot skin, raising goosebumps.

  A boot scraped against gravel, and Julianne realized she wasn’t alone. A few feet away, Breytenbach sat on a wooden bench, looking at something in his hands. She walked over, not sure if her presence was wanted.

  “Can I sit?” she asked.

  “Sure.”

  Julianne perched on the edge of the bench in silence, not sure what to say. The minutes passed, and neither said a word. She shifted, playing with the bottle in her hands, picking at the label.

  “I still think of that night,” Breytenbach said. The words were low, rough in timbre. “It haunts my dreams.”

  She looked at him and waited, knowing if he wanted to say more he would.

  “I was on a mission but got sidetracked. They were trapped in a pre-school. The women and children. We tried to save them, but we were too late. So many of them died that night. Torn apart. I still hear their screams in my head.”

  She swallowed, trying not to imagine what it must have been like. “Did you manage to save any?”

  “We saved a few, even evacuated them to a camp where we fought for weeks to keep them alive. They’re all dead now. Except for Sam.”

  “Sam?”

  “The baby, Samantha. I took her from her mother that night. She gave her life so her daughter could live, shielding her with her own body. Her little boy was dead by the time I found them. I never want to see such a thing again as long as I live.”

  Breytenbach was silent while he relived the horrors of that night. Julianne did nothing, lending her quiet support while trying not to imagine all those children dying in such a horrid manner.

  After a while, he continued. “She made me promise to look after Sam, and I will keep that promise with my last dying breath. That little girl means the world to me.”

  He looked at a worn photo in his hands. “I found this among the woman’s belongings. Sam will want something of theirs one day. Something of her own.”

  “Can I see?” Julianne asked.

  She took the photo he handed her and looked at the family smiling at the camera, oblivious to the impending tragedy. Her hands shook, breath hitching in her throat. Her vision narrowed until all she could see were their smiling faces.

  “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

  Julianne hardly heard him through the buzzing in her ears. Tears welled up, and she sobbed, one uncontrollable spasm after the other. “That’s my daughter. Her husband. Their children. Sam!”

  Next moment, her feet were flying, skimming over the ground to the infirmary. She burst through the door and scared a dozing Hannah out of her chair. In a makeshift crib made from an empty box, Samantha slept, one chubby fist jammed into her mouth. Curls so blond they were almost white, framed her face. Julianne reached out trembling fingers, brushing her cheek. She’s grown so much.

  She registered Breytenbach’s presence behind her, followed by Max and Morgan. She assumed he’d told them the news but couldn’t bear to look away from Sam.

  The full force of Lilian and Michael’s death hit her once more. She gasped, doubling over. T
he pain coiled and burned through her body like fire.

  It eased when Max and Morgan stood by, lending their silent support and sympathy. At least, she still had them, and Samantha. Meghan too. Perhaps, instead of mourning, she should be celebrating. If only life were that easy.

  Chapter 26 - Morgan

  Morgan woke by slow degrees, her lids fluttering open with reluctance. The mattress was soft beneath her hips, and Logan’s warmth cradled her limbs. Early morning sunlight spilled through the curtains, and she could hear the soft cooing of doves outside the window.

  With a sigh of contentment, she stretched out her arms and legs, reveling in the strength and health of her body. She felt supremely happy but supposed it was hard to be unhappy when you were young and in love. Even the zombies couldn’t take that away from her.

  Easing out from underneath Logan’s arm, she made her way to the bathroom. Padding over the tiles, she washed her face and brushed her teeth. Halfway through, her stomach roiled. Spitting out the toothpaste, Morgan waited for it to subside.

  Her muscles contracted, and cold sweat beaded her forehead. Clutching her mouth, she rushed to the toilet. After several minutes, she was reduced to dry heaving, tears streaming down her face. God, what’s wrong with me?

  Ever since the Christmas party, she’d felt peaky and nauseated. At first, she’d put it down to a hangover but after three days was forced to admit it might be something more.

  “Are you okay, love?” Logan asked.

  Mumbling something incoherent, Morgan threw up once more, clutching the bowl with both hands. Logan pressed a cool cloth to her forehead and brushed the hair away from her face. After a few more heaves, the nausea subsided, and she stood up on shaky legs. She brushed her teeth again and splashed cold water on her face.

  “Feeling better now?”

  “A little. The worst is over, I think.”

  “I think you should talk to Hannah. Maybe she can give you something.”

  “I’ll see her after breakfast.”

  Logan had already readied the shower for her, so Morgan stripped off her pajamas and stepped in. The water flowed over her body. It relaxed her muscles and smoothed away the tension.

  It was pure luck that today was their turn to shower. The borehole and solar panels only provided so much hot water, and a roster had been drawn up providing everyone with a five-minute shower twice a week. She and Logan combined theirs half the time.

  Logan’s hands slid over her stomach, and she leaned back onto his chest. He nuzzled her neck, nibbling her earlobe as his hands explored her breasts, awakening a raging fire within. He teased her nipples, sending electric currents through her nervous system. She tilted her head back, gasping when his hand slipped between her thighs. His fingers massaged her sex and circled around the sensitive nub.

  She shivered, legs growing weaker as the pleasure built. He looped one arm around her waist, holding her up. Within seconds, she was reduced to a quivering puddle of desire as the force of her orgasm crashed over her.

  With a growl, he slammed her up against the tiles. Her legs wrapped around his waist, and he thrust inside her. She cried out, clutching his shoulders with her fingers. The rhythm built, becoming faster and more intense. Morgan clung to him, eyes closed as she rode the wave.

  Logan groaned, a deep shudder wracking his frame. He gripped her tightly to him, her wet hair covering his back with long tendrils. His warmth filled her, mirrored by the flow of hot water over their bodies. He slowed, hips bucking then stopped, breathing raw and ragged. His lips pressed against her ear. “You’ll be the death of me yet.”

  She grinned, a throaty chuckle escaping her lips. “Perhaps. Do I detect a complaint?”

  He smiled, letting her down. “Never.”

  They finished what was left of their shower, and got out. Morgan slipped on a pair of panties and a bra, followed by her trademark shorts, tank top, and boots. With smooth glides, she combed her long hair, watching while Logan dressed.

  He glanced at her. “Breakfast?”

  “Sure. I’m feeling better now.”

  “Good. I need to build my strength after that little workout.”

  “Grandpa,” she teased.

  He smacked her on the ass. “No need to get cheeky.”

  Still laughing, they shut the door behind them and headed to the dining room. The low murmur of voices greeted her along with the smell of coffee and eggs. Her stomach flopped like a dead bunny. “Oh, no.”

  Sitting down, she breathed through her mouth and tried to ignore the smells. She flashed a weak smile at Julianne who walked past with Samantha on her hip. Though the loss of Lilian and the rest of her family still hurt, the baby was a great comfort to them all. Meghan, of course, was ecstatic to discover she now had a little sister to cuddle.

  “Hungry?” Logan asked.

  “Not really. Just coffee for me, thanks.”

  Logan ambled off to get breakfast, and Morgan amused herself by watching the people around her. Peter and Thembiso were bickering about something. Fast friends, they were joined at the hip and did everything together these days.

  Meghan, Anne, Mark, and Jenny sat at the kiddies table. They messed around more than they ate, a fact that would not go over well with Elise if she noticed.

  “Good morning,” Joanna greeted as she passed.

  “Morning,” Morgan replied.

  She watched as Joanna took a seat next to Ben. Despite her age, seventy-something as far as Morgan knew, she looked good. Ben looked good too, more relaxed, at least. Sitting with them were Hannah and Dave. The four got along well together.

  Logan returned with a full plate and coffee. She sipped on the warm brew, wondering what to do next. This question was answered when she turned in time to see Logan squish his bread into his runny egg yolk. While she loved soft eggs, today the sight was too much. She rushed off to the nearest bathroom, retching.

  After another exhausting session, she turned to find Hannah in the doorway. “Are you all right, dear?”

  “Not really.” Morgan washed her face with cold water. “I’m feeling off these past few days, and I was hoping you could help.”

  “Why don’t you see Jonathan? He’s in the infirmary.”

  “Is he up to it? I thought he was sick.” Morgan said, surprised.

  “He’s much better now. Besides, I think he needs to feel useful.”

  “Oh, okay. Thanks.” Morgan followed the corridor to the infirmary and found a bored-looking Jonathan slumped in a chair, doodling with a pen and a piece of paper.

  “Keeping busy, I see.”

  Surprised, Jonathan sat up with an embarrassed cough. “Not much to do.”

  “Well, you could always come on a supply run with me.”

  Jonathan blanched, all color draining from his face. “Yeah, uh, I’d rather not.”

  Morgan could have kicked herself for that thoughtless remark. The man had been to hell and back in a matter of days, losing all of his friends and patients, everyone he knew. The thought of facing zombies again must be a scary prospect.

  “Kidding, kidding. We’d never risk the life of our only doctor.” Morgan flashed him a dazzling smile, hoping to cover her gaffe. “Besides, I’m sure you’ll have plenty of sick people to pamper soon.”

  “Is that why you’re here?” he asked, responding with a half-smile.

  “As it happens, I am.” She sat down on the bed, rubbing the back of her neck. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

  Jonathan assumed a brisk mien. “Start at the beginning.”

  “Ever since the Christmas party, I’ve been nauseous all the time. I can’t keep my food down or even handle the smell of it.”

  “Nothing at all?”

  “Maybe some coffee and juice. A little cereal or toast.” She shrugged. “That’s about it.”

  “Any other symptoms?”

  “Now that you mention it, I’m tired and achy. Do you think I might have the flu?”

  “Why don’t you li
e down, and I’ll take a look?”

  Several minutes later, Jonathan finished the exam. Pursing his lips, he hesitated. “I’m not sure if this is something you’ll want to hear or not.”

  “What?” Morgan asked, swinging her legs to and fro on the edge of the bed in agitation. “Tell me.”

  “You’re pregnant.”

  For once, Morgan was shocked to silence. She stared at Jonathan for several seconds. “Pregnant? Are you serious?”

  “Perfectly. All the signs are there. I need you to do a test, though, to be sure.”

  “How is that possible?” she asked.

  “Well…you and Logan?”

  She waved a hand in the air, dismissing his words. “Of course, but we use protection.”

  “Nothing’s foolproof.”

  “A baby. I can’t have a baby,” she cried, wrapping her arms around her middle.

  Jonathan rummaged in a drawer and handed over a home pregnancy test. “Do the test first thing tomorrow morning and report back.” He patted her on the back. “It’s not so bad. You have a lot of support from what I’ve seen. Julianne, Logan, Max.”

  She took the test with numb fingers and tucked it into her pocket. “Thanks, Doc. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

  “I’ll be waiting.”

  “Um, can we keep this between us for now?”

  “Of course. Oh, and Morgan? It’ll be fine, you’ll see.” His manner was warm and reassuring, giving the impression he’d look after her. For the first time, she got a glimpse of the real Jonathan.

  She walked out of the infirmary and returned to Logan. “So? Are you all right? Did you see Hannah?”

  “I saw Jonathan. He said I’m fine. It’s just a bug. Nothing serious.” The words felt wooden, falling heavy and stilted from her lips.

  “Well, that’s a relief. Here, have some coffee,” Logan replied.

  It killed her, sitting there and pretending nothing was different even though it burned a hole through her chest. In a single moment, her whole world had changed. Everything she expected, wanted, wished for, would now have to be set aside to make way for something new. A baby. I can’t believe it. During the apocalypse? The end of the world?