Children of the Apocalypse: Mega Boxed Set

by Baileigh Higgins

  “I don’t believe in your God, Priest,” Hiran replied. He delivered a brutal kick to the man’s face, and it landed with a sickening crunch.

  “No!” Agatha screamed, renewing her struggles until George was hard-pressed to hold her still.

  The priest fell back with a cry, blood spraying from his broken nose. “No, please, don’t.”

  “You can pray all you like, but your God won’t save you today,” Hiran said with glittering eyes. Bloodlust coiled in his stomach, and he relished in the feel of it. This was what he craved. The ability to control, to destroy. The power of life and death itself.

  One by one, the men were nailed to the crosses with metal stakes, each hammer blow delivered with terrific force. Their screams echoed throughout the clearing until they were reduced to pathetic whimpers. Blood ran down their limbs to puddle beneath their feet, staining the earth red.

  Agatha and the priest watched with shocked disbelief, their cries, and struggles going weaker until even Agatha fell silent. When George let her go, she collapsed to her knees and covered her face. At last, when none remained but them, Hiran delivered the killing blow.

  “Disembowel them,” he ordered coldly.

  A swift slice of a machete cut open the hanging men’s bellies, and their innards spilled from their bodies. Their wretched cries rose to a crescendo until it died away to miserable pleas for a swift death.

  Hiran smiled at the priest. “Your turn.”

  “No, please, I beg you. I’ll do anything you ask,” the priest cried. “Anything.”

  “Would you abandon your faith, your God?” Hiran asked.

  The priest hesitated for a brief moment before nodding. “Yes, yes, I will.”

  “Then you’re even more of a coward than I thought,” Hiran replied with a curl of his lip. “Take him.”

  As his men dragged the priest away, Agatha turned to him, still on her knees. “Please, not him too. End this. End their suffering.”

  Hiran studied her through lidded lids. “Ready to talk, at last?”

  She nodded, her eyes wet with unshed tears. “Yes. If you’ll stop this madness.”

  “Answer my questions, and I’ll save the priest. I’ll even grant the rest the death they so dearly want now.”

  “I’ll answer you,” she said, bowing her head.

  Hiran waved at the men holding the priest, indicating that they wait. “So tell me, Agatha. How did your pitiful camp manage to clear an entire city of the undead?”

  “It…it wasn’t us. It was the army.”

  “The army?” Hiran asked, folding his arms. “You’re kidding me.”

  “No, it’s true. They have a base here,” she continued.

  “I know that, but they fell early on, or so the rumors said.”

  She shook her head. “The base was overrun, yes, but a group fought back, and reinforcements arrived. They cleared the command post and swept out into the city, killing the infected.”

  “I see. What happened to these soldiers?” Hiran asked. “Where are they? Still on their base?”

  “In a manner of speaking,” she said with an expression of bitter defeat.

  “What do you mean?”

  “One night, one of their own turned after taking the infection inside. He failed to disclose his condition and managed to hide it from the medics. I know. I was there.”

  “As a soldier?”

  “Yes.”

  “That explains a lot about you,” Hiran said with a smirk. “What happened next?”

  “Most of us died. Those who didn’t die, ran, but we locked the gates first, sealing the infected soldiers inside.”

  “Smart.”

  “I came here with a group of civilians, and we carried on the soldier’s and

  God’s work, clearing the town and saving others.”

  “How noble.”

  Agatha flushed. “Say what you will, it matters not to me.”

  “You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that, and you’re strong too. I admire that in a man. Not so much in a woman.”

  “So what now?” she asked, her posture one of defeat.

  “Now, I finish what I started,” Hiran said, waving at the men holding the priest.

  “What? No! You promised!”

  “I never promised you a thing, my dear. I merely lied to get what I wanted from you.”

  “You bastard!” Agatha said, renewing her struggles as George grabbed her arms from behind.

  “What?” Hiran asked, assuming an expression of innocence. “It’s not like your information is all that valuable.”

  “What do you mean valuable? I told you all I knew!” Agatha said.

  “I’m sure you did, but I was hoping you had a stash of weapons hidden away. An arsenal. Something I could use,” Hiran replied. “Instead, all you have to offer is hordes of zombies. Nobody wants that.”

  The first nail sank into the priest’s wrist, and he screamed with such shrill despair that even the men shied away. “Please, stop! Please!”

  Agatha shook her head as if in denial, tears running down her cheeks. “No, no, no.”

  Hiran continued talking as if he didn’t hear a thing. “Instead, I learn the long-dead army did most of the work, and their base is crawling with the undead, meaning I can’t even raid it for more weapons.”

  The second nail was followed by the third and the fourth. By that time, both Agatha and the priest were sobbing like babies. When the moment of disembowelment arrived, the priest fouled himself before they could even touch him. Hiran eyed him with disfavor. “A coward to the end.”

  “He was a good man,” Agatha said, turning her eyes away from the sight of the priest’s innards spilling to the ground.

  Hiran snorted. “Save your tears for yourself, my dear. You’ll need them.”

  She turned an empty gaze upon him, and he knew he had her. “Are you going to kill me too? Crucify me? Gut me?”

  “Oh, no. I have a much better use for you in mind.” He turned to George. “She’s all yours to do with as you wish. I only ask that you don’t kill her too soon. She’s strong. Make it last.”

  George grinned. “You know me, Boss. I aim to please.”

  Hiran watched as George dragged her away by the arm. Too broken to resist, she followed, her face a blank canvas devoid even of despair. He smiled, luxuriating in the knowledge that his victory was now complete, and a certain defiant camp would follow soon after. I’m coming for you, Mpho. I’m coming.

  Chapter 9 - Michelle

  “Come on, Jenny. They won’t hurt you, I promise,” Michelle said to the little girl who hung back, gazing at the chickens with wide eyes.

  “Are you sure?” Jenny asked.

  “Of, course, I’m sure. Look at Mark. They’re not hurting him, at all,” Michelle replied, gesturing at the boy who was plucking eggs from their nests with a gleeful smile.

  “They’re still warm,” he exclaimed, causing Michelle to laugh.

  After a few more tries, Jenny finally stepped into the coop with them. She scooped up a handful of maize and flung it to the ground, screeching when the hens attacked the food in a burst of wings and feathers.

  “There, there. They’re just hungry,” Michelle soothed before moving on to clean the cages and spread fresh hay.

  After a few more tries, Jenny got the hang of it and actually giggled when one of the birds insisted on pecking at her toes. “Look, Miss Michelle!”

  “I see, baby,” Michelle replied. “She must really like your shoes.”

  “How do you know it’s a she?” Jenny asked

  “Because only girl chickens lay eggs, stupid,” Mark replied with a scornful look.

  “I’m not stupid,” Jenny exclaimed.

  “Mark…” Michelle warned in a stern voice. “Apologize.”

  “He sighed. “Fine, I’m sorry.”

  Michelle shook her head. “They’re called hens, Mark. Not girl chickens.”

  “I know that,” he said.

  “And the boy chic
ken? What do we call him?”

  I know, I know,” Jenny cried. “A rooster!”

  “That’s right. Gold star for you, Jenny,” Michelle said.

  “I knew that one,” Mark protested. “I should get the gold star.”

  Michelle ruffled his hair with one slender hand. “How about you both get a gold star?”

  He grumbled a bit but nodded. “Okay.”

  Once they finished with the chickens, Michelle led the children out of the coop and locked the cage door. She put the keys in her pocket and walked toward the kitchen where Hannah was cooking breakfast.

  The smell of oatmeal and sugar greeted her nostrils, and her stomach rumbled. “Mm, that smells good.”

  “I’m nearly done,” Hannah said, flashing her a smile. “Ten more minutes.”

  “Perfect. Here are the eggs,” Michelle said, placing the basket on the counter. “We’ll water the vegetable plots while you’re finishing up.”

  Jenny and Mark trooped along behind her, and for the next few minutes, they worked outside, watering and weeding. There wasn’t much to do, really. Dave kept the gardens in mint shape, and the plants grew well, but Michelle wanted the kids to learn from an early age.

  “Do you know why we water the plots so early in the day?” she asked. Mark and Jenny shook their heads. “So that the sun doesn’t suck all the moisture from the ground right away. It’s best to water your garden before it gets hot. Or after.”

  She continued in this fashion, pointing out the different vegetables and explaining how they grew, what they needed, and how long it took before they could be harvested.

  The children soaked up the knowledge like sponges, their faces eager and open. It gladdened Michelle’s heart to see it, and she reflected once more that she had the best job in camp. She loved kids, and she loved teaching. More than that, Mark and Jenny were like her own. Together with Buzz and Princess, they formed a family. A strange, but happy, orphan family.

  Once the gardens were off their to-do list, Michelle herded the children into the common room for breakfast. Nombali had arrived by then with the other kids in tow, and ordered chaos broke out as they all scrambled to find a seat. Hannah dished up bowls of sweetened oats which Michelle and Nombali distributed, and soon everyone was happily munching away.

  The adults began trickling in not long after, each grabbing a quick plate and coffee or tea before rushing off to their specific jobs. Though Michelle didn’t possess the details, she knew roughly half would go raiding, looking for building materials, while the other half would work on the moat, deepening and widening it. There was talk of digging more trenches further out as well and creating blockades to funnel the undead away from camp.

  Either way, she was just happy to help, and ecstatic to show her appreciation to the people who’d taken her in. If she and the children could pull their weight, it would be a significant load off the other’s shoulders.

  Michelle knew she wasn’t a fighter, and she knew some looked down at her for being so meek, but she also knew she could be useful, and was determined to prove it.

  Her train of thought was broken when Anne and Meghan broke into an argument. She scooped up the last of her oatmeal before rushing over to restore peace, and then it was time to dole out everyone’s new chores.

  “All right, settle down,” she said, once all plates were empty. “You know that we’ll have to work extra hard from today, right?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” was the chorused answer.

  “And you understand why, don’t you?”

  Another round of agreement.

  “Great, so we’ll all do our best to help out and not complain too much?” Michelle let her gaze travel around to each, especially Meghan who tended to be a bit difficult. Naughty as hell, actually.

  But everyone, even Meghan nodded gravely, and Michelle allowed herself to relax a bit. Maybe we can actually pull this off and not disappoint everyone.

  “Ruby, you and Lonny are in charge of the goats today. Feed, groom, and milk them just like Abe taught you,” Michelle said.

  “Okay,” Ruby replied, fidgeting with her leather bracelet, the one Anne and Meghan had made her in art class. She wasn’t a very talkative girl, and Michelle suspected she was still grieving for her father’s death and struggling to cope with everything that had happened to her.

  Her brother Lonny, on the other hand, had bounced back from his ordeal like a rubber ball on concrete. As soon as he was discharged from the infirmary, he’d wormed his way into his teacher’s hearts with his dimpled smile and charming manners.

  “Anne and Meghan, as punishment for fighting, you can help Hannah wash the dishes and clean the kitchen.”

  “What?” Meghan exclaimed. “She started it.”

  “I did not,” Anne protested.

  “It doesn’t matter who started it. You know better than to fight. You’re friends.” She pinned Meghan to her seat with a frown. “Besides, I know you started it, Meghan. You always do.”

  “I don’t mean to,“ Meghan said. “But if I know I’m right about something, shouldn’t I say so?”

  “It’s not always about being right, Meghan. Sometimes you need to consider other people’s feelings as well. Especially if it’s a friend.”

  “But isn’t the truth the most important thing of all?”

  Michelle sighed. Arguing with Meghan was hard. The child was intelligent and articulate, but also stubborn and opinionated. A lot like her mom.

  “Whatever you say, kitchen duty it is. You’re not worming your way out of it.”

  “Aw,” Meghan said, her bottom lip growing thick, but Michelle ignored her antics and carried on dishing out orders. “Jenny, you can help Nombali look after the babies, while Mark and I tackle the laundry. We’ll all meet here again at eleven to help Hannah prepare lunch.”

  With that said, breakfast was over, and everyone dispersed to perform their chores. Michelle spent a quiet morning folding clothes in the laundry room with Mark, while the rest of the washing dried on the line.

  They broke off for lunch, a brief affair consisting of tea and biscuits. Afterward, they all went from room to room, sweeping floors, dusting, and washing windows, working their way through the camp at a steady rate.

  By mid-afternoon, Michelle called it quits for the young ones, sending them off to play under Nombali’s supervision until supper was served. All except Lonny and Ruby who were too old for such things and both willing and capable of doing more.

  With their help, she and Hannah cooked a plain but decent supper, washed up, tidied the kitchen, and made a few preparations for breakfast. She was busy wiping down a counter when Lonny cried out. “Ruby, watch out!”

  She turned to find him clutching his sister’s wrist while blood pumped from her thumb, cut by the knife she’d been washing along with the rest of the dishes. The crimson fluid turned the soapy water pink, and Michelle rushed over to help.

  “Here. Let me,” she said, winding her cloth around the injured finger to stem the bleeding.

  Ruby leaned against her, her uninjured hand clutching at Michelle’s waist while she stared at her finger with blank eyes. Then Hannah arrived and took over while Michelle hovered nearby, unsure what to do next.

  Lonny stepped back as well, and together they watched as the nurse examined the wound before announcing it would need stitches. “It’s too deep for a plaster. I’ll take her to the infirmary. Can you and Lonny finish up here?”

  “Of course,” Michelle replied before turning to Ruby. “Are you okay, sweetie?”

  Ruby turned a blank gaze her way. “It’s just blood, Miss Michelle. We all bleed. All the time.”

  Michelle opened then closed her mouth again, unsure what to say to the girl’s strange remark. She watched as Hannah led Ruby away. When they were gone, she turned to Lonny. “Can you finish the dishes, please?”

  “Sure, Miss.”

  “Just be careful. We don’t want another accident.”

  “If it was an accident,”
he mumbled.

  She frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “Nothing, Miss. I said the knife must have slipped,” he replied with an innocent look.

  She frowned, certain he wasn’t telling the truth. “Are you sure?”

  “Of course, Miss.”

  After a moment, she turned away, shaking it off. Children can say the weirdest things sometimes.

  The only other hitch occurred when Lonny bumped into her while she was carrying a basket of flour. He hit her hard on the hip, jarring her arms. A cloud of white enveloped her face, and she sneezed. “Lonny!”

  He grabbed her arm to steady her. “Sorry, Miss Michelle. I didn’t mean to.”

  “It…It’s okay, I’m all right.” She sneezed again and wiped her watering eyes.

  The resulting mess was cleaned up quickly enough, though, and after supper, they all retired to their beds. Nombali had returned Meghan, Anne, and the babies to their parents before the evening meal. Lonny shared a dorm room with Peter, and Thembiso, and Ruby stayed with Donya and Nadia.

  Once she was sure they were all taken care of, and in their rooms, Michelle headed to her bungalow with a relieved sigh. “Boy, this was a long day.”

  She stopped along the way to collect Mark and Jenny. Nombali had taken them home with her after dinner. This was a huge change in routine for them, but one that would pass when the current situation returned to normal. It’s only for a little bit.

  “Thanks, Nombali. See you tomorrow,” Michelle said as she gathered the two sleepy kids close to her.

  “Of, course. And I will help after supper so you can get an early night,” Nombali said.

  “Sounds good,” Michelle replied.

  Indeed, it did. If there was one thing Michelle enjoyed the most, it was her evening routine with the dogs and kids. After a long hard day, there was nothing better than going home and relaxing with them.

  They reached the little cottage they called home and were greeted by an over-excited Buzz and Princess. During the day, the animals had the run of camp, but at night, they knew where their home was and always waited for her and the children to return.

  With a shiver, Michelle unlocked the door and hustled everyone in. “Come, come. Get out of the chill.”