Last Another Day

by Baileigh Higgins

  “He's right. This could become a real problem for us later on,” Max said.

  After some hesitation and another half hour of discussion, everyone had come to a conclusion. The enemy group had to be removed, even if it meant killing. Some, like Rosa, didn't fully agree but understood the necessity, at least.

  Max, Joseph, Jacques and Big Ben were chosen to go. According to Jacques, there were six left in the enemy group, one of whom had been shot in the knee and was possibly dead. Max was confident it could be done with no losses on their side if they were smart. Logan elected to stay behind with Morgan.

  After the meeting, people drifted off one by one, either to their beds or guard duty. Slinging his rifle over his shoulder, Logan headed outside to take up his shift of guard duty. Morgan was there ahead of him, determined to do her share despite being injured.

  “Hey there,” she greeted. “Up for some guard duty?”

  “With you? Always.”

  “Don't joke.”

  He climbed up the ladder on the wall then reached down a hand and hauled her up. She gave a little squeak of surprise as her feet left the air and by the time he set her down, she was blushing furiously.

  “It's no joke,” he said. “You know how I feel.”

  Mumbling something unintelligible, she hobbled off to the nearest guard tower. She flopped down on a chair and stretched her leg out with a muffled groan. He offered no sympathy. She wouldn't want it.

  Deciding to give her some space, he made a slow circuit of the walls. The night air was cool and the silence soothing as he enjoyed the break away from humanity. Most of his adult years had been spent out in the bush, hunting, foraging and game ranging. A loner by nature, he found people tiresome. All except one.

  Spying Morgan's silhouette up ahead, he grinned. Being around people had some perks at least. She was standing guard like a sentinel, her bad leg balanced on the toes and a spear in her right hand. Her hair waved in the breeze like a flag and her face was cast silver in the moonlight.

  He came to a stop next to her and together they surveyed the terrain below. After a few minutes, she turned those beguiling eyes on him and smiled. “You know, I never thought it would take the end of the world to make me feel truly alive again.”

  “I know what you mean.”

  “There's something about being in danger and living on the edge that makes me excited, eager to meet the challenge,” Morgan added.

  “I'm familiar with the feeling,” he replied. “Out in the bush, the game changes in a second. A lion can charge, a snake can strike. Life hangs in the balance. It makes a person aware.”

  “I get that.”

  Logan took her hand in his, entangling their fingers. “Morgan,” he said, waiting.

  Morgan's lips quivered as she looked down at their hands. “I don't know if I can do this, Logan. It's too soon.”

  “It's not too soon and you know it.”

  “Will this last?” She looked down, lashes sweeping her cheeks. “I need to know this will last.”

  “It will but once you do this, there's no going back,” he replied. “This is it, Morgan. There won't ever be another for me. Or you.”

  She shuddered, understanding dawning in her eyes.

  Logan knew what he was asking. He had found his woman and once he had her, he had no intention of letting her go. She either had to go all in, surrender her soul, or walk away. It would be an all-consuming relationship, one of passion and possession.

  Morgan hesitated, then stood on tip-toe, offering her lips. Logan lowered his head and claimed what she gave. He was neither gentle nor hesitant. He kissed her roughly, with all the passion he possessed.

  When the kiss ended, she swayed, and he pulled her close, nestled into his body. It felt right. Together they stood, neither of them speaking, watching the moon rise higher in the cobalt sky. It was a moment Logan would remember forever.

  “Happy?” he asked.

  “Happy,” she replied, snuggling into him.

  The minutes passed and he relaxed as he breathed in Morgan's scent. A whiff of a different scent interfered with his happy moment, though. The scent of rot and decay. Death had arrived.

  In his arms, Morgan stiffened as she noticed them too. “Duty calls.” Gripping her spear she hobbled over to the corner. A group of zombies clawed at the fence, pushing at the barrier with insistent groans.

  “Be careful,” Logan said, eyeing her leg.

  She shrugged and flashed him a grin. “I'll be fine.”

  Taking up position, her spear flashed down with unerring accuracy and the point buried deep in the eye socket of the closest zombie. With a twist to scramble the brains and a yank, she ripped it free, her victim collapsing in a heap.

  “See? Piece of cake.”

  Logan joined her and the next few seconds passed in a blur of blood, bone and brain matter. In fact, it was going so well Logan should have known disaster loomed.

  Morgan's spear flashed down and embedded itself in the cheek instead of penetrating the skull or eye socket. Despite her best efforts, she couldn't pull it free, her wounded leg not allowing for a firm foothold. The zombie, a woman with greasy blond hair, dragged her head back with a growl.

  Teetering on the edge, Morgan screamed, “Logan!”

  Logan raced to her side, reaching out a hand just as she tumbled over. “No!”

  Morgan landed with a thump on her back, grunting as the breath left her lungs in a rush. She held on to the spear, keeping the impaled zombie at bay. The other two closed in fast.

  Without thinking, Logan threw himself off the wall and onto the nearest one. Its spine crackled, the brittle bone breaking with an audible snap. Logan smashed its face into the dirt and scrambled over, trying to head off the second zombie aiming for Morgan.

  He dove forward, tackling it around the waist. They crashed to the ground. The zombie thrashed wildly as it snapped at Logan. It was a lot fresher than the others, intact and possessed of herculean strength.

  Logan grappled with it, rage fueling his actions. He pushed the zombie back by the neck, then swung his rifle up, bashing it on the temple. The blow glanced off. He didn't stop, bashing it over and over until a muffled pop told him the skull had collapsed.

  Logan turned his head in time to avoid a spray of blood and brains in the face, catching it on the back of the head instead. Beneath him, the zombie stilled, 'unlife' leaving its body at last.

  Morgan cried out in pain, grabbing his attention. His insides froze. He rushed over, too scared to look. Somehow she had kept hold of the spear with the zombie on the other end but the crippled zombie had gone after her, abandoning Logan for easier prey. She kicked at it with her good leg but it had a death grip on her foot and was levering itself higher up, biting down on her shin as it went.

  Logan delivered a stunning kick to its head that would have made his old rugby coach proud, sending it flying. He ended its misery with a few decisive hits with the but of his rifle before turning back to Morgan.

  She was already getting up, red-faced with anger. She kicked the legs out from underneath the remaining zombie and planted a boot on its chest. Wrenching the spear free, she delivered the killing blow.

  Morgan staggered back, letting her weapon clatter to the ground.

  “Fuck!” she screamed, heaving for breath.

  “Your leg,” Logan said, his voice devoid of emotion.

  Morgan bent down and examined her shin. Her hand came away shiny with saliva. Logan's heart dropped.

  “Yuck,” she shuddered, wiping her hand on the ground before looking up at him with a half-smile. “I'll be fine. The boots. There's a reason I wear them all the time.”

  “Oh, thank God. Don't ever do that again.” He slumped with relief then pointed at the wall. “Let's get back before more come. We can dispose of the bodies in the morning.”

  She nodded, gulping in air. “Agreed.”

  They climbed back onto the wall and Logan helped Morgan to the nearest chair where she rem
ained for the rest of their watch. Logan patrolled the walls, left alone with his churning thoughts. If he had lost her...

  From the beginning, he had planned on leaving, only staying long enough to help Max build a secure base. When Big Ben and his group arrived, Logan told himself he'd stay another week at the most. Until that day—the day they saved Morgan. The moment he laid eyes on her, he knew she was the one. She simply had to realize it too.

  When Armand and Angie showed up to take over the next watch, Logan was more than ready for some alone time with his love. She leaned on him as they shuffled to her room, clearly in pain.

  “Should I call Hannah?” he asked.

  “No,” she huffed. “I'm fine. I just need to relax.”

  “Let me have a look then.”

  “It's not that bad Logan. Come on, I'm fine,” she protested.

  He fixed her with a look and she shut her mouth, sticking out her leg after sitting down on the edge of the bed.

  He unwound the bandage and examined the wounds. The stitches had survived the fight. It was swollen and bruised but otherwise okay. He disinfected it before wrapping it with a clean bandage then gave her the medication Hannah had prescribed. Antibiotics and painkillers.

  “I'm so tired,” she moaned, flopping back on the bed.

  “Let me tuck you in then,” he said.

  She cocked an eyebrow at him and he laughed. “Relax. I'm just gonna take your boots off.”

  He eased them off followed by the socks, stopping when he saw the crescent-shaped bruises covering her shin. “That must hurt,” he said.

  “Not anymore,” she giggled, winking at him.

  “I see the drugs are kicking in,” he replied with wry amusement. “You've got no head for meds, you know? It makes you loopy.”

  She giggled again, hooking a finger in his collar. “You make me loopy.”

  He let her pull him up onto the bed, unable to resist her. She kissed him with abandon, curling her fingers in his hair. He could feel his restraint slipping and gripped her ass, pulling her to him. She moaned, swinging her leg over his hip as her fingers traveled down to his belt, fumbling with the buckle.

  Logan sighed, breaking off the kiss. “I'm going to hate myself for this later but...” He pushed her away, gently but firmly. “I can't let you do this.”

  She pouted. “Why?”

  “Because you're all drugged up and I won't take advantage of you.”

  “But I want you to.”

  “I'm sorry but I can't.”

  She heaved a huge sigh, “You're not making this easy, are you?” She pulled a face and rolled away. “Fine, be the gentleman.”

  “I'm sorry, love,” he said, planting a kiss on her brow. “See you in the morning.”

  He got up to leave, but she grabbed his hand. “Wait. At least stay the night.”

  Logan hesitated.

  “Just hold me, okay? I can't blame you tomorrow for having a cuddle, now can I?”

  “I suppose not,” he conceded.

  He shuffled into bed next to her. Morgan curled her body into his, pulling his arms tight around her. Her breathing slowed as she drifted off. Logan tried to relax, tried to think of anything except the warm body pressed to his and the pulsing need.

  “You've got no idea what you're doing to me,” he whispered, closing his eyes and resigning himself to a long, sleepless night.

  The next morning came far too soon. Morgan wanted to say goodbye to her brother and the others before they left. Everyone else had the same idea and the common room was packed. Delicious smells wafted through the air as Elise prepared a proper send off for the heroes. Logan's stomach growled.

  It was clear to everyone in the room that things between Morgan and Logan had changed. Whenever Logan looked at her, Morgan blushed a deep, beetroot red which caused much amusement among the observers and after many not-so-subtle jokes, Logan shrugged and kissed her in full view.

  “Guess the cat's out of the bag,” Morgan said with a sheepish smile.

  “Not like it was ever a state secret,” Julianne teased.

  The only tense moment occurred when Joanna arrived. Morgan stiffened and Logan removed his arm from around her shoulders.

  Joanna forestalled Morgan's stuttered explanation with a raised hand. “Morgan dear, don't apologize. I know you loved my son, but he's gone and you would be a fool not to find what happiness you can in this awful world.” She turned and made a dignified exit, leaving Morgan red-faced and guilty-looking.

  “That went well,” Logan said.

  Morgan swallowed, chewing her lips.

  “It must be hard for her. Losing her son and then seeing you with someone else.” He studied her stricken face. “How do you feel about it?”

  “I feel bad. How can I not?”

  “Are you sorry?”

  “No, I'm not. I could die tomorrow and then what? Besides, this doesn't change the fact that I loved him. I still do.”

  “I understand,” Logan said.

  “Thanks.” She kissed him on the cheek. “I’ll go help Elise wash up. See you later.”

  Slinging his rifle to its customary spot, he walked out into the chilly pre-dawn air. He nodded to Armand and Angie. They stood off to the side before walking over to the wall. Max and the others were preparing to leave, and he wanted to see them off but not before he noticed the hostile look Armand shot him. Angie whispered to him but the boy ignored her, glaring at Logan instead.

  Shrugging, Logan turned and walked away. He didn't have time for childishness. Whatever Armand’s problem was, Logan didn't care. What he didn't notice, however, was the hurt and desperation on Angie's face as she spoke to Armand, tugging futilely on his arm.

  15

  Chapter 15 - Big Ben

  It’s quite nippy this morning, Ben thought, squinting at the road ahead. It was well before dawn and everything was dark and quiet, the only signs of life being the odd startled meerkat or guinea fowl caught in the headlights. He sighed and rubbed his eyes, tired from all the peering into the dark.

  His eyesight wasn't quite what it used to be anymore, and a trip to the optometrist was out of the question now.

  I'm getting too old for this. He shifted in his seat, trying to get comfortable. Strange how life takes the most unexpected turns.

  When he was young, he was a well-known kickboxer, traveling the world over to championships and contests. But the injuries took their toll, and he retired early, opening his own studio.

  He met and married a good woman and hoped for a family but it wasn’t meant to be. Mariana was diagnosed with cervical cancer a year after their marriage and all dreams of children died with that discovery. Thankfully, Mariana recovered from the cancer after treatment and they spent many happy years together.

  Now he was glad they'd never had children. Losing his wife was bad enough. He still had nightmares of those first few days of the apocalypse. He went to the studio at ten that morning. After class, he was perplexed to notice several missed calls from Mariana, which was unusual since she didn't like to bother him at work. He called back, but she didn’t answer.

  Dismissing the next class, he jumped into his car and raced home, a feeling of foreboding gnawing at his gut. When he found the streets in chaos and traffic jammed to a suffocating degree, the feeling of wrongness intensified.

  When he reached home, his worst fears were confirmed. Someone had broken into the house. The dining-room windows were smashed and there was blood everywhere.

  He followed the blood trail to the bedroom, finding the door open. More blood than he had ever seen before in his life obscured the room. It was splashed onto the walls, the ceiling, the bed, and soaked into the carpet.

  He found his wife on the floor on the other side of the bed. He could barely identify her there was so little left. Only the blond hair and wedding ring confirmed his fears. Luckily or unluckily, depending on the point of view, her skull had been cracked open and her brain eaten, preventing her from turning and coming back a
s a monster.

  Shocked and confused, it took some time to figure out what was happening and make a run for it. He picked up Angie and Susan along the way. They barely made it out of Bloemfontein alive.

  On the road, they met up with the others and were chased from one place to the next as their group was whittled down. During that time, he grew fond of the girls, along with Armand and Jacques, coming to see them as his adopted children.

  The night they ended up at Max's place, they were attacked. Susan got bitten. He blamed himself for that. He should have been there for her and protected her just as he should have protected his wife. At least Angie was still alive, and he would make damn sure she stayed that way.

  Up ahead, the other vehicle slowed down and pulled over to the side of the road. Max had briefed them all beforehand, and it was decided they would launch a surprise attack at dawn.

  Joseph shot Ben a smile, his teeth gleaming pearly white against his ebony skin. Ben had grown to trust him after the many near misses they faced in the past, and the two men were as close as brothers.

  “Today, my friend, we might die,” Joseph said.

  “Comforting,” Ben replied.

  Joseph laughed, “Don't look so sad. We've faced many dangers together and if we die today, we go to meet our ancestors.”

  Ben snorted, “At least, you know who yours are.”

  Joseph clapped him on the back then walked ahead, joining the rest while Ben stretched out his stiff limbs, hoping to get the blood flowing again. He did not look forward to what awaited them. The idea of killing repulsed him but he realized the necessity. What bothered him was the thought of the remaining girl. He hoped they weren't rescuing a corpse.

  They huddled together as Max dispensed last-minute instructions, and then they were off, jogging along the dirt track spaced loosely apart, each keeping a wary eye out for movement.