Last Another Day

by Baileigh Higgins

  The sun was rising and Ben was relieved. It enabled him to see better. A light sweat broke out on his forehead but his body moved with ease and he enjoyed the activity. Then the gate appeared, the silver metal gleaming with dewdrops. They fanned out to the sides, hunkering down with their rifles ready.

  Max cleared the area as they slipped through the gate in single file. Fanning out again, they approached the tree line, keeping low in the grass and taking up their positions. They each chose a sheltered spot with a good field of fire while Max reconnoitered, making sure there weren't any surprises in store for them, either guards or infected. After a tense few minutes, Max gave the all clear and took up his own position.

  Max exchanged a glance with each of them and mouthed, “Ready?”

  They all nodded. Max pulled the pin on a grenade, tossing it into the center of the buildings. It detonated with a terrific bang, sending up a shower of dirt and dust, leaving behind a crater.

  Doors burst open and figures spilled out, firing off shots at random. The bright morning sun blinded them, and their shots went wild.

  “What a bunch of dumb-asses,” Ben muttered. Clearly, intelligence wasn't their strong suit.

  He lined up his shot and squeezed the trigger, putting a bullet between the eyes of the nearest—a burly man with a bushy beard worthy of Grizzly Adams. He went down, twitched once then lay still.

  Joseph, Max, and Jacques each picked their own targets and two more fell, while the third ducked behind a car, wounded in the shoulder.

  That's three down, Ben thought, with the fourth wounded. That leaves two, of which one is nowhere in sight and the other is minus a knee thanks to Morgan.

  Silence fell, overwhelming after the wild gunfire and grenade blast. It was broken only by the hoarse cries of the wounded man.

  After a few seconds of stifled noise, Max spoke. “Drop your gun and come out with your hands in the air.” Silence met his demand. “If you don't comply, I'm tossing a grenade in there.”

  “No way, man. If I come out, you'll shoot me.”

  “He's got that right,” Jacques muttered under his breath.

  Joseph snorted.

  Max quelled them both with a glance. “We won't shoot you if you come out, but if you don't, I'll blow you to pieces. How's that?”

  A moment's silence. “Fine! I'm coming out. Please don't shoot.” He tossed his rifle away then crawled out from behind the vehicle.

  Max motioned to the others to stand down.

  “Where's the rest of you?” Max demanded.

  “The rest?”

  “We know there's at least two more of you. Don't play dumb with me unless you want a bullet between the eyes."

  “Okay, okay.” He raised his hands in surrender. “Gary's dead. That bitch did him in with that shot to the knee. Cried for hours before he died.”

  “Good. The other one?”

  The guy swallowed, clearly nervous. “There isn't anyone else.”

  “Don't talk shit. Do you want to die?”

  “No.” He looked over his shoulder, eyes straying to a cottage not far from him, then shook his head. “I swear I'm the only one that's left.”

  “You're lying.”

  “Okay, fine, he's over—” A shot rang out and he fell, red blooming on his chest.

  Max looked around, his eyes wild as he surveyed the group. “Who shot him?”

  Ben shrugged, “Not me.”

  The other two shook their heads and Max looked back, scanning the grounds. “Must be his partner. He doesn't want to be found.”

  “Smoke him out then,” Ben suggested. “Put those grenades to use.”

  “Good idea.” Max tossed a grenade, followed closely by two more. Explosions rocked the ground, the percussive sounds making Ben's ears ring. When the noise faded, Max shouted, “We know you're there. You might as well come out or I'll blow you into so many pieces, there won't be enough left for the ants to carry away.”

  Silence.

  Max looked at the others. “What now? If I keep throwing in grenades, I risk killing the girl.”

  “We hunt him down,” Joseph said, “like the animal he is.”

  “It's too dangerous. There's no cover,” Max said, shaking his head.

  “We don't have a choi—” Joseph replied before being interrupted.

  “Alright. I'm coming out but if you try anything, I'll shoot the girl,” a stranger shouted. They all looked back, trying to pinpoint the location of the voice.

  Max narrowed his eyes. “Come on out. We won't shoot.”

  In the doorway of a cottage, the struggling figure of a girl appeared followed by a man.

  Ben blinked, surprised at what he saw. “It's just a boy!” he exclaimed, exchanging incredulous looks with the others.

  The last remaining survivor of the enemy group who callously shot one of his own was still in his teens, seventeen maybe eighteen. Wide eyes and freckles dominated his features, lending him an innocent air; his red hair gleamed in the sunlight.

  “What the fuck?” Max muttered.

  The boy pushed the girl along in front of him. Ben focused on her. She wore a long, dirty red dress torn at the neck and her arms were mottled with bruises. Her brown hair was unwashed and limp, shrouding her face, but Ben could see duct tape covering her mouth. She wouldn't stand still, fighting against the bonds binding her arms behind her back and ignoring the gun trained to the back of her head.

  “Let the girl go,” Max shouted.

  “No,” the boy yelled back, defiant. “I'm taking her and getting out of here. If you shoot me, she dies.”

  “No deal. Let the girl go and...” Max hesitated, “and you walk.”

  Ben shot Max a look. “Max, we can't let him go. He's a monster.”

  “What choice do we have? We have to rescue the girl,” Max protested.

  “I can take him,” Jacques said. “He won't know what hit him.”

  “It's too risky. She's struggling too much.” Max shook his head and turned back to the boy. “I give you my word. Let her go and you can walk free. No consequences.”

  The boy thought about it, emotions flickering across his face. Ben found it hard to read him. The innocent looks threw him off. There was something there, though, something cruel and hard but most of all, devious.

  He can't be trusted.

  After a tense moment, the boy nodded, “I agree. If you give your word.”

  “I give you my word and the word of my men.”

  “You'll have to come fetch her,” he smirked. “She might need some...assistance.”

  Ben's blood boiled, enraged at the thought of what the poor girl had been through.

  Fucker.

  Debating briefly, Max stood. “I'm coming.”

  Jacques jumped up with the eagerness of youth, “No, let me, Max.” He started down the ridge without waiting for permission and Max had no choice but to let him go.

  Ben’s instincts screamed at him. Something was wrong. He looked at the girl again. She was still struggling, refusing to back down. As he focused on her, he noticed something off. The barest hint of a bite mark peeped out from underneath the long hair over her shoulders.

  “Fuck. Max, stop him!”

  “What's wrong?”

  “She's a fucking zombie! Jacques, come back!” Ben shouted, raising his rifle.

  Things happened so fast, it all became a blur. Jacques stopped a meter away from the girl and looked back at Ben, confusion written over his face.

  The enemy boy reached over the girl's shoulder and ripped off the duct tape, revealing torn and bloody lips pulled back into a snarl. He cut her bonds and shoved her forward onto the unsuspecting Jacques.

  She growled and reached for him, hands latching onto his shirt. Jacques' eyes widened in horror, and his hands shot up.

  Ben aimed the rifle at her head, squeezed off a shot and missed. She latched onto Jacques' throat and tore out a meaty chunk. The boy screamed as blood spurted from the severed artery. Ben fired off another
round but shock and horror seized his muscles and he missed again.

  Jacques tumbled onto the ground with the girl. Max and Joseph shot at her. She tore out another chunk and reared up, throwing her head back. Red blood flowed down her milky white skin as she roared in triumph over the choking boy. It was a sight Ben would never forget. Max took aim and her head exploded into a fine spray of red mist.

  Joseph was shooting at the enemy boy who had taken refuge behind a low wall.

  Fury filled Ben's heart and he sighted on the edge of the wall. “Come on. Show yourself.”

  A hint of red shone over the top as the boy shifted, and Ben took his shot. A wordless cry told him the bullet went true before everything ended.

  Jacques had rolled over on the grass, choking and gasping on the blood gurgling in his throat.

  Ben dropped his gun and ran to him. “Jacques!”

  He dropped to his knees and gripped Jacques by the shoulder. The boy's eyes were glassy. His mouth worked, forming a word he couldn't say: Armand.

  Tears welled up in Ben's eyes as he worked to stem the flow of blood even though he knew it was pointless. When the light left Jacques' eyes, he grabbed the boy’s shoulders, shaking him back and forth. “Fight damn it. Don't die on me. Fight!”

  Joseph gripped his shoulder. “Ben. He's gone.”

  Sobbing bitter tears, Ben slumped to the ground. “No. God, please, no,” he cried, tears rolling down his cheeks, mingling with the blood on his hands. “It's my fault.”

  “It's not your fault, Ben,” Joseph said, but Ben knew the truth. He missed. He missed his shot. A shot that could have killed her and saved the boy. His boy. Ben cried out as agony gripped his heart with vice-like intensity.

  The others searched the cottages and cleared the grounds, leaving him to his grief. They piled up the bodies in the center. Ben's eyes fixated on them.

  “Burn them,” he said, voice hoarse.

  “What?” Max asked.

  “Burn them,” Ben repeated. “They don't deserve a burial.”

  Max complied without argument, fetching a jerry can of fuel and lighting the bodies with a match. They stood together and watched the bodies burn, acrid smoke stinging their eyes and the smell of burning flesh permeating their clothes.

  When nothing was left but ashes, they wrapped Jacques in a sheet scavenged from one of the cottages and loaded him into the back of a vehicle. The sad little cavalcade drove through the gates, stopping only to secure it with a thick chain brought with them for that purpose. Max made it known that the gunfire and grenade blasts would draw any undead in the vicinity and didn’t want their new home overrun.

  Ben was in a haze, his mind a mess of conflicting emotions. Scenes from the past kept flashing before his eyes. His wife, smiling at him on their wedding day, then the gruesome discovery of her body. Susan lost and scared until he found her, then the life leaving her eyes as she died from the virus, color leaching from her skin. Jacques, so young, choking on his own blood. He had failed them all.

  Tears coursed down his weathered skin unheeded, and he ignored Joseph's concerned looks. What was there to say?

  All too soon, they arrived home. Ben's heart sunk as he saw the waiting crowd. He got out, flanked on either side by Joseph and Max and Ben felt like they were in a lineup, facing a firing squad.

  The smiling faces of the crowd sobered at the grim looks on the trio's faces and eyes danced around for the whereabouts of Jacques. It was Julianne who broke the silence. “Max?”

  The question hung in the air, resonating through the expectant hush that had descended. From the back, Armand pushed his way through the crowd. His eyes searched, growing wilder by the second. “Where's Jacques?”

  When no-one replied, Armand stepped forward and grabbed Ben's arm. “Ben? Where's Jacques?”

  Ben swallowed, his mouth gone dry and his hands trembled. “I...he...”

  “Where is he?” Armand screamed.

  Ben shook his head and pointed to the back of the truck. Armand stormed over, ripping the door open. He froze, confronted by the blood-soaked sheet covering his brother's body. He tore it off, swaying when he saw the terrible wounds.

  “No. Not Jacques. Not my brother.” A shudder tore through his body, shoulders shaking as he heaved. He turned and glared at Max. “I trusted you. I placed his life in your hands. I believed you would keep him safe.”

  He strode over, voice low with barely suppressed rage before he punched Max in the face. Gasps of shock went around the group as blood spurted, cartilage crunching audibly as it broke. Armand followed it up with a second blow that split Max's lip before Ben grabbed him, wrestling him away.

  “It's not his fault!” he said, strong-arming Armand. “It's mine.”

  Armand stilled, shock and disbelief chased each other across his face. “What do you mean?”

  “I could have saved him,” Ben admitted. “I had the shot, but I missed. I missed, and he died.”

  Armand stared at him, mouth working with words he couldn’t find. “Tell me what happened to my brother.”

  Ben glanced over his shoulder and saw Elise and Julianne herding the children away, the group backing up to give them privacy. He focused on Armand's icy blue gaze. In a guilt-stricken voice, he told Armand what happened. When the last words died away, he waited, waited for the hatred and condemnation that was sure to follow.

  Armand stared at him, his face a blank slate. In an emotionless voice, he said, “You were like a father to him, to us.” Then he turned and walked away.

  Ben's knees buckled, unable to hold him up any longer. He fell to his knees in the dust, staring at his hands. His useless hands.

  His shoulders shook as dry, wracking sobs tore through his body. Joseph and Max gripped him by the arms, guiding him inside, speaking softly in his ears. It was nothing but noise to Ben as he faced the reality that his whole world was collapsing and for the first time in his life, he didn't know what to do.

  16

  Chapter 16 - Angie

  Angie’s lower back throbbed and ached as she scrubbed at the inside of the freezer. The smell of disinfectant made her eyes water, but it only barely overlaid the smell of rotting food.

  It was a nauseating mixture of spoiled fruit, vegetables, meat, and sour milk. It was now a week since they had taken over the game farm and the work that needed to be done was monumental.

  Armand and Joseph were installing a solar panel system on the main building to provide power to the kitchen, dining room, and laundry. There was no running water yet. The borehole needed power to function, so they fetched it from the dam in buckets.

  Elise swore like a trooper, struggling to clean out the oven. “Didn't these people know what oven cleaner was?” The fumes emanating from her region was enough to put them all on a high. Joanna laughed at Elise and soon they were all giggling like schoolgirls.

  In the dining room, Lisa and Michelle looked over the breakfast counter at the three women, joining in after a little hesitation. Angie found that surprising. They didn't complain, did their share, but it was rare to see them smile. She supposed they were still recovering from their ordeal. Not that she cared. She didn't like either of them and resented all the attention they got.

  Childish laughter drifted through the windows. Anna and Meghan were playing on the lawn with Princess and Buzz. The little terrier bounced around on the grass like a jack rabbit, chasing a ball while Buzz chased her.

  Julianne sat in the shade, keeping watch with a rifle on her knees. She had pulled a muscle moving furniture and had been reassigned to babysitting duties. Ben also kept an eye on them as he cleaned up the yard and swimming pool. Angie didn't envy him the task. She wouldn't be surprised if he found crocodiles in there. She supposed they wouldn't be keeping the pool—too much water.

  It would have been nice, though.

  Angie eyed Ben, wondering if he'd ever recover from the recent blows he'd suffered. Armand still refused to speak to him while she found the whole business tiresome.
She was fond of Ben—he'd always treated her well, indulged her. As for Jacques, she'd never liked him. He'd always stood between her and Armand, not trusting her with his brother.

  Good riddance.

  The problem was, Armand wouldn't speak to her either now. He was so caught up in grief over his stupid brother, he ignored her completely.

  Can't he see how much I love him?

  The hours passed as they worked to make the place habitable and Angie was grateful when Elise called a halt. They were all hot, sweaty, and hungry. Gathering in the dining room of the old restaurant, everyone relaxed as Elise sent cans of cool drink and bottled water around.

  Angie cracked open a Fanta Orange and grimaced at the sweet, sticky taste of the lukewarm mixture but she was thirsty and it went down fast. Packets of chips and biscuits followed with a few cans of beans and viennas. Nobody seemed happy with the food but without a working kitchen, it was the best they would get for a while.

  After their makeshift supper, the talk wound down as people sought their beds. Everyone was tired. Only the kids were hyper. Angie blamed all the sugary food.

  “Thanks,” she murmured as Julianne gathered the rubbish in a black bag.

  “Are you okay?” Julianne asked.

  “I'm fine. It's just—” Meghan ran up and grabbed Julianne around the waist, squealing and giggling.

  Little brat, Angie thought as Julianne scurried off to deal with the kids. She scooped up her bedroll and lay down in a corner, hoping to get a little sleep. She struggled. The sight of Armand's face drifted before her closed eyelids. She couldn't stop thinking about him. From the first moment she saw him, she knew he was the one.

  And now it was like she didn't exist at all. After everything they'd been through, she'd believed they shared a bond. They had grown close over the weeks of running and hiding, fighting for their lives together and now he was acting like a stranger, cold and distant.

  Then there was Morgan. She'd seen the way Armand's eyes followed her, the resentment he felt towards Logan. He was jealous.

  I don't know what he sees in her.