Last Another Day

by Baileigh Higgins

  'Mess hall' was a grand word for the tent where volunteers cooked and served what little food the soldiers and mercenaries like him scrounged up. It was an impossible situation, and once more he cursed the idiotic politician who thought that this site would make a haven for survivors.

  Situated on an open piece of veldt, it comprised of hastily constructed wire fences and contained a sea of tents that housed three thousand souls. There was no water, no electricity, and no ablutions. Trenches had been dug instead. Finding enough water on the daily scavenging trips was a herculean task, notwithstanding food.

  The people forced to stay there suffered under the constant threat of starvation or dehydration. For weeks, the summer sun scorched them with its relentless heat, making the situation worse until the rains came. For the first few days, it was bliss. People washed clothes and collected water in empty containers, enough to last awhile.

  Tensions eased.

  However, as the days passed and the rains continued, the situation worsened. The entire camp turned into a sea of mud. Clothes and blankets became moldy while shoes fell apart. The sewage trenches were the worst, becoming foul-smelling swamps. A stream of people overwhelmed the medical tent suffering from colds, flu, bronchitis, and fungal infections.

  But the worst thing in Breytenbach's opinion was the indefensible nature of the site. They weren't far from Johannesburg and Pretoria where hundreds of thousands of zombies roamed, looking for food. If the infected ever came their way, the camp would be obliterated. They had already fought off large groups of the things attacking on a daily basis with an ever dwindling supply of ammunition. In addition, the fence wasn't strong enough, and twice already they had suffered a breach.

  Breytenbach accompanied the woman to the long line of people waiting for breakfast and left her in the queue. He spotted Vicky, a volunteer, at the front of the line, dishing out a small scoop of oatmeal to each person.

  “Hey, Vicky. How are things looking?”

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

  “Same thing, different day. I'm going out today and I'll see what I can do.”

  She smiled her thanks before turning back to her task. 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.

  Walking away with the mud squelching beneath his boots, 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. It made him feel helpless.

  He knew for a fact that the president and his cronies had taken the bulk of the supplies available for themselves and their families, along with half of the army to protect them. Ordinary people had been left to fend for themselves.

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

  Turning around, he spotted Jonathan, the young surgeon who worked in the medical tent. Although Breytenbach liked and respected Jonathan, 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, Jonathan. What can I do for you?”

  “Are you and your men heading out today?”

  “Yes, we are. It's not like we have a choice and before you ask, yes, I will look for medical supplies too. I always do.”

  Jonathan flushed. “I know you do, Captain and I appreciate it.” He looked up 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 had expected something like this 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. Cigarettes were scarce nowadays and prized among the nicotine addicted. It ranked right up there with coffee and alcohol as the most sought-after items.

  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 nose. “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 own use since they 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, waiting for everyone to get in.

  Mike jumped in, grinning, his green eyes glistening with excitement through a mop of reddish-brown curls. Slender, of average height with a mischievous smile and pointed ears, he reminded Breytenbach of an elf. Or maybe a pixie. Originally part of the Army Ranger Wing in Ireland, Mike only recently signed up with the company. A first-rate fighter and helicopter pilot, he was also nuts.

  Johan and Ronnie jumped into the back soon after, 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 known as Koevoet during the bush war and of Zulu descent. 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 cool greeting before turning back to her high-powered Galil sniper rifle. He resisted the urge to snort as she cleaned the barrel and checked the sights with loving care. She treated that thing like it was her baby.

  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.

  The guards waved a desultory goodbye as they pulled out the gates. Breytenbach turned his attention to navigating through the muddy terrain.

  So, where we be goin' this time, Captain?” Mike asked.

  “Don't worry about it and take your boots of 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 before smoothing a hand over the barrel of her gun. “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 trying. Breytenbach couldn't figure out if he was really interested or just trying to irritate the shit out of Kirstin.

  The night before, Breytenbach spent an hour poring over maps trying to find a nearby place they hadn't raided yet. He had settled on a small community thirty minutes from camp. Now, as he pulled up to the little town, he hoped they would find what they needed there.

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

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

  “Where is everyone?”

  Nobody answered. Not that he expected them to. They followed orders and would wait for his.

  “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 at the ready. Putting her eye to the powerful scope, she examined the surrounding area before giving the all-clear.

  The rest of them piled out and made for the grocery shop. They wasted no time, having performed the maneuver a lot during the past weeks. Mike and Lenka circled the perimeter, their knives at the ready. The other three followed behind, relying on the two 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 as Mike spotted an infected lurking by the cigarette counter. A few moments later, Lenka took out two more in the aisles.

  “Clear,” Lenka called.

  “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 the 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 basic 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 was keeping 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?” she asked him.

  “Favorite?”

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

  Breytenbach chuckled at Mike's discomfort as all jokes deserted him for once and he raised 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. Breytenbach 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 here. It would be much nicer than staying in that hellhole of a camp.

  And safer.

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

  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.

  So engrossed was he in his thoughts, Breytenbach didn't hear Kirstin speaking.

  “Captain. Sir,” she said.

  “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 out of the church doors and race towards them. Its eyes locked with 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, 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, either.”

  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!”

  18

  Chapter 18 - Breytenbach

  It was raining once more on the way back to camp. A damp, dreary drizzle 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. Not as much physically as mentally but he would die before he showed it to the others. They relied on him as their leader. With every action he took and every decision he made, he held their lives in his hands.

  Breytenbach knew he dared not show any weakness nor exhibit signs of hesitation. They would lose faith in him and the team's cohesiveness would be lost. It was that alone which had kept them alive so far. As different as they were, as disparate as their backgrounds and personalities might be, they were a team and functioned as one. Each of them acted as part of a whole. If only he could shake off the mind-numbing apathy that held him in its grip.

  Up ahead, Breytenbach spotted a figure stumbling along the side of the road. He slowed and 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 her 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, expos
ing 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 had 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 guarding the gate 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 tradition and 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 throngs of people, dejected faces brightened up when they saw the bags and 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 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.” Turning to the team, he said, “You can all go do whatever it is that you do when I'm not around. I'll help the Lieutenant here. See you at dinner.”

  Nodding, they disappeared to their various haunts. Mike would head straight for the gambler's corner while Johan and Ronnie obsessively patrolled the fence. Kirstin's activities were a complete mystery to him and he had given up trying to guess. Lenka had a girlfriend...or two, maybe three, Breytenbach wasn't sure and wouldn't ask either.

  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.”