From the corner of her eye, she spotted more infected heading her way. To make matters worse, they were fresh which meant fast.
“Oh, God.”
She broke into a run again, pulling on reserves of strength she didn’t know she had. For hours, she evaded groups of infected until her body was close to collapse.
Ducking behind a low wall, Morgan pressed her back against the cool concrete and tried to catch her breath. It came in deep, ragged gasps that shuddered through her ribs. The stitch in her side made her wince every time she moved. She slid down to her haunches and huddled in the shade as she listened for the sounds of pursuit.
Morgan snuck a quick peek around the corner of her barricade. She had to get back to her truck. There was no way she’d get out of town alive without it. Breathing deeply to calm her panicking heart, she reflected that it felt like forever now since she’d arrived that morning.
It really sucks to be at the bottom of the food chain.
She peered around the corner. No sign of them yet. But she knew they were coming. It was only a matter of time.
“God, please let me make it out of this alive,” she pleaded, wiping her forehead with a trembling hand. “And I don't mean by becoming a zombie!”
Judging by the sun, it was around noon and the sun was blisteringly hot. Sweat trickled down her back and her ponytail drooped. Her mouth was parched.
In the distance, she heard sounds heralding the arrival of another group of infected. Upon looking around the corner, she saw a big crowd moving up the street in her direction. They were aimless for now but they’d spot her soon enough.
Closing her eyes, she marshaled all her strength. It was make or break now. Throughout the chase, she'd been tracing a large circle back to her vehicle. Now she was close enough to reach it.
“C'mon, Morgan. You can do this.”
Taking a deep breath, she plunged forward and took off at a flat run. Behind her, she heard the moment they spotted her and gave chase. Adrenaline coursed through her veins. Sweat streamed down her face but she ignored it and focused on her footing. To fall now would be the end of her.
The stitch in her side was back and her lungs burned like fire. She could hear them gaining. In the distance, Morgan made out the shop where she’d parked that morning and kept going through sheer force of will.
A quick glance over her shoulder nearly proved her undoing when she saw how close the infected were. She could almost smell the decay, feel the teeth sinking into her flesh. Not far in front of her, a second group came running out of a side street, seeking to cut her off.
Shit!
Redoubling her efforts, Morgan closed the distance and a kernel of hope blossomed inside.
I'm going to make it!
Then, with only a hundred meters to go, she spotted a zombie beside her truck. Maybe even the same one from earlier. Biting back a curse, she forged ahead. There could be no stopping now.
She pulled out her gun and shot at the zombie as she ran. Most of her shots went wild but one bullet hit it in the shoulder and spun it around with enough force to make it fall. Vaulting over the infected, she hit the door of her truck, pulled it open and jumped in with seconds to spare.
The first zombie slammed into the side with enough force to make her jump and then she was surrounded. Morgan fumbled for the keys in the ignition and froze. Her fingers grasped at air.
Where are the damn keys?
With her brain in overdrive, Morgan tried to remember where they were, what could have happened. She’d last gotten out and...her pocket! She patted the small breast pocket on the front of her shirt and came up empty.
The material flapped loosely and the memory of tearing cloth returned to her. Craning her head, she stared at the spot outside the truck where the zombie had hooked its fingers into her shirt. Sure enough, a glint of silver shone in the sun.
It was only a few meters away but it might as well have been the breadth of the earth. The swarm was upon her and there was no escaping this time.
She was trapped.
In a sudden fit of rage, Morgan smashed her hands against the steering wheel, pouring out her anger in a torrent of abuse. Then she burst into tears. Sobs wracked her body as she stared at the monstrous faces leering at her through the glass.
I don't want to die.
At that moment, she realized that no matter how bad things were or how much she missed Brian, she wanted to live.
All she saw was death.
The infected beat on the windows and she wondered how long the glass would hold. The seconds ticked by as the tears dried. The beating fists retreated to a distant thrum and a hollow space opened up inside her.
Some of the infected crawled onto the hood and slammed on the windscreen. A crack appeared in front of her eyes. She watched it run across like a line being drawn with an invisible pen. Little starbursts punctuated it and with trembling hands, she pulled her gun from its holster.
Morgan pressed the barrel to her temple and squeezed her eyes shut, filling her mind with images of happier days. “I'm sorry, Mom, Meghan,” she whispered, preparing to pull the trigger.
A distant sound penetrated her thoughts and her finger froze. It sounded like gunshots. Wild hope suffused her body in a tingling rush. For several seconds, nothing happened, then the throng surrounding her thinned out ever so slightly. Their attention was shifting, and a few were peeling off the outer edges and moving in the direction of the gunshots.
Several more shots rang out and the crowd rippled as some of them fell. They rolled away like a tsunami towards the unknown attackers.
More infected dropped, black blood puddling around the wounds. As the last one fell, a muted shout reached her ears.
In the distance, a man waved at her. “Anyone in there?”
Tentatively, Morgan cracked the door open, checking for lurkers. Then she waved a trembling hand at her rescuer. He slung his rifle over his shoulder and jogged over.
As he neared, her heart jumped. No. Impossible. That smile, those eyes.
Can it be?
She jumped out and screamed, “Max? Is that you?”
He faltered. “Morgan?”
“Oh my God. It is you,” she cried, sprinting towards him. How many nights had she tossed and turned, wondering if he was still alive?
He met her halfway and swept her off the ground. She cried as his familiar scent enveloped her, his voice booming with laughter. A year younger, they'd been close as siblings, always getting into trouble together. He dwarfed her at six foot three and she always felt safe around him, protected.
“Max, I can't believe it's you. I’ve missed you so much. I thought you were dead,” she said, alternating between crying and laughing.
He whooped, swinging her in a circle, “I'm here. Takes more than a few zombies to get rid of me.” He set her down and inspected her at arm's-length, “Are you okay? Where's Mom? And Meghan?”
“I'm fine and they're safe for now. But if you had shown up two seconds later, I'd have been a goner.” She stared at the bodies littering the parking lot in the ugly aftermath of death. “Speaking of which, we'd better get out of here. Those shots are going to draw more of them.”
Max nodded, “Let's go. You've got a ride?”
She walked over to where the keys lay and picked them up. Dangling them between thumb and forefinger, she grimaced. “Now I've got these, I'm good to go. Go ahead, I'll follow.”
He shook his head, herding her to the passenger side. “I’m driving.”
He jogged back to the Nyala and had a brief conversation with the driver. Next moment he was back, sliding in next to her.
Although they followed a rather circuitous route, she recognized the riot police's quarters when they got there. It didn't look at all the same. The walls were reinforced with barbed wire and sheet metal on the outside and an assortment of vehicles on the inside. The gate was heavily fortified, a barrier extending out from the sides on top of which two young men stood guard. They ea
ch had an R4 rifle slung across their backs and carried long metal spears.
As Max drove inside the barriers, the men scanned their vehicles and the surroundings before giving the all clear. Only then did the gate open, swinging inwards on its hinges.
Once inside, Max cut the engine. “Can you get out for a moment, sis?”
Hesitating, she stared at the unfamiliar faces surrounding her.
“Don't worry. It's just procedure. Anybody who's gone outside has to be checked for bites.”
The driver from the Nyala jumped out when she did. Morgan looked on in silent appreciation as he walked over to join them. Tall and well built, he was handsome with black hair and steely eyes.
“Logan, this is my sister, Morgan.”
“Nice to meet you.” She smiled and stuck out her hand, feeling awkward beneath his intent stare. Have I got something on my face?
He shook her hand and his touch sent a tingle up her spine. “The pleasure is all mine.”
Morgan could feel a blush creeping up her cheeks and stepped back.
How embarrassing.
Max carried on with the introductions and Morgan took the opportunity to get away from Logan. The man was dangerous. She could sense it. She also didn't like her reaction to him. It felt like a betrayal of Brian.
The two men on the wall gave her a wave as Max introduced them. “That's Armand and Jacques,” he indicated, “and this is Angie.”
A petite, young woman with dark eyes stepped forward to shake her hand. “Hi there. If you don't mind I'd like to check you for bites and scratches.”
With a nod, Morgan let her. Makes sense, she thought. The last thing anybody needed was for the infection to hitch a ride inside.
Her amazement increased as they got back into their vehicles and drove around the back. The cars parked alongside the fence had been formed into a makeshift walkway with an assortment of material with little guard towers dotted at intervals.
Max explained it all to her on the way. “We have at least two people guarding the walls at all times. The zombies stumble across us often and have to be dealt with swiftly before they draw more of their kind. We’ve found the spears are a good way to kill them from a height.”
“When did you get here? How did you do all this?”
“I arrived here the day of the outbreak. I must have missed you and Mom by a matter of hours. As for the rest, I'll explain inside.”
“All right. But we must hurry. Meghan is sick and needs medicine. I have to get back.”
He turned to her, face sober. “She's sick? How bad is it?”
“We don't know. She's got a cough and a fever. It's getting worse. She needs antibiotics.”
He nodded. “Right, let's hurry then.”
She followed Max inside, surprised to find it so cosy. A little girl sat at a table coloring in pictures. A large Alsatian lay at her feet while a blond woman prepared sandwiches in the kitchen. The smell of fresh bread filled her nostrils and her mouth watered.
“You've got electricity?”
“Yes. Courtesy of a generator. The fuel won't last forever but for now, we're comfortable enough. Water is the main problem here.”
“Elise, this is my sister, Morgan.”
The blond smiled from ear to ear. “Your sister? You found her? So nice to finally meet you.” She shook Morgan’s hand. “Where's your mom and the little one?”
“They're on a farm,” Morgan explained. “I came to town for food and medicine. Meghan's ill.”
“We're going there now,” Max interjected.
“Have you got food?” Elise asked.
“Not much,” Morgan admitted.
“Well then, give me a moment and I'll pack some to take with you. How many people?”
“Four and the little one, excluding me.”
Elise sat them down at the table with a sandwich and a cool drink each before packing a hamper.
Morgan crammed the bread into her mouth, nearly fainting at the taste of ham and pickled onions.
After a moment of silence, Max asked, “What happened to you? And Brian?”
She swallowed, tears rising unbidden. “I don't know what happened. He went to the shop and got bitten the night before. The next morning he tried to kill me.”
“How did you escape?”
She shrugged. “Luck and a shower rail.”
“I went to your house, you know.”
Startled, she stared at him. “Did you see Brian?”
He nodded, unable to meet her eyes. “He attacked us and...I had to kill him or more accurately, Logan did. He had to save me. I'm sorry.”
“He did? Brian's dead?”
“Yes.”
“I'm glad. I didn't want him to be like that forever. Now he can be at peace.” She sniffed and looked away. “You know about Dad too?”
“I saw. I can't believe he's gone.”
“I have a hard time believing it myself.” Morgan swallowed the last of her sandwich and took a sip of her cool drink.
“All of this,” she waved a hand around, “is surreal. I can't believe what's happened. It's like a nightmare you can't wake up from.”
“At least, we're together again. We'll survive. We have to.” Max gave her a smile, determination shining in his eyes and Morgan could feel her tension recede. It was true. They would survive.
“Here's your food, love. Now hurry over there and bring back your family,” Elise said, handing Max a large basket.
“Thank you, Elise. You're one of a kind,” Max said, grinning. “Ready to go, Morgan?”
She jumped up, wincing as her legs cramped. “Let's go.” She turned to Elise. “Thanks for everything.”
“Oh, it's no bother. Just make sure you all get back here safely, okay?” She pointed at the little girl and the dog. “Anna could use a friend and so could Buzz.”
“Buzz?” Morgan asked, perplexed.
Elise shrugged. “They named him after Buzz Lightyear.”
As they walked out, Morgan thought about that. Perhaps, there was still hope for a future.
Kids, dogs.
An ordinary world.
10
Chapter 10 - Julianne
Julianne’s back was sore and cramped from sitting on the little chair next to Meghan's bed. Smoothing a hand over the sleeping child's forehead, she chewed her lip in worry at the fever blazing there. Meghan's breath whistled in and out of her lungs through the phlegm. Julianne felt tears well up in her eyes.
What will happen to my little girl? And what happened to Morgan? It's been hours.
She knew deep down inside that Lilian was gone even though she still clung to hope. Max was in the army, so he might still be alive. Not John, of course. At times she missed him so much, it physically hurt.
When she lay alone in her bed at night, stifling her sobs, it felt like broken glass was being ground into her heart. She missed her home. She missed her rose garden and her kitchen. But most of all, she missed her family.
Princess Sophia lay at the foot of the bed, looking sad and lost as she stared at Meghan.
“Don't worry, Princess. She'll be fine.” Julianne smiled as she rubbed the dog's head, not sure if she believed a single word, but it felt good to say it anyway.
“Oh, my dear. You shouldn't wear yourself out so much. Let me sit with Meghan for a bit,” Hannelie exclaimed, bustling into the room. “Why don't you go have a bite to eat?”
Hannelie was warm and caring but took no nonsense. Resisting her was futile and Julianne obeyed out of sheer exhaustion. Joanna, Morgan's mother-in-law, was already there, seated at the table with a pot of tea. Julianne and Joanna never really had much to do with each other in the past, but they had gotten to know each other well as of late and Julianne was glad they got along.
Miserably she sat down and poured herself a cup. She wasn't really a tea person, but they ran out of coffee days ago. That was something else to add to their long list of worries. The supplies were running low, and she knew Henri was worried
about the fuel. She could understand why Morgan had gone to town, especially when Meghan needed medicine but at the same time, she wished her daughter hadn't left.
Rubbing her throbbing temples with her fingertips, she hardly noticed the bowl of soup and crackers Joanna placed in front of her.
“Eat something, Julianne. You need to keep your strength up,” Joanna coaxed.
Julianne picked up a cracker and ate mechanically without tasting a crumb. She kept glancing at the clock on the wall, each second seemed like an eternity. At ten minutes past four, Morgan still hadn't returned. Perhaps, she was dead already, eaten alive by a mob of monsters. Graphic images filled her head, and she almost choked.
She sipped a spoonful of soup and tried not to think of Lilian, Jonathan, and their two children. Her grandchildren. All gone now. She finished her food and sat back with her hands wrapped around her tea to bring warmth to her frayed nerves.
“You shouldn't be so worried. Morgan will be fine. That's one tough girl you've got there even if she doesn't realize it herself yet,” Joanna reassured.
Julianne couldn't help but smile a little. It was true. Morgan was as tough as nails and had overcome many obstacles in her life. She was beautiful and smart yet never seemed to believe in herself. She lacked confidence in her abilities, but Julianne was sure that would come in time.
She's still young after all.
“I know, but I can't help worrying about her and Meghan as well. They're all I have left and I don't think I could carry on without them.” Then she blushed in shame, realizing how insensitive she was being.
Six weeks ago, Joanna lost her son Brian. She had heard nothing from her other son Neil since the outbreak began, and Julianne guessed she empathized quite well. How many other people had she lost? Yet the old lady never complained.
As if Joanna could read her thoughts, she smiled sadly and said, “It's a terrible thing to outlive your children, Julianne. And these are terrible times. We will all have to be strong if we hope to survive.”
“You're right. May the Good Lord have mercy on us all.”
Julianne got up from the table. She needed fresh air. Outside, she shaded her face from the sun with her hands and looked around. Henri was puttering around in the yard as usual. As small in stature as his wife was big, he twitched with nervous energy.
Last Another Day Page 9
