“So, where are we goin’ this time, Captain?” Mike asked.
“You’ll see.”
The night before, Breytenbach had spent an hour pouring over maps trying to find a nearby place they hadn’t raided yet. He’d decided on a small community thirty minutes from camp. It was a short drive, and as he pulled up to the little town, he hoped they would find what they needed there.
Strangely, the place seemed deserted—devoid of the usual signs of chaos and bloodshed. A few cars were parked along the main street, but no infected showed. It looked like any small town on a rainy Sunday afternoon.
Breytenbach spotted a shopping complex to the left and slowed to a halt in the parking lot. They surveyed the area, looking for signs of life, but it was deserted. Breytenbach shifted in his seat, uneasy with the lack of zombies.
“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. Putting her eye to the powerful scope, she examined the surrounding area before giving the all-clear.
They wasted no time, having performed the maneuver countless times. Mike and Lenka circled the perimeter, their knives at the ready. The other three followed behind, relying on them 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 when Mike spotted an infected lurking by the cigarette counter. A few moments later, Lenka took out two more in the aisles.
“Clear,” Lenka called, and Mike echoed him.
“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 his 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 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 kept 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?”
“Favorite?”
“Favorite ball. I’ll let you keep one.”
Mike paled, raising 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 there. It would be much better than staying in that hellhole of a camp. Safer as well.
Breytenbach drove up the main street, scrutinizing the shops. Turning into the suburbs, he explored the rest of the town and came upon a few lone zombies, wandering around. But it was nowhere near as many as usual.
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, and God was revered, not forgotten.
So engrossed was he in his thoughts, Breytenbach didn’t hear Kirstin speaking. “Captain, Sir.”
“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 through the doors and run towards them. Its eyes locked on 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 a song, 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.”
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!”
It rained once more on the way back to camp. A damp, dreary drizzle that 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. If only he could shake off the mind-numbing apathy that held him in its grip.
Up ahead, Breytenbach saw a figure stumbling along the side of the road. He slowed. 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, 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, exposing 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’d 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 on guard 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 a tradition. 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 crowds of people, dejected faces brightened up when they saw the bags. 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 Nathan 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.”
“You’re a lifesaver, Captain.”
Turning to the team, Breytenbach said, “I’ll help the Lieutenant here. See you at dinner.”
Nodding, they disappeared to their various haunts. 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.”
Waving to the full shelves, he couldn’t help but smile. “That we did, Vicky. Help yourself.”
“Oh, thank God! I was so worried there’d be nothing to feed the people tonight.” Her freckled face shone as she sorted through the shelves, picking rice, salt, soup powder, and bully beef.
Boxes of cereal and long life milk rounded out her breakfast selection, and Lieutenant Nathan loaded everything onto the forklift. “I’ll send someone over with the stuff. See you tonight.”
Smiling, she said, “See you both at the mess hall, I hope.”
“Will do, Vicky,” Breytenbach promised.
Turning back to Lieutenant Nathan, he discussed the state of their supplies. They were in dire straits, with only enough to last two or three more days.
“I’ll go back to that grocery store tomorrow. The town is untouched. I’m going to need help, though. We can’t load enough supplies into one vehicle. Plus, we’ll need backup now that the townspeople are out of the church.”
“I’ll arrange with the other teams to join you tomorrow. I’m expecting them back any moment.”
“Have them meet me at the gates before dawn.” Breytenbach gestured to two stuffed backpacks. “I’m taking this to Jonathan. He asked for meds and vitamins this morning. It sounds like things are going from bad to worse.”
He trudged off in the direction of the medical tent, leaving the Lieutenant to his job. On the way, he stopped off at the orphanage. His heart quickened at the thought of seeing his little girl again. That’s what she’s become. My daughter.
Ducking through the entrance, he searched for Mannuru. She was the only remaining teacher of the three he’d saved at the kindergarten. Both Zelda and Linda had moved on, going their way. He wished them luck.
Mannuru took care of Sam when he wasn’t around, and he relied on her to keep the baby healthy and happy. He spotted her head of dark bushy curls, the thick twirls brushing her shoulders when she moved.
She saw him and smiled, motioning him over to a playpen. Inside, Samantha sat upright, playing with colored blocks. She was plump and pink-cheeked, wisps of platinum blonde hair caressing her skin.
“There’s my angel.” He kneeled by the pen and reached out, brushing her cheek. She giggled, grabbing his calloused finger with both hands. Within seconds, she was chewing on it with spit drooling down her chin.
“Whoa, there, tiger. That’s nasty. Chew on this instead.” He reached inside his jacket and produced a small teddy bear for her amusement.
She squealed, reaching out two chubby fists to grab it and proceeded to smash its head into the bars. “You take after your mother, I see. A real fighter.”
“She’s doing well,” Mannuru said.
“Thanks to you.”
“And you,” Mannuru protested.
Setting down the backpacks, he pulled out formula, vaseline, diapers, and baby wipes. “I know it’s not enough, but I’m getting more tomorrow, I promise.”
“It’s all right. I know you try.”
“Any special requests?”
“Yes. I ask that you get some rest, Captain. You look exhausted, and we all rely on you for our survival.”
“I’ll try.”
With a soft touch, she left him alone with Sam. These times were precious to him, moments of peace snatched from the jaws of the beast. He watched her, smiling when she chewed on the teddy bear’s ear and drooled all over it.
“You mean the world to me, little one. More than you’ll ever know.” He glanced upward. “Hope your mom’s watching you. I’m sure she’d be proud to see you grow so big.”
It was getting late. He took his leave of Sam, reluctant to leave her side, but duty called. Time to get back to reality.
He made his way over to the medical tent where the doctor tended to a long line of the sick and suffering.
“Captain. You made it, I see. Got anything for me?” Jonathan asked as he pulled off a pair of disposable gloves, tossing them into an overflowing bin.
“I got you vitamins and over-the-counter cold and flu meds. It’s not much, but I should be able to get more tomorrow.”
“Thank you.”
Breytenbach eyed the doctor, recognizing the signs of burnout. He was young, barely out of med school—which was why he preferred being called Jonathan—and idealistic.
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out two protein bars and handed it to Jonathan, ignoring his protests. “You need it more than I do. You’re overworked and the only doctor we have. Eat.”
Jonathan took the bars, promising to eat them later, but Breytenbach knew he’d likely give them to a sick patient or hungry child, instead. Oh well. I tried.
When Breytenbach reached the mess hall, dinner was being served. After queuing for fifteen minutes, he received a plate of rice with a generous portion of bully beef and curried vegetable stew from Vicky.
Sitting down on a plastic chair that groaned dangerously underneath his weight, he leaned his elbows on the rusty table and savored the food one bite at a time. Little by little, the ache in his stomach subsided, and the cramps eased.
Halfway through, he was joined by the rest of the team. They all ate their food in silence. They knew how little there was and enjoyed it to the full whenever they had it. Even Mike kept his mouth shut until his plate was empty. Afterward, they said their goodbyes, trudging off to their respective sleeping quarters. When he reached his tent, Breytenbach collapsed onto his stretcher.
He was passed out and snoring within seconds, even forgetting to take his boots off. He slept fitfully, tossing and turning until he awoke several hours later, confused and disoriented. What the hell? Was that an explosion?
Echoes of the blast rang in his ears and got him up in record time. He shoved his knives and sidearm into their holsters and grabbed his rifle, rushing outside. Another explosion rocked the night, and he pinpointed the direction. It was on the Western edge of camp, close to the gates. Grenade. It must be another breach.
All around him, people were waking up, screaming and panicking. The whole camp had erupted into chaos, with people running around like headless chickens. Pushing through the crowds of frightened people, Breytenbach made his way over to the blast area. A flare shot up, brightening the night sky. What the fuck? Which idiot did that? Does he want to signal the entire zombie horde?
Another flash lit the sky. “I’m going to kill that bastard.”
Halfway to the fence, he was joined by Ronnie and Johan. Together they forced their way through. When the
y arrived, Breytenbach’s heart dropped into his boots.
A whole section of the fence had been flattened. A horde of infected flooded the camp. Soldiers valiantly tried to stem the tide without success. There are hundreds of them! No, thousands!
With a scream of pain, one soldier disappeared beneath the onslaught but only after pulling the pin on his grenade. It exploded, and a shower of dirt and body parts erupted into the air.
Breytenbach grabbed a fleeing soldier. “Stand fast. We can’t let them in.” He turned to the breach, yelling at the faltering defense. “Hold them back. Hold!”
He took a position, flanked by Johan and Ronnie. They laid down suppressing fire on the horde pouring through the gap. “Somebody man the damn RPG’s!”
His rifle clicked on empty. He tossed it aside, picking up another dropped by a fallen soldier. His eyes landed on the man’s belt filled with grenades, and he fumbled for the buckle, pulling it off. With swift movements, he pulled the pin and tossed the entire string into the gap.
A series of booms erupted, rendering the scene in brilliant light. His ears rang. Lit by the explosions, Breytenbach saw the sheer amount of infected clamoring to push their way inside. It’s too late. Sam. Mannuru. The children. We have to get them out.
He screamed at the soldiers, “Fall back. Evacuate now. Evacuate!”
To Johan and Ronnie, he said, “Spread the word and meet me at the Mamba.”
He turned and ran to get Samantha. Bursting through the tent flap, he was met by screaming children with the volunteers barely keeping order. “Get to the vehicles now. We’re evacuating the camp!”
Screams of panic met his announcement, but the women acted quickly, scooping up toddlers and babies.
He pushed through the throng and found Mannuru. “Go! I’ll get Sam.”
Mannuru wasted no time, grabbing two children by the hand and dragging them to the exit. Breytenbach ran to Sam’s crib and snatched her up. Clutching her to his chest with his left arm, he wielded his gun with his right.
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