When Liezel first approached him, he agreed to help, much to everyone’s surprise. He threw himself into the hard physical labor required of farm work, regaining his former stature and acquired a ruddy tan. He even took his meals in the common room once more. A welcome change.
With a feeling of relief, Breytenbach spied the outer gate. At least today, he wouldn’t have to kill any more children, however soulless they might be. He opened it and trudged through, following the rutted dirt track to the stone walls that encircled the main camp.
Kirstin threw him a salute from her perch up in the guard tower. She spent hours up there, scouting the countryside. This earned her the nickname, The Watcher. Breytenbach wasn’t sure how she felt about that and wasn’t about to ask either. They were met at the inner gate by Thembiso and Peter. The two teenagers had matured far beyond their years over the past couple of months, a side effect of the apocalypse.
“Hi, boys.”
“Captain,” they chorused, grins splitting their faces. With gruesome fascination, they eyed the stretcher and its pitiful cargo.
“Can you two take care of this?”
“Sure thing, Captain,” Thembiso replied, quivering with excitement. He nudged Peter in the ribs. “Off to the killing field.”
Breytenbach frowned. “Don’t call it that. We’re not murderers.”
He looked down at the stretcher, and his heart shrank to the size of a walnut. In true death, the little girl’s face had smoothed out. Despite the decomposition, she looked what she was. A child. “Have some respect. They used to be people once. I shouldn’t have to tell you that.”
The boys’ faces fell. With a hushed, “Yes, Sir,” they trudged off to the empty field where the corpses of the infected were burned.
Their bodies were slim, the limbs awkward and hampered by oversized hands and feet. It reminded him how young they still were, and a twinge of remorse shot through him. “Do you think I was too hard on them?”
Lenka shrugged. “It’s easy to forget the diseased ones were once like us.”
“I guess.”
Lenka clapped him on the shoulder, throwing him off balance. “That is why they need us to remind them where they come from. Who their forefathers were. Family is all. Family and respect.”
With a lazy salute, Lenka sauntered through the gates, leaving Breytenbach to rub his throbbing shoulder. “I think that’s the most he’s said all year.”
He headed to Max’s office, a small space set aside for discussions and meetings. Their camp had grown and with it, their responsibilities. It had soon become necessary to establish a form of formal leadership.
While he walked, Breytenbach marveled at how much the place had changed in the four months since he’d arrived. It was nothing short of astonishing.
The stone wall surrounding the inner buildings was now broad enough to allow for a walkway on top. It formed a rough triangle with a tower at each corner. These were manned around the clock by a rotating team of four. A formidable gate was the only access point, held closed by metal bars that slid across the length of it.
The main buildings had been expanded and boasted a large kitchen, cafeteria, laundry, pantry, and storage rooms. Extra living quarters had been built to cater for the growing population, and little bungalows randomly dotted the grounds. A dorm provided sleeping quarters to the camp’s single men, the interior resembling barracks with bunk beds and footlockers lining the walls. Breytenbach felt pride well up inside him. We’ve come far, done much.
Childish laughter and barking interrupted his musings. He spied the figures of Meghan, Anne, Mark, and Jenny outside the schoolroom. They were chasing the resident dogs, Buzz and Princess, around the swings.
A smile tugged at his lips, only to be replaced by a grimace as he spied the playground equipment. Julianne had insisted on an area for the kids to be…well…kids. She was backed up by half the other women in camp, rendering his objections moot. It now sported one of the few patches of grass they had, a sandpit, swings, and monkey bars.
It had been hell loading the damn stuff on the back of a truck, drawing far too much attention from the local undead. The mental image of teeth clipping shut mere inches from his wrist caused him to shudder. An experience he would rather forget.
“Uncle Christo!” Meghan shrieked, running towards him. She threw herself into his arms, and he brushed a calloused hand across her soft blonde curls.
“Hey, little mouse. What are you up to?”
“We’re playing tag.”
“That’s nice. Aren’t you supposed to be in school by now?”
“Teacher said we could play first.”
“Well, go on then. Your friends are waiting.”
She ran back, leaving Breytenbach with a warm feeling in his chest. Jenny and Mark smiled and waved, but as ever Anne hung back, eyes fixed on her toes. A shy child, she didn’t talk much.
“Have fun, kids.”
With the sounds of their play pursuing him, Breytenbach walked on. He reached the office and rapped on the door before entering. Inside, the air was warm and stale. The walls were painted a bland beige. A large table and chairs were the only furniture besides a clipboard and filing cabinet.
Max sat hunched over a pile of papers, a worry line creasing the skin between his brows. An empty coffee cup and biscuit crumbs littered the table top. He looked up when Breytenbach arrived, a tired smile lifting the corners of his mouth. “Good morning, Captain.”
“Morning to you too.” Breytenbach eyed Max. “Did you get any sleep at all last night?”
“Sleep? What’s that?” Max laughed, running a hand through his tousled blond hair. “How’s the perimeter?”
“Secure.”
“Good.” Max nodded. “That moat was a brilliant idea. Joseph deserves a medal for coming up with it.”
“That he does.” Breytenbach pointed to a stack of papers. “Work?”
Max shook his head. “Demands.”
“Like?” Breytenbach pulled a chair out, whirled it around and straddled it, arms resting on the backrest.
“Jonathan needs more equipment for the clinic. Specialized stuff. He says it’s urgent.” Max waved a sheaf of papers around. “Wrote me a whole list of descriptions too. I don’t even know what half of this stuff is.”
“That means raiding a hospital.” Breytenbach turned the idea over in his mind. It was dangerous. Hospitals were death traps.
“I know.”
“Why the sudden rush?”
Max shrugged. “Erica. She’s due any moment now.”
Breytenbach blew out a breath. “Are there problems?”
“Looks like it. Jonathan doubts she can give natural birth.”
“That is a problem,” Breytenbach agreed. He stretched out his hand. “Let me see.”
“Are you sure about this?” Max asked, handing over Jonathan’s list.
“No, but I’m sure as hell not going to sit by while she dies in childbirth. We might as well give it a shot.” Breytenbach squinted at the doctor’s spidery handwriting before tucking the papers into his pocket. “Too bad we don’t have an optometrist. I could use a pair of glasses.”
Max laughed. “Ask Elise to fix you up with one of those cheap ready-made ones. There are tons in the stores.”
“I’d rather die than be seen in one of those.” Breytenbach gave a mock shudder. “Can you imagine the ammunition that would give Mike?”
“True.” Max waved at the mess in front of them. “But at least you don’t have to deal with everybody’s complaints.”
“Yeah, I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes, that’s for sure.” Breytenbach sighed. “Any problems?”
“A few.” Max pointed at a sheet of paper covered with a scribbled list. “We need more solar panels, battery banks, inverters, and so on. Not all of the buildings have power yet. We also need more water. Any thoughts on that?”
“Nope, sorry. Not my area of expertise.” Breytenbach shrugged. “By the way, how are the newcomers s
ettling in? Sharyn seems exuberant.”
Max’s mouth twitched, but his face remained bland and innocent. “She is a bit over the top; I’ll grant you that.”
“At least Nick is the more subdued type.”
“The useful type too. He’s a mathematician. Pretty good at science as well. Taught at the Bloemfontein University before the outbreak.”
“Really? Maybe he could teach the kids then.”
Max nodded. “My thoughts exactly. Between him, Rosa, and Michelle, we should be able to raise a bunch of kids who aren’t total dumbasses.”
“Is that any way to talk about our children? Our future generation?” Elise’s head popped through the opening in the door, a huge grin belying the indignant tone of her voice. The rest of her followed, carrying a tray of egg sandwiches. “I thought you boys might be hungry. I haven’t seen either of you at breakfast this entire week.”
“Elise, you’re the best,” Max said, grabbing one and stuffing it into his mouth. Through a mouthful of dough, he mumbled, “Marry me.”
She rolled her eyes and placed the tray on the table, watching with approval while they gorged themselves. The freshly baked bread was a luxury. It took a lot of work to make enough for everyone in camp. It was a task she only took on once a week or so. Not to mention the fact that eggs were scarce, their small flock of hens only beginning to produce in the last few weeks.
“When’s the next raid?” she asked, eyeing them with interest.
“Today,” Breytenbach answered. He glanced at his watch. “Twenty minutes to be exact.”
“Where are you going?”
“The main hospital in Welkom.”
“Really?” Her brow knitted together. “Isn’t that too dangerous? The place is overrun.”
A brief silence followed her statement, the truth of her words undeniable. They’d all either seen or heard of the hordes of undead that wandered the halls and grounds of the hospital. Nobody had dared go near it yet, the few medical supplies they had came from a nursing home, doctors’ offices, and pharmacies.
“No choice,” Breytenbach replied. “Jonathan asked for it. He wouldn’t ask if he didn’t need it.”
“Well, be careful.” She gathered up the tray, wiping a few stray crumbs off the table top. “We can’t afford to lose you.”
She left, and the two sat in silence until Breytenbach changed the subject. “Have you heard anything from Logan?”
“Nope, nothing. He’s either out of range or not answering.”
“That’s a shame.”
Max shook his head. “I’m not surprised. He’s a loner by nature, and now he’s hurting too. I doubt we’ll see him anytime soon…if ever.”
“He’ll show. One day.” Breytenbach quirked an eyebrow. “When you least expect it.”
“You’re probably right. It’s just…he’s my friend. He stuck with me from the start, even though he wanted nothing more than to run away.” Max looked away, lost in memories of the past. “Losing my sister was bad enough. I don’t want to lose him too.”
“You won’t. Logan’s a tough one. He just needs time, that’s all.” Breytenbach stood up, righting his chair. “I’d better get going. Tell Julianne I said goodbye, okay?”
“You’re not going to tell her yourself?”
“I’m no good with words, Max. You know that.”
“Fine, I’ll tell her, but you better make it back in one piece or, she’ll skin you alive.”
“Thanks for the excellent advice,” Breytenbach said. “See you later. Oh, and get some rest, why don’t you?”
“Sure. Soon as I’m done here.”
“You’ll never be done. Don’t make me sic Kirstin on you.”
Max gave a mock shudder. “You wouldn’t.”
“Oh, I would. Trust me.”
“That’s just cruel.”
“I know.”
With a grin, Breytenbach left Max to his paperwork. His threat about Kirstin had not been an idle one. The two made an interesting couple, and an attractive one too with their matching athletic builds and Scandinavian looks. Two Vikings in a pod. But out of the two, Max was the more laid-back and easy-going.
Breytenbach made his way to the dining room, looking for Mike and Ronnie. Breakfast was nearly over, and the cafeteria was quiet, but he spotted them sitting at a corner table. They were picking at twin bowls of muesli, chewing without enthusiasm. A recent raid on a supermarket had yielded tons of the stuff in storage, resulting in the camp’s breakfast routine taking a sudden turn for the healthy.
“What’s with the long faces?”
“Do I look like a horse to you?” Mike asked.
“Maybe just a little.” Breytenbach grinned at the sour look Mike shot him. Ronnie remained silent, but his expression spoke volumes.
“Ha ha.” Mike spooned out a mouthful of the oats and raisins mixture. “What I wouldn’t give for bacon and eggs. A slice of toast, maybe, dripping with butter. Freshly squeezed orange juice, and―”
“Shut up, Mike,” Ronnie said. “You’re just making it worse.”
“Funny you should mention eggs.” Mike and Ronnie dropped their spoons, fixing suspicious eyes on him. “And toast.”
“You didn’t,” Mike said, his gaze narrowing to slits. His eyes flitted to Elise who shared a table with Joanna. “She didn’t.”
“She did,” Ronnie stated. “She always gives him the good stuff.”
“Seriously? I’m eating this shite while you had eggs and toast?” Mike replied, his ruddy cheeks growing crimson. He looked like a hobbit; a pissed off one.
“Well…” Breytenbach stretched out the word. “Not exactly. More like egg sandwiches.”
“Teacher’s pet,” Ronnie grumbled, pushing his plate away.
Mike glared at Breytenbach, his sandy curls appearing to stand erect on his scalp, like a cat arching its back.
“Come on, boys. Cheer up. We’re going on a raid. A dangerous one.”
Mike’s ears perked. “A raid?”
“Dangerous?” Ronnie asked.
“Very, and I bet Elise will be so grateful to the two of you for pulling it off, she’ll even reward you with a proper breakfast.” Breytenbach shrugged. “Or dinner. Whatever.”
Mike shoved away his still half-full bowl of muesli and stood up. “What are we waiting for, Captain?”
“Gear up, and meet me at the parking lot in ten,” Breytenbach replied.
Ronnie gulped down the last of his coffee and jumped to his feet. “Come on, Mike. The sooner we leave the sooner we’re back. Just in time for dinner.”
Breytenbach watched the two run out with a sigh and made his way to Elise. “Can I ask you a favor?”
“Sure, Captain,” she replied. “What do you need?”
“I just promised the boys a special dinner if we pull off today’s raid. Think you can manage something?”
“Of, course.”
“Thanks, Elise. You’re a sweetheart.” With a nod to Joanna, he turned to leave.
Stepping outside, he paused to allow his eyes to adjust to the bright morning sun. He crossed the lawn towards his bungalow, the one he shared with Ronnie, Mike, and Lenka.
His army uniform, a relic from the past, was still serviceable thanks to his finesse with a needle. He donned it along with his boots, battle jacket, and webbed belt, filling the various pockets with ammo. A 9mm Parabellum, R4 rifle, and a knife rounded off his selection.
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” he said, ducking out of the bungalow and heading toward the parking lot.
He only made it halfway, however, when a childish voice brought him to a halt. “Uncle Christo! Wait up.”
He turned and spotted Meghan running towards him. She crashed into his legs and flung her arms around him. He bent and picked her up, swinging her onto his shoulder. She shrieked, her little fingers fisting in his hair to keep her balance.
Julianne followed at a more sedate pace, and crossed the grounds with graceful strides. She looked relaxed in a soft gree
n blouse with her hair put up in a messy bun. Soft tendrils curled around her face, awakening an urge within him to brush it away.
To Breytenbach, she was the most beautiful woman in the world and the only one for him. They were, however, just friends. She was still in mourning for her husband, John.
Mike had put it ever so delicately. “You’ve been friend zoned, Captain, and there’s no worse place to be. Do something about it, fast.”
Perfect. Now I’m getting relationship advice from an Irishman.
On Julianne’s hip rode Samantha, engaged in the serious task of demolishing a strip of biltong. She was teething, and the only thing that helped her sore gums was chewing on the salted, dried beef.
“Max told me you were leaving,” Julianne said.
Damn it, Max.
“Without saying goodbye?”
“I…I’m sorry, but you know me.” He shrugged and looked away, unable to meet her eyes.
“Where are you going?” Meghan asked, her voice chiming like the tinkling of bells.
He swung her off his shoulder and set her down with regret. “I’m going to the hospital to get medicine and stuff.”
“Are you sick?” she asked, her eyes going wide with worry.
“Nobody’s sick, sweetie. It’s just in case,” Julianne replied. “Now come here, and help me with Samantha.”
“Yes, Mommy,” Meghan replied, reaching up to take the fretting baby from Julianne. She balanced Sam on her hip, looking for all the world like an older sister to her young niece. It made Breytenbach’s heart ache to see the two together. They were like his own blood.
Julianne stepped closer to Breytenbach and placed a hand on his arm, distracting him from the stirring scene. “Don’t ever leave without saying goodbye again.”
Her scent filled his nostrils, a heady mixture of lilies and musk. For a brief moment, he considered crushing her to his chest, whatever she might say. His hands clenched into fists, fighting the urge.
She turned away, and the moment passed. He watched her leave with Sam on her hip while Meghan skipped ahead. A knot formed in his throat, and he swallowed it with difficulty. That’s why I hate farewells.
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