“Okay. I’ll be out now.” Nadia turned to the mirror and caught a glimpse of her pale face.
“Oh, there’s plasters underneath the…what the hell is that?”
Her head whipped around. Logan’s eyes were fixed on the back of her shoulder where a crescent scar showed, the skin raised and shiny. She glanced at it, and cold fear wormed through her gut. “It’s nothing. Just an old injury. I…I fell and…”
Logan squared his shoulders, and his hands clenched into fists. “Don’t lie to me, Nadia. That’s not nothing. That’s a bite mark.”
Chapter 8 - Julianne
“What’s taking them so long?” Julianne asked.
She grabbed another carrot from the growing pile next to her and chopped it into tiny bits with ferocious intensity. From her vantage point in the kitchen, she had a clear view of the inner gates and parking area. Every few seconds, her eyes would wander in that direction as if they had a will of their own.
“Them? Or a certain handsome Captain?” Elise replied.
Julianne blushed a deep beetroot red and shook her head. “Them.”
Elise flashed her friend a knowing smile. “I’m sure they’ll be back soon.
Several minutes passed in silence as the two women worked at their respective tasks. Preparing supper for an entire camp full of people was no easy feat.
“So what’s on the menu tonight?” Julianne asked, more to pass the time than out of any real interest.
“Chicken soup.”
“Sounds yummy,” Julianne answered. “But isn’t it too early in the season? I mean, it gets chilly at night, but winter hasn’t hit us yet.”
Elise shrugged. “I know. I’m just in the mood for soup and as I’m the cook around here…”
Julianne grinned. “True. Very true.”
“We like soup too,” Anne chirped from the washbasin where she and Meghan washed vegetables.
“I know you do, pumpkin,” Elise answered.
The two girls whispered to each other, their blonde heads bent together. Julianne looked at them, and her heart clenched. She looks so much like John at times. The way she laughs.
“How long has it been Elise?” she asked, waving a hand around. “You know, since all of this.”
Elise looked at her then back down at the chicken carcass she was chopping into chunks. “I don’t know. Seven-eight months maybe?”
“Is that all? It feels longer.” Julianne looked down at her hands. They were rough, work-hardened hands now, stained with carrot juice. No longer the hands of a lady.
“I know. It feels like forever sometimes,” Elise replied.
Do you ever miss your husband?” Julianne asked.
“Dirk? Yes, I do. Especially at night.”
Julianne was silent. Elise was right. The nights were the worst, lying in your bed, frightened and alone, wondering if you’d live to see the next day. Wondering if your children would. That was when she missed John the most.
“I’m here if you need to talk,” Elise said. “You’ve been through a lot, I know. More than most.”
Julianne swallowed hard on the sudden knot in her throat. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”
“May I ask why you and a certain Captain haven’t hooked up yet? You know he’s crazy about you. It’s clear as day.”
Julianne laughed, but her voice was tense. “It’s complicated.” After a tense minute of silence, she continued. “He’s a good man, and I care about him, but he’s not John, and he never will be.”
“I get that, believe me, I do, but…”
“What?”
“He’s not supposed to be John,” Elise said. “Breytenbach is his own man, and I think he could make you very happy.”
“Maybe.” Julianne stared at her hands. Her chest ached with unshed tears until she could stand it no longer. On impulse, she grabbed a carrot top and threw it at Elise. The piece of vegetable hit Elise on the forehead. She stared at Julianne, stunned. Julianne grinned, one hand reaching for another handful. “Incoming!”
Elise ducked and scooped up discarded chicken innards. She threw them at Julianne, hitting her slap bang in the face. Julianne gasped. Bloody juices ran down her cheek, and a piece of intestine clung to her hair. She cast around for a weapon, and her eyes landed on the flour bowl, set aside to dust the boards when kneading the dough.
A second later, a fistful of flour coated Elise’s head and shoulders. She shrieked and stormed Julianne with another blob of chicken. Julianne tried to duck but ended up with a mouthful of raw gizzards.
“Ack!” she cried, gagging. She grabbed a handful of Elise’s shirt and dragged her down to the floor, dousing them both with the rest of the flour. They sputtered and tried to clear their eyes of the fine white powder.
“What in hell’s name is going on here?” a voice boomed.
Julianne and Elise stopped laughing and blinked up at the figure silhouetted in the doorway.
“Christo?” Julianne asked.
“The one and only. Were you expecting someone else?”
“Um, no.”
“From the looks of you, you weren’t expecting anyone at all.”
Elise sputtered. “Hey, we’re just having a bit of fun.”
He suggestively waggled his eyebrows. “Mind if I join you ladies?”
Elise and Julianne stared at him with raised eyebrows.
He raised his hands. “I’m just joking.”
Meghan and Anne snickered while Breytenbach reached out a hand to help Julianne and Elise to their feet. They’d been watching the entire show with happy smiles dimpling their cheeks.
Julianne wiped a hand across her face, removing clumps of flour and chicken guts. “Glad to see you’re back, Captain. Unharmed?”
He smiled and raised a bandaged left hand. “Just a scratch.”
The tight knot of worry she’d carried around all day loosened up, allowing her to breathe freely. “I’m glad.”
Captain Breytenbach’s face sobered. “Are you?”
His gaze made her uncomfortable, and she looked away. “Of course.”
He sighed. “Anyway, I’m here for a different reason.”
“Oh?”
“We’ve got guests, and they need a room to stay in.”
“I see. How many?” Julianne asked, dusting off her hair and clothes with the damp cloth Elise handed her.
“Three. Two men and a girl.”
“I think we can make a plan,” Julianne replied, her demeanor all business now. “Can you spare me for a while, Elise?”
“Of course, go ahead. I’m expecting Joanna and Dave any second now. They’re helping out tonight,” Elise answered. “I’ll watch the girls too.”
“Thanks, Elise. See you later.”
Julianne followed Breytenbach outside, curious to meet the newcomers. What she found wasn’t at all what she expected.
She spotted the girl first, likely in her twenties, with shy doe-like eyes. Next to her stood a man of robust build with eyes like onyx, hard and unforgiving. He hovered over an older man in a lab coat who sat on the ground and stared into space. He looked like he’d lost all reason to live.
Julianne recognized the look. “Introduce me, Christo.”
Breytenbach obliged and gave her a shortened version of what had happened at the hospital.
Julianne stared at Dr. Lange in disbelief. “You were working on a vaccine?” The scientist didn’t reply, and she cleared her throat. “Anyway. Let’s get you settled in for the night. You look like you could use the rest.”
She plastered on her most reassuring smile and ushered the trio away. “See you at the office?” she called over her shoulder.
“I’ll be there,” Breytenbach answered, staring at her receding form. “I always am.”
***
An hour later, Max, Julianne, and Breytenbach sat around the table in the office. Breytenbach had filled them both in on the details, and now each of them considered the implications.
“A vaccine,” Julianne sai
d, shaking her head. “I can’t believe it.”
“It’s amazing,” Max agreed.
“Not anymore,” Breytenbach said. “Thanks to us, anyway.”
“What if we clean out the hospital? Get him his facilities back? Could he do it then?” Max asked.
“What you’re asking is astronomical. Not only would we have to deal with his dead colleagues, but also the entire university. The place is flooded with corpses by now.” Breytenbach replied.
“But think about it,” Max protested. “Can you imagine how much it would mean to us? To everyone?”
“Of course, but even with the right facilities, it could take him years, decades even, to develop it. If he ever does.” Breytenbach shook his head. “Retaking the hospital will cost lives. Is it worth the risk?”
“Maybe,” Max huffed.
“And who would you ask to die?” Breytenbach replied. “Joseph? Ben? Me? Kirstin even?”
Max slumped down in his seat and shook his head. “No, of course not. I’d never ask that of anybody.”
“So we’ve hit a roadblock.”
“What if we get the equipment and bring it here?” Julianne asked.
“Just as dangerous, if not more so. People would be exposed as they carried the stuff out.”
“Can’t we get it from another hospital?”
Breytenbach shrugged. “We could, but once again, people will likely die. I was willing to take the rest for Erica and Tumi, but that is no longer a factor.”
“I guess that’s it for now. There’s nothing more we can do,” Max said. He looked defeated, a feeling mirrored in each of them.
“Let’s give it some time,” Julianne suggested. “We can discuss it at the next meeting. Perhaps someone else can come up with a better idea.”
“That seems to be our only option at this point.” Max stood up and leaned on the table.
“In the meantime, Dr. Lange can help Jonathan in the clinic. He looked pretty upset earlier. Working might take his mind off things,” Julianne said.
“Good idea,” Breytenbach said. “I’ll speak to him once he’s settled in.”
Max hugged Julianne and left. She followed, flanked by Breytenbach. In silence, they crossed the grounds toward her room. Every fiber of her body was aware of his presence. Silent. Warm. Comforting. I’ve grown so used to him being around.
“I’m glad you made it back in one piece,” she said. “You and your team.”
“Are you?”
Julianne stopped walking abruptly, surprised at the note of bitterness in his voice. “Of course.”
“Sometimes I wonder if you’d even notice I’m gone.” He looked away into the dusk, his mouth set in a straight line.
She gaped at him. “How can you say that?”
“How can I not? You’ve made it clear you don’t have feelings for me.”
Julianne couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Not once had Breytenbach ever pressured her. Never had he shown impatience or anger. This was a side of him that she’d never seen before, and it scared her.
“Christo,” she said, laying a hand on his sleeve. “You know I care. It’s just too soon.”
“Is it?” He looked down at her fingers. With a soft touch, he covered them with his own. “I could have died today, Julianne. I need something, anything to show me there’s hope.”
Julianne bit her lip, devastated by his words. Her lips moved, but she couldn’t form the phrase. Something held her back, and an iron fist clamped around her heart.
Breytenbach searched her expression, waiting. At last, he pulled away. “I guess I have my answer.” With bowed shoulders, he turned and walked away.
Julianne shivered. A cold hollow opened up in her chest. It spread throughout her body until her teeth chattered. A sudden burst of grief brought her to her knees, and she collapsed. Smothering her cries with a clenched fist, she rocked back and forth. He doesn’t understand. Nobody does. How can I love again, when everyone I love dies?
Chapter 9 - Max
Max stared at the ceiling of the small bungalow he shared with Kirstin, unable to sleep. It was four in the morning, and his overactive mind wouldn’t allow him any rest.
Kirstin murmured something unintelligible and shifted next to him, throwing an arm across his chest. He held her close, comforted by her presence. It wasn’t enough to lull him back to sleep, though.
He sighed, thinking of the latest developments to hit them. Three days had passed since the raid on the hospital, and Dr. Lange had yet to emerge from his bungalow, struck low by the loss of his life’s work. Michael guarded his door like a bulldog, his brooding presence enough to warn away even the most persistent visitor. At least, Elise had taken the girl Nombali under her wing.
Kirstin stirred, opening her eyes to stare at him with the silent concentration of a predator. To most people, her steely gaze was unnerving. Max saw it for what it was, though. The ability to concentrate on a single object with unwavering attention. It was that focus that made her such a good shot. Currently, he was the subject of that intense regard.
“Not sleeping?” she asked, voice husky.
“No,” he admitted.
She raised herself up on one elbow and brushed cool fingertips over his brow. “You worry too much.”
Her hair hung over one milky shoulder and pooled onto his chest. The blanket gaped open, her full breasts inviting his touch. All thoughts of sleep vanished.
She noticed his arousal, and her lips curved into a wicked grin. Her hand drifted lower, across his chest and underneath the covers. He ground his teeth together at her touch, hot flames licking through his abdomen.
His arms wrapped around her narrow waist, and he pulled her close against him. “I’m sure I can forget about my worries for a while.”
She didn’t answer. Instead, her lips nibbled at his earlobes. Her warm breath sent shivers down his spine, while her talented fingers continued to work their magic.
He lowered his head to flick his tongue over her hard nipples, nipping them with his teeth. Kirstin moaned, and he caught her lips with his own while his hands roamed across her alabaster skin.
She threw one leg over his hips and straddled him. Breaking off the kiss, she reared back. With her hands splayed on his chest, she worked her hips in an agonizingly slow motion.
“Kirstin, you’re killing me.”
Her lips curved into an answering smile, and she closed her eyes. Her head tipped back, and her long locks brushed his thighs. The curve of her spine pushed her breasts out, the pink tips jutting invitingly. He gripped them with bruising force and growled. “Stop teasing me, woman.”
“Say please.”
Max gripped her hips, bucking underneath her. “Please.”
She picked up the pace, riding him with wild abandon. Their flesh grew slick with sweat. Ecstacy pulsed through his veins, mirrored by the frantic gasps that escaped her lips. The ache in his groin became unbearable.
Kirstin shuddered, and her body pulsed. It sent him over the edge as well, and he exploded inside her with a groan. She slumped onto his chest, and after a moment, she chuckled. “Still worried, my love?”
“Worried about what?” He grinned before leaning over to kiss the tip of her nose. “You’re incredible, you know that?”
“I know.” She shrugged a lazy shoulder before jumping up and striding towards the closet. “Come.”
“Where to?” Max asked, blinking with confusion.
“Do not ask questions.”
“Okay.” Max refrained from arguing. He’d come to equate her with a mountain. Immovable. After they washed and dressed, he followed her out into the chilly pre-dawn air.
Their breaths puffed out in clouds of mist. Kirstin walked in front, carrying her rifle. It was as much a part of her as one of her limbs. The sky was gray, light enough to see that she was leading him to the watchtower.
When they arrived, she climbed the ladder with certain steps. From below, he admired the view, chuckling when she shot him a
knowing look. At the top, Max clutched the railing with both hands trying not to look down. He wasn’t fond of heights, something Kirstin was immune to. “So what are we doing up here?”
“We watch.”
She handed him a pair of binoculars hanging from a nail hammered into a wooden post. Puzzled, he took them and scanned the horizon. Gnarled thorn trees, open expanses of tan veldt interspersed with termite mounds, and in the distance a winding tar road empty of traffic.
He had no idea what he was supposed to look for. His mind began to wander, going through supply lists, maintenance jobs, and security issues. Kirstin smacked him on the head.
“Ow!”
“Focus.”
“On what?”
“On nothing and everything. The world.” She shot him a stern glare. “Empty your mind.”
Max tried to do as she directed. He simply looked. At first, he was bored, but as time passed, he began to notice small details. He became aware of the cold breeze that raised goosebumps on his skin, of the tapestry of color the rising sun cast in the East, of the different variations of browns and greens in the vegetation.
The knotted muscles in his back eased, and the stress he carried around like a cloak peeled away. For the first time, he understood why Kirstin spent so much time up there. It was peaceful. Silent.
“Better?” Kirstin asked.
Max nodded.
“Good. Now it’s time for a little fun.”
“Huh?”
“Over there.”
He looked in the direction she pointed and spotted two zombies stumbling toward the outer fence. Fascinated by the ability to study them without the need for fear, he simply looked. Despite the atrophied muscles, rotting skin, and thinning hair, they were still people. People with no souls.
They’d been exposed to the elements for a long time, and he marveled at the ability the virus had to animate such pathetic remains. It was impossible to tell sex or pick out any distinguishing features. Even their clothes had fallen off.
A puff of mist exploded from the furthest zombie’s head, followed by the report of Kirstin’s sniper rifle. Startled, Max dropped the binoculars, ears buzzing. “Hey!”
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