Dangerous Days: Boxed Set (A Zombie Apocalypse Survival Thriller Books 1-4)

by Baileigh Higgins

  “Your turn.”

  “Really?” He gaped at her, surprised that she’d even allow him to touch her gun. She handed him the Galil, and he held it as if it were a newborn baby. He caressed the stock and smoothed a hand over the barrel.

  At Kirstin’s prompting, Max sighted on the other zombie. The demise of its partner didn’t bother it in the least. It kept coming, closing the distance between it and the moat. He sighted through the scope and propped the rifle against the railing.

  Kirstin spoke into his ear, her voice soft and quiet. “Relax. Find your center. Breathe.”

  Max shifted his left foot, then the right, finding his balance. His army training returned and calm descended. He exhaled and squeezed the trigger. The second zombie collapsed into the dust.

  The world receded into the background, and he realized he’d forgotten what mattered. The feel of a well-crafted gun in your hands, the quiet of a pre-dawn morning, and the company of a beautiful woman.

  Kirstin chuckled, “See? No more worries.”

  Max was in full agreement. He hadn’t felt this good in ages. They climbed down the ladder, and he felt better equipped to face the coming day. “I love you, babes.”

  “Jeg elsker deg,” she replied before jogging off in search of her teammates.

  Once she disappeared from view, he walked to the office. A seven ‘o clock meeting had been arranged to discuss a few of the issues facing them. He pushed open the door and breathed in the aroma of coffee and biscuits.

  Elise sat in a chair and flashed him a smile. “Hey, Max. Looking good.”

  Max reddened beneath her gaze, wondering if his morning wake-up call showed on his face. A vision of Kirstin’s pale flesh caused his groin to twinge, and he sat down with haste. After a moment, he cleared his throat. “Where is everyone?”

  She shrugged. “I’m the first, it seems. Coffee?”

  “Sure.”

  Max picked at the scarred wood of the tabletop but looked up when Julianne walked in. “Morning.”

  She nodded but didn’t reply.

  “Everything all right?” he asked.

  “Yes, I’m fine.” Her tone was brisk, and he wisely backed off.

  Joseph appeared in the doorframe, followed by Lucas, Jonathan, and Breytenbach. Everyone exchanged greetings and chose a seat. The clinking of spoons and crockery filled the air.

  Lucas dug into the biscuits, scoffing them at an alarming rate. In his late fifties, reed thin and perpetually hungry, he looked like an old troll. But the man was a survivor and lived for months on his own until Breytenbach’s team found him a fortnight before. An electrician, he was a valuable addition to the group.

  Max cleared his throat. “Is Phillip coming?”

  “Not today,” Elise replied. “He’s got too much to do.”

  “All right, let’s get started. Who wants to go first?”

  Lucas swallowed his biscuit with an audible gulp and raised a hand. “I’m ready.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “I’ve managed to smooth out the kinks in the electricity supply. All the buildings are now linked to solar power and backup generators.”

  “Does that mean no more blackouts?” Julianne asked.

  “That’s right, but…” He raised a warning finger. “If, and only if, we use it sparingly. Strict rationing must apply to all inhabitants, same as with the water.”

  Approving murmurs rose from the group.

  Max jotted down a note on his writing pad and turned to Joseph. “Anything from your side?”

  “We’ve finished all renovations,” Joseph said. “So I propose we start on expansions. We’re running out of room for new survivors.”

  “Is that even possible?” Max asked. “Do we have the manpower and material to―”

  “What about the walls?” Breytenbach interrupted. “And the fence?”

  “They’re completed,” Joseph answered, a puzzled frown on his forehead. “As is the moat.”

  Everybody stared at Breytenbach who shook his head. “Yes, but is it enough? Instead of expanding, shouldn’t we work on improving security?”

  “Where’s this coming from, Captain?” Max asked.

  Breytenbach leaned back in his chair and rubbed a hand over his face. He looked pale, and beads of sweat ran down his face.

  Max watched him with concern. Is he coming down with something?

  “Recently we’ve run across signs of a large group of survivors in town,” Breytenbach said.

  “So? We’ve known there are others for a while now. As long as they don’t bother us, it’s fine. Some, like Lucas, have even joined us.”

  “That’s the thing. They’re hostile.”

  “How do you know that?” Max asked.

  “Because of what they do,” Breytenbach said. “I haven’t said anything until now because I didn’t want to start a panic. I feel the time has come to address the issue, though.”

  “Go on,” Max prompted.

  “We’ve found bodies.”

  “Bodies?”

  “Of people. Men, women, children…all killed, and not by zombies.” Breytenbach looked ill. “They don’t just kill either. We’ve seen evidence of rape, torture, and mutilation.”

  Julianne gasped, “What?”

  Around the table, people wore similar expressions of horror.

  “Do you think they’re a threat to us?” Elise asked.

  “After seeing what they’re capable of, yes.”

  “What do you suggest we do?” Max asked.

  “For a start, I think we should focus on beefing up our defenses,” Breytenbach replied. “Also, we can double the watch and cease all raids.”

  “Cease all raids?” Max asked. “Isn’t that a bit drastic?”

  “The chances of a raiding party getting ambushed is high. If there’s anything we need urgently, my team can handle it. The rest of you should stay put,” Breytenbach said. “In the meantime, I can send out feelers, see what we’re up against.”

  “This changes everything,” Max said. “Elise, how do our food supplies look?”

  “We’ve got enough canned and dehydrated food to last a few months,” she said. “Phillip says we’ll get a crop this season even though we planted late, and the vegetable plots are producing. The animals worry me, though. We need more feed for the winter months.”

  “That’s easy enough,” Breytenbach said. “We can hit a few farms tomorrow, see what we can find.”

  “Good. How about fuel?” Max asked.

  “We’re okay for now. We’ve got a few tanks stored away, but water’s a problem,” Joseph said. “The borehole isn’t keeping up with demand.”

  “Can we work out stricter rations?” Max asked, twirling his pen.

  “We can, but people won’t be happy when their shower time is cut in half,” Julianne replied.

  “We’ve got no choice. Not until we can find a solution anyway.”

  “Okay, I’ll handle it.”

  “Thanks, Mom.” Max looked at Jonathan. “How’s the clinic doing?”

  “We’re set for the moment,” the doctor said. “The supplies from the hospital helped a lot.

  “How’s Erica?” Julianne asked. “She complained of cramps last night, and I told her to see you about it.”

  Jonathan sat up straight. “She did? I’d better see her then. Cramps might very well indicate the beginnings of labor.”

  He pushed back his chair and stood up. Elise followed him. “I’m going too. You don’t need us anymore, do you Max?”

  He waved them off and turned to the remaining people on the committee. “Anything else?”

  Breytenbach nodded. “Guns and ammo. I’ll line it up after the raid for animal feed.”

  Max eyed him, noticing how the Captain sat slumped in his seat. Something’s up.

  “Christo, are you okay?” Julianne asked. Apparently, she’d sensed something off as well.

  “I’m fine, Julianne,” Breytenbach replied. He pushed himself out of his chair. “I
’m just a bit tired.”

  “We’ve got everything sorted for today,” Max said. “Why don’t you get some rest, Captain?”

  “I’ll see,” Breytenbach said. He turned as if to leave, but his knees buckled. For a second, he clung to the table before he crashed to the floor. His chair went flying, and Max jumped to his feet.

  “Christo?” Julianne cried, rushing to his side. “Christo!”

  Joseph and Lucas were both on their feet, staring at the Captain’s crumpled form. Max dropped to his knees next to Breytenbach. He patted the unresponsive man’s cheek and felt his forehead. “He’s burning up.”

  “What’s wrong with him?” Julianne cried.

  “I don’t know. We need to get him to the clinic. Now.” Between the three of them, Max, Joseph, and Lucas carried Breytenbach outside and across the grounds. Julianne ran ahead, looking for Jonathan and Hannah.

  Curious faces lined their route, but Max had no time for any of them. He had only one thought in his head. Not Breytenbach, please. We need him.

  Chapter 10 - Logan

  Logan stared at the bite mark marring Nadia’s shoulder. It was healed but recent, the scar tissue forming raised ridges on her smooth skin. “Where did you get that?”

  “Nowhere. I told you, it was just an accident.”

  He shook his head. “That’s no accident. Someone bit you, and the only things I know of who’d do that, are zombies.”

  Nadia stared at him, one hand clutching the towel to her chest while the other covered the scar. Her eyes were like saucers, and her mouth worked. She looked frightened. It wasn’t a look he felt comfortable seeing on her face.

  He sighed and relaxed his stance. His fingers uncurled. “Nadia. I know you’re scared, but you owe it to me to tell me the truth.”

  She shook her head, tears welling up. “Leave me alone.”

  “I need to know if you’re dangerous.”

  “I’m not,” she whispered, but her tone belied her words.

  Logan raised his hands. “I’ll give you a minute, okay? Come to the kitchen when you’re ready. I’ll pour us a drink…uh…make some coffee, and you can tell me all about it.”

  After a few seconds, she nodded. Counting it as a victory, he closed the door behind him and strode to the kitchen. He put the kettle on and made a cup of coffee for her. After a moment of hesitation, he added a second.

  “Suppose I could use something other than alcohol for a change.” He shrugged and stirred in creamer and sugar for Nadia but left his plain. “As black as sin and strong as a horse.”

  Logan leaned against the counter, folding his long legs at the ankles. His eyes drifted toward the hallway. The whole situation was a nightmare. “There I was, minding my own business, happily drinking myself to death and now…this. I’m stuck with an injured half-human, half-zombie teenager, who’s full of shit and mouthy to boot. God, help me.”

  It was all bluster, though. Logan hated to admit it, but he’d grown attached to Nadia. As much crap as she gave him, it was nice to have someone around. He’d even begun to feel protective of her.

  The thought brought him up short when he remembered Morgan. The last time he’d cared about someone, his heart had been ripped out, leaving a gaping void that could never be filled. Never. He stared at the cup of coffee in his hands. Bitterness and anger welled up inside.

  “Fuck.” His voice scraped through his throat, and raw emotion tore up his chest. He flung the cup at the wall. It shattered, and a brown stain spread across the tiles.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he repeated. In a sudden rage, he slammed his fist into the nearest kitchen cupboard and punched a hole straight through.

  Logan.

  There it was. That damned voice that never left him alone, that whispered in his ear whenever he thought of her. Her voice.

  “Fuck off,” he shouted, grabbing his head in both hands and squeezing as hard as he could. Anything to get rid of it. “Go away.”

  Logan.

  “No,” he moaned as his anger gave way to despair. “Leave me alone. Please.”

  He fell to his knees as images of Morgan spilled into his brain, one after the other. Her smile, the sunlight glinting in her hair, her warm vanilla smell, her voice, long legs wrapped around him, kisses in the shower.

  Look at her. Look at what you’ll never see again, hold again, touch again, his mind taunted him.

  “Logan.”

  “Go away.”

  Hands pulled at his.

  “Logan, I’m here.”

  “Why can’t you leave me alone?”

  The voice, soft and sympathetic pulled at him. It urged him out of his hell. It wasn’t her voice. It was different, younger.

  “Logan, it’s okay. Get up.”

  He looked up into Nadia’s blue eyes. They reflected his pain back at him, but there was warmth there too. Worry and concern.

  “Please, get up,” she repeated.

  He allowed her to help him to his feet and stumbled towards the nearest chair. Nadia poured him a drink and handed him the whiskey. In one gulp, he downed it.

  “More,” he said.

  With hesitation, she poured him a second glass.

  He shot it down.

  “Another one.”

  Nadia shook her head. “You’ve had enough.”

  “Another.”

  “No.”

  “Now!” he roared.

  Nadia flinched and backed away, stumbling when he ripped the bottle out of her hands.

  Logan sloshed the amber liquid into the glass, spilling onto the table. He threw it back then closed his eyes and waited. The alcohol took hold with numbing force and smoothed over the sharp edges of his grief. He sighed, thankful when the memories receded.

  His eyes opened, fixing on Nadia who watched him with wary caution. With a wave, he indicated the chair across from him. “Sit.”

  She edged around the table and sat down. They stared at each other in silence. On the wall, a clock in the shape of a rooster ticked, each second as loud as the gong of a bell.

  Nadia spoke first. “What happened to you?”

  Logan said nothing.

  “It must have been pretty bad.” She barked a short laugh. “You’re even more messed up than I am, and that’s saying something.”

  Logan still didn’t reply, and her eyes dropped, fixing onto the scarred wood of the tabletop. For the briefest of moments, he considered opening up to her. But no, he wasn’t the sharing type. Morgan lived now only in his memories.

  “Say something,” Nadia said.

  “You don’t need to hear my story. Tell me about the bite. Should I be worried?”

  Nadia’s lips opened, hesitant. “Maybe.”

  “Maybe how?”

  “I…” she took a deep breath and folded her hands. “Let me start at the beginning.”

  Logan sat back, waiting.

  “When the outbreak hit, Brandon and I were out having pizza. It was such a fun night. So normal, and I was just happy to get out of the house.” She paused, smiling at the memory.

  To Logan, it was a telling moment, to see her so relaxed. The usual prickly demeanor was gone, replaced by the real Nadia. She’s just a kid.

  “A customer came out of the bathroom. He looked awful. Like death. That’s because he was dead.” She snorted with disbelief. “Anyway, he took a chunk out of the waitress. Then he came for us. We barely made it out alive.”

  Logan felt sympathy stir inside. “What then?”

  “We ran home, but it was too late. Our families were gone. Dead or undead, it doesn’t matter now. We got into a car and drove out of town, eventually hooking up with other survivors. We stayed together on a wine farm.”

  “One day, Brandon and I were outside, patrolling. We hadn’t seen a zombie in days, and I guess we got careless. It attacked out of nowhere and bit me on the shoulder.” She rubbed the spot in remembrance. “I thought I was dead, done for. But the truth was so much worse.”

  “Go on,” Logan coax
ed.

  “After the bite I got sick. Very ill. The others said they’d wait for me to die before putting a bullet in my head. They were kind.” Nadia swallowed. “Too kind.”

  “I didn’t die. Not that night or the next. The wound healed. Sort of. And I got better. Of course, everyone was shocked. Nobody had ever heard of anyone being immune before. I was lucky. Or so I thought.”

  “Immune,” Logan mused. “Who’d have thought?”

  Nadia shifted in her chair. “Can I have a cigarette, please?” she asked, voice hoarse.

  Logan pushed the box across the table. She removed one, lighting it then taking a deep drag. The tendrils of smoke drifted toward the ceiling and shrouded her face.

  “Then what?”

  Nadia looked at him, her voice flat. “I killed everyone.”

  “How?”

  “Five days after the incident, I was back to normal. That evening, Brandon kissed me.” She ran a thumb over her lower lip, eyes distant. “In the middle of the night, I woke to screams. Brandon shared a room with two other guys. During the night, he turned, killing one and injuring the other. That’s how it began.”

  Nadia took another drag, staring down at her hands. With her nails, she picked at the wood of the table, digging out a splinter. It pricked her finger, but she didn’t seem to notice.

  “I got away, and I don’t think anyone else made it. You see, I’m a carrier. I carry the disease inside me, inside my blood, my saliva. When Brandon kissed me, I infected him.”

  Silence fell, thick and heavy. A single tear trickled down Nadia’s cheek. Logan leaned forward, turning the idea over in his head. No angle he looked at was in any way favorable either for her or anyone close to her.

  “How long ago did this happen?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. Months.”

  “And you’ve been alone ever since?”

  “Pretty much. I saw survivors once but hid from them. If they found out what I was they’d kick me out, or worse. I mean, who’d want someone like me around? I’m dangerous. Evil.”

  “You’re not evil, Nadia.”

  “Yes, I am. I killed him. I killed everyone. How am I supposed to live with that?” she asked, burying her face in her hands.

  Logan had no answers for her.