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

by Baileigh Higgins

  “Come on, come on!” he screamed, dabbing the brakes with his foot to bleed off speed. “Get your fat ass back on the road, Tallulah!”

  He straightened out the truck, and there was a brief moment of calm. Then Kirstin shouted a warning. “Roadblock!”

  Ronnie looked up in time to see a barrier of sticks, dirt, and stones blocking the way. He had enough time to realize that it was a trap and made a brief calculation. He jammed his boot down on the accelerator, pushing the Casspir forward at top speed.

  “Hold on!” he shouted, bracing himself for the hit. Time slowed to a crawl. The roar of the engine faded away. The wind streamed through the window and washed across his face.

  The truck’s nose plowed through the roadblock, sending a shower of rubbish exploding outward in an arc of destruction. Rocks the size of tennis balls showered down onto the windshield. The glass held under the onslaught, the missiles no match for the bulletproof windows.

  For a moment, Ronnie thought he’d failed as the Casspir slowed drastically, but the armored steel body burst through the barrier. They picked up speed once more when they reached the other side.

  Angry shouts rose around them as their attackers realized their trap had failed. A hail of bullets punched into the sides of the vehicle. Ronnie never slowed, pushing the truck to full speed as they raced away from the scene.

  A few kilometers further, he eased off. “Fuck. Is everyone okay?”

  “We’re fine,” Mike replied. “All good.”

  Kirstin and Lenka nodded their agreement.

  “It seems your theory is correct,” Kirstin said.

  “The fuckers set a trap for us, but you busted through their barrier like it was nothing. Nice driving,” Mike said.

  “Yeah, but they’re not going to stop,” Ronnie said. “First they lead a bunch of zombies to our doorstep, and now they ambush us. What next?”

  “We need to stop them,” Kirstin agreed.

  “The enemy has shown himself,” Lenka said.

  “Murderous pieces of shite,” Mike said.

  Ronnie pursed his lips. “They must be watching us. They probably saw us leave and set up the trap. This is exactly what Breytenbach feared.”

  “So what do we do about it?” Kirstin asked.

  “Why don’t we double back and sneak up on them?” Mike said with a wolfish grin. “Show them what it means to fuck with us.”

  “It’ll be dangerous,” Ronnie cautioned. “We’re outnumbered.”

  “Aren’t we always?”

  Ronnie looked at Lenka and Kirstin. “What do you say?”

  “We go.” Lenka cracked his knuckles, a grim smile on his face.

  “They won’t be expecting us,” Kirstin answered.

  “They’ll think we’ve run home with our tails between our legs,” Mike agreed.

  “Let’s go hunting,” Ronnie replied. Despite the danger involved, he couldn’t help but grin. Finally. Some action.

  ***

  Five minutes later, they were all suited up and hunkered down in the tall grass. Ronnie had pulled the Casspir off the road and hidden it as well as he could between a clump of gnarled trees and scraggly brush.

  Setting off, they approached the site where they’d been ambushed with Kirstin bringing up the rear. At first, they moved quickly, closing the gap with long strides.

  Once they neared their destination, Ronnie slowed, easing forward until he heard voices carrying toward him on the breeze. He stuck to the high ground and circled around to stay downwind. A whiff of tobacco smoke teased his nostrils. We’re getting close.

  Scanning the area, he spotted a group of men clustered together. He held up a hand to his team. They fanned out, each taking up a position that offered them cover and a field of fire.

  Kirstin stayed the furthest back, her long range rifle propped up against a branch. She put the powerful scope against her eye and picked out her targets. With her toned arms and strong stance, she looked Amazonian. Not the kind of person I’d want to fuck with.

  Lenka wore a grim look, his eyes like laser beams that fixed on his chosen victims with no compassion at all. Mike looked excited, his blood up at the thought of a little fun.

  Everyone settled in, their khaki clothes blending in with their surroundings. Each of them was rendered near invisible against the dull backdrop of beiges and browns the Free State veldt offered.

  Ronnie chose a spot on a slight rise behind thick brush and thorn trees. He hunkered down, placing the barrel of his rifle in the crook of two branches. A fly buzzed around his face, settling down every few seconds to crawl across his weathered skin. He ignored it, his entire focus fixed on the task at hand.

  In front of him, the vegetation thinned out into scattered clumps of grass over swathes of dusty earth. He scanned the area in front of him, noting the enemy’s position. The road lay to the right, and the broken barrier was strewn across the tar. Two trucks and a sedan, dusty and spattered with mud, were parked on the side. The drivers lounged in their seats, smoking.

  One man stood apart from the rest, and it was on him that Ronnie’s gaze finally settled. It was the man he’d seen on the road. The man with the scarred face. There you are.

  Scar Face, as Ronnie silently dubbed him on the spot, was incensed. He waved an AK 47 around with his left hand, shoving the barrel into the face of each man he targeted.

  His teeth were bared, pearl white against his skin and a match for his dead eye. A predatory expression twisted the scar that cut across his face, lifting the corner of his mouth into a snarl.

  The men shuffled around, a miasma of fear hanging around each. None dared to contradict him. They’re afraid of him.

  Ronnie chewed on his lip as he considered that fact. Every member of the gang they faced was a ruthless killer who raped, killed, and plundered without regard for life. He’d seen the evidence of their deeds and felt not a grain of pity for any of them. If such men were afraid of their leader, then what kind of beast was he? It doesn’t matter. I’m taking him out.

  Instinct told Ronnie that this was the man to kill. The wolf amongst the sheep. “Cut the head off the snake.”

  Centering the barrel of his R4 on the chest of Scar Face, he breathed out, paused, and squeezed the trigger. At the last moment, another gang member stepped in front of him.

  The bullet punched into the man’s back and exploded out the front. It whizzed past Scar Face, splattering him with blood. For a second, Scar Face stood frozen. His single eye searched for the source of the bullet. His piercing gaze fixed on Ronnie, seeming to find him despite his camouflage.

  Mike, Lenka, and Kirstin each fired, cutting loose on their chosen targets. Like pins in a bowling alley, gang members collapsed to the ground. The rest scrambled for cover. Dust puffed into the air, and gunshots cut out all other sounds.

  Scar Face stood still; a statue amidst the chaos. He smiled, and his lips pulled back to expose sharp canines. Ronnie snapped off another shot, but the gang leader dropped from sight, seemingly disappearing into thin air. “Where are you, you fucker?”

  Bullets cut the leaves above his head, but he ignored them. With a calm demeanor won through years of combat, he took his shots. Two more men fell in quick succession, but Ronnie only cared about one. His eyes roved as he searched for Scar Face. There!

  A flash of red betrayed the leader, his bandanna a bright spot of color amidst the bland foliage. He was running toward the closest vehicle in a mad dash, ducking, and weaving. Ronnie tried to get a clean shot and failed.

  “Shit! I’m going after him,” he shouted to Lenka who was the closest. “Cover me.”

  Lenka grunted, and Ronnie was off, sprinting after the fleeing bandit. A face rose in front of him, only to disappear in a spray of blood. Ronnie ducked beneath a swinging rifle stock, dove forward, and rolled behind the thin cover of a termite mound.

  A yell alerted him, and he glanced up in time to see another gang member charge him. He pushed off the ground with a mighty thrust, ramming
the incoming man in the stomach. Off balance, his attacker slammed down into the dust, his breath leaving his lungs in a loud whoosh.

  Ronnie threw a wild glance around and spotted Scar Face ducking into the sedan. He screamed at the driver who jammed his foot on the accelerator, and the engine roared. The car pulled away in a cloud of dust and burning rubber.

  “No!” Ronnie fired a burst of bullets at the fast retreating car. The vehicle never slowed, making its escape with both occupants tucked safely inside. Scar Face had escaped.

  Wiping a runnel of sweat off his face, Ronnie sucked in a deep breath before he became aware of the silence that had fallen. He turned back in time to see his team emerge from their positions.

  Sighing, he walked over, checking bodies as he went. A man reached trembling fingers to him, blood frothing on his lips. Ronnie considered leaving him, but no one deserved the slow death granted by a sucking lung wound nor the horrid death he’d suffer if a zombie found him. Not even a murderer.

  He removed his pistol from its holster, hardening his heart against the terror in the wounded man’s eyes. Ignoring his babbled pleas, Ronnie shot him in the head. He continued, finding two more who were too severely injured to be saved. Each got the mercy shot.

  “We’ve got a live one,” Mike shouted.

  Ronnie turned to look and saw Mike dragging a youngster out from behind one of the enemy trucks. The boy cowered with his hands over his head and screamed for mercy.

  Mike cuffed him. “Shut up.”

  His captive ceased crying but his eyes rolled with terror, the whites glaring. Ronnie walked over and surveyed the boy. His eyes took in the ragged clothes, jutting ribs, and distended pupils. Just a boy. Scared, starving, and hopped up on glue or something.

  But the boy had made his choice, and now he had to pay. Ronnie sighed, not happy with what he was about to do. He drew his knife, wincing inwardly at the sheer horror in the boy’s chocolate eyes. “Time to get some information.”

  Chapter 19 - Max

  It was only mid-afternoon, but already Max was exhausted. He’d spent the entire morning with Phillip, Abraham, Abe, and Ben. They’d cleared the burnt remains of the infected corpses from the field, shoveling the ash and bones into burlap sacks to be disposed of.

  Now he sat on the wall with Peter and Thembiso, keeping watch. He heard the rumble of the truck before he saw it, the Casspir’s faded bonnet appearing seconds later. Even from a distance, the bright pink spray paint on the side was visible, and he grinned. The sight never failed to amuse him.

  “Open up, boys,” he shouted. “Tallulah’s back.”

  “Yes, Sir.” The two boys ran to the gate, levering the bar off and pushing it open. Max smiled at their enthusiasm. They were both undergoing a growth spurt, and Elise complained that they were eating her out of supplies.

  They must be what? Sixteen? Seventeen by now? No longer kids. Certainly, the guns on their hips weren’t for show, and already they’d seen and experienced more than most teens ever would.

  Once the gates were open, Peter and Thembiso ran outside waving at the oncoming truck. Max climbed down from his perch and dropped to the ground, joining them. The three gravitated to the side, standing beneath a wild olive tree for shade.

  Though he tried not to show it, he was worried sick about Kirstin. It was bad enough when she went out on raids for supplies but even worse now. No longer did they face only zombies but also a mysterious new enemy if Breytenbach was to be believed. Not that Max doubted him. The Captain wouldn’t have said something if he didn’t think the threat was genuine.

  The Casspir pulled to a stop next to him. The wheels raised up a storm which coated their skin and eyelashes with a fine layer of grit. Max blinked, his eyes tearing up. He coughed, waving his hand in front of his face. The driver’s door opened to reveal a grim looking Ronnie.

  His heart dropped, and his eyes immediately searched for Kirstin. To his intense relief, she dropped out of the passenger side, walking over with long strides to press her lips to his. He breathed in her scent, one hand circling her waist.

  “Are you okay?” he asked when the kiss ended.

  “I am fine,” she answered. “But we have problems.”

  She turned and nodded her head toward the Casspir. From the back, Mike and Lenka appeared dragging an unconscious figure among them.

  “Who’s that?”

  “His name is Kabelo,” she replied. “We captured him.”

  “Captured him? When?”

  “Right after the ambush.”

  “Ambush?” His throat tightened. “You were ambushed?”

  “Yes, but we are fine. No need to worry.” She pressed another kiss to his lips and shook her head with amusement. Her platinum braid brushed against his arm. “They stood no chance.”

  Max studied the unconscious boy. “What happened to him. Was he injured?”

  Ronnie stepped up. “Not exactly. I was planning on interrogating him when Lenka happened. He frightened the boy to death, and the kid fainted.”

  Lenka grinned, letting go of Kabelo’s arm. Mike kept hold for a few more seconds before he also let go. Their hapless victim fell to the ground with a thud.

  Confused, Max looked from the one to the other. “Somebody tell me what’s going on, please.”

  “It’s a long story,” Ronnie replied. “And you’re not going to like it. We’re being targeted.”

  “What do you mean?” Max asked.

  “The people Breytenbach spoke of…well they’re out for blood.”

  Suddenly, Max was glad the rest of the camp wasn’t around to hear the news. After the zombie attack, tensions were running high. Rosa had been put to rest only that morning, and a lot of people were on edge.

  “Tell me,” he commanded.

  “The zombies who attacked the camp didn’t stumble on us by accident. They were led here.” Ronnie gave Max an abbreviated version of the day’s events in clipped tones.

  Max listened, nodding. When Ronnie was done, he sighed and said, “We’d better get inside and call a meeting.” He turned then paused. “Why don’t you all take a break first? I’m sure you could use the rest.”

  Ronnie nodded. “That’d be great, thanks.”

  “What about him?” Max pointed at the unconscious Kabelo.

  “We’ll tie him up and lock him in the back of the Casspir for now until we figure out what to do with him.”

  “All right. I’ll call an emergency meeting.” Max glanced at his watch. “Say two hours from now?”

  “We’ll be there.”

  Max stared at the unfortunate Kabelo, his expression pensive. “Bring our new friend to the meeting as well. I’d like to hear what he has to say.”

  “Sure thing.” Ronnie climbed back into Tallulah and waved at Max before driving inside. The rest trooped in after him except Lenka who rode in the back of the truck with the captive.

  Max turned to Peter and Thembiso. “Keep this to yourselves, for now. No need to panic folks with wild stories. It’ll be our secret.”

  “Yes, Sir!” Their eyes shone with excitement at being part of the conspiracy, and Max had to repress a sigh. If only I could be so young and dumb. They’ve got no clue what this means for us.

  ***

  Two hours later, Ronnie, Kirstin, and Mike walked into the meeting room looking refreshed. They’d washed, eaten, and dressed in comfortable clothes. Max took a moment to admire Kirstin who’d slipped into tight jeans and a sky blue top. As ever, she looked calm and beautiful. I’m a lucky man.

  He strode to his chair at the end of the table and waited until everybody was seated. He’d managed to get hold of Joseph, Lucas, Elise, and Julianne who all trooped in looking worried. An emergency meeting never meant anything good.

  When everybody had settled down, Max opened the session. “Ronnie, why don’t you tell everyone here what you told me?”

  Ronnie cleared his throat and in simple terms explained what had transpired that day. Gasps of shock and surprise
did the rounds, followed by anger.

  When he finished, Ronnie stood up and called out into the hallway. Seconds later, Lenka appeared dragging Kabelo by the arm. The boy’s eyes were wild, his skin slick with sweat. Max could almost smell the fear emanating from him.

  Lenka pushed him down into a chair then took up a position behind him and slightly to the side. It was a strategic move, and one Max admired. The boy would have a constant view of Lenka from the corner of his eye, the hulking brute’s presence enough to unnerve and frighten him even further.

  “How much has he told you?” Max asked, directing the question at Ronnie.

  “Pretty much everything. He spilled his guts within seconds of Lenka getting hold of him.”

  Max studied the captive who sported a split, swollen lip, and bruised temple. His wrists and ankles were rubbed raw by the ropes used to bind him adding to his misery. He was a sorry sight.

  “It’s a pity you had to rough him up but…” Max shrugged. “What did he tell you?”

  “We were right in thinking they’re after us. They lured the zombies here, hoping we’d fall. It seems their leader is of the enterprising sort. He used the same tactic to get rid of several other rival gangs and take over their turf.”

  “It’s a good tactic,” Max admitted grudgingly. “This leader of theirs is ambitious.”

  “That he is,” Ronnie agreed. “He calls himself Ke Tau.”

  “Ke Tau,” Max mused. “The lion in Sesotho, am I right?”

  “Yup. The great King of the Jungle himself,” Ronnie agreed. “Anyway, he’s set himself up in the remnants of the old Welkom Inn, turning it into a fortress. He’s got guns, ammo, supplies, and women. Most of it taken from other survivors he wiped out. Now he’s set his sights on us. We’re all that’s left.”

  “Women?” Julianne asked. “There are women there?”

  “Captives. Slaves.” Ronnie’s mouth twisted in disgust. Julianne and Elise blanched, their faces turning pale. “It’s what they do. When Ke Tau and his men stumble upon survivors, they torture and kill the men and rape the women. Those that survive the ordeal are taken captive. Young boys are drafted into their ranks.”