As the convoy pulled out, leaving their old home behind, she gathered Jenny and Mark to her, soothing their frightened cries as a horde of zombies swept past the windows, some hitting the bull bars and going down under the wheels.
It was a long time before she let go of them, a long time before they were clear of the infected in the fields and on the way to their destination. Bloemfontein.
Chapter 19 - Agatha
Two nights and a day had passed since Agatha sought refuge in Mrs. Greene’s home, a place obscure enough to be safe from Hiran’s searching men. After all, who would think to look for her in such an obvious place? A guesthouse right beside a main road, and not far from Naval Hill either.
No, they’d assume she’d run. As far and fast as she could. As it was, she’d left a false trail down a different road by smearing a wall with some of her blood and dropping her knife in the street a bit further on. Then she’d doubled back and gone a different route.
Now, after a chance to rest and recoup, she was ready to take her revenge. Dressed in warm, comfortable clothes, she had a quick fortifying breakfast of canned asparagus and tuna, followed by a bottle of water and aspirin.
Into her left boot, she tucked a wicked looking kitchen knife from Mrs. Greene’s arsenal, and then she was ready to take on the town. An hour’s steady walk brought her to the business district where she chose a brand new truck from a dealership.
In the shop’s garage, she found a new battery off the rack and quickly exchanged it for the old one. A quick test showed it was working just fine, and within minutes she was cruising the streets in style and comfort.
A camping shop was her next destination. There she picked up a box full of flares and a flare gun, chucking them onto the seat next to her. A hunting knife was next, chosen for its razor sharp edge, and it went onto her belt in a custom made sheath. From the hardware section, she picked two pairs of bolt cutters and tossed them into the truck as well.
Agatha also found a gun in the office safe. It was fully loaded and contained six shots. Enough for her needs. She looped the holster through her belt and snatched a scarf from a rack which she used it to tie her mess of curly hair back. With a pocket full of candy bars and a cool drink from the vending machine, she exited the building.
At a music store, she picked up a mix of songs from the loudest death metal band she could find. A quick test of the truck’s speakers proved they were more than up for the job, and Agatha allowed herself a small smile of satisfaction. Things were going well, indeed. Almost too well.
With all her preparations in hand, she checked her fuel gauge and concluded only one more thing remained: Justice.
“Watch out Hiran. George. I’m coming for you, and I’m not coming alone.”
A quick twist of the key started the engine, and she was off, driving a road as familiar to her as the back of her hands. The winding road brought her to a standstill in front of a set of large gates. They were locked with a loop of thick chain, and the keys were long gone.
It didn’t matter.
That’s what the bolt cutters were for.
Beyond the gates were several shambling figures spread out over the grounds, and she was sure there were hundreds more inside. All waiting for her to free them.
Agatha quickly turned the truck around, enabling a quick escape. Next, she picked up the biggest pair of bolt cutters from the back of the truck and used them to cut the chains.
Already a bunch of the infected had noticed her and were making their way across the open space. They were quite fast, more so than she’d thought they’d be. After pulling the chain free, she ran back to the safety of her truck and jumped in.
With the doors locked, she cracked open her window, stuck her hand out and shot off a flare. She hoped it would draw in the scattered zombies, but that wasn’t the only tactic she planned to rely on.
With all the truck’s windows opened a crack, she switched on the CD player and blasted the music out full volume. The death metal sounded awful to her ears; her taste was more inclined toward jazz, but in this instance, the louder, the better.
Two balls of cotton wool protected her eardrums while she waited, the truck’s cabin vibrating with the force of the sound it projected. It reawakened her aches and pains, reminding her how fragile her body was without the regular aspirin to keep her going.
Knowing she was going to need it to see her through, she popped a few more pills with a swallow of water. For a brief moment, she closed her eyes, preparing for the ordeal ahead.
Strong she might be, clever even, a good person who led by example and discipline, but stupid she was not. Agatha knew very well that this was a one-way trip. She was not coming back from this one.
It didn’t matter, though. There was no escaping the yawning pit of darkness Hiran and George had opened up inside her. The only way out was death, and she fully intended to take that route. “But I’ll make damned sure I take you with me, you sons of bitches.”
She opened her eyes in time to see the first zombie slam its diseased hands on the window next to her face. Many more crowded closer, and a quick check in the rearview mirror revealed a beautiful sight. From every corner of the base, more infected streamed, all making their way toward her.
With a smile, Agatha eased the truck into a low speed, moving just fast enough to keep the dead coming her way. Bit by bit, she led them through the streets of Bloemfontein toward what was once her home for a time. Naval Hill.
It was late afternoon by the time she got them there. It had taken hours to lead the dead to her goal. Not that it mattered. As they grew closer, her smile broadened. She could almost imagine the horror on Hiran and George’s faces when they saw her. She could practically feel the triumph of their deaths course through her veins. Soon. Very soon now.
When she reached the road leading up the hill’s winding ways, she slowed, allowing the dead to catch up to the point where they almost swamped the car.
Almost.
With her bodyguards in place, she braved the entrance, a set of gates in the fence stretching around the area. Guards loitered around in boredom, but their jaws dropped open in shock when she rounded the corner.
Shouts rang out, and panic struck. Figures milled about as they reached for their guns. Before any of them could accomplish much, she slammed her foot down on the accelerator and smashed through the nearest gate.
The powerful truck, chosen for this purpose, turned the metal bars into confetti. They swung open, allowing free access to the zombies who streamed in, making quick meals of the guards. She listened to their awful screams, basking in the sound. “It’s payback time.”
Once the guards were out of the way, she led the infected further up the hill, a veritable pied piper. “Come on, my lovelies. This way. Don’t fail me now.”
Like faithful hounds, they trudged along behind the truck. With each inch, her impatience grew until she wanted to abandon the slow undead and roar her way forward to smash and kill. “Patience, Agatha. It’s not far now.”
Finally, she topped the rise and entered the clearing where Hiran’s headquarters lay; her old headquarters. Men milled about, and she surmised they’d heard the approaching ruckus.
What they got was not what they expected, though. Having planned every detail out ahead, Agatha knew she had a limited window of opportunity. It was now or never.
Once again, she slammed her foot down and roared forward, sending men scattering every which way. The zombies followed, honing in on their fresh victims with eager bloodlust. Screams filled the clearing.
She spun the truck behind a building, getting away from both the infected and men alike. Once out of view, she jumped out and ran toward the shack where the surviving women and children huddled inside, terror stamped on their faces.
She burst inside and searched for a familiar face, any familiar face at all. There! I know her. “Nina, come on. You have to escape. All of you. Use my truck.”
“What?” Nina mumbled, confusion
and fear filling her features.
Agatha’s temper flared, and she stamped her foot. “Nina, move your ass. Now. We don’t have time for tears.”
The girl stumbled forward, and Agatha grabbed her arm, shoving the truck keys into her hand. “Here. Get them out by the back roads. Go to a safe house outside of town. Save them.”
“What about you?” Nina asked.
“Forget about me. Go!”
Agatha hustled the women and children out and into the truck, watching as they drove away using a back road very few people knew of. With her first objective taken care of, she moved on to the next.
Hiran.
With the hunting knife in her hand, Agatha went on the prowl. It didn’t take long to find him. He stood with his back to her, taking pot shots at the undead while howling out orders. His black hair glinted in the sun. Every bit as dark as his soul.
A slow smile spread across her face, warming her from within. This was it. Her moment. With a terrific burst of speed, she ran forward and slammed into him, her knife sinking to the hilt next to his spine.
Hot blood gushed over her fingers, and Hiran screamed as she twisted the blade. Her left hand gripped his shoulder, and she whispered in his ear. “Die like the monster you are.”
She released him with a shove, and he fell to his face in the dust, a dark stain spreading across his lower back. He rolled over, and his searching eyes found hers, wide with surprise and agony. “Y…you!”
“Yes, me.” Agatha smiled as she watched him writhe and bleed. She’d chosen her spot with care, designed to rupture the liver for maximum damage and pain. A slow, painful death. It was not to be, though. As she backed away, two infected stumbled across Hiran’s prone form.
His eyes rolled in their sockets when he spotted them, naked terror filling his features. “No, go…go away.”
His hands flapped at the air, but he was too weak to fight them off. With eager rasps, they fell to their knees and dug their teeth and fingers into his flesh. Flaps of skin and tissue tore from his face and scalp, more from his neck and shoulders. Blood spurted out in a fountain, and she relished every quivering cry and scream that burbled from his lips.
It wasn’t over, though. Where his master was, George couldn’t be far off. She dodged the reaching hands and arms of the undead as she darted about the clearing. It was chaos; men were running, fighting, shooting, but the battle was lost. The infected had swarmed the camp, and now it was lost.
She had the fleeting hope that the women and children had gotten away before dodging yet another set of teeth. At last, she found George, backed into a corner by three zombies. He hacked at them with a machete, screaming with rage and defiance. Blood misted his skin, and his clothes were ripped to shreds.
Agatha pulled out her gun and aimed at his knee. She squeezed the trigger, and the kneecap disintegrated, turning into mush with a shower of exploding bone. With a hoarse cry, he pitched forward into the dust, dropping the machete from nerveless fingers.
The infected followed, descending on the feast before them. As they tore into him, she screamed loudly enough for him to hear. “Suffer you pig. May you go to hell knowing it was me who killed you.”
He registered the words. His eyes turned toward her and his skin turned purple and swollen with mottled rage. “Agatha, you bitch!”
She laughed in his face, watching as the undead ripped apart his flesh, stuffing quivering bits of flesh into their eager mouths. “Yes, it’s me. Agatha. Die, you asshole.”
For a few seconds, Agatha stood unmoving, relishing in her victory. All other sights and sounds faded away as she honed in on George and his grizzly end. Revenge was sweet. A nectar of the gods flowing through her veins.
But in the next moment, a searing pain raced up her arm. Fingers clawed at her body. She cried out in agony and tried to shake off the zombie that had sunk its teeth into her shoulder.
It growled as it hung on, strips of rotting flesh falling from its cheeks. Its eyes fixed on hers, empty pits of nothingness, the eyes of the dead. Fear of that same death held Agatha in its grasp for a brief moment before she gave in. I knew it would come to this. I always knew. It was worth it. Worth every second.
With shaking hands, she pressed her palms together, praying for the last time. “Forgive me, Lord, for I have sinned.”
Chapter 20 - Lisa
Lisa drove the second vehicle carrying the fighting teams, and Michael sat beside her. She glanced at him, but his face remained guarded and showed no emotion. After a few minutes, she scraped together the courage to ask, “How are you doing, Michael?”
“Fine.”
The single syllable was loaded with meaning, and she caught the hint. “Sorry, I asked. I won’t intrude again.”
“It doesn’t matter what you do. The only thing I care about is Hiran’s head on a stick,” Michael replied in an even tone.
“Revenge, huh?” she asked. “I get that.”
He glanced at her, and after a second, inclined his head. “I guess you do.”
Behind them, Donya, Liesel, Dee, and Aiden were engaged in their own teen conversation, arguing about something she felt too old to care about. She might have objected to their presence on this mission due to their age, but they were all capable fighters, and age no longer mattered so much in the apocalypse. Kids tended to grow up quickly now.
Besides, Breytenbach’s truck carried a bunch of older, more experienced fighters; Kirstin, Ronnie, and Lenka to be precise. Together they presented a formidable force. She’d have liked Nadia with them; the girl was a fierce fighter; but her injured hand discounted her as did Max’s injured leg.
“So you’ve scouted this Naval hill? You know the way in?” she asked, returning her attention to Michael.
“I do.”
“Can you describe it to me?” she asked. “I’d like to know what I’m up against. In fact, tell me about Hiran too. Everything you know.”
“Everything?”
“Yup.” She shrugged. “Have you got anything better to do?”
“Guess not.”
He commenced telling her his findings, what he’d seen Hiran do, his methods and practices. By the end of his story, a thick silence had fallen over the cabin until Dee broke it. “He did that? To real people?”
“Yes, he did.”
“Good God, the man’s a monster!” she exclaimed.
“Why do you think I want to kill him so much?” Michael asked.
Lisa nodded. “I think we all get it now.”
“Just remember one thing. When we get there, Hiran’s mine. I get to rip his heart out, nobody else.”
Lisa pursed her lips. “I promise not to stand in your way.”
“You’d better not,” was the dour reply.
They drove for a few more minutes in silence before Lisa slammed on the brakes, coming to a stop mere centimeters from the front vehicle. Her forehead connected with the steering wheel, and for a moment, she saw stars.
She blinked the fog away and slammed her hands on the steering wheel before grabbing the radio next to her. “Damn it, Captain! What was that?”
“Back up,” came the terse reply.
“What? Why?”
“I said, back up and do a u-turn. Head for the convoy. We’ve got infected ahead.”
“Infected?”
“Yes, hundreds of the damned things. Now move!”
Lisa dropped the radio and jammed the gears into reverse. As she pulled away, her headlights caught an awful sight. A horde of undead, headed straight for them. “Holy, shit, would you look at that? I thought Bloemfontein was clean.”
“It was,” Michael said, his expression one of disbelief.
Lisa got into first gear again and was prepared to speed away, but Michael stopped her. “Let me out first.”
She shot him a look. “What? Let you out?”
“I need to go back. Hiran’s that way,” he said. “I’ll make it on foot.”
“Are you crazy?” she cried. “Think abou
t it. If Naval Hill’s that side, then so’s hordes of the undead. You saw them.”
“I don’t care. I can make it on my own. I always do.”
“Well, you should care!” she cried. “Besides, Hiran’s probably dead by now. Nobody can survive that many zombies unless they’re prepared for it.”
“You can’t be sure of that,” Michael said, his jaw set stubbornly. “The man’s a weasel, an escape artist, and he needs to die.”
Lisa ground her teeth together. “What good will it do if you die in the process? You can go after him later.”
“No,” Michael said, reaching for his door handle.
Dee leaned forward and locked his door before pointing outside. “See that? Is that Naval Hill up there?”
Lisa dropped her neck and looked through her windshield upward at a fiery orange glow on the horizon. “Is that it?”
Michael nodded. “Yes.”
“Well, then, it’s on fire and clearly overrun. Hiran and his people are dead,” Dee cried. “But those guys, they’re coming straight for us. We need to leave now!”
As if on cue, the radio crackled, and Lisa grabbed it. “Yes, Captain.”
“What’s the hold-up? We need to go now. If those things continue on the path they’re on now, they’ll reach the rest stop,” Breytenbach replied. “In fact, by the route we have to follow, they might well pull ahead of us.”
Lisa’s insides grew cold as his meaning sunk in. The rest stop was the place chosen for the rest of the convoy to wait for them. A small shopping center tucked out of the way but wide open to infected. If the dead got there before them… “God, help them. We need to hurry.”
Michael shook his head. “No. Let me out.”
“Listen, asshole. As much as your revenge is important to you, our people need you more. Your people!”
“They’re not my problem,” he shouted.
“Yes, they are,” she shouted back. “They were important to Mpho. Do it for her sake, at least, if not your own.”
He pressed his lips together but remained silent as she jammed the gears into first and roared off with a screech of the engine. Breytenbach fell in behind her just as the first runners hit them. Lisa winced but kept her eyes fixed forward as she pushed through the bodies.
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