Dangerous Days (Book 3): Die Another Day

by Baileigh Higgins

  The voices of Hannah and Jonathan floated across the void.

  “We're losing him, Doctor. Vitals are dropping.”

  “I don't know what more to do. The strain of bacteria...It's not responding to anything I'm giving him...Organ failure...”

  The words meant nothing to Breytenbach. What did it matter, anyway? She was gone. Nadine was gone, and so was his child.

  I should have been there.

  His conscience tortured him with images of a blood-soaked hospital room and agonized screams as she bled out. Alone. Abandoned. The tiny body of his stillborn son hustled away in a sheet.

  Red on white.

  White on red.

  A flash of light in the distance pierced the dark, inviting him. The closer he moved to it, the larger it grew. Warm. Comforting.

  “He can't die. Do something!” Hands gripped his shoulders. “Christo, no.”

  Breytenbach paused, drawn to the sound of that voice.

  “Please, don't go. Don't leave me. I need you.” Julianne's entreaties echoed around him, anchoring him to the spot. “I don't know why this had to happen for me to realize it but...”

  He found himself straining to hear her next words.

  “I love you.”

  13

  Chapter 13 - Julianne

  The steady beeping of the heart monitor connected to Breytenbach was the only thing that reassured her he was still alive. That and the faint rise and fall of his chest.

  Julianne rubbed a tired hand over her face, tucking her oily locks behind her ears. She knew she looked a fright. Ever since his collapse, she'd hardly left his side, neither to bathe nor to eat. A shudder ran down her spine as she recalled the moment he'd crashed to the ground, unresponsive to her frantic pleas.

  The gray pallor of his skin, the glazed look in his eyes, it all reminded her of John. Without the blood, of course.

  During the long wait, while Jonathan and Hannah fought to save his life, she'd been sure he was infected. The thought that he might turn into a zombie had nearly undone her, and her fragile psyche had hovered on the edge.

  When Jonathan told her they'd managed to stabilize him, it was one of the happiest moments of her life. With it came an exhilarating yet terrifying realization. She loved him.

  Julianne bit her already bleeding lip and clung to his uninjured hand. The other was bundled up in a wad of bandages, a formless lump on the side of the bed. Such a small thing. Yet, it might well cost the life of the strongest man she knew.

  “Oh, Christo. Please, don't give up. I love you,” she whispered for the umpteenth time.

  The only answer she got was the monotonous beeping. A hand fell on her shoulder. “Mom, please. You need to rest.”

  “No.”

  “Eat something at least. You're killing yourself.”

  “I'm not hungry.” The thought of food made her stomach roll in a nauseating fashion. How could she eat when Christo lay dying?

  “Meghan has been asking for you.” Max paused then continued when he got no response. “Sam's been crying all day. She needs you too. They both need you.”

  Julianne's heart clenched. She was being selfish, but couldn't help it. “Max, I'm sorry. I'll try, but I just can't deal with it right now.”

  He sighed and left, leaving her alone. An hour later, Hannah walked in, going about the routine of checking Breytenbach's vitals. Her sympathetic gaze rested on Julianne's face. “He'll be okay, you know. Jonathan and Dr. Lange managed to find the correct combination of medicine to treat him. It's just a matter of time.”

  Julianne shook her head mutely. She already knew that, had been briefed at length on his condition. Somehow, Jonathan and Dr. Lange had brought him back from the brink. It wasn't enough, though. At any moment, something could go wrong again. It was foolish to hope.

  “The coma is his body's way of healing itself.”

  “It's been more than a week!” Julianne burst out, anger filling her. Why couldn't they leave her alone?

  “Just give it some time,” Hannah whispered before walking out.

  “Time,” Julianne muttered, bitter at the thought. Time was the one thing none of them had. Not anymore.

  Julianne slammed a fist into her thigh. “I've been so stupid! Why didn't I tell him before? Why did it have to come to this?”

  She fixed tear-filled eyes on Breytenbach's face. “Please, wake up. Please.”

  Her gaze traveled to his bandaged arm, cursing the cut that caused all this. Cursed Jonathan whose request for medical equipment had sent him to the hospital in the first place. Cursed Dr. Lange who left dirty scalpels lying around. Cursed herself for being so stubborn.

  The only happy occasion had been when Erica gave birth to a healthy baby girl after forty-nine hours of labor. In the end, it had not been necessary for the C-section. The glowing mother and child had left the clinic only that morning, a fact that made Julianne happy but also sad when she looked at the helpless Breytenbach. Exhausted, she lay her head on his hand and closed her eyes, drifting off.

  Screams woke her. Loud, agonized screams.

  “Christo!” Her head snapped up, eyes fixating on his face. It wasn't him. The screams were coming from outside. “Oh, God. What now?”

  Julianne jumped to her feet and rushed outside. The late afternoon sun blinded her, and she paused to let her eyesight adjust. A knot of people rushed towards the hospital. She squinted, the figures coming into focus. Max and Lenka carried a make-shift stretcher on which lay a writhing form.

  Rosa.

  Astonished, Julianne stepped aside to allow them in. Jonathan and Hannah closed in on the unfortunate girl. They rushed past, and Julianne got a brief glimpse of Rosa. A chunk of flesh had been ripped from her upper arm, and blood leaked from the wound.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  No one stopped to answer.

  The injured girl was carried inside while a knot of people clustered around the entrance. Julianne spotted Elise and grabbed her arm. “What's going on?”

  Elise's wide eyes fixed on her face. “Infected. Hundreds of them.”

  “Where?”

  “The gates,” came the stuttered reply.

  “The gates? Where's Meghan? Sam?”

  Elise raised a hand. “They're safe. Ronnie and the rest fought the infected off. I left them with Michelle in the common room. But Rosa...she was on guard duty, and one of them got her.”

  Julianne gasped, the implications sinking in. “Is she...?”

  Elise nodded. “Yes, she's infected.”

  Julianne didn't wait to hear more, her feet flying over the ground to the common room. She had to make sure her babies were safe. She burst inside, relieved to find Meghan and Sam unharmed, playing alongside the other kids beneath the watchful gaze of Michelle.

  At another table sat the heavily pregnant Tumi. Erica was also there, holding her newborn tight to her chest. Expectant faces turned towards Julianne, hoping for news. She managed a reassuring smile. “Everything's under control. No need to worry.”

  “What happened?” Erica asked.

  “We were attacked.” Julianne raised a hand to calm down the kids who gasped, eyes going wide. “But it's okay. We're safe now.”

  “What about Rosa?” Michelle asked. “I heard she got hurt.”

  “I don't know,” Julianne replied, reluctant to say more. Satisfied that Samantha and Meghan were safe, she turned to leave. “I'll go check on the others.”

  Sober nods acknowledged her statement. She exited the building with a heavy heart, trudging towards the gates. A hive of activity surrounded the area. Piles of undead littered the ground, a few still twitching.

  Ronnie, who had taken over temporary command of Breytenbach's team, shouted orders to the rest. Together, they walked among the corpses, finishing off those that moved.

  Max turned to face her, his face grim. “Are the kids okay?”

  “Yes, they're fine.” She looked at the scene with horror. “What happened?”

&nbs
p; “I don't know.” Max shook his head. “They just came out of nowhere. Luckily, Kirstin spotted them and sounded the alarm.”

  “There's so many. Where did they all come from?”

  “I wish I knew.” Max pointed to the steel gates. “Look.”

  Julianne gasped, her knees growing weak at the sight of the mangled metal. “They got inside? How? What about the moat?”

  Max shook his head. “There were so many of them, they filled up the ditch. The rest walked right over. As for the gates...well...with so much pressure it just gave way.”

  “What do we do now?”

  He shrugged. “I don't know, Mom.”

  For the first time in her life, Julianne saw her son look utterly helpless. It was a moment that shook her to the core. Never since the day John died, had she felt so scared. “Is there anything I can do?”

  “Keep the people calm, and send all available hands here.” His lips tightened. “We'll have to work overtime to restore our defenses.”

  Julianne nodded and left the scene of death behind her. Her feet carried her to the clinic where she found a sorrowful Hannah and Jonathan.

  “Rosa?”

  “She's gone,” Hannah replied.

  “Was anyone else injured?”

  “Doesn't look like it, no.”

  Julianne took a shuddering breath then squared her shoulders. “I think everyone who came in contact with the infected should be examined just in case.”

  “Good thinking,” Jonathan replied. “Hannah and I will see to it.”

  “Thanks.”

  For the better part of an hour, Julianne ran around coordinating people's efforts. Joseph and his team repaired the outer fences and gates. Max and a few others got to work on the inner gates while Kirstin kept watch over them all. Michelle looked after the kids, and Elise, Joanna, Tumi, and Erica prepared a hot meal for everyone. Everybody else was relegated to grave duty.

  Julianne pitched in too. Wrinkling her nose, she tugged at the trouser leg of an infected and rolled it onto a stretcher. Her back screamed when she bent to pick up the ends but she pushed onward. At the designated field, she dumped the body. Lenka added it to the pile of burning corpses.

  Thick smoke hung in the air. It coated the inside of her nostrils and burned her eyes. Fine ash sifted down, smearing her skin and clothes with streaks of charcoal.

  She went back and repeated the procedure. Over and over. It was brutal labor and nobody spoke, each occupied by their tasks.

  The sun dropped toward the horizon. The sky grew dim and mosquitoes emerged to plague them. Julianne slapped at one on her neck, her hand coming away bloody. At last, the job was done.

  “Is that the last of it?” she asked her son.

  “Yes, that's it,” Max replied.

  “The gates?”

  “Fixed. For now.” His shoulders slumped, and he looked as tired as she felt. As they all did. “We'll carry on tomorrow, but for now it's time to get inside. We've done all we can.”

  Elise and a few others brought buckets of water to wash with and bottled water to drink. She sipped on the clear liquid with relief, leaning back to ease the ache in her lower back.

  Afterward, she trooped back inside with the others, heading to the common room for a plate of hot food before checking on Breytenbach. He still slept, unaware of their peril. She brushed her hands across his forehead. “Wake soon, Christo. We need you.”

  That night, she slept in her own bed with the children. The attack had made her extra protective, and she would not leave them alone again. But despite her exhaustion, she struggled to sleep.

  Every sound made her sit upright; every rustle shocked her awake. The soft breathing of Meghan and Sam filled her ears, and fear for their safety cut through her breast. The thought of losing them, kept her up, staring wide-eyed into the night. When she drifted off, at last, it was with a gun clutched in both hands. I can't let anything happen to them. I just can't.

  14

  Chapter 14 - Logan

  A week had passed since Logan found the isolated farmhouse where they'd taken refuge, and he itched to move on. He hadn't stayed in one place for more than three days in a very long time. The sense of despair that followed him around wherever he went, had settled over him like a blanket, suffocating in its totality.

  Yet, he knew Nadia wasn't ready. Her hands were healing, and she'd recovered from the fever, but it was far too soon to leave. If they were attacked, she'd be hard pressed to defend herself. And if he was being honest with himself, he had to admit that he enjoyed the peace.

  Ever since the in-depth talk they'd had, the two of them had settled into a quiet routine. Logan, always an early riser, patrolled the extensive grounds every day, eliminating any stray zombies that got too close. He'd also set up his usual alarm system, the pebbled cans strung around the yard on a string. So far, no infected had triggered it.

  This daily activity meant that he had to refrain from drinking the hard stuff until at least mid-afternoon. A fact that at first proved harrowing but got easier as the days passed. Now he actually looked forward to not being shit-faced by ten in the morning. He still started off his day with a few beers, however, and hit the bottle at night. He needed it or else he'd go crazy.

  At the far end of the grounds, Logan paused to admire the scene before him. It was a beautiful day. The kind that made your blood sing through your veins. The air was crisp. The sun hung fat and lazy in the crystal clear sky.

  He turned and made his way back toward the house, stomach growling in anticipation of lunch. Another new development. It seemed his legendary appetite was making a come-back.

  Logan pushed open the front door and walked inside. The sounds of cooking emanated from the kitchen, and his stride quickened in anticipation. Nadia stood with her back to him, wielding a spatula. The pan sizzled.

  He inhaled the delicious scents appreciatively and slouched down in a chair. “What's cooking?”

  Nadia tossed a reply over her shoulder. “Bully beef and pap.”

  Logan grinned. “Just what I like to hear.”

  Nadia placed a heaped plate in front of him along with a cup of coffee. He eyed the heap of thick porridge topped with corned beef and gravy with appreciation.

  “Thanks,” he mumbled, shoving a huge forkful into his mouth. Nadia sat down opposite him, and he stopped mid-chew. “What the hell happened to you?”

  “Nothing.” A note of defensiveness crept into her voice.

  “You look...different.”

  “You mean this?” Nadia blushed, running a hand through the short locks. “I cut it, that's all.”

  “All?”

  The spiky black do was gone, replaced by her natural white blonde hair, cut close to the scalp. It made her look younger and was offset by her pale skin and vivid blue eyes. Even more jarring was the lack of jewelry decorating her face. Most of it was gone, except the cross around her neck, a pair of studs in each ear and another in her nose.

  Nadia shrugged, lowering her eyes to her plate. “I thought it was time for a change.”

  Logan considered her answer, noting the plain long sleeved top she wore. “What happened to your old clothes?”

  “I tossed them.”

  That was a surprise. After the first day, she'd eschewed wearing the clothes he'd gotten her, preferring her own things instead. They were 'too girly', he believed. “Any particular reason for this sudden change?”

  “No reason.”

  “It mightn't have something to do with wanting to fit in at a certain camp?”

  This was a touchy subject. At various times, Nadia had expressed both eagerness and fear at the idea of joining his old group. He suspected she was scared they wouldn't accept her for who she was, despite his many assurances to the contrary.

  “Nope.”

  'If you say so.” His eyes narrowed. “I kind of liked punk Nadia, though.”

  “Yeah well, there's more to me than clothes, you know.” Her voice grew testy, and Logan decided to
drop the subject.

  Besides, she did look pretty with the new look. Silence fell as they both dug into their food, the loaded plates emptying fast.

  “Got room for more?” Nadia asked when she'd swallowed her last bite.

  She was every bit as big an eater as Logan, and he wondered where she put it all. “You know I do.”

  She fetched the pan, dividing the leftover corned beef between their plates. Logan smothered a grin when he spotted the leopard print bra strap peeking out beneath her shirt, and the battered biker boots buckled over her skinny jeans. Glad to see not everything has changed.

  “So,” she said, clearing her throat. “We're running low on food.”

  “I'm not surprised considering the rate at which we eat,” he grunted.

  “We've got some dried goods left. Maize meal, rice, pasta, spices, that sort of thing, but the cans are wiped out.”

  “Time to go hunting then.”

  “Hunting?” Her brow furrowed in confusion. “Hunt what?”

  “Springbok, of course. I spotted fresh spoor over by the creek earlier.” He swallowed the last bite and smiled. “We can leave after breakfast.”

  “We?”

  “Yes, we. It's time you earned your keep instead of eating your head off all day. You're getting fat.”

  “I am not!” she gasped.

  “True. But you could use some fun, I'm sure.”

  “Hunting and killing an innocent animal is not my idea of fun.” She leaned back in her chair, a look of disgust twisting her features.

  “You need to eat, don't you?” Logan asked, ever practical. “Besides, where do you think the meat in that can came from? The air?”

  She frowned, picking at the remaining corned beef on her plate with her fork. “Still, I've never hunted before.”

  Logan swallowed his last sip of coffee and got up, chair scraping across the floor. “Then it's time you learn.”

  She sputtered, but after taking one look at his stern face, she finished her food in a hurry. “Fine. Let's go then.”

  He handed her an empty backpack and a pistol with a holster on a belt, watching as she put it on.