Michael opened his mouth to argue, but a glint in Ke Tauâs eyes warned him not to. He wants me to fight, to show the real me.
He gritted his teeth against a rising tide of nausea that threatened to overwhelm him. Rebecca was right. Mpho was right. He could never have done this. He could never have hurt these people. I have to get out of here. Now.
Chapter 10 - Lisa
Lisa ran through the night with nothing more than a knife, a gun, and a flashlight. The rain had softened to a mild patter, and the rumbling thunder grew distant. Occasional flashes of lightning still lit up the dark, but the worst of the storm was over.
As she ran, she cursed. âWhy? Why the fuck did I leave him alone? I should have stayed.â
The sight of the dying Joanna flashed before her eyes, and she sped up. Her legs churned, and she hardly slowed when she reached the outer gates, scaling them in one swift move. âIâm coming for you, Kabelo.â
After making her way past the barrier and across the moat, she sprinted into the night. Her flashlight bobbed up and down; its light was just enough to show her the way. She stuck to the road, and her feet crunched on the gravel until she reached the tar.
Weeks of hard labor had strengthened her body and now stood her in good stead. Her breath flowed in and out of her lungs in a steady rhythm as she fell into a jog. Her gait was smooth and even.
After a time, she switched off the light when the clouds parted to reveal the moon. Its silver light lit the way like a beacon. âRun, little rabbit. Run.â
There was no need to try and track Kabelo. She knew where he was going. Ke Tau. All she had to do was catch him before he got there.
The road passed beneath her feet at a swift pace until she reached the crossing into Riebeeckstad. Here she was forced to slow down and navigate her way between the cars that clogged it. While a passage through had been cleared by Breytenbachâs team, infected were an ever-present threat.
She encountered no zombies, though, and passed without incident. Her gaze fixed on the horizon, and she estimated sheâd reach Welkom within an hour. The minutes passed, falling by the wayside as the distance between her and town shrank.
The entire time she ran, she expected to see the slender figure of Kabelo in the distance. But he must have been faster than she expected because before she knew it, she hit the outskirts of town.
Here she slowed to a stop to reevaluate. Catching the boy on the road outside of town was one thing, but going into a zombie-infested urban maze after him was another. Especially alone.
âCrap. What do I do now?â Her voice echoed around her, but it provided no answers to her dilemma. She looked over her shoulder in the direction sheâd come from and bit her lip. âShould I go back?â
Then she remembered Joanna lying on the ground while the blood pumped out of her frail body. Kind Joanna. Helpful Joanna. A person whoâd never hurt anyone or anything. Her resolve hardened into steel.
She slipped her knife from its scabbard and held it in her right. In her left, she held the flashlight though she didnât switch it on. The light would only draw infected. On balled feet, she snuck into town, taking the shortest route to Ke Tauâs place.
At first, it was easy going. The road stretched long and straight with a large empty field on her left and barren houses on the right. She walked down the middle, her eyes peeled for zombies, and her ears perked for unusual noises.
Enfolded by the quiet that accompanies the end of the world, Lisa pushed deeper into town. Her tread was light, but now and then a bit of sand or gravel would crunch beneath her soles. Her soft breaths sounded loud to her ears, and the faint crackles of rodents scurrying in the field were like gunshots to her sensitive hearing.
Her bare arms prickled in the cold night air. She’d taken off her soaked jacket earlier. Now she stopped and unwound it from her waist to slip it back on. The damp cloth rasped across her skin and elicited a shiver from her core.
A loud crack came from the open field next to her, and she whirled. A towering figure lurched from a clump of bushes and fell onto her upraised hands. Lisa’s knees buckled under the weight of the heavyset zombie. She strained to stay upright as it shoved into her arms. Her muscles trembled as teeth she couldn’t see clicked shut in front of her face.
Panic surged through Lisa. She ground her heels into the asphalt, lowered her head and pushed. âGet off, you fucking monster.â
The thing growled as it staggered back. With a swing of her arm, she hit it on the side of the head with the flashlight. Turning on her heels, she ran before it could attack again. I’m not sticking around for a fight with that thing!
Her feet pounded across the tar as she put distance between her and the zombie. Her breath rasped in and out of her lungs, and her heart bounded with the adrenalin rush.
After a time, she stopped and sucked in a few precious lungfuls of oxygen. She couldnât hear any signs of pursuit, but now her surroundings had changed. She was much deeper into the suburbs, and danger lurked everywhere.
Lisa turned in a circle; her eyes strained for more lurkers. At that precise moment, a cloud drifted in front of the moon. It cut off the faint glow of silver and dumped her into a pit of black. Her fear ratcheted up a notch.
âShit, shit, shit,â she whispered.
As if in answer, a rasp alerted her, and she ducked beneath two outstretched arms in the nick of time. Another pair of fingers hooked into her hair. With a cry, Lisa wrenched her head back. A few strands ripped free with a sharp burst of pain. She fell to her knees and scrambled across the ground between several pairs of legs.
The clouds moved again, and the moon reappeared. Its cold light shone down on a growing throng of infected, all drawn by the noise. They shuffled across overgrown lawns and tripped across hedges. Gleaming eyes peered at her from all directions.
Lisa jumped to her feet and sprinted down the road. Her legs carried her away from the swarm, but they streamed after her like locusts in search of green pastures. Warm blood flowed down her shins, and her palms burned, a legacy of her fall on the road. At least, she still carried the flashlight and knife. I need to hide. Somewhere. Anywhere.
She fumbled for the button until a stream of yellow light illuminated the way ahead. With the flashlight as a guide, she looked for a house with sturdy walls. Her eyes fell upon one such. A quick glance over her shoulder showed her she had a few precious seconds to spare.
She ran up to the gates and rattled them with all her might. They didnât budge, and a chain confirmed they were locked. She threw the beam around the yard and noted that nothing stirred in the long grass. The driveway was empty too.
A hand grabbed her arm, followed by the scrape of teeth on her sleeve. She tore away before the zombie could bite down on her flesh. With a swift stab, she drove her knife into the thingâs temple. It collapsed, but behind it was another, and another.
Lisa kicked the closest one in the chest before tossing her light and knife across the gates. She threw herself at the metal bars and hauled her body up. A hand grasped her ankle and yanked. With a cry, she slipped down a notch.
Her fingers got a grip on the chill metal bars, and she pulled. Her other leg kicked out and hit something. The grip on her leg loosened. She kicked again before throwing herself over. Off balance, she tumbled over the gate and landed on her back on the concrete. Her breath left her lungs in a rush.
Lisa gasped like a fish out of water even as hands reached through the bars to latch onto her clothes. Bit by bit, her body was dragged closer. She turned her head, and her watering eyes fell on several pairs of gnashing teeth that strained through the gaps to reach her.
The closest infected had a grip on her shoulder. Its face pushed at the bars until the flesh peeled away from its cheeks. Vomit pushed up her throat, and with a cry, Lisa flung herself to the side.
Her jacket ripped and cold air bit at her skin, but she was free. With searching fingers, she
felt for her knife and flashlight. She almost cried with relief when she found them and immediately jumped up, prepared to fight.
The flickering yellow beam of her torch lit up the strange yard she found herself in. It cut across the long grass and overgrown beddings before she trailed it up the driveway. Nowhere could she spot any movement. A sigh of relief escaped her lips. âOh, thank God.â
That didnât mean the house was empty, though, but sheâd take that any day over the crowd of zombies that clawed at the gates with a desperate hunger. She cast a last glance at them over her shoulder before jogging up the driveway and out of sight. The sooner they forgot about her, the better.
The neglected front garden gave way to a concrete landscape at the back of the house. A walkway led from the garage past a row of potted succulents to a patio bare of furniture. There a door awaited, its glass window seeming to stare at her like an empty eye.
She made sure the garage was locked first and did a quick search for anything dangerous. The place was deserted, devoid of either people, infected, cars, or pets, and she surmised the owners had fled when the zombies rose.
âMaybe Iâm lucky.â Lisa shook her head and reminded herself that there was no such thing as luck, only caution, and brains. âUse your head, Lisa. There could be zombies in the house. No cars do not equal no people.â
She closed the distance and walked up the steps to the yawning security gate. She nudged it all the way open before knocking on the door. The seconds ticked by as she waited. Nothing happened.
With a deep breath, she reached out and turned the latch. The door swung open with a long, drawn-out creak. The dim interior of a kitchen greeted her eyes. Stale air washed over her face. It was devoid of rot; a good sign.
With her torch lighting the way, she explored the kitchen and pantry. Here she found signs of flight. A discarded cooler box sat on the floor, and bottled spices lined one counter. An empty wrapper crinkled beneath her foot. Someone had packed a few things in preparation for a trip and left the rest behind in haste. Thatâs why the security gate was open.
She cleared the area before moving deeper inside. The house was as silent as the grave. Not even the ticking of a clock could be heard. The deeper she moved, the more confident Lisa became that it was empty.
A thick layer of dust coated everything. There was no blood. No smell of decay either. More than that, the curtains were open, and a few things lay strewn about. Remotes, scatter cushions. Whoever used to stay there, had packed in a rush and left the house in a hurry.
She kept her guard up until she cleared the bedrooms, though. Here she found more evidence to support her theory. Cupboard and drawers yawned, devoid of clothes and personal knick-knacks. The inhabitants were gone. âGood luck to whoever you are. Hope you got away.â
Lisa sighed and slumped onto the corner of a chair. For the first time in hours, she allowed herself to relax. Exhaustion quickly set in, and she forced herself to her feet to secure the house before she passed out.
With quick movements, she closed all the doors, windows, and curtains. She picked through the kitchen and found a carton of mango juice, water, a few cans of food, and a box of dry cereal.
With these items in hand, she barricaded herself in the master bedroom. After a frugal supper, she washed and dressed in clean clothes courtesy of the previous lady of the house. A fresh shirt, jacket, and jeans comprised the simple ensemble.
Only then did she curl up on the bed to sleep, clutching her knife in one hand and a claw hammer sheâd found in a toolbox in the other. Sleep overcame her.
***
The next morning, Lisa was jerked awake by the sound of screams. They were long and loud, harsh to the ears and soul. She scrambled to her feet, eyes wide and heart pumping. âWhat the hell?â
She whirled around on the bed, scrambling for her shoes and weapons while wiping the hair off her face. The screams continued, full of agony and pain. It sounded like a man or a boy. It was hard to tell, though. It had an inhuman quality to it.
It took a few seconds for her to realize the screams werenât coming from anywhere nearby. It came from outside the house, outside the yard. This knowledge didnât make her feel any better, and she rushed about to gather her things. âIâd better get out of here fast.â
She pulled her hair into a ponytail and tucked in her shirt before tossing her meager stash into an old backpack sheâd found. With her gun holstered, and the pack in place, she snuck out of the house.
The zombies clamoring at the gates were gone, drawn away by the awful sounds of human suffering. Lisa climbed over the barriers and used a thick hedge as cover while she surveyed the street. It was empty except for the odd shambling figure, and her route of escape lay open.
Now and then, the screams let up only to resume seconds later. It was painful to hear, and Lisa hesitated while she pinpointed the direction. There!
The racket issued from a house further up the street. Its gates were closed, but a truck was parked in the driveway, and a man sat on the bonnet. She edged closer to get a better look.
Smoke curled from the manâs lips as he smoked. He ignored the crowd of infected banging on the gates as if he didnât even know they were there. His every move spoke of supreme confidence. Or arrogance. Who is he? Whatâs happening?
Either way, it was none of her business, and she prepared to leave. Until she spotted another man loitering by the front door. She recognized the bull shoulders and short, stocky build in an instant. Michael!
Despite the danger to herself, Lisa crossed the distance between them in a hunched run. She kept close to the ground and used parked cars as camouflage until she hid right across the street.
While the other man still had his back turned, she risked waving at Michael. On the third try, he spotted her. His eyes widened, and he took a step forward but stopped. With one hand clenched by his side, he shoed her away, careful not to let the guy on the bonnet see.
She stayed put, not moving a muscle. The screams stopped, and silence descended on the neighborhood, broken only by the zombies rasping at the gate. Someone inside called to Michael. âMichael, time to show us what you can do.â
Michael froze. His eyes cast around for an escape route. He looked at her once more and shook his head. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. He looked lost.
âMichael! Are you one of us or not?â The strange voice did not sound happy with Michaelâs hesitance.
âIâm coming,â he answered in a gruff voice.
The man sitting on the bonnet chuckled as Michael stepped inside. With casual movements, he drew a knife from his boot. It was at least a foot long, the blade as deadly as a sharkâs gaping maw. The man stood up and sauntered into the house.
Michaelâs in trouble, Lisa realized. This knowledge brought its own set of problems with. If he was in trouble, what did she do about it? Help him? Or run back to camp?
She hovered for a second before another drawn-out scream decided her. This time, the voice belonged to a girl. It shook Lisa to the core and touched on the raw, quivering mass of memories she harbored inside. No, not that.
With this single denial, aimed at she knew not what, Lisa shot to her feet and ran across the street. She gripped the top of the palisades and vaulted up and over before any of the infected at the gates even realized she was there.
A few shuffled over, but she was already gone. Her feet carried her across the length of the yard toward the open door Michael, and the other had disappeared into. At the same time, she took out her gun and clipped the safety off.
At the entrance, she paused and peered around the corner. Immediately she jerked her head back and squeezed her eyes shut. The sight was burned into her corneas, however.
A room of torture and blood. A boy was tied to a chair with crimson blood puddling around his feet onto the white tiles. A man stood next to him with a smirk on his face while vomit
leaked from the boyâs lips onto his lap.
Two more men held down a girl, her legs spread-eagled while another cut away her clothes. Michael hovered next to another man with a blind eye and a scarred face. Ke Tau.
Lisa swallowed hard as she realized what she was up against. Ke Tau and four of his men. Too many for her to take on. But thereâs Michael. Heâll help. I canât let them…that poor girl.
Another piercing scream from the girlâs lips decided Lisa, and she cast around for a plan. Her eyes fell on the truck, and an idea formed. She ran toward it and opened the door. The keys dangled inside the ignition. âYes!â
She turned toward the gates and aimed her gun at the chain and padlock that held it shut. Three shots. Thatâs what it took. The metal links broke apart, and the gate opened inwards, a floodgate letting in a wave of infected.
Even as shouts rang from the house, Lisa threw herself into the truck and slammed the door shut. A second later, the first zombies clawed at the windows. They surrounded the car, but she ignored them and reached for the ignition.
More yelling and gunshots drew the crowd of infected away from her and towards the tantalizing meat inside the house. A garbled scream signaled the end of somebodyâs life just as the engine caught on. The truck roared to life.
Lisa jammed it into reverse and shot back several meters before shifting into first. She aimed the nose at the doorway where a man fired shots at the oncoming swarm. Not far from him lay another man, curled into a defensive ball as several zombies ripped into his flesh. His screams could hardly be heard above the din.
Another shooter joined the first. Together, they cut down a swathe of infected. When it looked like they might be gaining, Lisa jammed her foot onto the accelerator and raced toward them. They froze in wide-eyed terror, mouths hanging open.
The nose of the truck slammed into the doorway. The first shooter crumpled beneath the hood in a spray of blood and gore. The other managed to leap aside.
Live Another Day Page 9
