Live Another Day

by Baileigh Higgins

  Once more, she reversed, leaving a clear path for the remaining infected to get inside the house. Screams and shots rang into the air. Lisa cast around for a way to help Michael, but her mind had hit a blank. Her plan had never progressed beyond this point. “Shit, what now?”

  She debated getting out and going in herself. It would likely mean her end, though. The yard was full of the undead, all jostling to get into the house. Movement on the upper story drew her attention. Her eyes fell on a large window facing the street as the curtains were swept aside. Michael’s face appeared in the glass, flanked by two others. One frightened and the other bloody. He’s got them.

  He dropped out of sight and returned with a chair, smashing the window wide open. Lisa caught on and maneuvered the truck forward until it rested underneath the opening. She craned her head and spotted Michael lowering first the girl then the boy. A third thump indicated he was down as well. A fist on the windshield was accompanied by a loud yell for her to move. “Go, go, go!”

  Wasting no time, Lisa reversed out of the driveway, parting the sea of undead with the mass of metal at her disposal. She was careful not to jostle too much and made it out with the roof party intact. Then she gunned it down the street until they were clear.

  Rolling to a stop, she opened the door and got out. Two young faces met her eyes, pinned to the roof by Michael’s ham fists. “Ready to go?”

  “More than ready,” Michael growled.

  Chapter 11 - Max

  After Breytenbach and his party left, Max got down to the business of survival. First, he pulled everyone off the outer walls and shut the gates. Next, he went around and assigned each person to their new duties. It was hard. They were low on numbers and even lower on morale, but it had to be done.

  Sean, Michelle, Dr. Lange, Dave, Abraham, Sharyn, Thembiso, and Peter were assigned to guard duty and put on rotating shifts of four. Liezel was placed in the watchtower and given a long range rifle and binoculars. She’d proven herself a good shot in the past and had good eyesight well suited to the job.

  Joseph, Abe, Nick, Phillip, Jonathan, and Ben were hard at work repairing the damage to the wildlife reserve’s fence and clearing out the area. This left only a few others.

  Hannah, he put in charge of the infirmary. When he left, she was hard at work sorting out supplies and preparing extra beds. “We never know when we might need them,” was her sage advice, and Max agreed.

  Erica and Tumi, occupied with their infants, volunteered to tidy up the bungalows, sort out washing, and repair clothes. It was a menial job, but an important one. It would help to keep people’s spirits up when they returned home to a made bed and clean clothes after a long day.

  Nombali was given the role of runner. She ferried messages, water, and food between the various groups, keeping each informed.

  The dining area was his next stop. The room echoed when he walked in and felt strangely empty for that time of the day. It drove home the reality of their situation, and he dragged a tired hand through his uncut hair.

  Elise, dressed in carrot stained slacks with her hair in a bun, greeted him with a wan smile. “How can I help you, Max?”

  “Elise, can you manage the kitchen on your own? I need all the help I can get at the moment.”

  “Sure, Max. I’ll manage.”

  “The kids can help you with the washing and tidying up. Megan, Anne, even Mark, and Jenny,” he continued.

  “What about school?” she protested, brushing a stray lock of blonde hair out of her face.

  “I’m suspending it for now.”

  “I see.”

  “I know it’s not ideal, but this is an emergency.”

  Elise nodded. “I know, Max. I understand.”

  “Thanks.” He turned to leave but hesitated. “Are you all right?”

  Elise nodded. “I’m fine.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “It’s okay. You have more important things to worry about than me.”

  “Elise…”

  “Please, go.” She turned her back on him and picked up a vegetable peeler.

  With a sigh, Max made his way to the stores where he found his mother, Julianne, counting canned food. “Hi, Mom.”

  She straightened up from her crouched position with a frown. “Something wrong?”

  “No, I’m just assigning duties to everyone. While Breytenbach is gone, we’re shorthanded.”

  Her face tightened at the mention of Breytenbach but remained calm. “What are my tasks?”

  “This.” He waved a hand around. “Can you manage the stores and make sure everybody sticks to their rations? No freebies.”

  “I can do that.”

  “Good. Thanks, mom.” He stared at her for a second, pensive. “Can I ask you something else?”

  “Sure.”

  “Can you keep an eye on Elise? I’m worried about her.”

  Julianne sighed. “I’ve spoken to her already, but she won’t listen.”

  “She’s beating herself up.”

  “She is,” Julianne agreed.

  “She shouldn’t. It’s not her fault. It’s Kabelo’s.”

  “Tell that to her.” Julianne stared into the distance. “You know, I was so eager to be proven right about him, that I never stopped to think about the consequences.”

  “None of us did. We played a dangerous game,” Max agreed. “I shouldn’t have let her persuade me to spare his life in the first place.”

  Julianne laid a gentle hand on his. “You did right, Max. I see that now. We’re not murderers.”

  “Perhaps, but now he’s out there, armed and dangerous, and two of our people are gone.”

  “Two?” Julianne’s brow knitted into a frown before she shook her head. “No, Lisa is fine. You can bank on that.”

  “How can you be so sure?” he asked.

  “Because I know that girl. She’s alive and stronger than ever. She’s a survivor.”

  Max rubbed his forehead. “Maybe you’re right, but she’s not here. Neither is Logan, or Morgan, or Joanna, or any of the others we’ve lost.”

  Julianne’s face softened with pity. “I know you’re worried, and I know you feel responsible. It’s only natural. But things happen, Max, and sometimes there’s nothing you can do about it.”

  “I know, Mom. It doesn’t make me feel better, though, or miss them any less.”

  “No, it doesn’t,” she agreed in a subdued voice. “We’re still here, though. We can’t give up.”

  He studied her face, noting the fine lines around her eyes and the deep hollows in her cheeks. She looked like all of them did. Tired, hungry, overworked, and stressed. I can’t let her down. I can’t let any of them down. They deserve better.

  He pulled her into a bear hug. “Thanks, Mom.”

  “For what?” she asked with a startled look.

  “Everything.” He turned to leave. “I’ll see you later after I’ve sorted a few things out.”

  “Okay.”

  He left her behind still wearing a perplexed frown and strode toward the cottage he shared with Kirstin. There he pulled out his old uniform, faded and worn but whole, and put it on. Next, he put on his battle jacket and boots before heading for the armory.

  It was small, nothing more than a windowless room fitted with racks and locked with a security gate. He carried one of the keys with him while another sat in Breytenbach’s pocket and the third hung around Julianne’s neck on a chain.

  While everyone in the camp went about armed, the armory was used to store excess guns, ammo, and explosives. While their stores wer
e limited, they did possess some firepower, at least.

  Max unlocked the gate and slipped into the room. He pulled on a string, and a single lightbulb flickered to light. It bathed the concrete square in a yellow glow, and he allowed his eyes to travel over the racks.

  A bare steel table stood in the middle, and it was here he busied himself. One by one, he cataloged the guns, going from the smallest to the biggest. With each, he checked the load, sights, and safety. Though well-maintained, a few were dirty, and he took the time to strip and oil them. Halfway through this time-consuming job, a shout drew his attention. His ears perked.

  “Max.” It was Peter. He was certain of it. “Max!”

  He picked up the nearest gun, a Glock 17, and rushed to the exit with the gun held ready. He paused to let his eyes adjust to the light after the dim interior. “Peter? Is that you?”

  “Yeah, it’s me.”

  “Something wrong?”

  “It’s Lisa. She’s back, and so’s Michael.” Peter’s excited face appeared in his field of vision, a broad grin on his face.

  Max relaxed and flicked the safety back on. “Oh, thank God. Are they safe? Unharmed?”

  Peter bobbed his head. “They’re okay, but…”

  “What?”

  “They’ve got two people with them, and one is hurt.” Peter hesitated, and a shadow crossed his face. “Badly hurt. They’re in the infirmary now.”

  “I’m coming.”

  With controlled haste, Max returned the Glock before locking up and hurrying over. There he found a knot of people clustered outside, their voices creating a low buzz in the afternoon air. It was Lisa, accompanied by Michael, a tearful young girl, and Julianne.

  Julianne greeted him with a relieved smile. “Max, you’re here.”

  “I am. What’s going on?”

  Julianne hesitated before replying. “I think it’s best if you three speak in private.” She nodded at Lisa and Michael. “I gather they’ve got important news for you.”

  “What about Ruby?” Lisa asked with concern stamped on her face while she watched the crying girl.

  “She’ll be fine with me, won’t you dear? I’ll take care of you.” Julianne wrapped Ruby into a warm embrace. “You three go ahead. We’ll wait here for news of her brother.”

  “Her brother?” Max asked.

  “He’s in there with Jonathan and Hannah. They’ll do everything they can for him.” Worry shone in her eyes, but her voice was confident as she continued. “Don’t fret. Everyone else is back at their posts.”

  “Right. Thanks, Mom.” Max turned to Lisa and Michael. “Come with me?”

  They followed him in grim silence to the common room where a curious Elise poured each of them a cup of coffee. She didn’t stick around, however, and left them in peace.

  “Fill me in,” Max prompted.

  Lisa picked at the table with broken fingernails while she relayed her share of the story, ending at the part where Michael and the two kids jumped onto the roof. “That’s how I found them.”

  “Michael?” Max turned to the brooding ex-soldier.

  In a monotone, Michael told Max of his time with Ke Tau right up to the moment Lisa found him. He finished off with the message from Rebecca and Mpho.

  Max sat back in his chair. “On the full moon? They want us to attack then?”

  Michael nodded.

  “That’s three days from now, I think.”

  “Four,” was the gruff reply.

  “What about Kabelo?”

  Lisa’s face darkened. “He got away. I’m sorry.”

  “It can’t be helped. You tried your best, Lisa. I’m just glad you got back safely.”

  “He’ll tell Ke Tau everything,” she protested.

  “He might. If Ke Tau lives. He could have died in that house.”

  “He lives,” Michael asserted with glittering eyes. “I know it.”

  Max shrugged. “Even so, we’ll have the element of surprise on our side.”

  “Where’s Breytenbach? And Dr. Lange?” Michael asked with a frown. Max filled him in, and the man pushed back his chair. “I’ll help the Doctor and the others with the fence.”

  “Okay.” Max watched him walk away before saying, “Michael.”

  “Yes?”

  “Thank you.”

  Michael inclined his head before he disappeared, and Max turned back to Lisa. “What about this Ruby and her brother. Who are they? How badly is he hurt?”

  Lisa shrugged in a nonchalant manner, but her voice was thick with emotion when she replied. “I don’t know who they are. They’re just kids, survivors. Ke Tau killed their father and tortured the boy. His name is Lonny.”

  Max winced. “How bad is he?”

  “He’ll live, though he might not want to,” she replied before looking away.

  “Ruby?” Max’s voice was tentative.

  Lisa sighed. “She’s fine. I got there before…before they could…you know.”

  “I’m glad.” Max’s voice hardened. “Did you get any of the fuckers?”

  Her eyes flew to his, and a faint smile formed on her lips. “Two, although the zombies got the one. I drove over the other.”

  Max’s lips twitched. “I see.”

  “Michael says the other three got away, and they were the worst ones. Ke Tau, Hiran, and Carlito.”

  Max stared into the distance for a few seconds as he thought everything over. “We’ll get them. Right now, we’ve got an attack to plan, though.”

  “I want in,” Lisa said.

  Max studied her and noted the hardness in her features, the stark lines of suffering around her eyes and mouth. “All right. You’ll be there.”

  “Good.”

  Max stood up and placed his empty cup on the table. “We’ll talk again later. Right now, I’ve got to sort a few things out.”

  “That’s okay. I’ll go check on Ruby and Lonny.”

  “You do that. Tonight, over supper, we’ll hold a meeting. Breytenbach should be back by then.”

  As he walked away, Max reflected on their chances of victory. With surprise on their side and rebels inside Ke Tau’s compound, they stood a good chance. An excellent one. Even so, grim foreboding gnawed at his gut. Four days. Only four days until our fates are decided. Win or lose, someone will die.

  Chapter 12 - Breytenbach

  When Breytenbach left camp, he headed straight for Hennenman. A small, sleepy town some distance away from Welkom and Ke Tau’s grasping fingers. It was a town they’d left mostly untouched, almost as if they wanted it for backup, but hadn’t planned it that way. In any event, it was a place he knew little about and had yet to explore.

  Just outside of town, he pulled over and got out. Kirstin and Lenka followed, and they waited for Mike and Ronnie to join them. While he stretched his legs and checked his equipment, Kirstin spread out an old map on the bonnet.

  “See anything on there?” he asked. “We need food and guns.”

  “Let me see.” She perused the crumpled piece of paper before pointing at a small square. “Here is a nursing home. It should have food, should it not?”

  “Yup, that could work,” he replied. “What about weapons.”

  “There’s a police station,” Ronnie interjected. “The home’s closer, though.”

  “Let’s check that out first, then,” Breytenbach decided. “You and Mike hang back a bit in case we get into trouble on the streets. Who knows how many Ke Tau’s the world now holds.”


  Ronnie grunted in agreement. “Sure thing, Captain.”

  They drove off again in silence with Kirstin pointing the way. Contrary to his fears, the streets were quiet and derelict. Not much could be seen besides the usual straggling undead who groaned as they went by. Cracks filled the roadway, and empty windows gaped at them as they passed. A single plastic bag bobbed along on the sidewalk. The world’s turning into a desert. A desert populated by the dead.

  “Over there,” Kirstin said, breaking into his somber thoughts.

  Breytenbach slowed and looked for the entrance. The community was enclosed, and rust red-tiled roofs stuck out over the whitewashed walls that surrounded it. Ivy crept up the mortar, and a single sliding gate was the only way in.

  Ronnie’s truck crept up behind them, and Breytenbach slid out of his seat. A decrepit one-armed zombie shuffled over and reached yellowed fingertips toward him. He took it down with a two-handed blow from his clawed hammer, pausing only to pull the weapon free.

  “Clear the area,” he ordered as soon as Mike, Lenka, and Ronnie joined him. “Cover us, Kirstin.”

  They worked quickly to dispatch the few undead that shambled toward them. The only sound was the thumping of hammers and axes on bone and the cooing of doves in the trees above them. A gentle breeze stirred the autumn leaves clinging to branches, and if it wasn’t for the corpses littering the street, it could have been a pleasant spot.

  They slid open the gates and walked inside, peering into the undergrowth bordering the driveway. A rustle announced the arrival of a zombified gardener. His uniform still bore his name embroidered on the pocket. Jensen.

  After they’d cleared the entrance, Kirstin drove up in the minibus before bringing in the truck. They shut the gates and looped a chain around it, though Breytenbach didn’t lock it in case they needed a quick getaway.

  “Let’s scout the grounds first. Maybe look for an alternate exit in case this one is compromised,” he ordered. With Kirstin on top of the truck’s roof, they fanned out and circled the buildings.

  It was a simple job but made less so by the overgrown vegetation. It hid a myriad of evils, not least the decayed hand that reached out and gripped his ankle.