Live Another Day

Live Another Day Page 13

by Baileigh Higgins

  “You didn’t believe her story, did you? About looking for her family?” He shot her a sharp look. “Even if she had family near there once, what are the chances of them surviving this long? It’s a wild goose chase.”

  “Maybe, but why do you care?”

  “That’s a stupid question, Nadia. You know how I feel about you, about us.”

  “How can there be an us?” She shook her head. “Don’t you understand what I am?”

  “I understand, and I told you it changes nothing.”

  Anger overwhelmed her at his obtuseness, and she stamped her foot. “I’m infected, don’t you get that? If you come near me, I’ll kill you. We can never kiss, never…”

  “Never make love,” he finished when she hesitated. “Yeah, I got that.”

  She blushed when he uttered the words, a wave of hot blood flooding her skin until she felt as if her body were on fire. “Yes, that.”

  He smiled, the flash of his teeth white in the glow of the fire. “You’re cute when you blush.”

  “I’m not blushing…how did you know? You can’t possibly see,” she protested.

  “I know. I always know.” He reached out his hand, and she started like a frightened deer when he gripped her fingers. “Don’t you get it, Nadia?”

  “Get what?” The words came out in a strangled whisper.

  “It doesn’t matter what you are, what you can do, what we can never do. I don’t care about any of that. As long as I’m with you, that’s all I need.”

  Nadia allowed him to weave his fingers through hers. His touch was warm. It reminded her how long it had been since she’d been held by someone, loved by someone. Too long.

  She looked up at him. “You really mean that?”

  “You know, I do.” He reached out with his other hand and brushed her cheek. “Let me in.”

  “I’m scared,” she confessed. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “You could never hurt me. Just give a chance, you’ll see.”

  “I…I don’t know if I can. I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you, Caleb.”

  He sighed and pulled her close. Nadia resisted for a second before allowing him to fold her into his arms. She pressed her face into his neck and breathed in his scent. It felt so right, she wanted to cry. “Just think about, okay?”

  Against her better judgment, she nodded. “Okay.”

  Chapter 15 - Mpho

  Mpho moved between the men feasting at the table with fearful caution. In her hands, she carried a jug of fermented beer, the traditional drink of her people. With it, she topped up empty glasses and tried to avoid the grasping hands that clutched at her flesh with such persistence.

  She bit her bottom lip when one set of hands, in particular, took hold of her waist. The fingers massaged the flat expanse of her stomach before moving upward to pinch her breasts with cruel indifference. Carlito.

  Mpho hated him with a fervor that burned hotter than the fires of hell. All the girls did. He was cruel and vicious, the kind of man who relished in the suffering of others and excelled at torture. It was no wonder Ke Tau liked him so much.

  She swallowed a whimper when he pulled her onto his lap. “Come here, sweetheart. It’s been awhile since you, and I played.”

  Mpho managed an insincere smile for the inebriated man. “Too long, Sir.”

  He leered at her as his hands continued to explore her body with painful precision. She’d be bruised tomorrow. Then his lips twisted into a sneer. “Whore. So eager to throw yourself at me. It’s disgusting.”

  She cringed at his outburst. “No, I…it’s not…I’m not…”

  “Don’t play coy with me. You women are all the same. Sluts one and all.” He bared his teeth and bit down on her shoulder. Fiery pain shot through her arm, and warm blood welled up beneath his lips.

  Mpho cast desperate eyes around for an escape route and encountered the dead gaze of Hiran, Ke Tau’s right-hand man. He watched her for a second before saying, “Carlito, leave the girl alone. We have matters to discuss.”

  Carlito growled like a dog and shook his head. “No.”

  “I said, leave her.” Hiran’s eyes narrowed to slits.

  “No.” Carlito sat upright, no longer drunk as he reached for the fearsome knife he carried.

  “What’s this?” Ke Tau said, leaning forward. “Are my two best men fighting over a girl?”

  “There’s no quarrel,” Hiran said with calm composure.

  “Indeed not,” Carlito sneered. “He’s too much of a pussy to challenge me. The girl is mine.”

  Hiran’s face took on a dangerous cast made more pronounced by his exotic features. “What did you say?”

  “You heard me.”

  “Now, now. Let’s not fall out over something as simple as a mere woman,” Ke Tau intervened. “You can share.”

  Mpho shivered at his words, though she remained hopeful Hiran would save her. He was a cold and brutal man, but he held great respect for her grandmother, Rebecca, and treated them well as a consequence.

  Before Carlito could reply, a hue and cry were raised at the entrance. A boy stumbled in, short and skinny, his eyes rolling in his face. Two guards flanked him on either side, and Mpho gasped as she recognized him. Kabelo!

  Ke Tau raised a hand. “What’s the meaning of this? Who disturbs my meal?”

  “He says he’s one of us,” one of the guards said as he nudged Kabelo forward. “Says he was captured that day on the road.”

  Ke Tau sat back. “Is this true?”

  Kabelo bobbed his head. “Yes, Sir. They kept me there all this time.”

  “That’s pleasant. Did you have a good time? Did they feed you? Clothe you? Bathe you?”

  The atmosphere changed as Ke Tau’s mocking questions rang out and the mood in the room sobered. Each man sat upright; their eyes fixed on the shivering victim. Like sharks in the ocean, they smelled blood, and it drew them from miles around.

  “Y…yes, Sir,” Kabelo mumbled as he plucked at his too clean shirt. “But I escaped as soon as I could.”

  “I see. How good of you.” Ke Tau cocked his head. “Do you bring me anything useful? A head, perhaps?”

  “I…I have information,” Kabelo said as sweat beaded his forehead.

  Ke Tau smiled, and his face twisted as the scar pulled it awry. “Let’s hear it then. Go on.”

  Kabelo stuttered something in garbled sentences, his words barely audible, while the rest watched him in silence. Carlito shoved Mpho aside, his predatory instincts awakened, and reached for his knife. She took the opportunity to scramble away and hide in the corner with the other girls.

  “Don’t mumble,” Ke Tau said. “Speak up, boy, so we can all hear you.”

  Kabelo cleared his throat and in a slightly louder tone of voice, relayed what he knew. The camp’s numbers, leaders, fighters, and the layout, all of it.

  “But I already know most of that. We’ve been watching them for months, after all,” Ke Tau said. “Is that it?”

  Kabelo nodded, his expression miserable. “Yes, Sir.”

  “And how did you get away? Tell us. It must be a marvelous tale of courage and bravery.” Ke Tau’s voice had now changed, becoming much like that of a father speaking to a favored son.

  Taking heart, Kabelo told the tale of how he stabbed Joanna and ran away under cover of the storm while his guard, Lisa, was gone.

  Ke Tau bared his teeth. “Your guard this entire time was a woman? That’s why you stayed for over a month? You stabbed an old lady and ran away?”


  Too late, Kabelo realized his mistake. Tears filled his eyes as he uttered garbled pleas and explanations.

  Ke Tau’s expression changed to one of disgust. “You shame me. Carlito, get rid of him. Feed him to our guests, the infected.”

  Carlito grinned. “With pleasure.”

  Mpho watched in horror as the gleeful Carlito dragged the unfortunate boy outside. Kabelo’s screams filled the night, and the table emptied as men streamed out to watch. Finally, only Ke Tau and Hiran remained.

  “You understand, don’t you, Hiran?” Ke Tau asked.

  “Of course. He’s a disgrace.”

  “Yes, but he was good for something, though.”

  “What’s that?”

  “His arrival has served to remind me that every day those people live free, they mock my authority. Tomorrow night, we attack.”

  Mpho’s terror grew when she heard his words. No, not tomorrow. The full moon is four days away. They’ll be caught by surprise. Annihilated.

  A firm hand gripped her elbow, and she whirled. Rebecca’s old face peered at her from the gloom. “Grandmother!”

  “Come with me, child.”

  Mpho followed Rebecca from the room to the kitchens in the back. There, her grandmother shoved a knife and a small cloth wrapped bundle into her hands. “Grandmother? What’s this?”

  “You must warn them. Now. Tonight. Or all is for nothing.”

  “But…I can’t. How?”

  “Go now. While they’re busy killing the boy. No one will notice. Slip out the back and over the wall. You know where.”

  “But…they’ll come after me.”

  “I’ll make an excuse. Do not worry.”

  “I can’t do it. I’m scared, grandmother.”

  Rebecca grabbed her hands in a painful grip. “Do not fear. Be brave, my child. Remember your father. We cannot live here like animals under that man’s rule.”

  “I…I know.”

  “Then go. Now.”

  Mpho nodded and squared her shoulders. She slipped out the back and into the cold night, shivering with fear. She ran to the old wooden bench that sat next to the wall and climbed up. She reached up to grasp the edge of the wall and paused. For a brief moment, she remembered Michael and how brave he’d been. She remembered the way he’d held her and spoken to her. I can be brave too.

  She scrambled up the wall and slipped over, landing on the other side with barely a sound. She was at the back of the building in a rubbish-strewn alleyway. It was deserted except for the rats and cockroaches that rustled for food beneath her feet. Her breathing sounded harsh in her ears, and she paused to regain her composure.

  Fear pumped through her veins as she thought of the terrible punishment Ke Tau would mete out if he caught her, but thoughts of her grandmother and Michael sustained her. She looked into the darkness and blinked. I can do this.

  Chapter 16 - Max

  Max woke up to find himself sprawled across an empty bed. He was fully clothed and still had his boots on, a sure sign of the exhaustion that prompted him to pass out.

  He sat up and checked his watch. It was a quarter past four in the morning and still dark outside. He yawned and stumbled to the bathroom where he splashed icy water on his face and brushed his teeth. Only then was he ready to look at himself in the mirror.

  His hair had grown long and unkempt, curling down past his collar. A three-day stubble lined his jaws, and purple shadows underscored his eyes. “I look like shit.”

  In the cold pre-dawn light, he faced several facts. One, Breytenbach and his party had not returned the day before. Two, neither had Kirstin. Three, they were shorthanded to the point where every man, woman, and child had to work around the clock. Four, supplies were running out. Five, they had an attack to plan for three days hence. An attack they’d be sure to lose if Breytenbach didn’t show up. “Hell, we’ll probably lose anyway.”

  He thought of Kirstin then and blushed. She’d have no time for a pity party. “She’d tell me to get my ass in gear and be the leader these people need.”

  With numb fingers, he soaped up and reached for the razor, dragging it across his skin. Bit by bit, the stubble disappeared. The clippers were next. Long locks of hair fell into the basin. It had formed a golden pool by the time he finished.

  Max stood up straight and squared his shoulders. Now his old army uniform looked like it belonged. He smoothed his hands over his shorn head and patted his clothes into place. “This is where it starts.”

  He closed the door of his bungalow behind him and headed for the walls. The grass crunched beneath his booth, the faint crackle of ice betraying the thin layer of frost that covered the ground. The air escaped his lips in puffs of mists, and moisture clung to his lashes. He climbed the ladder and found himself on top of the wall, surveying the area below.

  “Max, you’re here.”

  He turned to face Michael who’d crept closer on balled feet and acknowledged him with a nod. “Everything quiet?”

  “So far.”

  They stood shoulder to shoulder in silence, staring out into the night. Max thrust his hands into his pocket. “Do you think we can win?”

  “Do we have a choice?”

  Mike grinned. “No, I guess not.”

  “Then we will win.”

  Their voices died away, replaced by the song of crickets and the rustling of tiny animals in the grass. Max rolled his head on his shoulders to get rid of the stiffness that had lodged there and thought of the day ahead. So much to do. So little time.

  His worry over the failure of Breytenbach to return burned in his chest like a ball of fire. Ever-present. Never far from his mind. He could think of no good reason they’d stay out overnight. Unless they ran into trouble.

  His morbid thoughts were interrupted when Michael pointed a finger. “What’s that?”

  “Where?”

  Max craned his head but saw nothing. The area beyond the walls was a deep, dark hole barely lit by the faint gleam of a moon covered in shadow. The clouds were spiteful, drifting to and fro across the silver orb’s face as if it were a disco ball casting scattered glimmers across the earth’s crust.

  “It’s a person,” Michael stated.

  “I don’t see anything,” Max protested. But the next moment, he did spot movement. Frantic, desperate moves toward the gate. Breytenbach?

  Convinced it was one of them, Max ran toward the gate. “Come on. It must be Breytenbach or one of the team. They could be in trouble.”

  Michael followed but laid a restraining hand on his shoulder. “Wait. It’s a woman.”

  Max squinted, and the clouds relented for a second. They parted to allow the moonlight to shine down, and he saw a feminine silhouette running at full speed.

  “Kirstin?”

  “It’s not her.”

  Max balled his hands into fists. “How do you know? Are you a freaking vampire?”

  “Just wait.”

  Together, they stood as the person came flying down the road toward them. At last, she was close enough for the floodlights at the gate to illuminate her face.

  Max’s heart sank. It wasn’t Kirstin. Who is it?

  Michael gasped, surprising Max who’d never seen the man startled before in his life. “Mpho? Is that you?”

  “It’s me. Let me in, please. I have news.” She fell to her knees, both hands wrapped around the hilt of a steak knife.

  Michael jumped down and hurried to open the gate. “Help me, Max.”

  “Who is it? Do you know her?”

  “I know her.”

  Max gripped Michael’s sleeve. “More importantly, can we trust her?”

  Mi
chael stared at him with fathomless eyes before saying, “I trust her with my life.”

  Max let his hand fall and turned toward the barred entrance. “Let’s get her inside then. Pronto.”

  Minutes later, Max was faced by a shivering slip of a girl dressed in a threadbare shirt that barely covered her bum, no underwear, no shoes, a mop of wild caramel curls and a crazy story to tell.

  Max raised both hands to ward off her stuttered words. “Whoa, there. Calm down. Take a deep breath.”

  She sucked in a few lungfuls of air and smoothed her hair away from her blood-spattered face with the knife still gripped in one hand. Max reached out a tentative hand. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

  “Um, uh, I don’t think so, I don’t know.” She looked at her bloody hands and stained shirt then back at him. “I killed a few sick ones on the way here.”

  “Sick ones?”

  She nodded.

  “Like zombies?”

  “Them, yes. I don’t like the word, though.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  Michael, who’d been occupied closing the gate, walked over and placed a hand on her shoulder. “You’re sure you’re fine?”

  She gulped. “I’m sure. Scared shitless.”

  Michael grinned, once more surprising Max. “You scared? I wouldn’t bet on it.”

  She smiled and sidled closer to Michael, letting him take the knife from her hand and drape his jacket over her shoulders. Max watched in growing confusion. What’s going on here?

  “Did you grandmother send you?” Michael asked.

  “Yes, I have important news.”

  “So important you had to run here alone in the middle of the night armed with a steak knife? You could’ve died, Mpho.”

  She ducked her head. “I know, but this is important.”

  “Can it wait?” Max asked.

  She looked at him with furrowed brows. “Wait?”

  “I mean, can we get you inside and looked after first?” he added and pointed at her feet. “You’re hurt.”

 

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