Cape Zero- the Fall

by Nicholas Woode-Smith

  The sight seemed mundane to Peter, but once he caught a glimpse of David’s eyes as he looked out after his son, he knew it was anything but. The Knight Captain’s eyes were tearful, but the man did not weep. Peter found a pang of sadness for the man, but it stopped there. He was never one to dwell on the feelings of others.

  The dense smell of sweat and humanity ended as they exited the building into a courtyard. Located within the set of shacks was Grove’s trademark obelisk. The structure seemed to be the only decoration left unmarred by desperate survivors and the only other pleasant sight was Table Mountain acting as a backdrop.

  The courtyard was dotted with shacks from those not able to secure living quarters inside, but some of the shacks also seemed to double as stores. The products ranged from food to weapons to just random junk. All the traders seemed to be a little luckier than the rest of the survivors. Peter had to admit, however, that the survivors here were in better shape than he had imagined. People still looked relatively clean and fed, and a large portion of survivors carried some sort of weapon, even if it was just a make-shift spear. An armoured car, like the crashed one down at the intersection, had been parked by the main entrance to a parking lot, three men wearing police gear and carrying sub-machine guns stood around it.

  No wonder, Peter thought to himself, the few police who didn’t die from trying to receive a bribe from the zombies must have aided these survivors.

  That was also, in all probability, the source of all their firearms. If the police were aiding this group, then they would surely be well-armed, and well-armed meant that they would presumably have the ability to survive. Peter had always been quite prejudiced against other humans due to the fact that he felt himself more capable than them but, for once in his life, he knew that he may come to rely on someone else. He just hoped that this lapse in judgement wouldn’t be fatal.

  The shacks ended as they crossed a sports field. No shack was settled upon the dying grass, but instead it had been replaced by assorted rain catching equipment, vegetable gardens and, what Peter assumed, were solar panels. He once again found himself in awe at the amount that the settlement had grown in less than two weeks. This ‘Grandmaster’ had to be quite something to have led a group this size into progress which the full nation itself hadn’t seen in years.

  As they walked, and Peter saw more and more marvels within the campus, he grew ever more excited to meet this man.

  That time came after entering the main school building. David stood next to Peter. Andrew and Sesikweni had since left them and had gone to maintain other sections of the settlement.

  They stood before a double door. Upon the door were the words ‘Grandmaster’s Sanctum,’ which had been engraved using a knife.

  David knocked on the door and waited. The voice answered the knock a few seconds afterwards with a simple, ‘Come in.’

  The Knight Captain opened the door and entered, Peter followed cautiously.

  At first glance, the room was empty of people, but as a large spinning chair turned around, Peter could now see the owner of the voice. The man was large and well-muscled, but possessed what Peter guessed to be the result of consuming a little too much beer in his time. His head was bald and a large beard dominated his features. He wore a bulletproof vest, a grey cape draped over his left shoulder with the right uncovered. The symbol of an obelisk was illustrated upon the vest.

  At first. The man sat quietly, his fingers crossed into a pyramid formation as he scanned Peter from top to bottom. David didn’t show any signs of concern, suggesting that this was common practice. Eventually, the Grandmaster smiled and spoke.

  ‘Knight Captain, are you going to introduce your friend here to me any time soon?’

  David gave a quick bow and replied, ‘Yes, Grandmaster.’

  He inclined his head to Peter. ‘This is Peter Swart. He aided us against a Sighted attack at Intersection 5. We were overwhelmed and he managed to provide the necessary support to keep us alive and un-blighted. We owe him our lives, and I wish to repay him by allowing him into the Knighthood.’

  The Grandmaster looked quizzical for a moment and then turned to look at Peter once again.

  ‘If what my Knight Captain has told me is true, then you are indeed worthy of reward, but I would be interested to hear your side of the story. How did you survive by yourself this whole time and, most importantly, what were you doing there?’

  Peter had to think for a few seconds, as he always had to, before answering a question.

  ‘Honestly, Grandmaster, I can’t answer the first question myself. By a stroke of luck, I was able to find a safe apartment to hole myself up in. I only left it due to running out of food. To answer the second: I was busy sleeping on a roof near here when I heard voices below. After realising that they were human, I decided to tail them and found where they were being pinned at an intersection. I knew something was wrong the second before they entered it. All the other cars had been left open and unlocked; the Toyota had been electronically locked, therefore activating an alarm. The alarm was set off and Sighted started pouring in. I watched from a distance, but after noticing a hole in the defence, I decided to help, and now here we are.’

  The answer had been long winded, especially for Peter, but the Grandmaster didn’t seem to mind. He just inclined his head to David, who nodded in confirmation. With a grin, the Grandmaster spoke.

  ‘Then, Peter Swart, you have my thanks. David here is one of my greatest subordinates and the Knighthood would be severely lacking without him. David here states that you should be inducted into the Knighthood and I am almost inclined to agree. Obviously, however, there are a few things that will need to be checked first.’

  Peter suppressed a frown - he hated conditions.

  ‘First, you stated that you have been isolated in an apartment for most of this time. This has saved your life, but you obviously have little knowledge of what actually happened on what we have dubbed many names.’

  Peter nodded, for once actually desiring information from another person. The Grandmaster continued.

  ‘This day is obviously 15 March. We have called it many things. The Fall, Z-Day, Doomsday, the Rapture and all other terms to express that this was the day that society fell. You have already encountered the spawn of this day: The Infected, Sighted, Blighted or, poetically put, Zombies. These creatures are what nightmares are made of, more so for them being the corrupted forms of our friends and relatives. I can tell you now, however, that contrary to the belief of many, they are not the undead. I may be superstitious and not a bit insane, but I realised very quickly that the events leading up to this were not of the paranormal equation. You watch the news?’

  The question came suddenly but it was a simple one so Peter answered, ‘Yes, I watched it occasionally.’

  ‘And what had been the biggest story and event in our city this past month?’

  ‘The quarantine of the Cape Flats…but that was due to a flu epid…oh.’

  ‘Exactly, flu is dangerous, but no government, no matter how insane sends in that many troops for a little bit of influenza. Try telling me there wasn’t something more to this. Tell me that what we are experiencing is not what the Cape Flats has been hiding for months now!’

  Peter shook his head. ‘I wouldn’t be able to and come up with a valid alternative. Your reasoning is sound.’

  The Grandmaster looked pleased with himself.

  ‘You are a clever one, indeed, Peter Swart. My people and I would need you in these dark days.’

  He stood up from his chair and walked to the window behind him. After indicating he should do so too, Peter followed his lead. The window looked over the market area, right onto the Obelisk. From their perch, Peter could see many of what he had seen earlier. Children played, traders hawked their wares and warriors prepared for an impending attack. This seemed to have already become a way of life for these people. Peter didn’t doubt that the Grandmaster had been the one to aid them into settling with this new ment
ality. Peter turned to look at the Grandmaster’s face but what he saw was not the expected expression of triumph, glory or power, but one much more morose. The Grandmaster was worried about something and it was not long before David noticed.

  ‘Is something wrong, Grandmaster?’

  The bearded man seemed to awake from a daze.

  ‘No, no – well, yes. I am, of course, pleased that you have brought Peter here to join us, but you bring bad news.’

  ‘If this is about the Sighted attack, I am sure it was a fluke. The Frontier and Red Zone have managed to act as a buffer to the Hold Lands since the Fall. There is no reason that they would fall now.’

  The Grandmaster sighed and shook his head.

  ‘That is not my worry, David, but just a small concern. For all their ferocity, the Sighted are barbaric and fall easily to lead and steel. My true worry is that this may be the first time that we have actually encountered something in the Hold Lands other than the Infected.’

  The announcement left a chill in the air, and even if Peter didn’t understand it fully, it still sent shivers down his spine.

  David stammered, a strange thing coming from the normally charismatic Knight Captain. ‘You... You can’t be saying that there is something other than zombies out there? The Blighted are a concern all by themselves; a new monster may be more than we can handle.’

  ‘That is true, but I have a feeling that we are not facing a new nightmare here, but one of old.’

  There was a pause, probably for dramatic effect, until he continued.

  ‘The Hold Lands have been held by the Knighthood since the Fall, but I have never doubted that there may very well be others in this blasted city. Many of which we may aid, many of which we may fight, but some of which may even be capable and willing to destroy us. What I fear is no infected; I fear the uninfected and thinking plots of man. They were our undoing once, and the culprits may very well seek to totally annihilate the weeds in their new ‘paradise.’ When Society falls, Chaos becomes law.’

  David looked shocked, wide-eyed at the realisation. Peter didn’t know what all of it meant, but couldn’t help but be sceptical that this much politics and drama could have formed over merely two weeks. With people, something this ridiculous was very well possible, he then reminded himself.

  The silence was heavy and the only sounds that could be heard were those coming from outside. Peter didn’t mind but even he recognised that it was getting awkward. Finally, the Grandmaster broke the silence.

  ‘I apologise, Peter. I have just been brooding on this for a while. I trust you, understand. Personally, I would induct you right now into the Knighthood, but we have a procedure to follow.’

  Taking his cue, David spoke, ‘We have to confirm that all residents are safe to serve within the Grove. We are lucky enough to have a doctor with us that can confirm that you are not a dormant carrier. Chances are that you are completely safe, but we can never be too careful.’

  Peter nodded. He honestly had no gripes with taking a test. It was no skin off his nose…unless it was a skin sample test of course. The Grandmaster returned to his chair and concluded.

  ‘Then go out and prove your purity. After that, we can see about getting you into the Knighthood.’

  David opened the door and allowed Peter through, but stopped mid-way as he remembered something.

  ‘I almost forgot, but I wish to lodge yet another complaint about the Porter. He has killed five potential recruits and almost killed Peter without a second thought. I’ve tried to explain that his job is to judge, not to execute, but he doesn’t seem inclined to learn. I think the best course of action is to bring him back to Squire level, and then maybe he can learn discipline.’

  The Grandmaster looked thoughtful for a moment and then replied.

  ‘I may have pitied Bruno once, but you have a point. Many others have said the same as you. It puts me into a difficult position, but yes – I will grant your request. He will be informed of his demotion soon. I will see if any of our friends in blue would like to replace him at the gate.’

  ‘Thank you, Grandmaster,’ David ended off with a quick bow before the Grandmaster turned to Peter.

  ‘Good luck, Squire Peter.’

  ‘Thank you, Grandmaster,’ Peter replied, giving a shy and clumsy bow to try duplicate David’s.

  The man gave a short and quiet chuckle and ended off by saying.

  ‘Call me Smith, Mr Swart, just Smith,’ before turning around in his chair to face away from the door.

  8. Scavenging

  Bruno was glaring at him again, as he always had since he had arrived at the Grove three weeks ago. The ex-Porter had continued to grow even more and more suspicious and angry of Peter and so Peter reciprocated the sentiment. After being fired from his job, he has been assigned to scouting crews. A dangerous but dull job, if that was possible.

  Peter didn’t know why, but he had an awful feeling that Scouting wasn’t an appropriate position for the now vengeful man.

  The queue that Bruno had been standing in grew shorter, forcing him to move forward. The glare was broken, but Peter was still unnerved, as he always was after the unkempt man stared at him for long enough.

  Peter rubbed his hands, nervously; Andrew noticed and gave a re-assuring smile. ‘Don’t worry, you’ll be clean.’

  Peter nodded in reply. Andrew was talking about the weekly tests for the virus. He had been clean three weeks in a row, so he doubted that it would be any different today. He left his true grievance unuttered, however. Andrew was friendly enough, but he still didn’t feel any sort of relations with any of the people within the holdout.

  He saw David as a mentor, Smith as a boss and the rest as colleagues. None he had allocated as a friend. This, of course, didn’t change anything. An anti-social atmosphere was rife in many parts of the holdout, as many people still grieved or just felt an innate distrust of those around them.

  He stood in front of the nurse. It was now his turn. She offered a small platter and left the rest unsaid. He spat into the platter and handed it back to her. She nodded, labelled the platter with his name and then handed it to the doctor at the back. The test results would take about a day. They would, of course, come sooner if they took a blood sample, but they didn’t want to risk having to break skin with a virus like Iraevirum on the loose.

  Iraevirum – anger virus. It was an appropriate name, but Peter couldn’t help but feel that it was a simplification. Granted, they were very angry, but there was something else under that behaviour. True anger would result in the killing of other infected; this was more…co-ordinated. The Infected seemed to have a goal, even if it was just slaughter.

  Peter was walking towards the staging area now. This was the daily routine. He would wake up; have his breakfast rations and then move onto the staging area where he would receive orders. As a Squire, he was either trained or sent on tasks relating to his abilities. On occasion, he had been sent to guide those from the south who didn’t know the area of Cavendish that well. These excursions had not been as bad as he had first thought. It gave him a sense of solitude, even with company. Seldom did the scavengers speak, and this resulted in a pleasant silence. The infected were also seldom seen, with the only zombies being the occasional blind who somehow seemed close to death already. Peter was to only guide the scavengers to shops, where they would then allow him to head back to the holdout while they started collecting the goods needed.

  Sometimes he would be asked to guard these parties. He didn’t like these as much, as it normally meant having to talk to the scavengers. But he always steeled himself and remembered what he was getting out of it. It was a small price to pay for food and protection.

  The air was chilly as it should be this early in the morning. He wore only his jeans, shirt and leather jacket, and would be equipped with the rest once inside the staging area. Since becoming a Squire, he had been given the appropriate supplies and equipment. The more professional apparel made him feel just a bit safe
r out in the ruins of what Smith called the Hold Lands, but Peter still thought of as the Southern Suburbs.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Peter could see Bruno and a group exit the staging area and head to the parking lot. Peter gave a heavy and relieved sigh when Bruno finally had to break the glare to enter the jeep. They were most probably going on another scouting trip. Peter had doubted the importance of these trips, at first, but as David kept reminding him, information was power. Already, societies like the Grove had started to form, and scouting trips allowed them to stay updated of the world around them. Areas of Cape Town had even been renamed. Currently, they were in the Hold Lands – the ruins of Claremont, Kenilworth and many other suburban areas. To the east was the Frontier. This area acted as a last line of defence between the quarantine zones and the last bastion of survivors that they knew about. Peter felt a wave of appreciation for the gangsters who held the frontier. Of course, before the outbreak, he had wished all the gangsters dead, but now it seemed that they acted as a last line of defence - a defence humanity greatly needed.

  Little was known of Cape Town proper, a shrouded spot on the map which had been dubbed the ‘Infestation’. No search parties had come out alive and the Grandmaster had since refused to send any more.

  Peter stopped at the door to the staging area and opened it.

  Many Squires had already arrived. He made his way through the groups of conversing armed men to the back room, the armoury. There he found his locker. In it were all the items that the Grove owned but allowed him to use. A homemade tactical vest, a medical mask attached to a paintball helmet and a long blade which had seemingly been made by reinforcing a broken umbrella. The supplies had impressed him at first, but after seeing what knights received, he felt a little humbled.

  After strapping on the tactical vest, he opened up a belt along the side where he would hang the blade. It was a stabbing weapon and didn’t need a scabbard. His pistol, the same 9mm he had found all those weeks ago, went in a holster on his right. He lifted the adjusted paintball helmet up, but didn’t put it on his head yet. It was always stuffy and he didn’t want to wear it for longer than he had to. Luckily, he only had to wear it during cleansing raids, of which there had been very few. In all other excursions he would wear only a medical mask. The rule had been placed only four days after he had arrived that all personnel exiting the holdout had to wear a mask. He had not seen the incident itself, but apparently some infected blood had made its way into a scout’s mouth during a tussle. The scout was shot at the door. Since then, Knight Captains were ordered to make sure that no one left the safety of the Grove’s walls without a protective mask.