Their only hope was the slimness of the doorway. They only had to deal with one, maybe two zombies at a time.
The tide seemed endless, but just as Peter thrust his elongated shiv into a police woman’s heart, the growls stopped.
They all stood ready, expecting more to come through the now unhinged door. Nothing came.
More than one of them let out a sigh of relief. Peter looked around during this well-deserved breather. None of the Grove men lay dead or even wounded, but the floor was still scattered with the blood and corpses of the now dead zombies who had piled into the room. Most had been killed before entering, but the few who had managed to enter lay prostate along the floor, creating a carpet of flesh and torn fabric. Their faces still bore the blank expression of blind hatred.
Still panting, David gave his orders. ‘Stab them in the necks and eyes. Make sure they are truly dead.’
Peter winced. He hated this part of cleansing missions. Everyone hated it, but it was necessary. Kills had to be confirmed. He checked his gloves and mask. Everything was in working condition. Taking out his blade, he proceeded to stab each infected through the eye and neck. None bled profusely, the stab only creating a small hole for the remaining blood to escape from. Everyone stayed clear of that blood. It was more dangerous than toxic waste. One splatter anywhere close to an orifice and your comrades would gun you down, and rightfully so. This was a harsh world.
The blood hole on each zombie’s neck was a symbol that the kill had been confirmed. After each body had been pricked, they moved safely out of the room. Nobody had any desire to sleep with zombies during the night.
The store was dark, almost pitch black. Only the faint light of fire from outside lit the portions of the room. The group moved as one, some jumped at shadows, but none went as far as firing at drips. After careful consideration, David holstered his pistol. Peter did the same; he was out of ammo anyway.
Everything was truly quiet now. Only the sound of the Cape Doctor could be heard blowing outside.
‘One final sweep, then we bunker down for the night. Sesikweni, you’re with me. Andrew, Peter – stakeout the roof. Scavenge any weapons or ammunition you can find, and then seal the entrance.’
Peter nodded as David concluded. As Andrew and Peter advanced towards the stairs, they found the corpses of the gang which they had encountered earlier. While confirming their deaths, Peter examined them. They wore shabby clothing, looking like typical street gangsters, but what he thought strange was that while they did indeed dress like common thugs, they were clean shaven and washed. Their hair was shaved in unstylish buzz cuts.
They approached the door to the roof carefully, weapons raised. Andrew opened the door hesitantly and hastily turned to the side, allowing Peter to thrust with his shiv if anything was alive on the other side.
There was no need, as the roof was empty of all living – zombies and humans. Gangsters lay dead, bullet wounds from both the guns of zombies or the Knights. Peter suddenly realised that one of the dead could very well be by his hands. The thought made him shiver, and the wind and rain forced his teeth to chatter.
They confirmed the kills as fast as they could, picking up unused ammo as they did so. They felt relieved to finally be back indoors, as they sealed the entrance with a conveniently placed bar. Testing the door, it would not budge. Content with their work, they descended the stairs.
Warm light and the crackle of fire greeted them. As they were indoors, there was no risk of showing their position. Peter was happy about that, as he would have dreaded a cold, dark night.
Reporting in to David, they confirmed that the store was secure. All entrances were sealed and only they occupied the dark corridors of this establishment.
Dinner was sparse, as they had not suspected that they would be away for too long. Normally, missions would end with them arriving safely back to the Grove where they would feast on potatoes and canned goods. Delayed return was always a possibility, however, forcing each Knight and Squire to be required to carry packaged biltong and other rations. This dried meat was now their dinner. After consuming the morsels, they lay back on the counters which, between them, they had made their camp. The covered area would act as a form of barricade if the store was infiltrated. They would take shifts guarding the site.
Only somewhat comfortable that he would not be bitten while he slept, Peter turned away from the fire and closed his eyes.
Peter opened his eyes as he felt a hand nudging him in the side. Hastily, he turned to see that it was Sesikweni. Peter nodded and seeing that, the man put down his shotgun and took a place by the fire.
He pulled himself up, feeling around for his pistol. It was still in his vest. He was stiff from his sleeping arrangements and uncomfortable outfit. Groaning, he stretched and headed towards the entrance of the store.
It was dark here and he had to wait for his eyes to become accustomed to the dark before he risked moving on. As his vision cleared, he could see a small fiery speck floating in the shadows. He advanced towards it and took his place. He leaned near the source of the speck until it lowered. He heard some rustling.
David held a box towards him. ‘Cigarette?’
‘No thanks. I don’t smoke.’
‘Neither did I.’
Peter couldn’t be sure in this darkness, but for some reason he knew that David looked sad, strained.
‘Seems I started a lot of things when the Quarantine Zone bubbled over. A lot of things I would rather have not happened at all.’
Peter didn’t reply. Part of him wished that the Captain would keep quiet, but another part was curious. The latter sentiment was foreign to him.
David did remain quiet for a while, puffing on his cigarette. Eventually, the stub burnt too far and he was forced to finish it off. They both stared off into the closed door. Thankfully, they could hear nothing but the distant snores from the camp.
‘How are you holding up?’ David asked, suddenly.
‘In what regard, sir?’ Peter raised his eyebrow, but then it dawned on him. He had killed his first human today, and not just an enemy, but a comrade.
‘Don’t tell me that you’ve hardened this fast. You bloody killed someone today. Not many people can get over that.’
‘I did what had to be done. I killed him, but he wanted to be killed. It was a favour.’
‘I’m not questioning your justification. Death is far better than Infection, but I am worried about you. You killed him and barely batted an eyelid. I expected more reaction. Hell, you’re still a kid.’
Peter was thankful that the darkness concealed his stunned expression. Still a kid? He didn’t expect this type of concern, or any at all for that matter. He managed to suppress the confusion in his voice.
‘All due respect, but I’m fine. As I said, I did what had to be done.’
David paused before replying. In an exasperated tone he ended off, ‘If you wish.’
A wind had picked up outside. A calm wind, which Peter hoped would remain that way. Any harsher and they would not be able to hear interlopers. An orange light flickered but Peter did not show any fright as new kindling was placed on the fire.
David cleared his throat suddenly. Peter turned to the dark figure next to him. ‘Sorry, just remembering something. I acted somewhat like you after my first kill. To be honest, it wasn’t my first human kill either. ‘
Peter didn’t reply, but it seemed that that gave Danny reason to go on.
‘We were in Pinelands – the Red Zone – when Quarantine Zone 1 erupted. We caught word of it only minutes before the first zombies were spotted. I took my family south. We drove through every streetlight and past carnage that I could never have imagined. I went to the border when I was about your age and never had I seen as much violence as I did on the day that the fence fell. Hundreds – thousands tried to flee south. Everyone knew that the north was sealed off. The only hope was the tip of the Cape, as far from the slums as we could get. People became desperate. There was a lo
t more violence between the uninfected by zombies. Our car was stolen and we were forced onto the streets.’
He paused and his tone changed.
‘Sorry, I shouldn’t have started this discussion. It’s all in the past now. We can only keep moving forward.’
‘No need to apologise, sir. Many find it easier to cope with their burdens if they speak about them.’
Peter regretted the words as they left his mouth, but the damage was done.
‘Maybe you’re right. Very well - after we were forced to escape by foot, we encountered our first group of infected. I was by no means defenceless and managed to fight some off. While distracted, however…my wife was bitten. ‘
Peter gulped. He knew where this was going.
‘As you can guess, I couldn’t come to terms with what that meant – until her eyes glazed over and she tried to kill Luke. I shot her, in front of him. I shot his mother right in front of his eyes! I didn’t think he would be able to cope and he wasn’t. The doctors say that his memory has covered over it. It’s keeping it hidden to prevent trauma.’
The fire flickered again, allowing Peter to see David’s face. He shook his head. ‘How can I live when my son is forced to live like that?’
Peter didn’t know how to answer, so he didn’t. He just turned back to the door and waited for his shift to end.
With a bang, the door was hammered upon once again as the horde of infected charged, just to fall to the resistance of the barricade. Peter shook with every impact as he pushed for dear life against the shelf, keeping it steady against the door. To his right, Andrew did the same, with Sesikweni to his left. The wilier knight and the scout held the smaller door at the back. Bangs and shrieks resonated throughout the store. Peter didn’t know how much more they could take.
They knew reinforcement must be on their way, but after the disappearance of David, they lost all sense of leadership. Only instinct held them together as a renewed attack at dawn forced them to awaken. Andrew was the one who first noticed that both David and Bruno were missing.
It wasn’t raining anymore, but Peter wished it was. At least the storms of yesterday had drowned out the shrieks, if ever so slightly. He could not stand the moans, roars and cries of pain of the infected which heralded their imminent doom.
Another bang, this one followed by the sound of a crack. The cracking grew louder and Peter could barely jump out of the way as an arm shot through a fresh hole in the shelf. The scarred and bruised arm thrashed around, looking for prey. Peter drew the bread knife that he had found all those months ago and went to chopping at the hand. Its owner did not give up and the thrashing had begun to shred the hole even wider.
‘We can’t hold them much longer!’ Andrew was panting with fright and exertion, just as another arm ripped above his head. With a squeal, he jumped back, just in time as another arm ripped through where he had previously been pushing. The moaning and growling could now be heard in earnest. Only Sesikweni stood his ground.
He gave way just as another bang forced him backwards. They heard snapping as the restraints on the trellis door gave way.
Peter did not need any other signs. He helped Sesikweni onto his feet just as Andrew started to run. They followed him as he shouted for the others to retreat to the roof. They received no reply.
There was only one place they could make a stand, even if it was just as weak as the ground floors - the roof. They ran as they heard crashing and a tremendous thump, followed by hordes of roaring and growling as twisted non-humans flooded the shop. The only evidence of the death of their comrades was that zombies now came through the backdoor. The three of them were alone.
The stairway was in their sight, but so were the infected behind them. Three Sighted had spotted them and were charging. As Sesikweni mounted the first corner of the stairway, he turned and fired his shotgun, killing a Sighted barely metres away from Andrew. Peter and Andrew didn’t waste this chance and mounted the steps to the next stage, where they called for him to climb. He did so while they covered him. Only one zombie reached them this time, and it was put down hastily by a shot from Peter’s almost depleted pistol.
Andrew wrenched away the bar they had used to barricade the entrance the night before, just as more infected could be heard coming towards them. The sound of the metal clanking acted as a beacon for them. They now knew where their dinner could be found. Peter and Andrew didn’t delay exiting the building. They held the door open only for Sesikweni to fire a round off and then exit.
Peter could barely believe that Sesikweni was previously a police officer. No South African policeman was that disciplined. With the help of Peter, Andrew put the bar into position so it could block the door. Hopefully, the funnelling of the zombies would prevent any harsh assault.
The ex-cop was reloading his shotgun. Peter could see now how little ammunition they had left. If he counted correctly, besides the six shots already loaded, he only had four more after that. Peter only had eight more rounds, David’s abandoned cartridges not enough to supply him, and Andrew was down to just an axe that he had found in the store.
They didn’t speak. Even though the infected already knew their position, they did not feel like speaking at all. They could barely believe the disappearance of their leader, and only the adrenaline of trying to stay alive kept them standing.
Peter edged himself to the side of the roof, crouching to conceal himself. A few blind zombies staggered around the streets, some bumping into cars. It seemed that most of the infected were already in the store. It wouldn’t make much of a difference. Even if the zombies never got through that door, starvation would eventually take them.
Peter rubbed his aching stomach, just as he spoke to himself. ‘We’ve had a good run, but you know you were never meant to survive this long. You’re a shrimp, an outcast. You should have died on months ago.’
He berated himself quietly, until finally he gritted his teeth. ‘Shut up!’
He did indeed shut up, but the peculiar display brought nervous looks from both Andrew and Sesikweni. He didn’t care.
It was many hours that they lay, stood and sat on that roof. Banging emanated from the metal door, but no denting or shattering followed. The stairway was thin. They couldn’t pile onto the door to bring it down.
The sun was only now reaching its zenith and the discomfort of hunger and thirst nearly tore Peter apart. Then, they heard motors.
First, he thought it a figment of his imagination but as he stood, he saw them. About three large cars, all with attached scrap metal and armour were driving towards them. On the centre car was a flag buffeting in the wind. The flag bore a picture of an Obelisk.
They were saved.
Peter turned, but both his companions had already noticed. They were filled with renewed hope as the cars drove closer, ignoring the banging from behind as the infected tried in vain to secure a meal.
They all waved their arms, making sure the convoy knew where they were. It worked, as the group of cars stopped outside of the store. Eight armoured and heavily armed knights burst out and created a barrier, as zombies began to pour out of the store, just to be mowed down by machine gunfire.
Two Squires pulled a ladder off one of the cars, unfolding it and placing it along the wall. They both pulled out shotguns and acted as defenders as the three descended from where they thought they would die.
Sesikweni took point after they had all arrived safely on the ground. Andrew and Peter helped the engineers fold up the ladder and carry it to the car. The infected pouring out of the entrance had slowed to a trickle, and the rest of the Knights were easily able to end the lives of any blind stragglers.
Peter and Andrew were led to a bakkie, where they were allowed to sit. They were offered food and water, which they gratefully accepted. After wetting his parched throat, he turned to Sesikweni, who now spoke to Grandmaster Smith himself. Both looked gloomy and, as the convoy began to move back to the Grove. They moved slowly, as if the cards themselves knew of
their loss.
10. Siege
The night air was moist and cool, refreshingly so, especially after the heat of the summer months. Moonlight and stars lit up the night sky, as Peter examined the galaxy from where he lay on top of one of the many rooftops in Grove City. Opposed to the metal shabby rooftops of the new additions to the holdout, Peter much preferred the structural integrity of the original buildings.
He had to admit, though, the Knighthood had accomplished a lot in the year that they had existed. They had built a haven for survivors in the Hold Lands, branching out and clearing away dangers in the process, so survivors could seek out refuge in safety. In all this time they had built infrastructure, defences and sources of food that would cement their possible survival. As much as he still felt a general distance from others, he respected the Knights and the Grandmaster for accomplishing this.
Staring out over the blackened city, his gaze shifted onto Table Mountain. Normally pitch black - lights had begun appearing around Rhodes Memorial and many other areas over the past few months. Smith refused to allow Scouts that far. He didn’t allow anyone past what he called ‘the Grove Land’ after the disappearance of David. Peter remembered that announcement well. Many shouted against the order, stating that it would bring famine, and that the food would eventually run out.
Smith had replied with all the might and authority that characterised him as their leader.
‘So, then we will build farms, if thirsty we will dig wells. Scavengers are not the only profession. We used to be more and we will be more! No more blood will spill in the name of preventing spilt blood. We build our haven here!’
Quite an inspiring speech, Peter thought. On that day, many had left the holdout. That had worried everyone except for Smith himself. He did not stop them. He said that he could not and would not stop the movement of free people. He was a guide, nothing more.
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