Dangerous Days (Book 2): Fear Another Day Page 8

  “Are you?”

  Julianne stopped walking abruptly, surprised at the note of bitterness in his voice. “Of course.”

  “Sometimes I wonder if you'd even notice I'm gone.” He looked away into the dusk, his mouth set in a straight line.

  She gaped at him. “How can you say that?”

  “How can I not? You've made it clear you don't have feelings for me.”

  Julianne couldn't believe what she was hearing. Not once had Breytenbach ever pressured her. Never had he shown impatience or anger. This was a side of him that she'd never seen before, and it scared her.

  “Christo,” she said, laying a hand on his sleeve. “You know I care. It's just too soon.”

  “Is it?” He looked down at her fingers. With a soft touch, he covered them with his own. “I could have died today, Julianne. I need something, anything to show me there's hope.”

  Julianne bit her lip, devastated by his words. Her lips moved, but she couldn't form the phrase. Something held her back, and an iron fist clamped around her heart.

  Breytenbach searched her expression, waiting. At last, he pulled away. “I guess I have my answer.” With bowed shoulders, he turned and walked away.

  Julianne shivered. A cold hollow opened up in her chest. It spread throughout her body until her teeth chattered. A sudden burst of grief brought her to her knees, and she collapsed. Smothering her cries with a clenched fist, she rocked back and forth. He doesn't understand. Nobody does. How can I love again, when everyone I love dies?

  Chapter 9 - Max

  Max stared at the ceiling of the small bungalow he shared with Kirstin, unable to sleep. It was four in the morning, and his overactive mind wouldn't allow him any rest.

  Kirstin murmured something unintelligible and shifted next to him, throwing an arm across his chest. He held her close, comforted by her presence. It wasn't enough to lull him back to sleep, though.

  He sighed, thinking of the latest developments to hit them. Three days had passed since the raid on the hospital, and Dr. Lange had yet to emerge from his bungalow, struck low by the loss of his life's work. Michael guarded his door like a bulldog, his brooding presence enough to warn away even the most persistent visitor. At least, Elise had taken the girl Nombali under her wing.

  Kirstin stirred, opening her eyes to stare at him with the silent concentration of a predator. To most people, her steely gaze was unnerving. Max saw it for what it was, though. The ability to concentrate on a single object with unwavering attention. It was that focus that made her such a good shot. Currently, he was the subject of that intense regard.

  “Not sleeping?” she asked, voice husky.

  “No,” he admitted.

  She raised herself up on one elbow and brushed cool fingertips over his brow. “You worry too much.”

  Her hair hung over one milky shoulder and pooled onto his chest. The blanket gaped open, her full breasts inviting his touch. All thoughts of sleep vanished.

  She noticed his arousal, and her lips curved into a wicked grin. Her hand drifted lower, across his chest and underneath the covers. He ground his teeth together at her touch, hot flames licking through his abdomen.

  His arms wrapped around her narrow waist, and he pulled her close against him. “I'm sure I can forget about my worries for a while.”

  She didn't answer. Instead, her lips nibbled at his earlobes. Her warm breath sent shivers down his spine, while her talented fingers continued to work their magic.

  He lowered his head to flick his tongue over her hard nipples, nipping them with his teeth. Kirstin moaned, and he caught her lips with his own while his hands roamed across her alabaster skin.

  She threw one leg over his hips and straddled him. Breaking off the kiss, she reared back. With her hands splayed on his chest, she worked her hips in an agonizingly slow motion.

  “Kirstin, you're killing me.”

  Her lips curved into an answering smile, and she closed her eyes. Her head tipped back, and her long locks brushed his thighs. The curve of her spine pushed her breasts out, the pink tips jutting invitingly. He gripped them with bruising force and growled. “Stop teasing me, woman.”

  “Say please.”

  Max gripped her hips, bucking underneath her. “Please.”

  She picked up the pace, riding him with wild abandon. Their flesh grew slick with sweat. Ecstacy pulsed through his veins, mirrored by the frantic gasps that escaped her lips. The ache in his groin became unbearable.

  Kirstin shuddered, and her body pulsed. It sent him over the edge as well, and he exploded inside her with a groan. She slumped onto his chest, and after a moment, she chuckled. “Still worried, my love?”

  “Worried about what?” He grinned before leaning over to kiss the tip of her nose. “You're incredible, you know that?”

  “I know.” She shrugged a lazy shoulder before jumping up and striding towards the closet. “Come.”

  “Where to?” Max asked, blinking with confusion.

  “Do not ask questions.”

  “Okay.” Max refrained from arguing. He'd come to equate her with a mountain. Immovable. After they washed and dressed, he followed her out into the chilly pre-dawn air.

  Their breaths puffed out in clouds of mist. Kirstin walked in front, carrying her rifle. It was as much a part of her as one of her limbs. The sky was gray, light enough to see that she was leading him to the watchtower.

  When they arrived, she climbed the ladder with certain steps. From below, he admired the view, chuckling when she shot him a knowing look. At the top, Max clutched the railing with both hands trying not to look down. He wasn't fond of heights, something Kirstin was immune to. “So what are we doing up here?”

  “We watch.”

  She handed him a pair of binoculars hanging from a nail hammered into a wooden post. Puzzled, he took them and scanned the horizon. Gnarled thorn trees, open expanses of tan veldt interspersed with termite mounds, and in the distance a winding tar road empty of traffic.

  He had no idea what he was supposed to look for. His mind began to wander, going through supply lists, maintenance jobs, and security issues. Kirstin smacked him on the head.

  “Ow!”

  “Focus.”

  “On what?”

  “On nothing and everything. The world.” She shot him a stern glare. “Empty your mind.”

  Max tried to do as she directed. He simply looked. At first, he was bored, but as time passed, he began to notice small details. He became aware of the cold breeze that raised goosebumps on his skin, of the tapestry of color the rising sun cast in the East, of the different variations of browns and greens in the vegetation.

  The knotted muscles in his back eased, and the stress he carried around like a cloak peeled away. For the first time, he understood why Kirstin spent so much time up there. It was peaceful. Silent.

  “Better?” Kirstin asked.

  Max nodded.

  “Good. Now it's time for a little fun.”

  “Huh?”

  “Over there.”

  He looked in the direction she pointed and spotted two zombies stumbling toward the outer fence. Fascinated by the ability to study them without the need for fear, he simply looked. Despite the atrophied muscles, rotting skin, and thinning hair, they were still people. People with no souls.

  They'd been exposed to the elements for a long time, and he marveled at the ability the virus had to animate such pathetic remains. It was impossible to tell sex or pick out any distinguishing features. Even their clothes had fallen off.

  A puff of mist exploded from the furthest zombie's head, followed by the report of Kirstin's sniper rifle. Startled, Max dropped the binoculars, ears buzzing. “Hey!”

  “Your turn.”

  “Really?” He gaped at her, surprised that she'd even allow him to touch her gun. She handed him the Galil, and he held it as if it were a newborn baby. He caressed the stock and smoothed a hand over the barrel.

  At Kirstin's prompting, Max sighted on the ot
her zombie. The demise of its partner didn't bother it in the least. It kept coming, closing the distance between it and the moat. He sighted through the scope and propped the rifle against the railing.

  Kirstin spoke into his ear, her voice soft and quiet. “Relax. Find your center. Breathe.”

  Max shifted his left foot, then the right, finding his balance. His army training returned and calm descended. He exhaled and squeezed the trigger. The second zombie collapsed into the dust.

  The world receded into the background, and he realized he'd forgotten what mattered. The feel of a well-crafted gun in your hands, the quiet of a pre-dawn morning, and the company of a beautiful woman.

  Kirstin chuckled, “See? No more worries.”

  Max was in full agreement. He hadn't felt this good in ages. They climbed down the ladder, and he felt better equipped to face the coming day. “I love you, babes.”

  “Jeg elsker deg,” she replied before jogging off in search of her teammates.

  Once she disappeared from view, he walked to the office. A seven 'o clock meeting had been arranged to discuss a few of the issues facing them. He pushed open the door and breathed in the aroma of coffee and biscuits.

  Elise sat in a chair and flashed him a smile. “Hey, Max. Looking good.”

  Max reddened beneath her gaze, wondering if his morning wake-up call showed on his face. A vision of Kirstin's pale flesh caused his groin to twinge, and he sat down with haste. After a moment, he cleared his throat. “Where is everyone?”

  She shrugged. “I'm the first, it seems. Coffee?”

  “Sure.”

  Max picked at the scarred wood of the tabletop but looked up when Julianne walked in. “Morning.”

  She nodded but didn't reply.

  “Everything all right?” he asked.

  “Yes, I'm fine.” Her tone was brisk, and he wisely backed off.

  Joseph appeared in the doorframe, followed by Lucas, Jonathan, and Breytenbach. Everyone exchanged greetings and chose a seat. The clinking of spoons and crockery filled the air.

  Lucas dug into the biscuits, scoffing them at an alarming rate. In his late fifties, reed thin and perpetually hungry, he looked like an old troll. But the man was a survivor and lived for months on his own until Breytenbach's team found him a fortnight before. An electrician, he was a valuable addition to the group.

  Max cleared his throat. “Is Phillip coming?”

  “Not today,” Elise replied. “He's got too much to do.”

  “All right, let's get started. Who wants to go first?”

  Lucas swallowed his biscuit with an audible gulp and raised a hand. “I'm ready.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “I've managed to smooth out the kinks in the electricity supply. All the buildings are now linked to solar power and backup generators.”

  “Does that mean no more blackouts?” Julianne asked.

  “That's right, but...” He raised a warning finger. “If, and only if, we use it sparingly. Strict rationing must apply to all inhabitants, same as with the water.”

  Approving murmurs rose from the group.

  Max jotted down a note on his writing pad and turned to Joseph. “Anything from your side?”

  “We've finished all renovations,” Joseph said. “So I propose we start on expansions. We're running out of room for new survivors.”

  “Is that even possible?” Max asked. “Do we have the manpower and material to―”

  “What about the walls?” Breytenbach interrupted. “And the fence?”

  “They're completed,” Joseph answered, a puzzled frown on his forehead. “As is the moat.”

  Everybody stared at Breytenbach who shook his head. “Yes, but is it enough? Instead of expanding, shouldn't we work on improving security?”

  “Where's this coming from, Captain?” Max asked.

  Breytenbach leaned back in his chair and rubbed a hand over his face. He looked pale, and beads of sweat ran down his face.

  Max watched him with concern. Is he coming down with something?

  “Recently we've run across signs of a large group of survivors in town,” Breytenbach said.

  “So? We've known there are others for a while now. As long as they don't bother us, it's fine. Some, like Lucas, have even joined us.”

  “That's the thing. They're hostile.”

  “How do you know that?” Max asked.

  “Because of what they do,” Breytenbach said. “I haven't said anything until now because I didn't want to start a panic. I feel the time has come to address the issue, though.”

  “Go on,” Max prompted.

  “We've found bodies.”

  “Bodies?”

  “Of people. Men, women, children...all killed, and not by zombies.” Breytenbach looked ill. “They don't just kill either. We've seen evidence of rape, torture, and mutilation.”

  Julianne gasped, “What?”

  Around the table, people wore similar expressions of horror.

  “Do you think they're a threat to us?” Elise asked.

  “After seeing what they're capable of, yes.”

  “What do you suggest we do?” Max asked.

  “For a start, I think we should focus on beefing up our defenses,” Breytenbach replied. “Also, we can double the watch and cease all raids.”

  “Cease all raids?” Max asked. “Isn't that a bit drastic?”

  “The chances of a raiding party getting ambushed is high. If there's anything we need urgently, my team can handle it. The rest of you should stay put,” Breytenbach said. “In the meantime, I can send out feelers, see what we're up against.”

  “This changes everything,” Max said. “Elise, how do our food supplies look?”

  “We've got enough canned and dehydrated food to last a few months,” she said. “Phillip says we'll get a crop this season even though we planted late, and the vegetable plots are producing. The animals worry me, though. We need more feed for the winter months.”

  “That's easy enough,” Breytenbach said. “We can hit a few farms tomorrow, see what we can find.”

  “Good. How about fuel?” Max asked.

  “We're okay for now. We've got a few tanks stored away, but water's a problem,” Joseph said. “The borehole isn't keeping up with demand.”

  “Can we work out stricter rations?” Max asked, twirling his pen.

  “We can, but people won't be happy when their shower time is cut in half,” Julianne replied.

  “We've got no choice. Not until we can find a solution anyway.”

  “Okay, I'll handle it.”

  “Thanks, Mom.” Max looked at Jonathan. “How's the clinic doing?”

  “We're set for the moment,” the doctor said. “The supplies from the hospital helped a lot.

  “How's Erica?” Julianne asked. “She complained of cramps last night, and I told her to see you about it.”

  Jonathan sat up straight. “She did? I'd better see her then. Cramps might very well indicate the beginnings of labor.”

  He pushed back his chair and stood up. Elise followed him. “I'm going too. You don't need us anymore, do you Max?”

  He waved them off and turned to the remaining people on the committee. “Anything else?”

  Breytenbach nodded. “Guns and ammo. I'll line it up after the raid for animal feed.”

  Max eyed him, noticing how the Captain sat slumped in his seat. Something's up.

  “Christo, are you okay?” Julianne asked. Apparently, she'd sensed something off as well.

  “I'm fine, Julianne,” Breytenbach replied. He pushed himself out of his chair. “I'm just a bit tired.”

  “We've got everything sorted for today,” Max said. “Why don't you get some rest, Captain?”

  “I'll see,” Breytenbach said. He turned as if to leave, but his knees buckled. For a second, he clung to the table before he crashed to the floor. His chair went flying, and Max jumped to his feet.

  “Christo?” Julianne cried, rushing to his side. “Christo!”<
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  Joseph and Lucas were both on their feet, staring at the Captain's crumpled form. Max dropped to his knees next to Breytenbach. He patted the unresponsive man's cheek and felt his forehead. “He's burning up.”

  “What's wrong with him?” Julianne cried.

  “I don't know. We need to get him to the clinic. Now.” Between the three of them, Max, Joseph, and Lucas carried Breytenbach outside and across the grounds. Julianne ran ahead, looking for Jonathan and Hannah.

  Curious faces lined their route, but Max had no time for any of them. He had only one thought in his head. Not Breytenbach, please. We need him.

  Chapter 10 - Logan

  Logan stared at the bite mark marring Nadia's shoulder. It was healed but recent, the scar tissue forming raised ridges on her smooth skin. “Where did you get that?”

  “Nowhere. I told you, it was just an accident.”

  He shook his head. “That's no accident. Someone bit you, and the only things I know of who'd do that, are zombies.”

  Nadia stared at him, one hand clutching the towel to her chest while the other covered the scar. Her eyes were like saucers, and her mouth worked. She looked frightened. It wasn't a look he felt comfortable seeing on her face.

  He sighed and relaxed his stance. His fingers uncurled. “Nadia. I know you're scared, but you owe it to me to tell me the truth.”

  She shook her head, tears welling up. “Leave me alone.”

  “I need to know if you're dangerous.”

  “I'm not,” she whispered, but her tone belied her words.

  Logan raised his hands. “I'll give you a minute, okay? Come to the kitchen when you're ready. I'll pour us a drink...uh...make some coffee, and you can tell me all about it.”

  After a few seconds, she nodded. Counting it as a victory, he closed the door behind him and strode to the kitchen. He put the kettle on and made a cup of coffee for her. After a moment of hesitation, he added a second.

  “Suppose I could use something other than alcohol for a change.” He shrugged and stirred in creamer and sugar for Nadia but left his plain. “As black as sin and strong as a horse.”

  Logan leaned against the counter, folding his long legs at the ankles. His eyes drifted toward the hallway. The whole situation was a nightmare. “There I was, minding my own business, happily drinking myself to death and now...this. I'm stuck with an injured half-human, half-zombie teenager, who's full of shit and mouthy to boot. God, help me.”