Last Another Day (15 page)

When nothing was left but ashes, they wrapped Jacques in a sheet scavenged from one of the cottages and loaded him into the back of a vehicle. The sad little cavalcade drove through the gates, stopping only to secure it with a thick chain brought with them for that purpose. Max made it known that the gunfire and grenade blasts would draw any undead in the vicinity and didn’t want their new home overrun.

Ben was in a haze, his mind a mess of conflicting emotions. Scenes from the past kept flashing before his eyes. His wife, smiling at him on their wedding day, then the gruesome discovery of her body. Susan lost and scared until he found her, then the life leaving her eyes as she died from the virus, color leaching from her skin. Jacques, so young, choking on his own blood. He had failed them all.

Tears coursed down his weathered skin unheeded, and he ignored Joseph's concerned looks. What was there to say?

All too soon, they arrived home. Ben's heart sunk as he saw the waiting crowd. He got out, flanked on either side by Joseph and Max and Ben felt like they were in a lineup, facing a firing squad.

The smiling faces of the crowd sobered at the grim looks on the trio's faces and eyes danced around for the whereabouts of Jacques. It was Julianne who broke the silence. “Max?”

The question hung in the air, resonating through the expectant hush that had descended. From the back, Armand pushed his way through the crowd. His eyes searched, growing wilder by the second. “Where's Jacques?”

When no-one replied, Armand stepped forward and grabbed Ben's arm. “Ben? Where's Jacques?”

Ben swallowed, his mouth gone dry and his hands trembled. “I...he...”

“Where is he?” Armand screamed.

Ben shook his head and pointed to the back of the truck. Armand stormed over, ripping the door open. He froze, confronted by the blood-soaked sheet covering his brother's body. He tore it off, swaying when he saw the terrible wounds.

“No. Not Jacques. Not my brother.” A shudder tore through his body, shoulders shaking as he heaved. He turned and glared at Max. “I trusted you. I placed his life in your hands. I believed you would keep him safe.”

He strode over, voice low with barely suppressed rage before he punched Max in the face. Gasps of shock went around the group as blood spurted, cartilage crunching audibly as it broke. Armand followed it up with a second blow that split Max's lip before Ben grabbed him, wrestling him away.

“It's not his fault!” he said, strong-arming Armand. “It's mine.”

Armand stilled, shock and disbelief chased each other across his face. “What do you mean?”

“I could have saved him,” Ben admitted. “I had the shot, but I missed. I missed, and he died.”

Armand stared at him, mouth working with words he couldn’t find. “Tell me what happened to my brother.”

Ben glanced over his shoulder and saw Elise and Julianne herding the children away, the group backing up to give them privacy. He focused on Armand's icy blue gaze. In a guilt-stricken voice, he told Armand what happened. When the last words died away, he waited, waited for the hatred and condemnation that was sure to follow.

Armand stared at him, his face a blank slate. In an emotionless voice, he said, “You were like a father to him, to us.” Then he turned and walked away.

Ben's knees buckled, unable to hold him up any longer. He fell to his knees in the dust, staring at his hands. His useless hands.

His shoulders shook as dry, wracking sobs tore through his body. Joseph and Max gripped him by the arms, guiding him inside, speaking softly in his ears. It was nothing but noise to Ben as he faced the reality that his whole world was collapsing and for the first time in his life, he didn't know what to do.

Angie’s lower back throbbed and ached as she scrubbed at the inside of the freezer. The smell of disinfectant made her eyes water, but it only barely overlaid the smell of rotting food.

It was a nauseating mixture of spoiled fruit, vegetables, meat, and sour milk. It was now a week since they had taken over the game farm and the work that needed to be done was monumental.

Armand and Joseph were installing a solar panel system on the main building to provide power to the kitchen, dining room, and laundry. There was no running water yet. The borehole needed power to function, so they fetched it from the dam in buckets.

Elise swore like a trooper, struggling to clean out the oven. “Didn't these people know what oven cleaner was?” The fumes emanating from her region was enough to put them all on a high. Joanna laughed at Elise and soon they were all giggling like schoolgirls.

In the dining room, Lisa and Michelle looked over the breakfast counter at the three women, joining in after a little hesitation. Angie found that surprising. They didn't complain, did their share, but it was rare to see them smile. She supposed they were still recovering from their ordeal. Not that she cared. She didn't like either of them and resented all the attention they got.

Childish laughter drifted through the windows. Anna and Meghan were playing on the lawn with Princess and Buzz. The little terrier bounced around on the grass like a jack rabbit, chasing a ball while Buzz chased her.

Julianne sat in the shade, keeping watch with a rifle on her knees. She had pulled a muscle moving furniture and had been reassigned to babysitting duties. Ben also kept an eye on them as he cleaned up the yard and swimming pool. Angie didn't envy him the task. She wouldn't be surprised if he found crocodiles in there. She supposed they wouldn't be keeping the pool—too much water.

It would have been nice, though.

Angie eyed Ben, wondering if he'd ever recover from the recent blows he'd suffered. Armand still refused to speak to him while she found the whole business tiresome. She was fond of Ben—he'd always treated her well, indulged her. As for Jacques, she'd never liked him. He'd always stood between her and Armand, not trusting her with his brother.

Good riddance.

The problem was, Armand wouldn't speak to her either now. He was so caught up in grief over his stupid brother, he ignored her completely.

Can't he see how much I love him?

The hours passed as they worked to make the place habitable and Angie was grateful when Elise called a halt. They were all hot, sweaty, and hungry. Gathering in the dining room of the old restaurant, everyone relaxed as Elise sent cans of cool drink and bottled water around.

Angie cracked open a Fanta Orange and grimaced at the sweet, sticky taste of the lukewarm mixture but she was thirsty and it went down fast. Packets of chips and biscuits followed with a few cans of beans and viennas. Nobody seemed happy with the food but without a working kitchen, it was the best they would get for a while.

After their makeshift supper, the talk wound down as people sought their beds. Everyone was tired. Only the kids were hyper. Angie blamed all the sugary food.

“Thanks,” she murmured as Julianne gathered the rubbish in a black bag.

“Are you okay?” Julianne asked.

“I'm fine. It's just—” Meghan ran up and grabbed Julianne around the waist, squealing and giggling.

Little brat
, Angie thought as Julianne scurried off to deal with the kids. She scooped up her bedroll and lay down in a corner, hoping to get a little sleep. She struggled. The sight of Armand's face drifted before her closed eyelids. She couldn't stop thinking about him. From the first moment she saw him, she knew he was the one.

And now it was like she didn't exist at all. After everything they'd been through, she'd believed they shared a bond. They had grown close over the weeks of running and hiding, fighting for their lives together and now he was acting like a stranger, cold and distant.

Then there was Morgan. She'd seen the way Armand's eyes followed her, the resentment he felt towards Logan. He was jealous.

I don't know what he sees in her.

After hours of obsessing, Angie fell asleep. The next morning, she rolled out of bed just as tired as when she rolled in. An unappetizing breakfast was followed by more back-breaking labor. Today, there was no giggles or laughter but by noon the main building was spotless.

After a brief break, the women set to work on the bungalows, joined by Joseph's wife Tumi, who had arrived with Logan and Thembiso from headquarters. The three arrived with a truckload of building material and the men were now engaged in building up the inner walls and repairing the bungalows damaged in the grenade blasts. All except Armand, who was finishing up the solar system.

Angie watched him from underneath her lashes as she cleaned the windows of the bungalow.
He's so handsome.
Sweat pearled on his forehead and his blond hair stuck to his neck in the cutest way. She pictured his muscled arms cradling her at night, becoming lost in the daydream.

A giggle to the left distracted her for a moment. Frowning, she noticed Lisa pointing at Armand and whispering to Michelle.

What the Hell?
Impotent rage paralyzed Angie.
What was that? Are they looking at him? He’s mine!

Angie calmed herself and flashed the two a dimpled smile when she noticed them staring at her with shocked surprise. She forced herself to turn away and return to work, but the rest of the day passed in a haze of red anger.

That night, supper was as dismal for Angie as the previous night. Nobody talked to her, put off by her sullen mood and she felt rejected.

Bitches.
Once again she struggled to sleep and woke up exhausted. Washing her face, Angie stared at her reflection in the mirror and noted the dark circles under her eyes. She looked worn out, haggard.

She could feel something moving deep inside of her, like a worm burrowing into her heart. All the stress and strain, made bearable only by her love for Armand, was threatening to overwhelm her. Something had to give. Pressing her lips together, she shook off the depressing thought and marched out to join the others.

“Angie,” someone shouted, startling her. Looking over, she saw Armand waving at her and her stomach did a back-flip of delight.

Hurrying over, she flashed him a huge smile. “Hey there. Looking for me?” she asked, then kicked herself at the fawning note in her voice.

So much for acting cool.

“Yeah, Morgan showed up, and she wants us to go on a scavenging trip with her.”

Angie's heart dropped as she realized the excitement on his face wasn't because of her but rather the prospect of spending time with Morgan.

“Sure. I'd love to.” She gritted the words out between clenched teeth, fingers curling into fists.

“Great. We're leaving now.”

She followed Armand with legs that felt like lead. Tears lay just below the surface and her hands shook. Blinking, she shoved them into her pockets and smiled up at the oblivious Armand.

Up ahead, she spotted the familiar figure of Morgan, and a surge of jealousy suffused her mind. She shot a glance at Armand and saw the worship written there, moments before it turned to disappointment and anger.

Looking back, she was treated to the sight of Morgan squealing in delight as Logan approached, throwing herself into his arms for a passionate kiss.

Ah, so that's why.

Smirking, Angie stepped up and greeted the two love birds with a fake smile before jumping into the back of the truck. A forlorn Armand joined her, stewing in anger so the trip passed mostly in silence.

Men are so stupid.

About fifteen minutes later, they pulled up to an Engen garage just outside town and got out with caution. They surveyed the parking lot and determined it to be clear. The girls headed to the shop while the men tried to siphon gas from the underground tanks with a pump.

Inside the shop, all was quiet. The place had been raided before but there was still some stuff left. Picking through the rubbish, Angie stuffed any useful items she found into her bag.

Glancing at Morgan, she asked, “So, why did we come on this raid exactly? I thought we had enough supplies to last us a while.”

“You know Max. He's always worried about not having enough. And besides, I thought a break from all that work would be nice. Have some fun instead.”

“I think you're the only one who would consider this fun, Morgan,” Angie grumbled. “Are you sure you're not a psycho?”

Laughing, Morgan shook her head, “Nope. I just feel like this is my second chance, you know?”

Angie shook her head, mystified. A shout resounded outside before she could reply. Running to the door, they saw Logan jump into the Nyala and start the engine. Armand was standing with one foot inside the passenger door, clinging on for dear life as Logan raced over to the girls.

Stopping in front, Armand shouted, “We've got company. Get in!”

They slung their bags into the back and tumbled in, slamming the door shut as the first runners entered the parking lot.

“Shit, why do those things have to be so damn fast?” Angie asked. “And why do some stay fresh for longer while others deteriorate in no time? And where do all the new ones come from? I thought we were the only survivors in the area? In fact, why did any of this have to happen?”

A note of hysteria crept into her voice and Morgan laid a soothing hand on her arm. “Hey, sweetie. Calm down. I don't have all the answers either but we have to make the best of this.”

Angie nodded, staring at Morgan's hand as hatred boiled up inside.

Don't pretend to be nice. You're just a slut who parades around for all the men.

Focusing on her rage, she calmed down enough to reassure Morgan. “I'm sorry. It's just so overwhelming, you know?”

“I know. But hey, look on the bright side. At least, they're still stupid,” Morgan replied. “Think how bad it would be if they could think.”

They drove around for a while before entering a quiet little suburb on the outskirts of town. Slowing to a stop, the group got out.

“We haven't been here yet and Max thought it might be a good place to look for supplies. The people here used to be well off,” Logan said.

“So what do we do? Split up and go from house to house?” Armand asked.

“I think we should pair up. That way we can search more houses and we each have a partner for backup,” Logan replied.

“Sounds like a plan. Why don't you and Angie start over there? Logan and I can go that side.” Morgan said.

Hope flared in Angie's chest at the thought of spending time alone with Armand before dying again when she saw the disappointment on his face. He gave a curt nod, slinging his rifle over his back and gripping his crowbar. “Come on, Angie. Let's go.” He marched off to the nearest house and Angie followed, dragging her feet.

She stared at the rigid muscles of his back and wondered where it all went wrong. She dashed at the tears forming in the corners of her eyes and choked back a sob.

I don't know what to do anymore.

As they approached the first house, Angie pushed aside her feelings. Now was not the time unless she wanted to get eaten. As obsessed as she was, she did not want to die for love. Not even Armand's.

Pushing open the gate, they paused and listened for any sounds but heard nothing. Inside, they checked the front of the house before moving to the back. All was quiet.

There weren't any cars in the driveway and the garage doors stood open which they took as a good sign. Usually, that meant the occupants were gone and the house empty. After a thorough search, this turned out to be true, so they turned their attention to supplies.

Filling their packs with items, Angie tried to strike up a conversation. “Good thing we don't live in America.”

Frowning, Armand asked, “Why's that?”

“Don't they all have basements and attics, like in the movies? That would be scary. Wouldn't you hate having to go into some dark and creepy basement with zombies waiting to ambush you?”

Laughing, he said, “Okay, I get your point.”

After that, some of their old camaraderie was restored, and for a time things went well. The first two houses both proved to be empty of life. In each, they found a wealth of goods.

Angie found it odd to raid these people's houses. Where were they now? Did they make it? Were they still alive? These questions milled through her head as she rifled through their belongings and stared at their old photos.

Angie didn't know if her own family was still alive or not. She rarely gave them a thought. Her father only cared about money during his lifetime and all he was good for, was providing her with the best. Her mother had been weak, easily manipulated, and Angie held nothing but contempt for her.

As they approached the next house, the first sign of trouble revealed itself in as the family dog. Its carcass was stripped of flesh and the desiccated remains were pathetic to behold. A car stood in the driveway with the boot open. It held suitcases and a few bottles of water.

They shared a look, readying themselves for a fight. Angie took the lead, her boots crunching on the gravel underfoot, followed by Armand's heavier tread. The kitchen door stood ajar and dried blood decorated the handle. She pushed it open, wincing as it creaked and stepped inside. More blood was splashed on the walls and counters.

Angie tried to steady her breathing and wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans. This was something she'd never get used to. The anticipation that something lurked around the corner, ready to pounce. She reassured herself that she had backup in the form of Armand and a gun strapped to her hip.

Moving into the open-plan dining and living room, it was clear a struggle had taken place. Furniture was strewn about with more blood arced across the walls in a horrid display. A doorway to a second living room beckoned, and with a gesture to Armand, she moved forward.

As Angie rounded the corner, she came face to face with a living nightmare. Inside, stood at least a dozen zombies. They weren't doing much, swaying from side to side as they waited for someone like her to activate their hunting instincts. Angie's heart slammed against her rib cage so hard she was sure they'd feel the vibrations. So far they hadn't spotted her, but she needed to move before they did.