Last Another Day (12 page)

Liezel, a young girl, used to be Dave's assistant and Rosa, a student, was trapped with them during the outbreak.

As they drove off, Logan reflected that it had been a terrifying but prosperous day.

I just hope Morgan's trip proved equally fortunate.

Bare thorn trees and brittle, dry grass that bathed in the early rays of the sun, flashed past the window as Morgan stared at the landscape. Jacques drove with Angie squeezed in between them. They bickered back and forth and she'd long since tuned out.

Although only twenty-eight herself, she felt jaded next to the other two. They were still so fresh despite everything that had happened, and she envied them.

That day when she'd been trapped in the shower was still burned into her mind with ferocious intensity. Her life had been safe and predictable until that moment, although she'd struggled with depression.

After her teenage years, she had taken great care to hide her depression from everyone, including her husband. Her sometimes unpredictable mood swings and negativity had put a strain on their marriage, especially because Brian didn't know where the real problem lay. Despite that, it had been a happy union, warm and loving, if not passionate.

That day in the shower changed everything. Not only did she lose Brian, but also her safety net. For the first time, she felt challenged to rise above herself and become a stronger person, one able to overcome adversity, not just live with it.

Morgan found herself excited at the prospect and the depression was dissipating as her mind responded to their situation by becoming tougher. Though she still missed Brian, he was receding into the background of her mind, becoming part of a life she once had but now couldn't even visualize.

Morgan scrutinized their surroundings while absentmindedly rubbing the stock of her handgun. They couldn't be far now.

A kilometer further, they saw the sign signaling the turnoff. The next few minutes were spent jostling and bumping along on the rocky dirt road.

A tall iron link fence ran along their right and soon they reached the gate to the reserve. It was closed and keeping a wary eye out for trouble, Morgan jumped out and swung it open. She noticed a padlock and chain lying to the side and picked them up. They’d been cut through and she frowned as she considered the implications.

We're not the first ones here.

Morgan jumped back inside the vehicle and showed Angie and Jacques the cut chains. “The place could be occupied or overrun. Either way, expect trouble.”

They drove through the gate which Morgan left open for a quick getaway and trundled further up the dirt track. When the tops of the building showed above a screen of trees, she called a halt.

“Listen, guys. We've got no idea what's waiting up ahead. I propose we leave the Nyala here and sneak in, make sure the coast is clear.”

Agreeing with some reluctance, the other two got out and together they approached the trees, keeping low. A faint breeze gently stirred the grass, but nothing else moved and no sounds could be heard. Fear coiled in the pit of her stomach but Morgan suppressed it.

The trees loomed overhead. Motioning the others to get down, she crouched behind some brush. They were on a low ridge overlooking the buildings below and she had a good view. To the left lay a long, low structure that had previously been the restaurant, hall and bar area. A patio ran along its length with lawn furniture, edging onto a big, square swimming pool.

To the right, cottages dotted the lawns, interspersed with a play park. The road wound around the base of the ridge, through a gate in a low wall surrounding the cottages. Past that, it led to a camping site with stands and ablution blocks. Somewhere she knew, there was also a petting zoo and small dam stocked with fish. Even further along the road, another gate lay with electric fencing to enclose the various buck that made up the game reserve.

The place was perfect for their needs. Around the buildings stretched empty grass, made for planting crops while the wild game and fish would provide much-needed protein. To her immense disappointment, though, Morgan noticed the trash strewn around the lawns and various vehicles parked by the cottages.

Someone beat us to it.

Morgan shared a look with Jacques and Angie, shaking her head. “No go,” she mouthed, jerking a thumb back toward the Nyala. Approaching the strangers was out of the question. That would be a decision for the group to make and would require a larger show of force than the three of them could muster.

Easing back, a strong gust of wind swept through the trees and something caught Morgan's eye right at the lowest edge, closest to the cottages. The corpse of a young woman drifted in the breeze, hung from a branch.

She was naked, long dark hair covering her face and purple bruises adorning most of her body. Morgan smothered a gasp, her mind skittering like a frightened mouse at the implications.

Who did this?

Jacques noticed her reaction, followed her gaze and blanched, color leaching from his ruddy skin until it matched his ash blond hair. Movement at the base of the tree drew Morgan closer, and she made out the shape of two women, huddled against the cold in a nest of dried leaves.

She motioned Angie and Jacques closer. “Wait here. I'm going over.”

“You can't,” Angie hissed. “Leave them.”

“No. We have to help them.”

“We can come back later with more people,” Angie insisted.

“They could be dead by then,” Morgan said.

“She's right, Angie. We have to try,” Jacques argued.

Angie shot them both a glare before nodding and hunkering down behind a tree, lifting her rifle. “I'll cover you from here.”

In a low run, Morgan and Jacques moved closer. The two girls were also naked and covered in bruises, both old and new. They seemed young though it was hard to tell underneath all the dirt and grime. They were chained to the tree.

Captives
, Morgan thought,
kept for sport and sex
.

Edging closer, she called out to them. The nearest girl turned her head and stared at her with owl-like eyes in a gaunt face.

Raising a finger to her lips, she indicated to the girl to keep quiet. “I'm here to help,” she mouthed.

The girl nodded then turned to wake her companion with a gentle shake, whispering in her ear. Shooting upright, the sleeping girl stared wildly at Morgan then burst into tears.

Cursing under her breath, Morgan slid closer. “Shh, be quiet!” After some frantic hand gestures and pleading, the girl stopped crying though she still hiccuped quietly.

Morgan examined the chains binding them to the tree then turned to Jacques. “Get the ax.”

He slid away, and she turned back to the girls. “I'll try to cut your chains, then you run to our vehicle, okay?”

They nodded so she prodded further.

“How many of you are there?”

The first girl who seemed to be more alert held up four fingers.

“Four? There's four of you?”

The girl nodded again, then pointed at herself, her companion, the dead girl swinging in the tree, and one of the cottages.

Morgan sighed, “There's another one of you in there? In the cottage?”

The girl nodded and whispered, “She's with the leader.”

“I see.” Morgan thought for a moment. “How many of them are there? Are they armed?”

“There's eight of them and they've got guns.”

“Well, I'm sorry but we won't be able to get your friend today. There's only three of us and we can't take on eight armed men.”

“Will you come back for her?” the girl asked, licking chapped lips.

“We'll try,” Morgan promised. Deep down she felt sick at the thought of leaving anyone behind. The hanged girl's toes weren't far from her face and the smell wafting off her cold body unpleasant but there was no choice.

“I'm sorry,” Morgan whispered to the girls, eyes cutting to the corpse.

Jacques returned with the ax and Morgan explained the situation to him. “You and Angie cover me while I chop through the chain. They'll run for the truck while I provide cover from the back. As soon as we're close, have Angie ready to drive.”

“Will do,” he said. “Be careful.”

Morgan waited until he took up position next to Angie then fingered the ax, examining the chains. They weren't very thick, and she thought a solid blow would do the trick.

She turned to the girls. “Pull back on the chain and hold it tight. I'll cut it with the ax, then you grab each other and run. Don't stop and don't look back. I'll cover you.”

Nodding, they got ready, a mixture of fear and eagerness suffusing their eyes with a bright glow. They leaned back on the chain and Morgan got ready to swing when the sound of an opening door caused her to freeze. A disheveled man stumbled out of the nearest chalet, fumbling with his fly.

“Shit.” Morgan scurried behind the tree. “Keep quiet.”

The man staggered around before relieving himself on the grass, scratching his crotch with a yawn. He grinned and waved to the girls who cringed in terror before he stumbled back inside. Judging from the amount of beer bottles littering the grass, he must have had a major hangover because he didn’t notice a thing.

Not willing to waste any more time, Morgan positioned herself for the blow. She swung and the blade cut through the chain and sunk deep into the trunk. The sound reverberated like a thunderclap and scarcely two seconds later, a yell resounded as the guy from before stumbled out, looking for the source of the noise. Morgan was helping the girls onto their feet when he spotted her.

“Hey! What do you think you're doing?” He fumbled for the pistol at his belt but a gunshot tore through the air and he fell to his knees, staring in surprise at the hole in his belly.

Chaos broke out as men tumbled out of the huts, some still pulling on their pants while others tried to get their guns to bear. A bullet clipped the bark next to Morgan's face, showering her with splinters. She ducked.

“Hurry,” Morgan urged, stuffing the excess loops of chain into the girl’s hands.

They stumbled off on trembling knees, too weak to move any faster.

“Get to the truck!”

Another bullet struck the ground, sending up a spray of dirt.

“Shit.”

Whirling around, she dropped to one knee and pulled her 9mm, shooting from the hip. Her aim was dismal. The bullets went wide, but it caused some of the enemy shooters to duck and take cover. Grabbing hold of the gun with both hands, she steadied her aim and shot one in the knee where it stuck out behind a wheel. She had the pleasure of hearing him scream in pain as the limb exploded in a shower of blood and bone.

Jacques made every move count, laying down a blanket of fire. One shooter fell back, hit in the chest and the rest took cover. Morgan ran, scrambling over tree roots and leaves but a heavy blow from behind sent her flying forward.

I've been shot.

“Morgan, move!” Jacques screamed.

Bullets kicked up dust around her. Morgan forgot about the pain in her leg, crawling forward on her elbows and knees. She snaked through the trees and over the ridge, moving faster than she would have thought possible. Jacques scrambled over to her, yanking her to her feet.

“Let's go.”

Holding on to him, she ran. Up ahead, the rumble of the Nyala's engine could be heard as Angie fired it up. The sound spurred her on.

They scrambled into the back as more bullets whipped through the air. Jacques banged on the window and Angie floored the gas. Morgan nearly rolled out the open door again but Jacques grabbed her with one hand leaning over to slam it shut. He fell back as a bullet hit the glass in front of his face.

He screamed and for some reason, Morgan found that funny.

“Relax. It's bulletproof.”

He shot her an annoyed look then his eyes dropped to her leg. “You've been shot,” he stated.

“No shit.” She glanced down at the wound for the first time and blanched. A small hole in the back ballooned to a ragged exit wound in the front half the size of her fist. Blood pumped out in a steady stream and she felt nauseated.

Jacques kneeled next to her. “We need to stop the bleeding.”

He pulled off his shirt and ripped the belt from his pants. Folding the material into a pad, he strapped it over the bullet holes with the belt, cinching it tight.

The bleeding slowed to a trickle and after a moment, Morgan lay back, closing her eyes as she tried to ride out the pain radiating through her leg in a red hot blaze. She registered the moment they reached the tar road as the ride smoothed out and the truck sped up.

“Where are the girls?” she asked.

“In front, with Angie.”

“Thank God. I was scared they wouldn't make it.”

“Yeah, then you'd have gotten shot for nothing,” Jacques laughed though there was no humor to be found.

“No signs of pursuit?”

“None yet.”

Her eyes were still squeezed shut when she felt his hand lift her head and a bottle of water press to her lips. Gulping greedily, she fell back with a gasp.

“Does it hurt?”

“Fuck, yes,” she answered, not mincing words.

“You're nothing like your mom, you know that?”

“I know. She's a lady, and that's something I'll never be.”

He laughed, “Try to rest. We'll be home soon.”

She didn't bother answering, saving her strength instead. The blood loss and heat combined to make her drowsy and she drifted off. What felt like hours later, she blinked groggily as Jacques shook her arm. “We're here.”

With his help, she struggled upright and scooted out through the door. A small crowd had gathered, eager for news but when they saw the girls and Morgan's leg, a collective gasp went up.

“Morgan!” her mother cried, rushing forward.

Her knees buckled as her feet hit the ground and a strong pair of arms caught her, scooping her up. A familiar pair of gray eyes stared down into hers, sending a bolt of electricity through her spine when she realized who it was.
Logan.

She heard her mom's cries in the background and her brother's concerned baritone before a new voice took over, one she was unfamiliar with. “Make way, people. I'm a nurse.”

We have a nurse now? Wow, Max went all out on his trip.

She frowned at the thought of her little brother upstaging her, then shrugged.
Whatever. I got shot.

Warm blood flowed down her leg, the makeshift pad soaked through and useless.