Last Another Day (21 page)

She swallowed, trying not to imagine what it must have been like. “But you saved a lot of them, didn't you?”

“Sure, we saved a few, even evacuated them to a camp where we fought for weeks to keep them alive. They're all dead now. I couldn't save any of them. Except for Sam.”

“Sam?”

“The baby, Samantha. I took her from her mother that night. She gave her life so her daughter could live, shielding her with her own body. Her little boy was dead by the time I found them. I never want to see such a thing again as long as I live.”

Breytenbach was silent while he relived the horrors of that night. Julianne did nothing, lending her quiet support while trying not to imagine all those children dying in such a horrid manner.

After a while, he continued. “She made me promise to look after Sam, and I will keep that promise with my last dying breath. That little girl means the world to me.”

He looked at a worn photo in his hands. “I found this among the woman's belongings. Sam will want something of theirs one day. Something of her own.”

“Can I see?” Julianne asked.

She took the photo he handed her and looked at the family smiling at the camera, oblivious to the oncoming tragedy of their lives. Her hands shook, breath hitching in her throat. Her vision narrowed until all she could see were their smiling faces.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” a concerned Breytenbach asked.

Julianne hardly heard him through the buzzing in her ears. Tears welled up and she sobbed, one uncontrollable spasm after the other.

“That's my daughter and her husband with their children. Sam!”

Her feet were flying, skimming over the ground to the infirmary. She burst through the door and scared a dozing Hannah out of her chair. In a makeshift crib made from an empty box, Samantha slept, one chubby fist jammed into her mouth. Curls so blond they were almost white, framed her face.

She's grown so much.

Julianne registered Breytenbach's presence behind her, followed by Max and Morgan. She assumed he'd told them the news but couldn't bear to look away from Sam's face.

The full force of Lilian and Michael's death hit her once more and she gasped, doubling over. The pain coiled and burned through her body like fire. Not even John's death had hurt this much. It was visceral.

It eased when Max and Morgan stood by her, lending their silent support and sympathy. At least, she still had them, and Samantha. Meghan too. Perhaps, instead of mourning, she should be celebrating.

If only life were that easy.

Morgan woke by slow degrees, lids fluttering open with reluctance. The mattress was soft beneath her hips and Logan's warmth cradled her limbs. Early morning sunlight spilled through the curtains and she could hear the soft cooing of doves outside the window.

With a sigh of contentment, she stretched out her arms and legs, reveling in the strength and health of her body. She felt supremely happy but supposed it was hard to be unhappy when you were young and in love. Even the zombies couldn't take that away from her.

Easing out from underneath Logan's arm, she made her way to the bathroom. Padding over the cool tiles, she washed her face and brushed her teeth. Halfway through, her stomach roiled. Spitting out the toothpaste, Morgan waited for it to subside.

Her muscles contracted, a cold sweat beading her forehead. Clutching her mouth, she rushed to the toilet. After several minutes, she was reduced to dry heaving, tears streaming down her face.

God, what's wrong with me?

Ever since the Christmas party, she’d felt peaky and nauseated. At first, she’d put it down to a hangover but after three days was forced to admit it might be something more.

“Are you okay, love?” Logan asked.

Mumbling something incoherent, Morgan threw up once more, clutching the bowl with both hands. Logan pressed a cool cloth to her forehead and brushed the hair away from her face. After a few more heaves, the nausea subsided, and she stood up on shaky legs. She brushed her teeth again and splashed cold water on her face.

“Feeling better now?”

“A little. The worst is over I think.”

“I think you should talk to Hannah. Maybe she can give you something.”

“I'll see her after breakfast.”

Logan had already readied the shower for her so Morgan stripped off her pajamas and stepped in. The water soothed her as it flowed over her body, relaxing her muscles and smoothing away the tension.

It was pure luck today was their turn to shower. The borehole and solar panels only provided so much hot water and a roster had been drawn up, providing everyone with a five-minute shower twice a week. She and Logan combined theirs half the time.

Logan's hands slid over her stomach and she leaned back onto his chest, closing her eyes. He nuzzled her neck, nibbling her earlobe as his hands continued to explore, awakening a raging fire within. She soaped up her hands and did some exploring of her own, reveling in the sheer pleasure. Ten minutes passed in a blur.

After a memorable shower, she dressed and went for a jog but gave up halfway through. She was too tired. Tired, lazy, or both. Deciding that a cup of coffee was more her speed, Morgan headed for the common room.

The low murmurs of voices greeted her along with the smell of coffee and frying bacon as she stepped through the door. Logan was already tucking in and she headed over to join him. Flopping down on a chair, she breathed through her mouth, trying to ignore the smells that were making her stomach protest again.

Morgan flashed a half-smile at Julianne as the latter walked past with a giggling Samantha on her hip. Since finding out Sam was family, Julianne took over raising her, which was to be expected, while Meghan was ecstatic to find she now had a 'little sister' to cuddle.

She turned back in time to see Logan squish his toast into his runny egg yolk. Ordinarily, she loved soft eggs but today the sight pushed her over the edge and Morgan ran for the nearest bathroom. After another exhausting session, she decided it was time to visit Hannah.

She found Hannah in the storerooms, inventorying their medical supplies. “Hi, how's it going?”

“Fine, busy sorting the stock. Can I help you with something?”

“I'm feeling offish these past few days and I was hoping you could help.”

“Jonathan's in the infirmary. Ask him. He's a proper doctor after all.”

“Is he up to it?” Morgan asked, surprised.

“He's much better. Besides, I think he needs to feel useful.”

“Okay, thanks. See you later.” Morgan followed the corridor to the infirmary and found a bored-looking Jonathan slumped in a chair, doodling with a pen and paper.

“You know, just because you're a doctor doesn't mean you have to sit here all day.”

Surprised, Jonathan blinked and sat up. “I suppose,” he replied with a shrugged. “I'm so used to taking care of sick people I don't know what else to do.”

“Well, you could always come on a supply run with me.”

Jonathan blanched, all color draining from his face. “Yeah, uh. I'd rather not.”

Morgan kicked herself for that thoughtless remark. The man had been to hell and back in a matter of days, losing all of his friends and patients, everyone he knew. The thought of facing zombies again must be a scary prospect.

“Kidding, kidding. We would never risk the life of our only doctor.” Morgan flashed him a dazzling smile, hoping to cover her gaffe. “Besides, I'm sure you'll have plenty of sick people to pamper soon.”

“Is that why you're here?” he asked, responding with a half-smile.

“As it happens, I am.” She sat down on the bed, rubbing the back of her neck as all joviality drained away. “I don't know what's wrong with me.”

Jonathan assumed a brisk mien. “Start at the beginning then.”

“Ever since the Christmas party, I've been nauseous all the time. I can't keep my food down or even handle the smell of it.”

“Nothing at all?”

“Maybe some coffee and juice. A little cereal or toast.” She shrugged. “That's about it.”

“Any other symptoms?”

“Now you mention it, I'm kind of tired and achy. Do you think I might have the flu?”

“Why don't you lie down and I'll take a look?”

Several minutes later, Jonathan sat down in his chair with a sigh. Pursing his lips, he hesitated. “I'm not sure if this is something you'll want to hear or not.”

“What?” Morgan asked, swinging her legs to and fro on the edge of the bed in agitation. “Tell me.”

“I think you're pregnant.”

For once, Morgan was shocked to silence. She stared at Jonathan for several seconds. “Pregnant? Are you serious?”

“Perfectly. All the signs are there. I need you to do a test, though, to be sure.”

“How is that possible?” she asked, aghast.

“Well...you and Logan?”

She waved a hand in the air, dismissing his words. “Of course, but we use protection.”

“Nothing's foolproof, my dear.”

“Damn. A baby. I can't have a baby,” she cried, wrapping her arms around her middle.

Jonathan rummaged in a drawer and handed her a home pregnancy test. “Do the test first thing tomorrow morning then report back.” He patted her on the back awkwardly. “It's not so bad. You have a lot of support from what I've seen. Julianne, Logan, Max.”

She took the test with numb fingers and tucked it into her pocket. “Thanks, Doc. I guess I'll see you tomorrow then?”

“I'll be waiting.”

“Um, can we keep this between us for now, please?”

“Of course. Oh and Morgan? It'll be fine, you'll see.” His manner was warm and reassuring, giving the impression he'd look after her. For the first time, she got a glimpse of the doctor he'd been and would be again.

She walked out of the infirmary and back to the common room where a concerned Logan waited with a cup of coffee. “So? Are you alright? Did you see Hannah?”

“I saw Jonathan, actually. He said I'm fine. It's just a bug. Nothing serious.” The words felt wooden, falling heavy and stilted from her lips but she smiled, determined to pull it off.

“Well, that's a relief. Here, have some coffee,” Logan replied.

It killed her, sitting there and pretending nothing was different even though it burned a hole through her chest. In a single moment, her whole world had changed. Everything she expected, wanted, wished for, would now have to be set aside to make way for something new.

A baby. I can't believe it. During the apocalypse? The end of the world? How?

These thoughts milled through her head the entire time they talked, making it hard to keep up the pretense. When she had the opportunity to escape with a reasonable excuse, she grabbed it, relieved not to have to fake a smile anymore.

Logan went off to help Joseph with the construction of the wall while she headed out to the vegetable plots. The morning passed in a blur, her hands occupied with planting, weeding, and pruning while her mind was free to roam.

She'd never planned on having children. Yet, the more she thought about it, the more excited she became. Would it be so bad after all? Erica was pregnant. So was Tumi. They had a doctor and a nurse. Even a pharmacist. They could scavenge for the supplies needed—were planning on it already. How would Logan feel about it? Would he be happy? Angry?

“Are you okay, sweetie?” Julianne asked while bringing her a glass of water.

Morgan straightened up, easing the crick in her back and wiped the sweat out of her eyes. “I'm fine, Mom.”

“Are you sure?” Julianne's eyes scanned Morgan's body, her expression shrewd. “Something's different about you.”

“I'm feeling peaky, that's all.”

“Have you seen Jonathan about it?”

“I have and it's just a bug. Seriously, Mom.” Morgan downed the water in one gulp. “I'm not a kid.”

Julianne shook her head, face wan. “You'll always be my kids. All of you.” She looked down at Sam on her hip and gave a half-smile. “I can't lose any more of you.”

Morgan slumped, feeling bad. “I'm sorry, Mom. I didn't mean it like that.” She gave Julianne a squeeze around the shoulders. “I miss Lilian too. A lot.”

“I think about her every day. Michael too. Sam will never get to know her brother.” They stood in silence, remembering all they had lost until Julianne gave herself a visible shake and stood up straight. “I've still got all of you, though, and that's enough for me.”

Morgan watched her walk away and hoped she'd never have to live with losing a child. Now that a tiny person might be relying on her, she felt fear dry up the saliva in her mouth and make her hands shake.

Have I got what it takes?

A few hours later, she was weeding the last of the tomatoes when Logan rode up on a quad bike, balancing a covered basket in front of him. “Feel like taking a break?”

“Uh, sure. What's that?”

“A surprise. Hop on.”

Morgan climbed onto the back of the quad and held on, taking comfort in the feel of his strong back. She closed her eyes and savored the feeling. After a while, he slowed to a stop, and she opened her eyes to find he'd taken them to a remote spot in between a clump of willows. The trees created the illusion of privacy and the grass was soft, springy to the touch. A light breeze whispered through the leaves and for a second she imagined they talked to her.

“What's all this for?”

Logan opened the basket and pulled out a blanket which he threw down on the grass. “Have a seat, m’lady.” He bowed at the waist, flourishing one hand and she couldn't help but giggle.

“Why certainly, good Sir.” She played along, settling down on the downy blanket with prim composure.

He whipped out a bottle of champagne and orange juice with two glasses. “A toast,” he proposed, “to the woman I love.”

“Uh, okay,” she answered, watching his grandiose gestures with dubious interest. “No champagne for me, thanks.”

He deflated. “What? Why not?”

She thought fast. “I'm not supposed to drink alcohol with a stomach bug.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, thrown off his game. “Okay, orange juice it is then. Can you at least eat?”

“Sure. I'm starving.” And indeed, she was. No breakfast followed by hours of hard labor had given her a healthy appetite. In hindsight, she now recognized her nausea for what it was—morning sickness.

Happy that his surprise picnic was back on track, Logan pulled out an array of food from the basket to tempt her.

“Wow. Thanks, babe. This looks great.”

Morgan eyed the spread and popped an olive into her mouth, followed by another. A crunchy gherkin was next, then a meatball. The food was fantastic. Too bad Logan stared at her with a nervous smile on his face, jiggling his left knee. She shifted beneath his scrutiny.

Does he know something? No. That's impossible. Jonathan wouldn't have told him.

Morgan wracked her brain for something to say. Anything. She came up with nothing and stuffed a sandwich into her mouth instead. Jamming the whole thing in wasn't the best idea and her eyes teared up as she struggled to chew.

With a typical man's sense of timing, Logan leaned forward while she was in mid-chew, staring at her intently. “Morgan, I'm not very good at this sort of thing, so I'm just gonna come out and say it.”

“Say what?” she asked through a mouthful of bread and ham.

He pushed himself up onto one knee and pulled a small black box out of his pocket.

Morgan's eyes bugged, and she choked. “What are you doing?”

“Morgan.” He held out the box to her, snapping open the lid. “Will you marry me?” Inside the box lay a ring of white gold and sapphires. Her favorite. It glittered and sparkled, beguiling with its promise of love and fidelity.

A sudden intake of breath proved to be her undoing and she choked on a lump of dough. Coughing and spluttering, she hacked like a cat with a hairball. Logan was up in a flash, pounding her back and shoving a bottle of water into her face. After a deep swallow, she heaved oxygen into her lungs, fighting for a semblance of dignity.

“You want to marry me?”

“That's the plan,” he replied, sitting back.

“The plan?”

“I mean I want to marry you. I love you and I want to be with you and...” He stopped abruptly. “I'm rambling. Sorry.”

“Where did you get the ring?” she asked, her mind reeling.

“Well, I picked it out at a jeweler on a raid last week. Why? Don't you like it?” Sudden anxiety washed over his face. “I can get you something else.”

“No, I love it. It's gorgeous.”

“So? Is it a yes then?”

Then it hit her. He wanted to marry her. He really wanted to marry her. “Yes! Of course, I'll marry you.”

With a smile of intense relief, he swooped in for a kiss that left her breathless then slid the ring onto her finger. It was a perfect fit.