The village leader abandoned Tara at the fire. He stormed after his people, roaring out conflicting commands with a beer-soaked tongue.
While the villagers tried to quell the blaze, Saul moved in on the pile of weapons. He slit the guard’s throat and grabbed a couple of grenades. These he lobbed into the village center, taking care not to throw them anywhere near Tara. The explosions rocked the night, lighting the sky in brilliant flashes.
Johannes had freed their fellow men, and the soldiers ran toward Saul. He passed out an armful of rifles, and they let loose their rage at their captors. The villagers fell as bullets cut through their ranks, ruthless and indiscriminate.
Saul used the opportunity to grab Tara and cut her loose. She threw her arms around his neck and sobbed. “Oh, thank God, you’re here. I knew you’d come back.”
“Of course. I’d never leave you,” Saul said. “But, there’s no time. We have to go before the villagers can get their act together.”
Tara nodded then screamed when she spotted something behind Saul. Acting on instinct, he threw them both to the side. A machete whistled past his head, missing by a hair’s breadth.
Saul twisted around as he fell and pulled the trigger on his R4. It was set to fully automatic, and a burst of rounds tore through his attacker’s torso. It was the leader, his scarred face contorted into a look of befuddled surprise. He swayed for a moment before crashing to the ground.
Tara got to her feet and removed the noose from around her neck. She threw it onto the dying leader and spat in his face. “Die, you fucking monster.”
“Come on, Tara,” Saul said, grabbing her hand. “Let’s go.”
He ran toward Johannes, who stood guard over their supplies: A few backpacks loaded with food and water, and a duffel bag filled with ammunition.
“Ready to go?” Johannes asked.
“Sound the retreat,” Saul affirmed.
The soldiers, recalled by Johannes, formed up the rear. The group escaped into the night, taking only what they could carry. Behind them, the village continued to burn, the women keening with grief. Their losses were high that day, for they’d underestimated their victims. It was a mistake that cost them dearly.
But, it cost Saul even more. He lost several good men, including his friend, Mokoena. He nearly lost Tara, as well, and didn’t know what he would have done if that happened. She gave his life purpose and meaning, something he’d been craving for years. While the army gave him direction, it lacked substance. He was a killer. A fighter. With her by his side, it was different. He had a clear goal now. A noble one. Protect Tara, and save the world.
***
Saul contemplated the road ahead, wondering what they’d encounter on the way to Fort Detrick. One thing was for sure; he’d never forget the lesson he learned that night in the Congo: Never let your guard down, never trust a stranger, and always be ready for the worst.
Neither, it seemed, would Tara. She’d amply demonstrated her willingness to kill back at the clinic. That revealed a whole different side to the woman he loved. A side he hadn’t even known was there but was glad now that he did. She’d need it if she were to survive what was coming.
They all did.
Chapter 12 - Amy
Amy leaned over the railing with the binoculars pressed to her eyes. It was late afternoon, and she’d decided to keep watch while Alex cooked dinner. With only the two of them left, standing guard around the clock was impossible. Instead, they’d agreed to take a look now and then to ensure they were safe.
She scanned the area around their new home. As expected, it was deserted. No people, no traffic, no zombies. She panned further out in the direction of Fort Knox. A pall of smoke hung over it, and she frowned. It looked bigger than before. Was the place still burning? Even after a whole day had passed?
With grim fascination, she stared at the spot, though she couldn’t see anything at this distance. Just the thought that she was looking at the final resting place of hundreds of souls was enough to keep her attention. Or were they resting? More likely, they’d joined the ranks of the undead.
A deep rumble of thunder caused her to jerk away from the lenses. Thick banks of clouds had moved in from the east and turned the sky into a threatening gray. Lightning played through the rolling cloud cover in flashes of electric silver, and a raindrop plopped onto her upturned forehead.
Amy loved thunderstorms, and she lingered on the balcony for several more minutes as the rain began to fall in earnest. The smell of wet earth teased her nostrils, and a brisk wind tugged at her hair. Finally, she ducked into the house with a smile of anticipation and headed to the kitchen.
Alex turned to face her, a damp dishcloth and a wet plate in either hand. “How does it look outside?”
“It’s all clear. No zombies,” Amy replied. “Plus, it’s raining.”
“Raining, huh?” Alex said. “I guess that means we’re having pancakes tonight.”
“Yes, please,” Amy said, her eyes shining. It was an old Donahue tradition when it rained. Pancakes and syrup for dinner followed by a couple of board games.
Alex rummaged in the pantry and emerged with a pancake premix and a bottle of maple syrup. “Why don’t I whip up dinner while you look for a game to play?”
“Okay. I’m sure I’ll find something in this big old house,” Amy said, eager to get going. Her heart was still sore over Dylan’s departure, and she had to try very hard not to think about it. If she did, she might start crying all over again. “Not tonight. Tonight, Alex and I are going to have some family fun. Just the two of us.”
Thirty minutes later, Amy found what she was looking for in the attic. The previous
