Holocaust

  Chapter Thirteen

  Jire crouched low hidden behind the sitting room sofa. The slurring growls were coming from the kitchen. The infected were here, he’d know that sound anywhere.

  His frightened eyes drifted to the door. The kitchen was a few feet away. If he moved there was every possibility the creature would be alerted to his presence.

  His eyes flitted back to the door. He could make it. He had to. Rising, he crawled as quietly as he could towards the door. Where was Modupe? He had to warn her. Perhaps when he got out he’d circle round to her room and get her out that way.

  The growls stopped and the sniffing started. He froze! Footsteps approached the kitchen door, coming into the sitting room. Sweat streamed his face in streaks. His eyes locked on the empty doorway as a dark shape filled it. The red eyes glowed like coals in the gloomy sitting room.

  The Power Holding Company had taken off the electricity three hours ago. It was almost sixty thirty pm so everywhere was getting dark. He started to pray the creature couldn’t see him.

  He realized his prayers were pointless when it gave an incensed shriek and raced his way. He and the creature leaped at the same time. It smashed into the sofa hitting the head on the carpeted floor with a dull thud. He couldn’t help grimacing at the sound.

  It rose twitching as it did so. The blue dress it wore was like searing shock in his memory. Oh my God! He gasped bursting into tears. It was Modupe. How did she get infected?

  She snarled once more and lunged at him. He ducked, she flew past smashing her head into the texcote painted wall. Growing still, she slid to the floor in a crumpled heap leaving a dark red botch on the wall.

  He picked a glass stool and walked towards her slowly. Pausing for a bit, he looked down at her still body. As he brought his foot to nudge her side she reared up hissing again. Reacting instantly he brought the stool down on her head. It shattered on impact. He continued to hit her with the aluminium legs until her head resembled red paste.

  Sobbing as if his heart would break he staggered to her mother’s bedroom. He heard the slurs as he reached for the handle. Shaking his head in despair he made for the entrance snatching the car key off the glass table.

  The front door slammed shut after him and moments later came the growl of the car’s engine starting. The screech of tires filtered into the room for a few seconds before it was replaced by cold silence.

  Collins walked deep within the trees heading back towards the small hut like structure he’d taken residence in about a week ago. Judith would probably be worried sick. He’d been gone for hours already.

  His work boots were dirty and covered with mud. His black jeans didn’t look any better and the short sleeved shirt and black cardigan had spots of mud on them too.

  The rifle he carried hung on his left shoulder. His right pocket also bulged with the sidearm stuffed into it, all gifts from his friend Matthew. This spot was a couple of miles from the small house he and Judith now called home.

  A sigh left his lips as he recalled the series of events that led him to this moment. They were lucky to be alive. There was no gainsaying it. Considering his disreputable past it made him wonder why God saved the people he chose to save.

  Thousands died (or changed) in Oraromi almost a year ago. He could bet a good number were more pure and holy than he was. But yet here he was, still alive and surviving while they were dead; or un-dead, the distinction was faint at best.

  He couldn’t say what alerted him. Maybe it was the sudden stillness in the air. The familiar noises and scuffling prevalent in the bushes at this time suddenly grew quiet.

  Birds chattering on the trees overhead took flight racing east. His rifle came off in a smooth motion and he crouched low examining the bushes around him.

  It took a while, about two minutes in total; when he heard the throbbing of feet, like the sound of distant thunder. Something was coming his way and FAST.

  The bushes a hundred metres to his left started to tremble. There was a tree to his right. He raced to it ducking low behind; peering around the scratched bark carefully, time seemed to freeze. One moment there was calm and the next a horde of infected burst out of the bushes streaking past his tree and running in an eastward direction.

  His chest tightened in horror. They were headed straight for Judith and there was not a damn thing he could do about it. He didn’t have enough bullets in his gun to stop them. Some of the mangled and in some cases, rotting faces were familiar. He knew them from the village; Matthew’s village. What happened? Did it mean the whole village had been overrun by infected?

  His eyes hardened. He couldn’t allow them to get to Judith. He’d get to her first even if it killed him. He rose, their numbers were dwindling. Only the stragglers remained at this point.

  Their numbers continued to thin until one remained. He waited for it to go but it didn’t. It paused, sniffing the air and looking in his direction. He ducked back behind the tree trunk. His eyes blazed impatiently. Let the damn thing go already. But it didn’t. It continued to sniff the air taking several steps towards the tree.

  Collins hand tightened around the gun. He didn’t want to shoot it. The noise might draw the attention of others who might be close by. Not to mention the horde presently racing towards his Judith.

  A twig snapped underneath its heavy foot. He gritted his teeth. The slurs and growling sounds coming from its throat made his skin crawl. He returned the rifle to his shoulder and brought out his sidearm. He’d use this. The noise would be less than the rifle. Another twig snapped underfoot.

  He closed his eyes and swallowed, it was behind the tree. Well it had forced his hand. Running out, he squeezed the trigger twice. The first bullet went through its skull while the second tore a hole in its throat. It released a wheezing sound falling backwards where it landed with a dull thud.

  Faint growls rang out from every direction about a mile away. There were others and the gunfire had alerted them.

  He took off, heading south east. There was a shortcut. If he got it right he should arrive before they did. The slurs turned to rabid screeches. He knew what that meant. They were after him now.