Cape Zero- the Fall Read online

  Set up and ready for work, Peter returned to the staging area. A Knight had come up and, after waiting for the last stragglers, begun to read out the jobs and to whom they were assigned. Peter and two others were to escort scavengers to an office block which had been cleared in a raid a while ago. It would be a safe excursion but guards would still be needed to keep an eye on the entrances to the building.

  Peter hooked the paintball mask onto a clip by his side and strapped the doctor’s mask over his mouth. After exiting the staging area, he was greeted by some of the scavengers and the other guards. Peter recognised one of the guards as one of the talkative fellows from down south. He sighed and prepared for a long morning.

  The morning had been uneventful, if three zombie attacks could be called that. Peter sometimes laughed at how his mind worked these days. Murder and death was normal these days and an attack from some blind raging monsters was a normal, even boring, occurrence.

  They had come back at about lunch time with trolleys full of supplies ranging from paper, electronics and fire extinguishers.

  Since then, Peter had decided to rest a little by the side of a pool which some enterprising survivors had been trying to prepare as a fishery.

  The mid-day sun was firmly in the sky and, for once, no clouds blotted it out. The air was cool, but a pleasant cool. There was no wind for once, and that in itself was strange as wind was a common element of the Cape. It was, overall, a pleasant afternoon, one which Peter hoped wouldn’t be interrupted with people.

  As all things played out, however, he was soon interrupted by a panting survivor who, he knew, but had not cared enough to remember his name.

  Peter looked at him irritably but the survivor was too out of breath to notice. After catching his breath, he finally spoke.

  ‘The Knight Captain has summoned you to the control room without delay.’

  Peter raised his eyebrow, but followed the last bit of the sentence as he leapt up to do as he was told. He jogged the way to the control room.

  Once there, he was greeted by a concerned looking David and the Grandmaster himself. A crackling radio was located in the centre of the table. The crackling was inaudible but just as Peter was about to speak, David brought his finger to his lips, signalling him to keep silent. The crackling dispersed and turned into audible pleading. The voice came from a terrified and breathless voice. Gunshots could be heard in the background.

  ‘We’re pinned in Kenilworth! We need extraction…’ the sound of a thump and then the voice picked up their radio transmitter once again. ‘We’re surrounded by unknown assailants and need back up! We can’t hold out much long…’

  The radio trailed off and submerged back into crackling, leaving the room in silence. Finally, David spoke, ‘We started receiving the transmission about five minutes ago, it was set on a loop which means that the radio itself is at least still functional.’

  ‘The radio signature is that of Scouting Party 2,’ Smith said, ‘and that means that, as Knights of the Grove, we are obligated to save our own…but I still have a bad feeling about this.’

  ‘Regardless, Grandmaster, I will go with my squad and save them. That is the way of the Knighthood,’ David replied.

  Smith was stroking his beard. ‘I don’t doubt your chivalry, David, but there is a difference between duty and death. I can’t shake the feeling that this is not as simple as it seems.’

  ‘If you don’t mind me asking – what worries you? We have faced zombies before and even Sighted are not much of a threat against Knights.’

  ‘But that is the problem, I don’t think these are normal infected we face, or even infected at all. I feel that this may be the first time in this outbreak that we will be facing our own kind.’

  David looked taken aback but then composed himself.

  ‘You can’t be saying that we are to fight other humans?’

  ‘I am saying exactly that, but as we may come to see, it can’t be helped.’

  Smith sat down and clutched his chin thoughtfully, muttering to himself. ‘Who could think that with all that has happened, humanity is still just as set to kill each other?’

  Peter knew the sentiment. He also felt that people and humans in general were incapable of prolonged unity. There was a heavy silence again, until Smith stood.

  ‘Then it is decided. David, take Peter here and your squad to extract the scouts. The Knighthood saves its own. If anyone stands in your way, zombie or human – kill them.’

  He spat out the last part. David and Peter saluted and then hastily exited the control room. Peter wondered why he was even summoned there in the first place, but he didn’t ask. For now, he just prepared his mind for a fight and the prospect that he may very well kill his first human.

  The air smelled of cheap fuel and burning tyres. The violence was much more apparent here than near the Grove, much more recent. Crashed cars still emitted trails of smoke, bullet shells lay in puddles around the roads and blood stains were everywhere. Houses were broken into and fires of unknown origin still blazed.

  The sound of the bakkie was strained, as if the vehicle had been built that day from scrap. Despite this, it did its job and was currently transporting David’s squad.

  Peter was suited up like the rest of the crew. Armed with his 9mm and carrying his blade as a sidearm, he hoped that they would be enough. Deep down he knew that he didn’t truly believe anything was wrong with his weapons, but more wrong with him. He had killed a lot since that day, but killing the infected was not like killing humans. Humans could still think, they still had sentience; he might have hated people, but he didn’t think he would be capable of taking the life of one.

  They had seen no zombies along the route and that, in itself, surprised them. They knew the Hold Lands were generally safer than the Frontier or Red Zone, but even then they still had the occasional blind straggler. This lack of zombies was almost as disturbing as the presence of them.

  ‘Something is definitely not right here,’ Andrew voiced all of their opinions for them.

  ‘Agreed,’ a Knight added. The rest of the group of six kept quiet. Besides the normal squad members of Sesikweni and Andrew, David had also brought two knights whose names were unknown to Peter. The one who had spoken was of a small frame, but was armed with a bolt-action hunting rifle. The larger, quieter man was armed with a shotgun which put Sesikweni’s to shame. This group had been chosen hastily, but David was confident of their abilities.

  Now that Peter thought about it, they were quite near to his home. Well, in the same ward, at least. He wondered what had happened to it and felt a wave of sadness. He quickly suppressed it. He knew he wouldn’t be able to do anything about it, so why worry about it? Still, he couldn’t help but miss his small one-bedroom apartment. It had been his and only his.

  Peter was forced from thought as a gunshot sounded. Everyone heard it and it was followed by the echo of clicks as safeties were taken off and last minute checks were given to their firearms. Peter did the same, checking his cartridge and then removing the safety.

  Sesikweni, in the passenger seat of the bakkie, had opened the window, so if he needed to fire he would be able to. Each person took a crouching position behind the safety of the bakkie’s sides. Another shot sounded and it was answered by another. The shooting was coming from a street away – the last known location of the missing scouting team.

  They were about a minute away and, as they turned the corner, Peter held his breath. Everything went silent within his own ears, even though he knew sounds still existed around him. He couldn’t hear anything, only a faint ringing. A shot fired from the rooftop of the store, he could see the rifle, but not the gunman. He lifted his pistol to line up the crosshairs. He still couldn’t hear and he didn’t know why. Another shot fired on unknown victims. Peter knew where to fire and applied pressure to the trigger. The bullet flew and the firing stopped from the rooftop.

  David was shouting something and waving his arm in the direction of the stor
e. Signs had been removed, but Peter was sure it had once been a hardware store. Large glass windows had been boarded up and the automatic door had been replaced by a shabbily installed trellis door. David had exited the car and was moving with Sesikweni towards the entrance of the store. He could faintly hear gunshots, but they were indistinct. His right ear felt as if something had hit it with cricket bat. He couldn’t hear, but if he could, he would be sure that a cannon had nested on his shoulder and was currently trying its best to deafen him.

  That was when the explosions in his head stopped as the large Knight jumped over the side of the bakkie and ran for cover. Peter tried to do the same, but he was in a daze. He tried to stand but he just tripped over. With every movement, he became more and more nauseous. His hearing was clearing up, but he was still dizzy. Andrew was next to him now, trying to shout something over the shots from the new gunners on the rooftop. Peter didn’t answer, he couldn’t answer. Andrew didn’t await an answer and instead slung Peter’s arm around him, helping him out of the bakkie.

  Legs still unsteady, Peter used Andrew as a crutch. With his free hand, he opened fire on the roof. He hoped he had hit one of them. The gunshots were clearer now and once they came under the cover of the hardware store, he could start faintly hearing David’s orders. Andrew laid him down under cover, and then darted towards an area of concealment.

  ‘Who are they shooting at, sir?’ the scrawnier knight asked.

  ‘Armed Sighted, we’re surrounded on both sides,’ David answered calmly, ‘We need to bust through this door and secure it. We kill this gang; we save our lives!’

  Peter was finally reviving from the shell shock that he now realised was from the shotgun armed knight. Only he and David were not firing, as Peter recovered and David tried to jimmy the lock.

  It was raining now and the intensity of the rain and darkness of the clouds promised a storm. Through the torrents of rain, he could see the advancing bloodshot eyes of Sighted. Some were dressed as civilians, but others wore the uniforms of police officers and the military. Some carried guns and were even using them, admittedly with little to show for it. They merely pointed the firearms in any general direction and fired, allowing the recoil to cause the weapon to fly about.

  David was struggling with the door and Peter knew that if they couldn’t get that door open, they would all be dead within half an hour. He glanced around, looking for something of use. What he really needed was leverage. Then he had it. He drew his sword and signalled for David to get out of the way. He rammed the point in the crack in the middle and then levered it, trying to push the sliding door open. David helped and under both their weights, they heard a crack as the lock on the door broke and it only needed to be slid open.

  David shouted for them all to enter; no one stopped them as all of the enemy gang was probably already on the roof.

  They entered, covering each other to make sure that no one was left behind. Only the large shotgunner was left by the time that the zombies got close enough to be a threat. Peter had drawn his pistol and fired, but there were too many. With a scream, the large knight had fallen. He held his shotgun forward, begging for someone to pull him in. David did, but as the zombies got a better grip, they bared their teeth and feasted, breaking the knight’s skin.

  The man yelled and paled. He tossed the shotgun to safety, knowing it was better in the hands of his comrades. He then looked at Peter, eyes begging. Peter knew what the man wanted. He aimed and fired, taking the knight in the head. At that second, they shut the trellis door and forced two shelves in front of it.

  Only the sound of the ravaging of flesh could be heard, disgusting and vile sounds of squelching, gurgling and devouring. The survivors in the interior sat in silence. No one wanted to say anything. None of them knew what they would do next, or if they would even have time to do anything. The only thing Peter knew was that he had just killed someone.

  9. Hardware

  The gang on the roof was still firing. Rain fell onto the roof like pebbles, still not able to cover the harsh melody of gunfire and screeching. The screams and roaring of the infected horde were the most prevalent sound and, at the moment, the only one anyone was worried about.

  For a whole hour, they had been moving, pushing and struggling to survive. They had re-arranged much of the store, thanking the builder for making the entrance small enough for only two zombies abreast to attempt to enter at a time. Without this chokepoint, they would have been dead a long time ago.

  Peter collapsed to the floor, finally being allowed some rest. He was leaning up against one of the counters. He was panting. They all were. All except for David, who was holding his chin thoughtfully.

  Peter was also thinking. The gang on the roof was going to have a nasty surprise when they retreated downstairs, if they retreated downstairs. Peter had to keep reminding himself, even now, that these Sighted zombies were not like those in movies and games. They could think, they did think. For all he knew, they could be capable of scaling the shop and taking the roof. If that happened, he had no doubt that they wouldn’t be able to survive the night.

  ‘What are we going to do, Knight Captain?’ Andrew asked, visibly shaking, from cold or fright – Peter couldn’t be sure.

  David looked up, as if broken from a trance. After recalling the question, he answered, ‘That is a perplexing question indeed. To be honest, I haven’t a clue how we are going to make it out of here.’

  That admission sent a chill down Peter’s spine and a gasp out of the others. David didn’t seem to notice and just continued.

  ‘Don’t take that as a call to forsake your duty! We are still men of the Grove. We only falter after teeth break our skin or lead finds our heart. Lock and load, then let us search this place.’

  That was all Peter needed as encouragement. He ejected the cartridge of his pistol and found that he had two rounds left. He would use them up and then reload. Andrew was moving towards the back room, pistol at the ready. The rest were going in other directions. Peter decided to follow Andrew’s lead.

  They both stopped at a door at the rear of the store, most probably a backroom. Placing his ear to the door, Peter listened. First, he heard nothing but silence, but then he almost jumped as he heard mumbling. Not the indistinct groans of zombies, but the mumbles of gagged men.

  He signalled for Andrew to cover him before opening the door. Tied and gagged on the floor were three men, two Grove scouts and the other was Bruno. Andrew waved to the others who hastily came over.

  One by one, they untied each man; the only one not to thank them was Bruno, who pulled away ungratefully once he was untied. The bearded man made it seem that he preferred his restraints to being helped by the likes of them. A small part of Peter believed that he would even prefer the company of zombies.

  In an act which shocked all of them, David immediately stepped up to the man who looked on hatefully, not caring for repercussions. In one movement, the Knight Captain punched Bruno in the face, knocking him to the floor.

  David then took him by the scruff of his checked-shirt and looked him squarely in the eyes.

  ‘I do not care for your personal conflicts, Bruno! Either fall in line or leave.’

  Bruno looked close to taking the second option. He opened his mouth, but no words came out, until he finally answered, ‘Yes…sir.’

  David nodded and let him go. ‘Scout, status report.’

  ‘Yes, Knight Captain,’ the scout answered, nervously. ‘We were scouting for new scavenging positions, as ordered, when we were lured in by this gang. They offered us information in exchange for protection. It seems they didn’t need it as they soon tied us up and confiscated our weapons. I suspect they didn’t kill us as they had better use for us. Before interrogating us, the Sighted attacked.’

  ‘The Grandmaster was right, it seems’, David muttered, whilst pinching the bridge of his nose in thought. ‘Shit, I didn’t prepare for this! I should have prepared for this.’

  Sesikweni put his h
and on David’s back. The Captain turned to him. ‘No one could have prepared for this. Even if we knew that this would happen, we couldn’t have abandoned any members of the Knighthood.’

  David nodded, just as the firing above stopped. Everyone looked up at once. Only the indistinct sound of groaning could be heard and the occasional hiss which was muffled by the torrents of rain. A bead of sweat formed on Peter’s brow and he didn’t risk moving to wipe it off. They all remained quiet. For what seemed like hours, they stood. Without noise, many of them had drawn their weapons. Some watched roof, while others stared at the now closed door to the backroom.

  Bruno looked close to bursting until finally, red faced and irritable, he spoke. ‘What the hell are we…’

  The door burst open as a zombie, garbed in the gear of the South African military, burst in, waving an unloaded rifle as a club. One of the scouts lets out a yelp, just as Sesikweni opened fire, killing the infected with one pull of the trigger.

  They would have been happy if that was that, but when it came to zombies, there was never just one. More came, both sighted and blind. They came growling and screeching as the survivors backed away, using their guns and tools in the room to keep the infected at bay.

  A pull of the trigger and a zombie fell, to be replaced by another blood stained infected. Peter stabbed with his long shiv like a Greek Hoplite. Sesikweni and the other knights took up their positions around the room, firing without getting in each other’s way. Peter made sure that no zombie could get any closer.