Last Another Day Read Online Free Page B

town.

3

Chapter 3 - Logan
    Logan fumbled in the Land Rover's cabinet for his sunglasses, squinting into the glare of the rising sun. He'd been driving throughout most of the night and was worn out. A glance at the rearview mirror showed him haggard eyes and stress lines around the mouth.
    In front of him, the road stretched as straight as an arrow in the monotonous tedium of the flat, dry landscape, offering nothing to distract the eye. Even this early, the sun scorched all it touched.
    He'd never liked the Free State and escaped from both it and his parents the moment he finished school. Now he was back.
    In the distance, a man walked beside the road, carrying a military duffel bag. He slowed. The man was a soldier, dressed in field gear and carrying a sidearm and rifle.
    Logan sighed. Should he pull over or not? He wasn’t in the mood for company but it couldn’t be fun walking in this heat. The Land Rover rolled to a stop.
    The soldier turned to face the open window with a look of wary caution.
    “Do you need a lift?” Logan asked.
    “Yeah, I could use one. Where are you headed?”
    “Welkom.”
    “That's where I'm going. I'm Max.”
    “Logan.”
    Max got in and they settled into an awkward silence as Logan pulled away. Max looked to be in his late twenties, with dark blond hair and green eyes. He was big too—tall with broad shoulders and a serious, clean-cut face.
    Typical soldier boy.
    Logan had been too much of a free spirit and rebel to tolerate the rigidity of the army. Instead, he found a job as a game ranger. He spent most of his time roaming the bushveld with his rifle and a tracker as his only company.
    Max coughed. “Have you watched the news lately? Lots of strange stuff going on, don't you think?”
    “I've seen it. It's all over the radio too. Something about a viral outbreak.”
    Max was silent for a while as if weighing his next words. “It's real you know. It's not a story, and it's worse than it looks on TV. A lot worse.” His fidgeted with his cell phone, face pinched. “That's why I'm headed home.”
    “The army let you go? Don't they need you?”
    “I pulled strings for a three-day furlough to check on my family, then I'll head back.”
    Logan looked at Max askance, wondering how honest the guy was being about his 'three-day furlough'. Logan doubted the army would let him go in a time of National crisis.
    None of my business.
    “Besides, I've got a feeling not even the army can turn the tide on this one,” Max continued.
    “Meaning?”
    “Meaning we're in big shit.”
    “That bad?” Logan asked, his voice laced with skepticism. “What are you saying, exactly?”
    “What I'm saying is, it might be too late already. This disease is extremely contagious. It kills you then brings you back to life as a cannibal.”
    “Brings you back to life?” Logan snorted. “That's impossible.”
    Max shrugged. “Believe what you want.”
    “You're talking zombies here.”
    Max nodded.
    “That's crazy.”
    “That's what everybody else thought. Until it was too late.”
    Silence reigned as Logan digested this information, adding it to what he'd gleaned from the radio and TV. It was ludicrous. And yet...
    Logan’s mind drifted back to his childhood. None of it had been pleasant, but at least, the intervening fifteen years had done much to blur the worst of it.
    His father was an alcoholic and a wife beater. Once Logan became old enough to take a punch, his father hit him too. Logan's mother always made excuses for the man, saying they deserved it by angering him.
    As a young boy, Logan believed her at first, trying ever harder to please his father. As time passed, though, he came to recognize his father for what he was—a bully and a coward. He also grew to resent his mother for failing to protect him. After school, he packed his bags and left, never looking back.
    Now, with reports of a mysterious disease spreading, he found himself heading back home.
    Why?
    Love?
    Loneliness?
    He had no