“Morning.”
“I dreamt that a virus had made everyone sick, and now monsters chased us.” Emma turned her head.
Jack grinned as she looked at the creatures running along the distant shore. He frowned, noticing that their numbers had dropped significantly.
“Oh wait. It’s not a dream,” Emma said. Her mouth twitched into a sardonic grin.
“Are you always so cheerful in the morning?” Jack asked. “Especially in these circumstances?”
“Shush, Grumpy,” Emma groaned, splashing water on her face. “Besides, it could be worse.”
“Worse?”
“Could have been shot.” She laughed. “And at least we’re outside.”
Jack’s tired mind twigged to her reference. “Always look on the bright side, huh?”
“That’s the spirit,” Emma said. “Now, what’s for breakfast?”
“I’ve got some food in my pack. Help me paddle to that pontoon first.” He gestured to a small platform about five hundred metres from the lake shore. Directly beyond it was a campground.
With both of them using their hands to paddle, they made short work of reaching the pontoon. Now that he was closer, Jack could make out its construction: it was simply six forty-four-gallon drums lashed together with wooden planking secured on top to make a square platform. Jack could just picture children swimming out to it and using it to dive into the lake, making as big a splash as possible. He tried to recall what the pastime was called but couldn’t remember. Something like “manus”.
Jack combed through his bright green hiking pack. He kept an emergency box of rations in the bottom. He liked to keep a six-pack of MREs along with protein bars and, of course, chocolate.
He offered an MRE to Emma. “Chicken and noodle. Fresh off the stove.”
“What is that?” Emma said, frowning at the purple and white packaging.
“MRE,” Jack said. “Meals. Ready to Eat.”
Emma raised an eyebrow but accepted the food.
“Look. You can heat it,” Jack said. He spent a minute showing her how to heat the food before doing his own. They floated silently on the pontoon, enjoying the high calorie meal and the light of the sun. Relaxing on the spacious pontoon after the painful excursion on the narrow log that had been their saviour for the last six hours.
Jack kept an eye on the creatures and noted their numbers dwindling as the sun grew in strength. April was his favourite time of year as the last of the summer heat hung around, keeping the days warm though the nights were cool.
“Waiter. I’m ready for my dessert now,” Emma said.
“Chocolate?”
“You have chocolate?” Emma grinned. “And you gave me that MRE? What did you call it again?”
“Meals. Ready to Eat.”
“More like ‘Meals. Regurgitate till empty’.” Emma groaned, holding her stomach.
Jack barked out a laugh. “I’ve heard them called ‘Meals. Requiring enemas’.” He winked.
“I’ll say. Oh well. Beggars can’t be choosers. Now cough up, Townie.”
Jack smiled as he handed her a Whittaker’s peanut slab. He still had a small stash in another compartment, so was confident of it lasting until he reached Dee. Thinking of Dee, Jack cast his eyes north, past the towering bush-covered mountain of Maungatautari to its sister peak, Pirongia. He could just make out the top third and smiled wistfully.
Hold on, Dee.
“You don’t happen to have a first-aid kit in that box of tricks, do you?” Emma asked.
“Sure do.”
He looked down at the wound in his leg as he handed her the kit. Jack was surprised that he hadn’t thought of it since last night. It still throbbed and, inspecting it, he could see that blood had congealed around the torn flesh. It would definitely need some professional attention, and the sooner the better.
Jack set about field-dressing the wound. He swapped items with Emma as she cleaned out the dozens of scratches on her arms and legs. After he’d wrapped a thick bandage around his leg, he spent some time checking that he had no other injuries.
“Can you do the cuts on my back?” Emma said, handing him the tube of disinfectant.
“Okay.”
As they worked, Jack continued to watch the shore. At some point, all the creatures vanished. He strained his ears, listening out for their terrifying howls, but the wilderness remained silent.
“What do you think?” Jack said. “Make a run for it?”
“Yeah. I need to attend to this wound better. Get some stitches.” Emma held up her wrist. “Where are we exactly?”
“I think the town of Arapuni is a little way down that road.”
Emma nodded. “I can’t see any of those things, so I say let’s go.”
Together they propelled the log to a sandy beach that had a concrete boat ramp at one end. Jack patted the log as he shrugged into his pack. It was strange how you could get attached to inanimate objects. The willow log had kept them safe when they’d needed it most. He looked around, scanning his immediate vicinity. Jack knew he needed a weapon. Anything that would give him a better chance at survival. A better chance to see his wife again.
Spotting the campground maintenance shed, he tapped Emma on the shoulder, pointed and took off at a steady jog. He heard her fall in step behind him.
The roller door was up, bathing the shed in natural light. The heavy stench of petrol, oil and cut grass hung in the air. A red ride-on lawnmower lay abandoned on its side, its blades lying haphazardly next to it. Tools were scattered about, as though whoever had been working on the machine had left in a hurry. Jack let his eyes wander over the rest of the workshop. He spotted hammers and chisels. Spanners. Wrenches. Lots of mechanical tools but nothing he was happy using for a weapon. Emma brushed past him and grabbed a jacket off a hook. She turned it over before slipping into it.
Jack walked through the shed but came up weaponless. He went to the door of a smaller room that joined onto the garage and spied exactly what he wanted. Something with a blade. A bachi hoe. It was similar to a pickaxe but had only one wedge-shaped blade, primarily used for digging out weeds or harvesting.
Jack tested its weight, turning it over in his hand. He felt better having something to defend himself against the beasts.
Emma picked up an axe and turned to face him. “I’m a lumberjack, okay?”
Jack shook his head and smiled. “Let’s go.” He pushed past her to stand in the doorway.
“What? No sing-song?”
Jack stopped in his tracks and forced out a breath. Normally he would play along and goof around, but all he wanted was to get back to Dee. He had wasted too much time as it was. Way too much time. “I just want to get home to my wife, okay. So I’m sorry if I don’t join with you in singing the lumberjack song.” Jack pointed outside with his bachi hoe. “Those monsters could come back any second. We need to get around the dam, find a boat and get back on the water. All before getting torn apart.”
Emma held up her hands in mock surrender. “Okay.” She looked down at the floor and murmured something Jack couldn’t hear.
“I’m sorry, Emma. I’m just really tired. Worried, and, to be honest, freaked out by what’s going on.”
“I know, Jack. I am too,” Emma said, grinning. “Serious face from now on.”
Jack grimaced and took a few seconds to refocus. He had always had a short temper. For years he had struggled with keeping it in check. Meditation and not drinking coffee helped, but the stress of the last twenty-four hours weighed heavily on his mind.
“No problem. Let’s just go,” Jack sighed.
Emma led them out of the campground and down the main road of Arapuni. It was a small rural town with only one shop, a dairy, a small convenience-type store, the windows of which lay broken all over the car park. The shelves had been ransacked. Even so, Jack stopped to look and found a few bars of chocolate and some water. The cash register had been smashed open and all the money taken.
Jack shoo
k his head at the destruction. He bet that if he checked, all the tobacco would be gone. It was weird what people took over what they really needed.
They travelled on in silence. Jack searched the left side of the road and Emma took care of the right. The houses here were a mixture of brick and wood. Some were well maintained, while others needed some TLC. There were plenty of vehicles but no boats. On they walked through the small town and out down an empty country road beyond. Jack wanted to try his luck down by Lake Karapiro with its mansions and large farms. Surely one of them had a motorboat?
Emma nudged his side and gestured. Just up ahead was a gated community with a black metal gate framed by two gatehouses.
Jack inched his way forwards and peered in through the gatehouse window. Seeing nothing, he reached through the half window and pressed the green button. The whir of the gate opening brought a smile to his lips. He made eye contact with Emma and followed her through.
Jack gazed into the sky, noting that the sun was dropping slowly to the west. He hoped that the creatures would give them a little more time.
Emma grasped his arm and smiled. Sitting in the driveway of a massive house was a speed boat, sleek, white and shiny, begging to be used. Jack scanned around, hunting for a vehicle, anything that could be used to tow the boat. He peeked in the garage window and grinned.
Sitting inside was a 4x4.
Maybe, just maybe, their luck was changing.
— 8 —
Dee shuddered every time she heard a scream. When she first made it to the river path, all was quiet as she cycled along. But the deeper she got into the city and the closer she got to their house, the more frequent the screams became. Dee stopped her bike near the golf course and crouched down behind some bushes. She had spotted dark figures running across the greens, heading in her direction. After what had happened with Rachel and the creatures that prowled that neighbourhood, she was being cautious.
As the figures drew nearer, Dee could see they were the size of children. She watched their gaits carefully, trying to gauge if they were humans or creatures. The creatures had a strange way of walking, as if their spines had been bent, and they turned their heads constantly.
Dee observed them for a few more moments. Finally, convinced these children were not creatures, she decided she was safe. Standing, she let out a whistle, trying to get their attention. Now that they were closer, she counted five kids. Two were taller, while the other three appeared to be primary school-age. They came to a stop a few metres away. The taller kids were armed with a broomstick and a machete respectively.
Machete held his weapon up, showing Dee he was armed.
“Hey,” Dee said, holding up her hands.
“What do you want?” Machete answered, his voice and manner gruff.
“I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
“We don’t need your help, lady,” Machete said. He waved it around again. “We can look after ourselves.”
Dee nodded and cast her eyes over the smaller children. They clutched each other and stared at her with wide eyes, their sclera shining in the bright moonlight. “Where are your parents?”
Machete nudged Broomstick and chortled. “You’re well munted, ain’t you?” He pointed back past the golf course. “Everyone is dead, girl. Or become one of those things.” He stared at Dee, holding his machete across his chest.
“Why don’t you come back to my house. We can wait for my husband to get back and then we’ll get out of the city.”
“Nah. We’re heading to the posh school across the river. Plenty of food, and we can lock it up good.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. What do you think you’re going to do with a machete and a broomstick against those things?” Dee asked. “We need the army, or guns.”
Machete scoffed and pulled Broomstick’s arm. “C’mon, let’s go.”
They both turned and walked away, ending the conversation. Dee watched them go, torn. She wanted to make sure they were safe, but from the way the smaller children followed the two teenagers, it was obvious that they either knew each other or were a family. A couple of the smaller children looked back as they disappeared into the trees that lined the path.
Sighing, Dee mounted her borrowed bike and pressed on. She thanked Jack silently for his insistence on exploring. They had spent many summer days cycling around the river and along Hamilton’s many bike paths. He’d shown her how they linked into gullies and onto main roads. Dee pictured the route ahead, mapping it out. Judging it by population density. She calculated the risk and figured that it didn’t matter. Sometimes you could plan something to death and a little quirk, some little incident of chance, turned it to chaos.
Dee slowed to take a sharp bend when a scream pealed through the night, followed by shouts and high-pitched squeals. The squeals sounded like children. The children! Dee slammed on the brakes. The screams had come from the direction Machete had taken with the kids. Cursing herself for letting them go, Dee swung her bike around and pushed down hard on the pedals.
The wind whistled in her ears as she raced back down the path, the screams and squeals continuing to guide her. She rounded another bend and skidded to a stop. Three of the creatures had Machete and Broomstick pinned against a tree. Broomstick thrust his weapon at one of the beasts, but it was like poking at a tiger with a straw. The creature snarled and swatted away the stick. The monster still had on a flannel shirt, though it was torn and hanging in shreds.
Dee didn’t pause to think, she reacted purely on instinct. Seeing the creatures hunting the children stirred something deep inside her. A motherly impulse boiled up and burst out.
Dee lifted the bike above her head and smashed it down onto the creature snarling at Broomstick. As the bike connected with its head, it grunted and slumped to the ground. Dee shifted her grip and shoved the bike on top of the middle beast. It shrieked and screeched, clawing at the metal frame.
Machete used the distraction and hacked at the creature in front of him. The blade dug deep into its shoulder. The beast snarled and leapt onto Machete. In a flash it had wrapped its claw-like hands around his neck and latched on. Machete screamed as the creature tore off a chunk his flesh and ripped out his throat. Blood arced out over Dee as she kicked out at the beast under her bike. With a sudden burst of strength, it kicked her to the ground and threw the bike into the bushes.
Dee sat up, gasping for breath. The force of the creature’s throw had knocked the wind from her lungs. Her eyes flicked around, searching for a weapon. Broomstick was leaning against the tree, a hand holding his stomach. Blood seeped through his fingers.
The beast clawed at the ground like a bull and howled into the night sky. Myriad howls answered it. Dee was stunned by the number. A few hours ago these beasts had been just a rumour, just grainy footage on the news. Now they were a nightmarish reality.
“Throw me the broom!” Dee cried out, her hand outstretched. She jumped to her feet and caught the broomstick. Immediately she snapped it over her knee, and just in time. The creature lunged at her.
Dee thrust her makeshift spear into its chest and it fell backwards, landing with a thump. The broomstick carried on through the deformed beast. It howled in agony and snapped its weird mouth at Dee.
Bringing her legs up, she used her thighs to hug the creature and hunted for the other broken half of the broom. Howls reverberated from the direction of the golf course, joining the cacophony of sounds that pounded her head. Dee was having trouble focussing. More and more howls drew closer. She needed to end this, and fast.
“Help me!” she called out to Broomstick. She heard a grunt and felt a thud on the ground. Broomstick had collapsed. He was struggling to hold out the other end of the broken stick, his fingers coated in his own blood.
Dee let out a scream of frustration, grasped the stick firmly and drove it into the skull of the beast, finally silencing it. She pushed it away and clambered groggily to her feet, a stick in each hand.
The creat
ure feeding on Machete was ignoring her, so engrossed in its meal it didn’t sense Dee as she jogged up behind it and drove a stick through its head. It gurgled once and fell down next to the dead teenager. Dee glimpsed the mess it had made of Machete and stumbled back, bile rising in her throat. She clenched her teeth and swallowed.
Pivoting, she searched behind her for the sources of the howls she had heard. Dark smudges moved across the greens of the golf course, confirming they were still on her trail. Looking for food. Hunting.
The creature she had knocked unconscious stirred and rolled over. Dee chastised herself for not finishing it off.
Rule #2: Double tap.
She grunted and drove the other broken stick through its skull. It sank in as if the creature’s skull was made of clay.
“Lady. Up here,” a small voice whispered.
Dee glanced up and blinked rapidly. Machete and Broomstick had been stupid thinking they could hide out in the school, but they had been brave in their instinct to sacrifice themselves to protect the children.
“Jump down. Hurry,” Dee said.
The child shook his head and pointed behind her. “They’re coming.”
Reaching down, Dee extracted the blood-covered machete from the dead creature and hauled herself up the tree. Like many of the trees lining the river, it was a weeping willow and had thick branches that draped down over the water. Dee eyed the fast-flowing Waikato River and weighed up her options. If it came down to it, she would dive in with the kids and float downstream. Anything to get away from the claws and teeth of the beasts.
The shrieks of the monsters grew louder as they drew closer. A whole pack was now moving across the greens. Dee noted how they paused and sniffed the air before moving again. If a new beast joined the pack, the others would smell it, shriek at each other and move on.
As she huddled in the tree with the children, several creatures broke away from the pack and sprinted towards them. She guessed the blood of Machete and Broomstick was like candy to them, like the smell of baking bread to humans.
The Rule of Three (Extinction New Zealand Book 1) Page 5
