The Rule of Three (Extinction New Zealand Book 1)

by Adrian J. Smith

  They scurried along the corridor, their joints popping as they moved. Jack risked a peek through his semi-closed eyelids as his heart pounded harder against his chest. Two of the beasts had stopped a few metres away and were sniffing the human stuck to the wall in front of them. Jack couldn’t help but look. Scared as he was at being discovered, his natural curiosity begged him to observe these strange creatures.

  Perhaps if I learn their routines, I can find a weakness.

  One of the creatures used its claw-like appendages to quickly saw through a membrane, and as he watched, a blonde-haired woman dropped to the floor with a thud. Jack flinched at the sound of her body hitting the concrete. The other monster bent down. Its tongue flicked out and licked the woman’s face. The monster scooped her up with ease and flung her over its shoulder. It made a weird clicking sound to the other beast before the pair turned and scurried away.

  Jack was about to look away when a shadow to one side caught his attention.

  A short, overweight man with a red trucker’s cap loomed into the light. He scratched his butt and looked over towards Jack. He spat on the floor next to a red-haired woman and reached up and groped her breasts.

  “Pity. This one’s pretty,” Trucker-cap said, his voice bouncing off the walls.

  He kissed the woman and shuffled off after the creatures.

  A man was walking around in this place of horrors, unscathed?

  Jack’s foggy mind struggled to comprehend it. He inhaled to call out to him for help, but some innate sense stopped him. He just stared as the man walked away down the corridor. The whole thing felt wrong to Jack. Very, very wrong. He wanted answers. Needed answers.

  Where am I?

  How long have I been here?

  What is this place?

  Why is that creep walking around when the rest of us are stuck to the walls?

  With renewed determination, Jack redoubled his efforts to get free. He wanted to see Dee again. To see those beautiful, smiling eyes. To feel her reassuring touch. He needed her. When Dee was around, everything seemed right.

  He wondered what was happening to her. She must surely be really worried about him by now.

  With both arms now free, he started working on liberating his legs. Pulling, tearing, twisting. Jack tried biting it with his teeth but the membrane tasted foul, like rotten lemons. It burned his lips and the roof of his mouth. He tried to ignore the taste but the more he bit into it, the more it burned.

  Finally, he got one leg free and was able to twist his body. With one last shove, Jack wrenched the rest of his body free and landed on the floor with a thud. Cringing, he glanced down the corridor in the direction the creatures had gone, followed by Trucker-cap. Seeing nothing and, more importantly, hearing nothing, he gingerly got to his feet. As soon as he put weight on his right leg, he winced in pain. He quickly adjusted his weight off the leg. A blood-stained bandage was wrapped around it. Removing the bandage, Jack found a gash that ran twenty centimetres up his thigh from his knee, cutting deep into the skin. Congealed blood had crusted around the wound but plasma was beginning to seep, thanks to his recent activity.

  Jack looked left and right before quietly removing his pack. He opened the bottom compartment, pulling out the outdoorman’s best friend: a roll of duct tape. Tearing off a segment, he closed the wound as best he could and wrapped the bandage back around his leg. Happy with his field dressing, he tested his weight on the injured leg. It still throbbed, but with the new strapping it felt marginally better.

  Time to leave.

  Warm air flowed over him as he made his way down the long corridor. With no other plan coming to mind, Jack had decided to head towards the humming sound. Treading carefully down the centre of the corridor, he kept his focus straight ahead. He dared not look to either side, at the other victims strung up like slaughtered cattle. Waiting to be butchered and fed upon.

  Jack didn’t want to put any faces into his memory, traumatised as it was. What if he saw someone he knew? Could he deal with that? What if he saw Dee? This last thought made him pause and crouch down. Forcing himself to breathe slow and deep, Jack looked farther down the corridor. About halfway down was a door with a big red sign on it, but the text was unintelligible. With something to focus on, he was about to rise when something moved at the edge of his vision. Half stumbling, he fell back on his arse. Staring into his eyes was a young red-haired boy, his ice blue eyes piercing. Jack knew him, and as he stared back, his tired, traumatised mind cleared.

  Shivering in the river, half floating, half swimming, Jack could see the creatures on the banks. There seemed to be packs of them. Never entering the water. They weren’t afraid, just unsure…

  Following him, they gathered into larger packs. Screeching. Howling. Spitting.

  Occasionally their heads would lift, sniffing the air, and they would tear off with excited howls, gone for a time. Jack enjoyed these interludes. He didn’t feel so on edge, waiting for one of them to pluck up the courage and dive in for him. But they returned…always. And in greater numbers.

  He laughed to himself; they were like the sandpeople! If Dee was here, she would be telling Jack to be serious, but this was his superpower. His coping mechanism. Always finding the silly side of something, or finding a movie or TV reference in anything. He had once been on the wrong side of an armed robbery and had had a gun pointed at his head. This was how he’d got through the trauma.

  He remembered meeting Emma, the two of them floating down the river and onto Lake Arapuni. Their search for a boat, the run in with Duke and his men. His escape.

  Finding Sarah and George in the school. Cambridge and the evac centre. Rescuing Emma. The creatures ambushing them. The big leader and the darkness.

  Jack remembered it all.

  Right in front of him, the same boy held out his arm to Jack, his ice blue eyes pleading. Jack shook his head. Fate was strange. Rising to his knees, he remembered he had a little Swiss Army Knife in his first aid kit. Praying the creatures wouldn’t hear him, he searched his pack, hurrying. Pulling out the knife, he made quick work of the strange muck holding George to the wall.

  George collapsed into his arms, whimpering. He eased the boy down to the ground and gave him the water valve. Seeing the liquid move along the tube, he searched around for Sarah.

  Jack jogged a few metres up the corridor, now looking at each face. Searching. Blonde hair? No. Move on. He saw kids, adults, elderly, Maori, European, Asian, Pacific. It really didn’t matter. Everyone was here. The population. Food. Not seeing Sarah, Jack knew he and George needed to keep moving. Lingering any longer increased risk of discovery.

  — 19 —

  Jack lifted George into his arms and made his way towards the door with the red sign, continuing to search faces as he went. Not seeing Sarah, he hurried on, eager to get out of sight. Eager to eat something. Eager to leave this cursed place.

  He could see the sign on the door now: SWITCH ROOM. The walls on either side looked new, with fresh green paint.

  Jack tried the handle. Grinning as it turned, he hurried through. As he put George down, the boy whimpered. He crouched down till he was at eye level. George stared at him vacantly. In that fleeting moment, he realised all the horror the poor kid had seen in the last few days. Grasping his shoulder, Jack comforted him.

  “You’re safe now, George.”

  George blinked his eyes rapidly but remained silent.

  Jack frowned and let out a breath as he took in the layout of the large room. On either side of the door were storage lockers. On the left- and right-hand walls stood rows of metal cupboards. In the far-right corner were more storage lockers. A small hand basin stood in the far-left corner, while a small window was set centrally in the wall opposite. Bright sunlight shone onto the floor of the room. Opening one of the cupboards revealed panels of switches similar to those on a household meter board, but industrial-scale. Jack read the labels: UTILITY ROOM; TURBINE ROOM; GATE HOUSE and smiled. He knew what these were. They c
ontrolled power to the various rooms of whatever building he was in. Jack scanned the labels again. Turbine Room stood out. You normally only found turbines in power stations.

  Moving to the small window set in the opposite wall, he looked out. Below him surged a river.

  And then all the clues added up. The switch labels, the north-facing dam, the large river below it… The mighty Waikato River.

  And we’re in the bloody dam! They’re imprisoning us in the dam! Why?

  Jack gazed out the window, hoping for further clues as to which hydro-electric dam they were in.

  “Mum?” croaked George.

  “What’s up buddy?” Jack said, hurrying over.

  “I want my mum.”

  Jack paused. Do I tell him the truth? Sugarcoat it? He went for in between.

  “Still out there, buddy. You and I are going to be like Spiderman and save her. What do you think of that?”

  George nodded in agreement, his eyes cast to the floor.

  “You must be hungry, eh?” Jack said, lifting George’s chin up and wiping away his tears.

  “Yup,” George whispered.

  “Okay buddy, you hang in there. I just want to barricade this door first, okay?”

  Jack quickly searched the room for anything to lean up against the door. He didn’t want to drag anything across the floor, so the lockers were out.

  He moved past the metal switch cupboards to the back of the room where the storage lockers were. They were set against adjacent walls and a gap had been left in the corner. It was perfect. It wouldn’t help against any monsters, but it might be of use if the fat guy came along.

  Collecting George, he hoisted him up to sit on top of the lockers, then hauled himself up and down the other side and lifted George down. Pulling all his clothes out of his pack, he made them into a sort of bean bag to sit on. Jack opened his snack box.

  “Chocolate?”

  The little red-head kid smiled at him as he handed him a bar of Whittaker’s. They ate in silence, enjoying the sweet treat.

  Jack looked down at George eating and thought about the other boy he’d tried to save. The creatures had attacked them so fast he’d had no time to save Flatcap and his family. Jack pushed the image of the little boy being torn apart from his mind. Now was not the time to dwell on it. He glanced at George again. Chocolate smeared around his face.

  Jack reached out and ruffled his hair, grinning at the little fighter. “Well, George, how do we get out of the Pit of Despair?”

  George shrugged his shoulders, rested his head against Jack’s chest and fell asleep.

  Jack stared out the window a long time, turning everything over in his mind. He ran through a thousand scenarios trying to figure a way to escape, but kept drawing a blank.

  Finally, he let sleep take him.

  — 20 —

  Dee stirred in the bottom of the boat and stretched out her cramped legs. She could see Boss hunched over the steering wheel. Focused on keeping the boat in the middle of the river.

  The pack of Variants had tracked them upriver all night, screeching at them. Howling at them. Dee had watched them for hours, cringing inwardly every time they uttered a sound. It was a noise that no matter how many times you heard it, it never got easier to bear.

  Dee was surprised she had fallen asleep. Her nerves were a tattered mess. Searching the river banks, there was no sign of the monsters now. She glanced up at the sky, thankful for the sunshine. It gave them a chance to move on land.

  “Hey.” She smiled, looking at Boss.

  “Hey.” Boss turned and yawned. “About time you woke up.”

  “Why didn’t you wake me. I would’ve taken the wheel.”

  “You looked exhausted.”

  “Any idea where we are?” Dee said, standing.

  “Still out in farming land, by the smell. Variants buggered off about an hour ago.”

  “About time. Don’t know if I could’ve handled that much longer. I felt like a goldfish being watched by a ravenous cat.”

  “What do you mean? You slept all night.”

  “Well, someone had to.” Dee smiled. She scanned around, searching. “C’mon. Let’s find some food. And we really need a gun. Farmers are good for guns, right?”

  “Yeah, I suppose.” Boss shrugged and yawned again.

  He spun the wheel and moved the boat closer towards the shore. Dee stood next to him and gripped her katana as she searched the bank for Variants, fearful of them darting out of the shadows. Swarming the boat and tearing them apart. They waited in the boat with the engine switched off. Dee could hear birds and insects and the rustle of trees in the late morning breeze but everything else remained silent. Satisfied, she tapped Boss on the shoulder and leapt from the boat.

  “Let’s go. Silently,” Dee whispered.

  Dee and Boss kept to the tree line. Creeping along, they tracked inland, making for one of the houses. It was a single-storey brick home with a large deck extending from the back. A couple of large sheds lay adjacent. Keeping to the shadows of the trees, Dee and Boss cautiously came up one side. They stopped a few metres from the back door. Heart pounding, Dee gripped the katana for comfort. She looked for any signs of occupants, or Variants. Glancing left and right, she came up clear. Not a sound came from the house.

  “What do you think?” Dee said, nudging Boss.

  “I don’t know?” Boss said, shrugging.

  Dee forced herself to remain calm. She wasn’t used to dealing with a teenager’s attitude. She let out a breath. “Boss, I’m sorry you didn’t get any sleep last night, all right? But right now we need to focus on getting some food, and hopefully a gun or two. Something to better fight the Variants with. So let’s just do this, then get back to the boat. You can get some sleep then, okay?”

  “Okay, sure, cool, whatever. But we need petrol too.”

  Dee waited for Boss to add anything else. When he didn’t, she rose up and headed for the back door.

  As Dee approached the door, she could see it was open a crack. Frowning, her heart skipped a beat. She peered in through the gap. No movement. No tell-tale rotten fruit smell. Looking back at Boss, she raised a finger to her lips.

  Dee pushed the door open wider with the tip of her katana. Inside, she could see the kitchen. Drawers had been pulled out, cupboards opened and emptied. Ransacked. It looked like the only food left was dried pasta and rice.

  Dee and Boss slowly made their way through the kitchen and into the living area of the house. Arriving at the bedrooms, she could see that whoever had lived here had made a hasty retreat. Unpacked clothes lay on the beds, along with personal items too big to fit in suitcases.

  Damn! I wonder if they have any guns?

  Boss moved to the wardrobes, rummaging through them. “Hey, Dee, these would be handy.” He held out two fleece zip-up jackets.

  “Definitely, nice find. Keep looking. I’m going to hunt for food, okay?”

  “Yeah, all right. What else should we grab?”

  “See if you can find a couple of backpacks.”

  Dee headed into the other rooms, searching. Coming up empty-handed, she went back to Boss searching around in the master bedroom.

  “Find anything else?”

  “Nah,” Boss said.

  Dee ran her hands through her hair and sighed. “All right. Let’s try that other house we saw. I think we should hurry though.”

  “We should grab that rice and pasta, at least,” Boss murmured. “And what about guns?”

  “I figure the family living here took them when they cleared out.”

  “We should at least check the garage. Or those sheds,” Boss said. “We need petrol for the boat.”

  “Okay.” Dee nodded.

  The sheds had the usual open fronts. Dee could see a couple of big farm machines taking up most of the space. She had no idea what they did. With all the prongs and blades poking out, they looked like some medieval torture devices. She sighed. If Jack was here he’d be telling her about some hor
ror movie he’d watched. Even acting out a scene where the machines had been used to kill someone.

  “Dee? You okay?” Boss said, frowning at her.

  Dee blinked away her thoughts of Jack and looked around the sheds. “Fine.”

  “What about in there?” Boss said, pointing at a white metal cabinet in the far back corner. It had dirt encrusted tarps stacked on top of it and several containers of nauseating liquid piled beside it. Some of the container lids were lying scattered on the floor. Dee shook her head at the mess.

  “Yes. It’s a possibility.”

  Dee hurried over. Deep gouges and scratches on the doors became visible as she drew nearer, and the heavy padlock had been cut and tossed aside. Someone had beaten them to it again.

  Dee growled inwardly and clenched her hands into fists. She was frustrated, hungry and tired. All she wanted was to find Jack and get to the cabin. When he hadn’t shown up back at the house for over ten days, she had assumed the worst. Only determination and her love for Jack had kept her going. She could feel the weight falling off her from the lack of food and the now-constant fear of the creatures. Creatures from some sick nightmare. Variants, Boss called them. Dee wondered, for the hundredth time, Variants of what?

  Dee felt a slight breeze on her neck, she pivoted and gasped. A shotgun was pointing straight at her. Another was at Boss’s head. Two tall, overweight men held them. Dee looked down the barrel and into the hard brown eyes of her captor, who was grinning at her, missing front teeth. Dee cursed herself. She’d been so caught up in her thoughts she hadn’t heard the men approach.

  Missing Teeth winked at her. “Hello, sweetcheeks. You looking for these?” He waggled the gun.

  “Yeah, we were, actually. Want to give them to us?” Dee glared back as she inched her hand towards her katana strapped to her back.

  “Naughty. Naughty,” Missing Teeth said. “Hands where I can see them.”

  Dee held up her hands. “What do you want?”