Extinction NZ (Book 1): The Rule of Three

by Adrian J. Smith

  Jack laughed. “In here?”

  “Yes,” Sarah answered, with a challenging look.

  He ducked through to see George disappearing down a trapdoor. He turned back to Sarah, grinning. “Sorry.”

  They waited out the terror, down there in the utility space, all night. They only heard the occasional screech. George fell asleep between them, nestled into Sarah. With not enough room for either of the adults to stretch out, it had been a restless night.

  The next day, they set out at midday, knowing they had at least three hours to reach Cambridge and find a boat. Sarah suggested a speed boat cruising company that had boats moored at a jetty.

  They made good time, and were searching for the boat when they were ambushed. A black blur knocked the wind out of Jack. Hitting the ground, he could have sworn he saw a giant figure with spiky shoulders standing in the distance, pointing and growling out orders. The last thing Jack saw was George holding out his hand to him, pleading. A creature lent toward his face and squirted a hot, stinging liquid, then everything went dark…

  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 meters 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. Making his way back to George, he hefted him up into his arms and made his way toward the door with the red sign, continuing to search faces as he went.

  Jack could see the sign on the door now: SWITCH ROOM. The walls on either side looked new. Trying the handle, it thankfully gave, and he hurried through. As he put George down, the boy whimpered. He crouched down till he was at eye level with the child, who was staring 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. “We’ll survive, George. We have to.”

  He took in the layout of the large room. To either side of the door were storage lockers. Then, down the left- and right-hand walls stood rows of metal cupboards. In the far right corner were more of the storage lockers. A small handbasin 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. He read the labels: UTILITY ROOM; TURBINE ROOM; GATE HOUSE.

  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 river was the mighty Waikato River.

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

  George murmured something, so he hurried over.

  “What’s up, buddy?”

  “Mum?” croaked George.

  Jack paused. Do I tell him the truth? Sugarcoat it? Deciding, 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?”

  He barely saw George nod his head in agreement. “You must be hungry, eh?”

  This time he got a better response. “Okay buddy, you hang in there. I just want to barricade this door first, ok?”

  Jack quickly searched the room for anything to lean up against the door. He didn’t want to drag anything across the floor. Seeing nothing, he started looking for alternatives.

  Jack moved past the metal switch cupboards to the back of the room, to 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. Then Jack opened up his often-sniggered-at snack box.

  Who’s laughing now, eh?

  Handing George some chocolate, the little red-head kid smiled at him. They ate in silence, enjoying the sweet chocolate.

  Jack looked down at George eating, and thought about the other boy he’d tried to save. I don’t want to lose another to those things.

  With some hope for escaping this nightmare, Jack grinned at the little fighter. “Well, George, how do we get out of the Pit of Despair?”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Dee stirred in the bottom of the boat and stretched out her cramped legs. She could see Boss, who was focused on keeping the boat in the middle of the river. The pack of Variants had tracked them upriver all night, screeching at them. Dee was surprised she had fallen asleep. Her nerves were a tattered mess. Searching the riverbanks, there was no sign of the monsters.

  “Hey.” She smiled, looking at Boss.

  “Yeah!” Boss scowled back.

  Dee shook her head, but let it go. “Any idea where we are?”

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

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

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

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

  Boss shrugged. “Yeah, I suppose.”

  Turning the wheel, he moved the boat closer toward the shore. Dee gripped her Katana as she searched the banks for the Variants, fearful of them darting out of the shadows.

  Dee and Boss kept to the tree line. Creeping along, they tracked inland, making for one of the houses. It was a single story 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 meters from the back door. Heart pounding in her chest, Dee gripped the Katana for comfort. She looked for any signs of the occupants, or Variants. Glancing left and right, she came up clear. Not a sound came from the house.

  Crouching down, she nudged Boss. “What do you think?”

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

  Dee forced herself to remain calm. She wasn’t use 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 ajar. Frowning, her heart skipped a beat. She peered into the house through the gap. No movement. No telltale rotten fruit smell. Looking back at Boss, she raised a finger to her lips.

  Dee pushed the door open 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 hous
e. 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.”

  “All right, sure.”

  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?”

  Boss turned around, still holding the jackets in one hand. “Nah.”

  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,” replied Dee.

  “Yeah, but we should at least check the garage. Or those sheds.”

  Nodding, she agreed. Dee and Boss retraced their steps, collecting the dried food on their way out, and made their way to the sheds.

  The sheds had open fronts, typical for New Zealand farm machinery sheds. Walking up to them, she could see a couple of big farm machines taking up most of the space. Boss pointed to a metal cabinet in the far corner. “What about in there?”

  Dee looked toward where Boss was pointing. “Yes! That’s what we want.”

  Hurrying over, deep gouges and scratches on the doors became visible. Damn it! Someone had beat them to it again. She was frustrated. And hungry. 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 kept her going. Fear of the Variants tore at her soul. Shredded nerves, little sleep, no shower. Dee could feel the weight falling off her from the lack of calories.

  Smiling to herself, she clenched and unclenched her fists. I suppose the apocalypse is good for something.

  Turning around to talk to Boss, she faced a new horror. A shotgun, 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, showing missing front teeth.

  He swiped one hand through his messy, sweaty brown hair. “Hello, sweetcheeks. You looking for these?” He waggled the gun slightly.

  Dee glared back at him. “Yeah, we were, actually. Want to give them to us?”

  Missing Teeth pulled his head back, laughing. “You're funny. And cute too. This is going to be fun.” He gestured toward a wooden pallet with the gun. “Go sit over there. If you seem like you’re enjoying it, I’ll put a good word in with the monsters.”

  The reality of the situation dawned on her. Rape. Even at the end of the bloody world, these bastards just wanted to get their leg over! Typical.

  Trying her best to pacify the situation, she looked directly at Missing Teeth. Holding out her hands, palms facing down, she said, “Guys, c’mon please. It should be us against the Variants. Not this!”

  “Variants?”

  “Yes, Variants. The Americans call them Variants.”

  Missing Teeth glared at her. He had an angry scowl on his face. Dee thought she saw a hint of confusion flit across his eyes before he spat on the floor. “Look, sweetcheeks, I don’t give a toss what some Yankee Doodle Dandy called them. Simon and I are going to have a little fun with you. SO MOVE YOUR ARSE, NOW!”

  Missing Teeth grabbed Dee by her shirt front and hauled her to her feet. Dee started screaming as loud as she could. Struggling against the man’s grip, she kicked out at his shins.

  “It’ll do you no good. It’s just us. Soon you’ll be with our monster friends. So kick and scream all you want.”

  Boss started struggling with Simon, trying to wrestle the gun away from him, but Simon was too strong, too quick. Simon leant back and swung the gun stock, connecting with Boss’s head in a savage blow. Boss hit the ground like a sack of potatoes.

  Dee watched him thud to the ground. “He’s just a kid, you bastards!” she screamed at the men.

  Missing Teeth and Simon just laughed as they dragged her over to a wooden pallet covered with wool sacks. Then both of them started whooping and hollering like a couple of boozed-up teenagers.

  Dee fought with everything she had. There was no way they were going to take her. She had fought off guys before. In a flash, a memory flitted through her mind. She blamed the rape culture for the way men thought they were entitled to act.

  A water-filled quarry. Dee and her friends were enjoying the last of the summer before university. A few drinks in the sun. She fell asleep under a tree while her friends swam out to the rock in the middle of the lake.

  Dee woke to a rough, callused hand over her mouth and hands grabbing roughly at her. She struggled and fought like a trapped cat. Finally, she connected with a well-timed knee to the groin. The man tumbled off her, clutching his balls. He rolled around on the ground, cursing at her. A red mist descended over her. She picked up a nearby rock and smashed the man in the head. Again and again and again. Another man Dee hadn’t seen tackled her, knocking her to the ground and out of her rage. Seeing her friends running up from the lake shore, the second man ran off. Dee looked down at the rock she still held. She could see blood and grey brain matter, and tiny fragments of skull. She promptly doubled over and vomited.

  The police arrived and took Dee away in an ambulance. Later they arrested her for manslaughter.

  A lengthy emotional and soul-destroying trial ensued. It exposed Dee to a very corrupt and male-favoured system. Psychiatric evaluations deemed her fit for trial, but thankfully she was found not guilty by means of self-defence. The media called her the mouse that roared. The rapist's family yelled daily abuse at her. After, she withdrew from society, finding comfort in books. In movies. In gaming. Where people are essentially anonymous.

  It took meeting a special guy to bring her out of her shell. To live life on the outside again.

  Dee would always remember the stench of his breath. A mixture of cheap bourbon and cannabis.

  Remembering this, Dee renewed her efforts. Struggling. Scratching. Kicking. She managed to bite Missing Teeth’s hand.

  He just grinned at her. “Hmmm… I like it went they fight.” To Simon, he said, “Hold the bitch's legs down.”

  Simon grabbed both her flailing legs in a vice-like grip. Together, the men managed to wrestle her onto the pallet.

  Dee looked up into Missing Teeth’s eyes, silently pleading with him. Searching for some decency.

  She didn’t even hear the first gunshot. As she watched, Missing Teeth’s head exploded, brains and skull splattering all over her. His body slumped, pinning her legs.

  She heard the next couple of shots and saw Simon look down at the gaping holes in his chest. His lifeless body toppled over. She pushed Missing Teeth’s body off and scrambled up, then looked down at his nearly headless body. Anger boiled up, and she spat on him. Asshole.

  “You all right?”

  Dee spun toward the source of the voice. A stocky, muscular man with a long wizard beard and white hair approached her. He was dressed in green cargo pants, a green shirt, and one of those vests Dee had seen special ops men wear in movies.

  “You all right?” he asked again.

  Dee shook her head. Too many things were happening at once today. “Y…Yeah, I think so.” Then she remembered Boss. “Boss?”

  “Sorry, what?”

  “Boss. Sorry, I mean the kid?” Locating him, she pointed at Boss.

  “He’ll be fine. He took a nasty blow to the head, though.”

  Finding her manners, Dee held out her hand. “I�
��m Dee. The kid, we, well...I call him Boss. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. I’m Ben. Ben Johns.” The man looked around, eyes alert. “I don’t mean to rush you, but we need to move, I don’t know how many of those creatures have been alerted by the gunshots. Let’s grab the kid and go.”

  “We’ve got a boat tied up down at the river. The Variants won’t come in the water.”

  “Variants? You call them Variants too, huh?” A bemused look crossed Ben’s face.

  “Umm, yeah, ah. Boss had an old ham radio going, and he talked to some Americans. They called them Variants.”

  “Oh, right. Well, the Variants, they are smart bastards, and fast. Why don’t you come back to my bunker. I’ve got food, water, and medical supplies. It’s held them out for now.”

  She searched Ben’s eyes, and found honesty and kindness. She nodded, more to herself than to him. “All right, thank you.”

  Ben and Dee grabbed an arm each and hauled Boss to his feet. He was coming to, but was still quite groggy. Ben led them to a 4x4 parked next to a red ute. They pushed Boss onto the back seat, lying him down. Dee grabbed one of the fleece jackets they had found, and placed it under his head.

  Pulling out of the farm driveway onto the tarmac-sealed road, Ben pointed the 4x4 east and picked up speed.

  “Here, use these to clean some of that muck off you.” Ben handed Dee some tissues.

  “Thanks.”

  “I’m not far. About fifteen minutes.”

  She nodded. She couldn’t figure it out. Why had Ben been there? She was more than grateful, of course. She looked down at the rifle sitting between them. It was black, but had a long, fat, extended barrel. It looked military. Not like the ones her Dad used to use. Ben looked and acted like military. With shooting like that, and the calm way he acted, she guessed he was ex-army.

  “So...look, thanks for saving us back there.”

  Ben glanced over and smiled, stroked his long bushy beard. “You’re welcome. I couldn't stand by and let them do that. It’s not right. Even in these terrifying times, there are rules. Moral rules.”