“Is this to do with the missing people?”
“Could be.”
Jack raised an eyebrow. “Bad?”
“’Fraid so.”
“Better talk to the sergeant then.”
Hone nodded and looked at the other soldiers.
Jack remembered his manners. “Sorry, Hone. This is Yalonda and Boss,” he said, gesturing to each Renegade. “Boss has been with Dee and I since the beginning. Yalonda joined us a couple of months back.”
“Boss?” Hone questioned.
“Long story for another time.”
Hone turned to Boss before looking back at Jack. “You picking up stray Maoris now?” He grinned. “What’s your real name, Boss?”
“Virgil,” Boss mumbled, looking at the ground in front of him.
Hone chortled. “You’re right. Best stick with Boss.” Hone reached out, slapping Boss on the back.
Jack laughed with Hone and Tama, enjoying the all-too-brief moment of amusement.
Then Hone tapped on the roof with his whalebone taiaha and checked his mere was secure. “Let’s go see the sergeant, then.”
Jack thumbed his radio. “Hone is here. On our way down. Over.”
“Copy that. Meet you inside the service station. Caro, stay topside. I want eyes north at all times. Out.”
Jack checked to see if Yalonda had heard. She nodded confirmation. “Wilco, out.”
— 3 —
The thin mist swirled around Jack as he swivelled his AR-15 from side to side. He hadn’t seen, heard or smelt any Variants for over two hours. Something he found puzzling.
Operation Utu was simple. Land on the mainland at an easily defendable town. Fortify it. Slowly push the electric fences out. Three months they had been at it now. The Variants had attacked in huge numbers for the first two months, with both sides experiencing heavy losses. Mahana had designed his fortifications well, using the same methods as his Maori ancestors. Building Pa and trenches. For the last month, the Variants had attacked in smaller numbers, allowing teams like the Renegades to push farther inland.
Jack glanced left and right down the main street of Paeroa before jogging across to the service station. He could see Simpson and Dee inside. Simpson was short and wiry. His eyes constantly flicked from one thing to another, something Jack found disconcerting.
Dee looked up and smiled at him, holding the door as Jack, Hone, Tama and Boss filed into the shop.
“Hone, Tama,” said Dee, embracing the two Maori warriors. “So good to see you again.”
“And you, pretty lady. If you ever get tired of Jack, you know where to come,” said Hone, winking.
“Aren’t you married?”
“Yeah, but Maori chiefs take many wives.”
“Well, in that case…” Dee giggled and blew a kiss at Jack.
Jack smiled at the banter.
“Ahem,” Simpson cleared his throat, interrupting. “If you guys have finished, we have a war on. Battles to be won. Variants to kill.”
Hone turned around, flexing his chest. “You must be the sergeant?”
“Staff Sergeant Colin Simpson,” he replied, tapping the three chevrons on his shoulder. “You must be Hone. The Colonel said you were a bit different.” Simpson waved his hand at the ta moko tattoo that adorned Hone’s face. “I don’t know if different is the right word, though.”
“How so, Simpson?”
“Just that you’ve gone back to your native ways.”
“So what word would you use, to describe me?”
“Forget it. I meant no offence. We have a mission to plan. Captain Johns tells me that you know a back way into the laboratory.”
“Yeah I do, but I just want to know what word you would best describe me as? Someone you have never met before. I’m curious, Staff Sergeant.”
Simpson shook his head and stood his ground, glaring at Hone. “Always so aggressive, you Maori. No wonder most of you ended up in prison.”
Jack exchanged a look with Hone and Dee, frowning.
Hone took a step closer to the sergeant—he had at least half a foot in height on him—grabbed him by the collar and slammed him against the wall. “It’s a different world now, mate. Racists like you don’t belong. I could kill you now and no one would care.”
Simpson brought his arms up and slammed Hone in the chest, breaking his hold. Jack saw him reach down for his Glock. Before he could intervene, Dee jumped between the two men.
“Enough!” She placed a hand on each of their chests and glared at Simpson. “We have a mission to complete. Hone is here to help us.”
“Corporal Gee, take your hand off.”
Dee pulled her hand away, but held the sergeant’s gaze, her eyes bright.
Hone glanced from Jack to Dee, and then to Tama. He grinned and patted Dee on the shoulder before turning away from Simpson. “You’re right. Sorry, Dee.”
Jack shook his head at the whole exchange. What the hell was that all about? He understood Hone’s reaction, but Simpson?
He sensed Boss shuffling next to him and, grabbing his elbow, nudged him towards the shop front. “Hold the perimeter. Eyes sharp. Okay?”
Boss nodded, turned and unslung his carbine.
Jack looked back to find Simpson smoothing down his fatigues. He could see the sergeant was struggling to keep his temper in check.
The Renegades, Hone and Tama stood around the lone desk in the back office of the service station. No one sat, as there was only one old roller chair. Simpson pulled out a map and smoothed out the creases. He looked at each of them before pointing down at the surrounding area. “Right. We’re here in Paeroa. The 2nd and 3rd battalions are west of us, pushing towards Hamilton and the feeder towns of Morrinsville and Cambridge. Our recon mission is to provide intel on the towns of Te Aroha and Waihi.” Simpson paused and looked at Jack. “I understand you know this area. Is there a route we can take to the laboratory through the Kaimais?”
“Yes there is. Several, in fact. Long hikes, but achievable.”
“Good.” Simpson pointed down to the map. “Taking the cycle trail, we’ll march through to Te Aroha and report in before heading over the mountains to the complex. Once we have the logbook, we are to rendezvous with 1st Battalion. If all goes well, they’ll take back Waihi and push through Karangahake Gorge, meeting us at the old railway station.”
“Hone, what’s your intel on Waihi?”
The Maori chief stared at Simpson for several seconds before answering. “There are pockets of Rewera here, here and here. And I’m certain that there is a nest in the Martha mine.” Hone indicated the location on the map.
“How can you be so sure?”
“The stench.”
Jack smirked at Hone’s reply and swept his eyes over the map. He didn’t like the mission. It was messy. Too many things could go wrong. Hiking through the Kaimais to the complex, that was at least six to eight hours. “Sir?”
“Yes.”
“There’s an entrance to the lab through a farm. Wouldn’t it be quicker to drive in through there?” Jack tapped the spot he was talking about—the same entrance they had used previously.
Simpson raised an eyebrow at him and rapped his knuckles on the table. “Maybe so, but we are doing it my way. I don’t want those creatures knowing we are around. Do you have a problem with that?”
“Well, no. I was—”
“Good. Let’s move out.” Simpson went to thumb his radio.
“Sergeant. There’s something we need to discuss first,” interrupted Hone.
“What is it now?”
“Our people have been going missing. Captain Johns assured me that you would investigate.”
“Listen, Hone, I have more pressing concerns than some missing people.” Simpson flung his arm out, pointing out into the mist. “There’s a Variant apocalypse going on. People go missing all the bloody time.”
Jack saw Hone’s brow furrow as he shook his head. “Well, before you go charging off to Te Aroha, you should know som
ething.”
“What?”
“We’ve been seeing three winged beasts at night. Always in the distance, but you can hear their wails. On clear nights, some of my whanau have seen them perching on the antenna on Te Aroha.”
“Have they ever attacked you?”
“No. So far they’ve kept their distance.”
“Riveting. Thanks for the intel.” Simpson turned and walked from the room, grabbing his gear.
Jack stood dumbfounded at the sergeant’s behaviour, and at the revelation of the winged beasts. He looked at Dee. Her expression reflected his concerns. The Indonesians had called it Leyak. On Matariki night, Captain Koto had blown himself and the corvette-class ship sky high. Rumours had surfaced weeks later of a winged Variant terrorising the land. After questioning, the Indonesians had revealed what had been in the hold: the beast they called Leyak.
There was only one?
Jack reached out, taking Dee’s hand. She squeezed it, comforting him. He looked up at Boss, who stood a few feet away, Boss still had the radio headphones on, and a worried look on his face. He made eye contact with Jack before glancing at Simpson. Jack made his way through the store. Its shelves lay empty, the food and supplies long gone. He didn’t like the look on Boss’s face.
“Sir. Jack. I was scanning the airwaves while you had your meeting and found something. What do you make of this?” said Boss, holding out his headphones to the sergeant.
Boss carried the combat net radio in his backpack. It was light enough not to be a burden, and it had a long range. They all carried a personal com system to communicate with each other.
Boss reached into his pack and unplugged the headphones. He turned up the volume. Dee, Hone and Tama joined them.
Hello. This is Steve Murray. We’re holed up at Hidden Rock Winery and Station. We are located on Rawhiti Road, Tirohia. near Te Aroha. We’ve held them out for months now. I don’t know how long we can keep them out. Please, if any army, navy, air force, anyone can help. Please, we have children here. Please help…
Jack wrinkled his brow, listening as the message began again. After the fifth time, he reached out and switched off the CNR. Glancing at Dee, he turned towards Simpson. “I don’t like it, sir.”
Simpson lifted his cap off his head and ran a hand through his sandy blond hair. “We’ll check it out on the way through. It’s on the way. If they are still alive, we’ll call in the chopper to airlift them out.”
“It’s too convenient. We’ve scoured the airwaves for months and what? Rescued thirteen people at most. That’s all of New Zealand.”
Dee and Boss murmured in agreement.
Simpson turned fully around to face Jack. “We’re checking it out, soldier. That’s an order.”
“I think it’s a trap. In Aliens, every time they answered a distress call, bad stuff happened.”
Simpson’s face turned bright red. “Wake up, Jack! This isn’t one of your bloody movies! It’s real life! Those thirteen survivors were rescued because of distress calls. We know of thirty or so on an island on Lake Tekapo. Move out. Now!”
Jack cast his eyes down to the floor and nodded. “Yes, sir.”
He felt Dee nudge him towards the door, which Boss held open for them.
Suddenly, the glass door and windows began to rattle and shake. It sounded like a thousand champagne glasses rattling as a train goes past. Max began to howl and tucked his tail between his legs.
Their radios crackled. “Renegades, heads up. Movement coming our way. North and west. Six hundred metres and closing fast. Looks like Variants. Over,” warned Yalonda.
Simpson turned and thumbed his radio, looking at Jack. “Roger that, Caro. Keep us updated. Chang, what have you got?”
There was a pause, which seemed like minutes to Jack.
“Nothing. I got nothing. I can’t see a damn thing through this mist. Over.”
“Copy that. Stay at your posts.”
Simpson turned to the remaining Renegades. “Boss, get on the horn to HQ. Give them a SITREP. Jack, join Caro. Dee, with me. Hone, do…” Simpson waved his hand dismissively. “Do whatever you do.” The sergeant stormed out of the store.
Jack glanced at Dee and nodded. “Be careful. I love you.”
“And I you.”
Max wagged his tail as they approached the building Yalonda was on. Reaching down, Jack scratched the dog’s ears. Max tilted his head to one side and whimpered, his tail bending down before he sniffed the air and growled.
“It’s all right, boy, we know.” Turning to Hone, he said, “What do you think?”
“I think it’s time to leave, Jack. You don’t want to get stuck on this roof, surrounded by Rewera.”
“You’re probably right. But orders.” Jack shrugged.
“Orders. You white fellas and your orders. We’ll be nearby, and Tama is with Dee.”
“Thanks, Hone.” He nodded. “Did you say you saw three winged creatures?”
“Yes, we’ve seen three. A large one and two smaller. Why?”
“We had reports of there being one, but now there are three?” The ground shook again. “We’ll talk later.”
Jack whistled for Max before turning and following the dog up the metal stairs. He pulled the first two sections up after him and locked them into place. Reaching the roof, he made his way to Yalonda and Boss. “What’s happening?”
“Still approaching. Four hundred metres out to the north and…” Yalonda swung her L96 sniper rifle ninety degrees. “Five hundred metres to the west. Looks like your standard Variant scum.”
“Alphas?”
“None that I can see.”
“Then what the hell caused that shake?”
“Earthquake?”
“Maybe. But we’re too far north for that.” Jack pivoted to Boss. “Take south. Report any movement and what you’re seeing.” Boss moved into position.
Jack jogged to the northern side of the flat roof and squinted through his scope. It didn’t take him long to see the Variants scurrying over the farmland. Thankfully, the mist had begun to clear, the November sun shining through in pencil-thin beams, highlighting the green fields.
Bloody Variants!
Jack reached around and clicked the safety off, taking a deep breath to calm his building nerves. A low rumbling sound reverberated around the buildings before the ground began to shake, building in intensity until Jack was thrown back from the edge.
That has to be an earthquake!
Jack looked over to Boss, who was scrambling behind one of vents that peppered the building. Just as quickly as the shaking started, it stopped. A ripping, tearing sound replaced it, testing Jack’s already ragged nerves. He glanced down into the street. A black mass was rearing up from under the street, smashing through the asphalt as if it were soft as jelly.
A beetle-like animal burst through, screeching. Jack stared at its mouth. Protruding from the sides were mandibles. Huge jagged spears, they were. This beetle Variant gnashed its mandibles and screeched again. More rumbling answered it, and another beetle broke through, joining the first.
Jack switched his carbine to full auto.
What the flippin’ heck?
— 4 —
Courage…
Pig shivered under his thin woollen blanket as he lay in his cot. At this time of year, the days were warm and the nights cold. He flexed his muscles, trying to get the blood flowing. He had allowed himself three hours sleep.
Duke and his plebs were still partying, the occasional blast of a V8 engine cutting through the thin cladding of the slaves’ sleeping quarters.
By his reckoning, he had been a slave for six months. In that time, they had made their way around the country, finding pockets of survivors, befriending them, handing out food, medicine and clean water. Then they had betrayed them, stealing the women, killing the old and infirm. In the first month, the children were given to men wearing red coveralls. He smiled at the good memory of the day the convoy sat waiting for the red coveralled
men to turn up. Distant booms had echoed out over the trees. It was the only time he’d seen Duke scared. Now, any children were given to the women to look after.
Pig let out a calming breath and felt along his belt for the 50mm nail he had hidden there. Straining his ears, he listened to the steady breathing of his bunkmates. Satisfied they were sleeping, he eased himself out of bed and crept to the door. Pulling the nail free, he reached down and grabbed one of the many boots that lined the wall next to the door. He placed the nail under the door pin that held the hinge together. Waiting a moment, he listened to the plebs’ drumming to get the timing right. When the loud bass drum sounded, Pig hit the nail. Slowly but surely, he tapped the hinge pin out until it dropped free.
One down, two to go.
After a few more minutes, Pig had all three hinge pins free. Pausing, he glanced around the room. Thankfully no one stirred. He placed his ear to the door, checking for guards. With a quick glance outside, he decided it was now or never. Grabbing the handle, Pig lifted the door a few millimetres and pulled it towards him. The hinged side pulled free and swung inwards. He moved out into the night and stood on the steps.
Pig looked around and quickly replaced the door so that to any guards passing by everything would look normal. Sighing with relief, he turned and jogged away, heading for the mess hall. To survive the first few days, he needed food and water.
Bursting around the corner he slammed into a figure crouched over, vomiting against a car. The figure scrambled up and swung his rifle at Pig as Pig shrank down to a crouch.
Pig grimaced. His burns were screaming. He pushed down the pain and ignored it.
The figure grinned at him. “Pig! What the fuck?”
Mac! Just my bloody luck.
Pig flexed the muscles in his legs. He saw everything clearly. The M4 pointing at him. The Ka-Bar knife strapped to Mac’s thigh. He saw the safety switch flipped on. The stench of Mac’s alcohol vomit invaded his nostrils.
Pig clicked his fingers to his right. Just as he’d hoped, Mac’s drunken eyes swivelled, seeking out the sound. Pig pushed off the balls of his feet, making up the couple of metres in a second. He dropped his shoulder into the guard, knocking him back against the car. In the same movement, he pushed the M4 away and up.
Extinction NZ (Book 3): The Five Pillars Page 3
