Extinction New Zealand Box Set | Books 1-3

by Smith, Adrian J.

  “What if we play some crazy music out of the loudspeakers for added distraction?”

  “Such as?” Ben raised an eyebrow.

  “Well, I was thinking For Whom The Bell Tolls by Metallica.”

  Dee barked a laugh and shook her head at him.

  “If whatever that music is distracts those bastards, then play it! It worked for us in Vietnam on occasion,” Ben said with a grin.

  Both the sergeants chuckled, and Jack couldn’t help but laugh with them. It was a nervous laugh, but it felt good to release it and share it with the others.

  The meeting drew to a close as Ben outlined the rest of the plan, going over the timing with them. He handed each of them a digital watch and they synced them.

  Jack moved over to Dee and hugged her. “Let’s go get the boys.”

  “Yeah, let’s end this.”

  Jack turned to the sound of knocking. Eric pushed the door open. “Don’t forget about me!”

  “You made it.”

  Eric nodded at the gathered Renegades. “Let’s do this for Tony, for all those we lost.”

  Ben stepped around the table and grasped his shoulder. “Yes. Let’s do it for Tony. You’re in charge of the explosives. I want ten small bundles made up, six with five-minute timers and four with two-minute timers.” He paused, looking around the room. “Just so you all know, I haven’t okayed this with Command. I’m giving you all the chance to back out now. Those who want to come, we leave at 1100.”

  Jack smiled at his words. So what was new? His and George’s rescue had been off the books too.

  Dee grasped Ben’s arm. “We’re Renegades, right?” Looking at each of them, she carried on. “So let’s Renegade!”

  Dee’s words were answered with a cheer and an “Oo rah!” as the council broke apart. Each Renegade moving off to prepare.

  Jack felt strangely calm as he headed for the armoury. Hold on, boys. I’m coming.

  — 29 —

  It was the smell that woke Boss from his coma; the putrid stench of decay and death. It surrounded him, seeping into his pores and assaulting his nose. He tried breathing in through his mouth, but that made him gag. The thick air tasted like rotten meat. Bile rose in his throat and he vomited. He gasped for air, but breathing in the polluted air made him gag again. He forced himself to calm his breathing, to focus.

  His breathing under control, his other senses kicked in. Excruciating pain lanced through his arms and legs, threatening to return him to his coma. Turning his head, he could see a sharp bone, like a nail, protruding through his left hand. He struggled against the fastening as panic set in, his heart thumping in his chest. Boss turned to look at his right hand; that too was held with bone. And he could feel another one through his foot. Waves of pain cascaded over him and he clenched his teeth together, riding it out.

  What was it Dee had said to him? There is always a way out?

  He peered through the dim light. He could see another figure strung out on a rack of bones across from him. Boss shuddered, realising what had happened; he had been crucified on a cross of bones. He could make out Beth’s blonde hair a few metres to his right. She was motionless, eyes closed. Boss prayed she was alive. He glanced around the room. It was a large open area, as far as he could see through all the bones and entrails. The walls, floor and ceiling were concrete. A steel set of stairs rose up from the floor to a small metal landing. Turning his head, he could see another set of stairs at the other end of the room.

  In the centre of the room, bones had been piled up into a throne. The Alpha they called the Trophy King sat on top. A small cage made from bones lay to one side. Inside it, a small figure was curled up.

  The Trophy King was watching Boss, his yellow eyes glaring at him. He leant his head back and bellowed. The bellow shook the bones beneath him. Boss screamed, and desperately tried to wrench himself free. He had tried to remain strong for George, for Beth. He had tried to protect them from the beasts. But he had failed. Now the Alpha was to have his revenge. An avid gamer, Boss had spent hundreds of hours facing monsters; but when the monsters had become reality, he’d run and hidden. It was Dee who had inspired him to fight and survive, to live on.

  He looked around again as despair washed over him, pulling him into its dark embrace. Hundreds of skulls on spikes lined the walls. Skulls of all different sizes. The Trophy King bellowed again, rising from his throne. Variants poured into the chamber, surrounding him. He reached down and pulled the figure from the cage, then pointed at Boss and howled. The gathered Variants joined in. The howls grew in intensity, rattling his teeth and hurting his eardrums. Boss gasped as he recognised George’s red hair. Tears flowed freely as he contemplated their fate.

  The Alpha lifted George up, grasping the boy around the neck with one of his huge claws. He picked up a shard of bone with his free claw and, with another look at the crucified Boss, stabbed George in the eye. George’s scream tore Boss apart, shattering his soul.

  “Leave him alone! Kill me! Just please, leave him alone.” Boss screamed at the Trophy King.

  The Alpha shoved the still-screaming George back into the cage and, with an astounding jump, leapt in front of Boss. His sucker mouth pulled back, revealing rows and rows of sharp teeth. His rancid breath fumed out. With a snarl, the Alpha jabbed the shard of bone into Boss’s leg, twisting it. Boss screamed and fought to free himself. He didn’t care if he died trying, but he just wanted to kill this monster from hell. He managed to lift his left hand off the bone, and feebly hit the Alpha on the shoulder. The Trophy King hissed at Boss and clenched the boy’s wrist in its claw, cutting into the skin. Then he slammed Boss’s hand back onto the bone nail. Boss screamed again, his voice going hoarse. The Alpha bounded over to the crucified Beth. She was now awake, the horror evident on her face. Her gaze met Boss’s as tears streamed down her cheeks. The Trophy King turned to Boss again and bellowed. Turning back to Beth, he stabbed her in the right eye with the shard. Beth let out an agonised scream, squeezing her remaining eye shut as blood poured from her now-ruined one. Boss cried with her, trying to comfort her with his empathy.

  A Variant leapt in front of Boss, and he felt crushing pain on the side of his head as his vision dimmed and faded to black.

  — 30 —

  Maggie crept along the highway in the 4x4. The late afternoon sun was quickly descending, casting long shadows on the road in front of her. She had left the main group a few hours back and now followed the trail, looking for the Alpha and his human traitors. Radio chatter told her she was close, and vehicles pushed to the side of the road indicated that she was on the right path. She could see a green and white road sign ahead, and as she drew closer, she read that it said Karapiro. She slowed the 4x4 to walking speed and crawled along the road.

  Maggie spotted a long driveway just after the Karapiro turnoff. She pulled in and made her way up the tree-lined drive. At the end, a large grey house sat amongst landscaped gardens. Once-manicured lawns were now overgrown and neglected. Maggie recognised azaleas and rhododendrons flowering, and a few camellias lined the garage to her right. She manoeuvred the 4x4 between the house and garage, tucking it out of sight. Moving her rifle to within easy reach, she scanned the property, looking for any Variants or red suits. Seeing nothing, she wound down the window, sniffing the air. She couldn’t detect the Variant’s smell. Satisfied that she was alone, she carefully and silently exited the vehicle.

  After a quick walk of the perimeter, Maggie tried the back door of the house. Thankfully it gave, and she quickly entered, closing the door behind her. A quick search of the kitchen turned up nothing of use. Making herself comfortable on the sofa, Maggie rummaged through her small rucksack, searching for what little food she had. Chewing on beef jerky, she contemplated her next move. The red coveralls had proven their worth against the Variants, but she knew it would only take one human to spot her for a fraud and she would become dinner. She needed to wait for morning to do some recon. She had considered sneaking into the collabo
rators’ camp and killing a few of them, but she wasn’t sure how the red suits operated at night. Were they just a day thing? Did they even leave guards out? Did the Variants roam the night, leaving the red suits to stay within their camp?

  Maggie moved upstairs, searching for a room she could secure. In the master bedroom she found what she was looking for. A large walk-in wardrobe lay off to one side. She piled blankets and pillows inside it and pushed a chest of drawers across the doorway. It wasn’t perfect, but it was all she could do. She lay down, snuggling into the warmth of the blankets. She strained her ears, listening for any sounds. She was greeted by silence. Checking her rifle was close by, Maggie let out a sigh and closed her eyes. The exhaustion of the last couple of days washed over her, dragging her down to sleep.

  Maggie spent the morning sneaking around the small village, watching the routine of the collaborators. Satisfied she had it memorised, she now found herself crawling through the scrub that lined the eastern side of the river so that she overlooked the buildings nestled at the bottom and top of the hydroelectric dam. This must be the dam the traitor had spoken of. Water gushed from the spillway and thundered into the river. Limestone cliffs soared up from the river bed, creating a gorge.

  She checked her watch: 11:15. She glanced up again. The sun was straining to peek through the overcast sky. The town of Karapiro was nestled on the eastern shore of a lake — of the same name, apparently. So far, she had counted twenty-seven men in red coveralls, many of them milling around with rifles. A few had walked out onto the concrete walls of the dam and stood looking over the lake.

  Some others, clearly guards, were posted at various doorways around the dam, their red coveralls standing out. Maggie peered through her scope, sighting each one in turn. She reached back and moved away the branch digging into her side, then rubbed her sweaty palms on her pants. She looked through her scope again. Like all new recruits, she had gone through rifle training, shooting at targets from different distances. She had surprised herself, accurately shooting targets at 300 yards from a prone position.

  The scope on her stolen rifle told her the distance to the nearest guard was 82 metres. Maggie knew there was 0.9 metres to a yard, so was confident she could take care of the guards from this range.

  Turning slightly, she could make out a metal ladder attached to the near side of the dam. It ran from top to bottom, with metal safety loops every few feet. Importantly, it was unguarded. Maggie checked her watch again: 11:25. The patrol she was waiting for would be coming soon. She needed intel before she dared enter the buildings. She needed to know how many Variants there were, where the children were being held, and if there were any human guards on the inside.

  She wriggled back from the cliff top and pushed her way backwards through the bush. Then, raising her rifle, she crept along the path, heel to toe, swivelling her head from side to side. She could smell the beasts’ faint rotten fruit stench but, so far, hadn’t seen any Variants in the village. She found the fallen tree stump and nestled behind it.

  She didn’t have to wait long before she heard voices carrying through the silence. That was the thing about the apocalypse; all the ambient noise had disappeared. That background hum that had been a day-to-day occurrence had been snuffed out. Traffic noise, electricity humming through high-powered lines, lawnmowers, chainsaws… Gone. Sound travelled far these days.

  Maggie took a few deep breaths, calming herself. She tensed her muscles, ready to spring her trap. As the voices drew nearer, she caught the tail end of their conversation.

  “…lost a lot of men on that island. Jim said they were well-armed; they even blew up that fancy boat I was telling you about.”

  “Really? Why did they want to go there?”

  “I don’t know, dude? I just follow orders. I don’t want to get eaten.”

  “Shit yeah.”

  Maggie burst out of her hiding spot like a 100-metre sprinter out of the starting blocks. The two guards’ eyes went wide with shock. Maggie slammed her rifle stock into the nearest one’s head, knocking him unconscious. The other guard took a step back and went to raise the shotgun he was carrying.

  “Don’t even try it. I’ll shoot you where you stand.”

  Maggie took a better look at the guard. He had sandy blond hair. Hazel eyes stared at her from behind thick glasses. He looked to be about twenty.

  Glasses smartly dropped his shotgun onto the ground and held up his hands. “You’re American.”

  “Five points for Mr Obvious.”

  Glasses stayed silent, watching Maggie warily.

  “This can go one of two ways. One. You tell me what I want to know, and you live. Two. You don’t. I knock you out like your friend here, I strip those red coveralls off you, and leave you to the Variants.”

  “Variants?”

  “Beasts, monsters, whatever you call them.” Maggie nodded her head towards the dam.

  Glasses held his hands up higher. “All right, whatever.”

  “First thing. How many of you are there?”

  Glasses flicked his eyes towards Karapiro village. “I’m not sure, exactly, because a lot died yesterday on the island. Maybe thirty of us now?”

  Island? Maggie kept her face devoid of any emotion. She hoped he didn’t mean the island she had sent Alice and the kids to.

  “How many of the creatures are in that dam?”

  Glasses shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know, really, I don’t. A lot, maybe two hundred?”

  “What about the kids? What do they do with them?”

  Glasses looked down at the ground, and blood rose in his cheeks. When he looked back at Maggie, tears were in his eyes. Hoarsely he replied, “I’m sorry, but I don’t know. They never come out. Sometimes, on still nights, you can hear screams.”

  Maggie tightened her grip on the rifle. “Last question, asshole. How many guards are inside?”

  “None that I know of. I’m always on perimeter patrol though, so it may have changed.”

  Maggie mulled over this new information. She was confident about taking out guards on the outside, sneaking down that ladder and into the building. The Variants were another issue. She had no idea how long her disguise would hold out, if at all. She contemplated leaving, getting back to the island and coming back with an army. The thought of children being eaten spurred her on.

  She stood watching Glasses, deciding what to do. As they stood, a distant thumping sound echoed up the river, bouncing off the limestone cliffs. She watched as Glasses frowned, confusion on his young face. Maggie knew that sound. She would never forget it. Hours spent inside the flying tubs of metal, skimming over the hot sandy wastelands of Iraq and Afghanistan, insurgents taking pot-shots as they landed, dispersing them into hell… What she was confused by was, why was a chopper heading this way? But then again, as her favourite quote from Art of War told her, “In the midst of chaos, there is opportunity.”

  She would strike while she could. She spun her rifle around and slammed it into Glasses’ temple. His lanky body slumped to the ground next to his mate’s. She reached down and grabbed his shotgun. Then she searched the pair for extra shells and shoved it all into her pack. Spotting the other guard’s shotgun wedged under him, she reached down and yanked it free. With a last look around, Maggie jogged back to the clifftop. The thumping of the chopper was growing louder. Adrenalin surged into her bloodstream at the promise of a battle.

  I’m doing this for Izzy, to save the kids from this hell.

  She reached the clifftop and looked north, searching for the chopper. Above the thumping came a distant booming sound. She pivoted, looking south. Explosives. These guys mean business! This was a full-on assault. A cacophony of screeches echoed as dozens of Variants poured out of the dam. They scampered up the walls and disappeared, heading south.

  These guys are smart! Classic divide and conquer. We just might have a chance after all.

  — 31 —

  The three NH-90 helicopters sat waiting on the concrete pad.
Dee walked towards them, holding Jack’s hand. For a moment she thought about the other soldiers smirking at the public display of affection, but quickly cast that thought aside. She glanced up at the split windscreen, grinning to herself. They always reminded her of bug eyes staring at their prey. She could feel the weight of her combat vest, stuffed full of extra magazines, pushing down on her small frame.

  Ben stood with Sergeant Hollis next to the nearest NH-90 chopper. He smiled as she and Jack approached, waving them over.

  Jack lifted up the metal case Katherine had given to him. “This is for Mahana. I didn’t want to give it to the Indonesian pilot. In all the confusion yesterday, I forgot about it.”

  Ben took it from Jack and shook his head, looking down at it. “All that madness, for what’s in here. It better be bloody worth it.” He turned, handing it to Sergeant Hollis. “Secure this in the bunker.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Dee watched him jog off. “Do you think we have a chance today, Ben?” she asked smiling.

  He glanced between her and Jack. “We’ve survived, guys. Against all the odds, we’ve survived this far. All we can do now is try. Try to save the boys, and with the new intel Alice provided about the camp, save them too. We’ll always have a chance.” He paused and grasped Jack’s shoulder. “What was it that Gimli said? ‘Certainty of death. What are we waiting for?’”

  Jack grinned at Ben. “Yeah, something like that.”

  “We fight on, guys. We survived the lab. Dee, we rescued Jack. Let’s go get the boys and bring them home.”

  Dee adjusted the straps on her pack. “Whatever the outcome, if we lie dying and drawing our last breath, promise me something, Ben.”

  “Okay. What?”

  “That we’ll blow that bastard Alpha back to hell.”