“Boss. Pass me that screwdriver. Hurry.”
“Here. Do you need help?”
“No room. Stay alert.”
The first screw came free easily, as did the next two.
A high-pitched shriek echoed down the conduit, sending a shiver up Jack’s spine.
“Whatever you’re doing, nerd boy, hurry the hell up! We got incoming,” shouted Yalonda. Her L96 rifle barked, the gunshots echoing. Howls answered the gunfire.
Jack grimaced and strained with the last screw. He twisted with all his strength, but it refused to budge. He growled in frustration.
There’s always one.
“Tighten it first,” said Boss.
“What?”
“Just try it. It’s a trick my dad taught me.”
Jack reversed his grip and tightened the screw one quarter turn. Then he tried again to loosen it. This time it gave.
“Thanks,” he muttered.
Grinning, he pushed on the cover. It sprang open and clanged against the floor. Boss clambered out after him, and then Jack reached down and helped Aroha and Dee up into the new room. Yalonda continued peppering the crawl space with rounds.
“Yalonda!”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming. One left.”
With the last of his team through, Jack slammed the cover closed, then searched frantically for something to secure it. A tool chest, heavy with tools, was jammed against a wall. Straining, he dragged it over the manhole cover.
With the cover secure, he bent over with his hands on his knees and sucked in heavy breaths. Dee and Yalonda had taken up positions next to the exit and Max and Aroha huddled close by. Boss stood to one side, brushing dust from his hair. For now they were safe, but for how long?
The Renegades were in a long room filled with computer equipment and banks of servers. Next to the manhole was the switchboard. Curiosity getting the better of him, Jack opened the door.
Rows of breaker switches, each labelled with the designation of the room they controlled, gleamed in the flashlight.
“Jack, what’re you doing?” whispered Dee.
“Seeing if I can switch the power off to the right rooms. It might give us a chance to get out of here.”
“But the doors will be on backup power, won’t they?”
“Yeah. If we could change the code for the doors, now that would be even better. Anyone know how to hack the system? Boss?”
Boss shook his head. “I’m a gamer, not a hacker.”
“Yalonda?”
She scoffed, grinning. “I only know how to do one thing, Jack. Shoot straight. You nerds figure it out.”
Jack looked back at the switchboard. They were all neatly labelled, but he had no idea what some of the names meant.
Lab 1. Lab 2. Lab 3… 5! He knew those.
Clean room? Bio?
He checked the inside of the switchboard door. A map of the electrical zones had been stuck to it, with a red dot indicating where they were.
“Well, I have good news,” he said. “I know where Lab Five is, and how to get us out of here.”
— 20 —
The ATV roared down the concrete-lined tunnel. Long banks of fluorescent lights illuminated the way.
Pig examined the passage as they drove deeper into the mountain, marvelling at the quality of engineering. Whoever had built this structure had had both the time and money to do it properly.
Cool, fresh air grazed his skin, telling him that as well as having power, the tunnel was well ventilated. He strained his ears, listening above the purr of the engines. The unmistakable whir of extractor fans hummed from the ceiling.
Pig checked to see if the ragged men were watching before pulling the spork free of his boot and slipping it up his sleeve. Originally he had thought to use it to unlock the cuffs. Now he just wanted to stab it in a guard’s eyes and make a run for it. He glanced at Nathan, who was hugging his knees. He wanted to offer the soldier some words of comfort, but he was struggling to console himself. He was certain of his ability to take out the ragged men, but the Variants that followed worried him. More concerning was the scientist. Pig hadn’t managed to get a clear look at her, but her frizzy, wild hair and eyes that darted around reminded him of someone who had tuned out from reality and was now motivated by a deeper emotion.
The lady in white led the five prisoners on, keeping a constant speed. The tunnel ended in a warehouse-sized natural cavern. LED lamps hung from metal pipes, casting bright white beams and leaving eerie pools of darkness.
Yellow eyes stared at Pig, watching, waiting, as if they dared him to run. Blue and red drums set on pallets lined each wall. Numerous golf carts were parked next to a concrete ramp that led to a door. This door looked like an airlock he had seen in a sci-fi movie.
The guards shoved him roughly up the ramp, jabbing at his back with their rifles. At the airlock door, the lady in white spun around to face the prisoners, hands clasped behind her.
A man dressed in a bright green chemical suit moved from the shadows to stand next to her. The suit squeaked as he moved, like a fetish suit, and his oily black hair was slicked back. Finishing off his crazy outfit were safety goggles that fitted snugly on his head.
Pig stared at the scene for a moment longer, then let out a laugh. The sight of the wild-haired scientist standing next to this green…frog. The whole thing looked like something out of bad horror film. He waited for a bad German accent. It would complete the stereotype.
The lady in white glared at him and held up her hand, palm facing out. “Silence!”
Pig continued to laugh. The situation was just too absurd. He feared what came next, but if he was going to die, then he was going to laugh at these idiots first.
“Silence!” she screamed again.
A ragged man walked over and slammed the butt of his rifle into Pig’s stomach. He grunted in pain as the air rushed from his lungs.
“I will not stand here and be laughed at by common soldiers,” snapped the lady in white. “We are doing important work. You should be honoured to know that your participation will help.”
Pig sucked in a couple more breaths. “And what is it that you are doing?”
The lady in white stared at Pig for a what seemed a long time. Her eyes roamed up and down his body, as if contemplating what to do with him. “You wouldn’t understand if I told you. Way above your intelligence.”
She pivoted, her lab coat flaring out behind her as she moved to the airlock door. She whispered something to the man in green before disappearing deeper into the complex.
The man in green took two steps forwards. “My name is Dr Wilson.” No German accent then. What a pity. “As you can see by the creatures that surround you, there is no escape. Anyone who attempts it will die. And let me assure you, it won’t be a pleasant death. As Dr Marks said, you should be honoured. Now, follow me.”
Pig glanced around the cavern, looking for a viable way out. He could smell the faint odour of Variants as well as see their gleaming eyes. With no way out, he sighed and followed Wilson through the airlock.
Wilson, with the two armed men bringing up the rear, led the prisoners through the complex. Down corridor after corridor lined with orange lights. Up metal stairs that creaked and groaned with their weight. Past doors with glowing keypads. Past doors with thick rubber seals and set off the ground so they had to step over them to get through.
Pig kept silent and observed everything, mentally mapping out their route. He stumbled forwards as Wilson entered the code, noting the buttons he pushed.
NZLV-8675309.
Seeing the number stirred another memory.
Sitting on sticky leather seats, enjoying an ice cream. His father driving their beat-up old Holden HQ Kingswood home from a hot summer’s day at the beach. His mother’s bright red hair swaying in the wind as she leant down and turned the radio up. Singing along to the song.
Jenny!
His brother punching him on the arm. “Two for flinching, Ken!”
> Pig staggered and held his hand out, touching the wall. At the recollection, his mind cleared.
Major Ken Hind! That’s who I am. Major Ken friggin’ Hind. NZ SAS.
Pain exploded in his side as a guard slammed his rifle into him. “Keep moving!”
He ignored the pain and pushed off the wall, his mind racing as the memories of his life flooded back in. He forgot about taking note of their route.
His childhood. His school life. His first kiss. Girlfriends. Getting up to mischief with his brother. Leaving school and bouncing from dead-end job to dead-end job. Shouting arguments with his father. Boot camp in the army. The joy at finding something he was good at. Pride at making it into the SAS. Training with Captain Ben Johns. Afghanistan. Iran. East Timor. His mission to Wellington to rescue the Prime Minister and finding them all dead. Being ambushed by Variants and collaborators. Running, firing and hiding in the narrow streets of the city. Their desperate dash to the harbour. Variants attacking them as they launched the small row boat. Burning pain from killing the Giant Variant. He had blown its head off with his shotgun. Brains and blood had coated his combat vest. His skin had sizzled. The last two members of his team had saved his life by throwing him into the harbour. He remembered it all.
Dr Wilson stood in the centre of a room tiled from ceiling to floor. Against the far wall were six shower heads.
“Take off all your clothing and place them in the bins,” he instructed, pointing.
Ken glanced at the other soldiers and at the armed men. He made eye contact with Nathan, giving him a slight nod. Nathan shook his head. Ken sighed inwardly. He needed the others’ help in order to escape.
As if reading his mind. Wilson glared at him and pulled a handgun—a Beretta M9—from inside his suit. “Now!”
Ken undressed and placed his clothes in the bin. Naked, he stood in the centre of the room. The door opposite opened, and five people in green chemical suits entered carrying buckets of a foul-smelling pink liquid. He scrunched his nose as they drew nearer.
“Against the wall,” instructed Wilson.
“What are they doing?”
“Disinfecting you. Now stand against the wall.”
The green suits scrubbed them down with the pink chemical. They scrubbed him with a hard bristle brush. He cast his eyes to the floor and watched as the mud and sludge sluiced off him, then cried out in agony as they poured the chemical over his burns. He swung around and punched the person cleaning him, knocking them down.
“Watch the burns, asshole!” He looked at Wilson. “It’s bad enough being humiliated like this!”
Wilson lifted up his M9. “Rinse off under the shower and shut the hell up.”
Ken sighed as cold water washed over him and soothed his burns. Not as good as the mud, but better than nothing. The people in suits stood to attention, waiting. When the prisoners had finished showering, they handed them grey coveralls to wear and forced them to move on.
Wilson then led the prisoners to a large dining hall and served up a tepid stew that sloshed into bowls in front of them.
Ken held his breath and gobbled it down. He hadn’t realised how hungry he was with all that had been happening. And right now any food was better than no food. Wilson and his cohorts stood to one side, observing. Their vigilance unnerved him. It was as if they were waiting for something or someone. An idea began to form in Ken’s mind.
He placed his hands on the table in front of him as his vision blurred, dropping in and out of focus. He pushed up off his chair and took a step back. The room swayed around him, spinning like he’d had too many tequila shots.
He blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of what was happening through his foggy mind. Through the sludge, he could just make out Wilson’s face as it appeared above him. Then the world went dark.
— 21 —
Once again Dee found herself running through the corridors of the complex. At least the Variants weren’t chasing them at the moment. The map on the back of the switchboard door Jack had found had showed them that the complex had five levels and that they were on Level One. Dee had traced her finger over the map and worked out the route they had taken all those months ago with Katherine Yokoyama. Then she had scanned the numbered laboratories. The logbook was in Lab Five. Three floors up. It would have been an easy decision to make a run for it and leave by the maintenance tunnel that led to the Karangahake Gorge. The plan was to head for Hone and the Pa. But first, seeing as they were here anyway, they had to get that logbook.
She recalled her last conversation with Ben.
“The scientist tells me it should be black. A4 size. If you’re not sure, grab them all.”
“What will be written inside it?”
“Formulae, tests carried out. Science stuff.”
“Science stuff? You’re sending me in there with that info?”
“It should have her name and a log number, with a title like Hemorrhage Virus. That’s the best I can do.”
“Let’s hope it’s enough.”
“Keep them safe, Dee. I know you can.”
“Thanks, Ben. See you when we get back.”
Dee hugged Aroha tight to her chest and kept her rifle close, shaking her head at the vague description.
The Variants were quiet for now, but she knew that never lasted. On they ran, down corridors and up stairs. Jack paused at the door at the top of the stairs. A large Lab 1 had been sprayed in the centre. When they had looked at the map, they had discovered shortcuts through the work rooms that made it quicker to move through the complex.
“Ready?” he asked.
Dee put Aroha down and nodded. Boss pulled the young girl behind him. Max stuck his nose to the door and wagged his tail. She smiled. He was as eager to leave this place as she was.
Jack punched in the code and swung the door open, standing to one side.
For a moment Dee stood rooted in place; the sight of the weta Variants turning as one shocked her. Up close, she could see their tiny heads with large black oval eyes. They had the same sucker mouth as normal Variants, but the addition of the mandibles that spread open and the way the creatures shrieked was what stunned her the most. Then she stepped into the corridor and fired her carbine. The bullets shot out and tore into the soft flesh of the beasts, gaping holes blossoming as hunks of fetid flesh sprayed out and coated the Variants behind. The weta Variants shrieked and hummed, their joints clicking. They scrambled over the dead, hungrily gnashing their mouths.
So desperate to feed on us.
Jack pulled her back and slammed the door shut, then rested his shoulder against it. “Plan B?” he said. “The other stairwell.”
Dee winced and checked her magazine. “Yeah. I’m getting low too.”
She crouched down next to Aroha. “You’re going to have to run on your own, okay?” Aroha blinked and held on to Boss.
The Renegades jogged down the stairs and stood at the next door. Dee nodded a go. Thankfully, the corridor beyond was clear. Breathing a sigh of relief, Dee ran through and picked up the pace. She was sick of this complex. Sick of the Variants. Sick of seeing death. Sick of the innocent victims paying the price because of the greed and hunger for power of a few.
A door to her left burst open. Dee barely managed to block the clawed arm from tearing out her throat as the Variant slammed into her, knocking her down. Her AR-15 was torn away. Dee pulled out her Glock and shot it in the head. It shook its skull and snarled at her. She gasped and unloaded the rest of her magazine. The creature finally lay still.
Dee jumped into a crouch and swivelled around.
Variants poured from the room, snarling and hissing. Dee gathered up her rifle and frowned at the different shape of their skulls and their pale white skin, which gave them an alabaster marble appearance. They were almost human. More and more poured from the room. The Renegades searched frantically for an escape. The stairwell door was twenty metres ahead. It clanged open and more of the white-skinned Variants rushed out, blocking the way. Stran
gely, they didn’t attack.
Dee exchanged a look with Jack and Boss, wondering if this was it. Max barked and growled next to her, paws scratching at the rubber mat underfoot.
Yalonda swung her sniper rifle from one Variant to another. “You guys are even uglier than the last lot,” she taunted. “Who wants to taste my thunderstick first?”
Dee smiled at Jack. “Game over?”
He smiled back. “Not just yet.”
He pointed into the room the Variants had poured out of. It was now empty. She could see an open door at the far end. Bright white light shone through the door and onto the linoleum.
The Renegades edged their way towards the vacant room, keeping their backs to the wall.
The white-skinned Variants stood watching them in silence. Jack glanced at her, then entered the room. Boss pulled the barking Max in and hung on to Aroha as he went next.
Dee watched the Variants for a while. Something about their eyes bothered her. Gone were the yellow insect eyes, replaced by round black eyes, like someone had tattooed the sclera. The shape of their skulls still bothered her. For the last seven months they had fought the Variants, and she had become used to killing them. Each time she put a bullet in one, or decapitated a beast with her katana, Dee saw it as mercy. It was how she justified what she was doing. But these? These were almost human.
She looked over at the Variant she had killed. A momentary flutter of guilt passed through her.
“Dee, c’mon!” pleaded Jack.
The white Variants hung back and stared after the retreating humans. Yalonda put a hand on Dee’s shoulder, pulling her backwards into the room.
Dee kept her AR-15 trained on the creatures, whose joints popped as they followed the Renegades into the room.
“When I say go, run,” said Jack.
Dee clicked her radio, signalling that she understood.
“Go!”
Dee turned and sprinted. The Variants reacted, and howled in unison, a high-pitched howl that rattled the bones in her skull. Yalonda slammed the door shut behind her and Dee tore down the corridor beyond. She soon got lost in the maze of twists and turns. Room after room flashed by. Rooms full of computers and beeping machines. Rooms full of glass beakers, gas burners and long benches.
Extinction New Zealand Box Set | Books 1-3 Page 53
