Extinction New Zealand Box Set | Books 1-3

by Smith, Adrian J.

  “Wilco, sir. Out.”

  The collaborators had mounted mortars to the backs of their up-armoured vehicles. Plates of steel had been welded to the sides, making them look like ironclads from the American civil war. James shook his head at the sight. Whump! The shots coming from the pimped-out 4WDs were way off target. The bulk of the shells sailed harmlessly over, landing in the fields beyond and taking out the deserted houses.

  James reloaded his M4 and dropped another Variant scrambling over the fence. Finally his soldiers had sorted out the ATGMs. He grinned as the missiles screamed through the air and slammed into the 4WDs one after the other. Within a couple of minutes, only two remained. The lead vehicle broke away, turned tail and ran.

  “No quarter. Take them all down!” he shouted into his radio. He ran back up the remaining guard tower. Two missiles streaked through the air and slammed into the remaining vehicles, one each, sending fireballs of metal and Variant chunks into the air.

  With Leyak injured and the armoured vehicles taken care of, the thousands of Variants attacking lost their formation. Now, they just threw themselves at the fence, oblivious to the bullets that cut them down. Wave after wave of creatures attacked. James quickly realised that they were simply outnumbered.

  Over the din of the battle, he heard the whine of his choppers’ engines. They lifted off the ground and banked away over the battle.

  “Take down the rear and middle,” he commanded over the radio. “We’ll keep fighting the front.”

  Static hissed in his ear. “Colonel. There are thousands of them. As far as I can see on the plains.”

  He grimaced. “I’m not giving up this land that so many have died taking back. If we die on this land, it’s better than hiding on some island. Do your job, pilot.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The helicopters unleashed a barrage of rounds, cutting down swaths of Variants.

  James clicked in a fresh magazine and grinned, despite the carnage that surrounded him. He looked up to the heavens and thought of all the proud Maori who had come before him. He drew on their strength and gritted his teeth. “Ka Mate!” he screamed.

  The soldiers all around him took up the war cry as they fired their weapons.

  A group of Variants ploughed into the fence and broke through. James dropped two of them, but before he could get a bead on a third, they had climbed the tower and vaulted over.

  Within seconds, they tore into the men and women defending the FOB. James slung his rifle over his shoulder and, drawing his Ka-Bar knife, plunged it into the base of the skull of the nearest beast.

  The old demon of unrelenting anger washed over James. No longer was he the calm, meticulous colonel. Once again he became the frustrated, abused teenager. Another Variant snarled at him. James tackled it to the ground and stabbed it. Again and again he plunged the knife into it, chest, legs, head.

  Strong hands pulled him off the obliterated beast. “Colonel! It’s dead! You’re wanted on the radio.”

  James squinted at the female soldier in front of him as he fought to catch his breath. He looked down at the creature, at the black blood and gore that coated his uniform. Breathing out, he calmed himself. “Thank you, soldier. Keep fighting.”

  “Toye. SITREP.”

  “Battalions are all reporting heavy losses. Requesting retreat.”

  James let his arm fall to his side and stared at the battle that raged around him. The New Zealand forces were fighting bravely, but the Variants had swarmed the FOB and begun to flank them. In preparation, he had brought a flotilla of ships to the docks in case an evacuation was required. He sighed and raised the radio to his lips. As much as he wanted to fight to the bitter end, he remembered his old sensai saying: “Run if you have to. Live. Fight another day. Better. Stronger. And win.”

  “Badminton. Toye. Order the retreat. Over.”

  “Wilco. Out,” they answered in unison.

  The alarm rang out, echoing around the base. James turned and fired, taking down the Variant scum as he jogged back to the head room.

  He burst in as the ROs were packing the radio equipment. Toye looked up and handed him a headset. “Brigadier for you, sir.”

  James frowned and took the headset. He covered the mouthpiece. “Toye. Get out of here.” He waited until Toye had left the room. “Mahana reporting.”

  “Mahana. I’ve just got off the line to the Americans. One of their scientists, a Dr Kate Lovato, and some Frenchies have done it. They’ve found a cure. All personnel are to fall back immediately. Back to the islands. Out.”

  “A cure?” he repeated, incredulous. “Are you sure? Over.”

  “I confirmed it with the Brits and the Aussies. Fall back. Now. Over.”

  “Wilco. Out.”

  James put down the headset and stared out the window. He could hear the deafening sounds of the battle all around him. He could smell the cordite. The iron of spilt blood. The stench of rotten fruit.

  He clicked on the headset. “All personnel. Fall back to the islands. I repeat fall back. A cure has been found. This is Colonel James Mahana of the New Zealand Army. Fall back.”

  James stood on the bow of the large fishing vessel as it churned through the water. Behind him, in a second boat, came the survivors from the base. He had no idea how many had fallen in the brutal attack but, looking at them, he couldn’t be prouder. They had fought valiantly, survived, and now a cure had been found. He glanced northwards to the islands that dotted the Hauraki Gulf and sighed. He hated being on the island. His iwi were proud to call this land home. He had vowed to take it back, and James was determined to keep that vow.

  They had found Captain Arenson’s boat drifting in the harbour. From the claw marks and bullet holes, it looked like they had suffered a direct attack from both collaborators and Variants. James had ordered the bodies of Arenson and Team Heke to be taken aboard. He was going to give them the burial they deserved. They had died with honour, protecting them.

  Sorry, Arenson. You can feast on pancakes in Valhalla.

  Spotting Badminton, he waved the Lieutenant over. Badminton’s arm was heavily bandaged. “Bad?” he asked, indicating the arm.

  “I’ll live, sir.”

  “Any more news on Johns?”

  “Just that they are still fighting off the Variants.”

  “Send two choppers. Let’s bring them home.”

  “Very good, sir.”

  James turned away and watched the muddy water of the river surge under the boat.

  Hang in there, Captain.

  — 34 —

  Another warrior fell and screamed as he was pulled off the inner wall and torn apart. Jack kept firing and loading. Ben stood on one side of him, Boss and Hone on the other. He couldn’t be prouder to die next to these men.

  “Changing!” He glanced at Boss. “I never thought I would die next to a cheeky teenager.”

  “What about next to a friend?”

  “I can do that, but I think of you more like a son.”

  “Then I am proud to die next to you, Jack.” Boss grinned, clicking in a new magazine himself.

  They turned as one and fired their reloaded rifles. Variants continued to flood into the pit. The logs of the outer wall still burned and the rain drizzled down, turning the ground into an ashy, muddy quagmire.

  “Keep going! Cut down the runners,” shouted Ben. “Forget about the Alpha.”

  The Variants still hurled themselves at the wall. The Maori impaled them on their taiaha and clubbed their skulls with their mere. Soon a mountain of dead had piled dozens high at the base of the wall. But still they came.

  “Jack!” shouted Hone.

  “What?”

  “You fight good for a white fella.”

  “Thanks, I guess.”

  Hone chortled and bashed in the head of a Variant. “My ancestors fought and killed yours, you know.”

  Jack stabbed a beast that had climbed up the wall. He kicked it off the blade of his red-handled machete. “Yeah. Wel
l now we fight together for the land we both love,” he shouted back.

  “That we do, Jack. It’s an honour, my friend.”

  Jack paused for a second and glanced at the muscly tattooed warrior and gritted his teeth. He knew how badly the Maori had been treated by the white settlers and now, fighting with them, he was proud.

  Jack was bleeding, tired and had hundreds of aches, but still he fought on. More Variants swarmed over the wall and engaged the humans. Side by side with the Maori, the Renegades shot and cut down the beasts.

  “Fall back. Last line of defence,” cried Ben. “Johnson, get the bloody chopper in the air and deal with that flying menace. Dee, Yalonda. I need you down here.”

  Johnson had managed to repair the NH-90 enough to make it airworthy.

  “I’ll help! I’ve got a score to settle with Abezi,” shouted Ken.

  Jack whistled for Max and watched Ken sprint across the Pa to the chopper. The damaged helicopter’s blades whirred, and in seconds it had lifted off the ground. He followed Boss down the steps as the Maori held off the Variants. He spotted Dee and Yalonda, covered in ash, gore and grime, but alive. Dee smiled at him and Jack blew her a kiss.

  “Light it up!” yelled Ben.

  The inner wall burst into flames behind Jack. He spun as he reached the trenches and spikes that guarded the tunnel entrance. He gasped at the sight of destruction behind him.

  Jack was now on a level with the pit. Scattered amongst the bodies of Variants were the torn remains of humans. Humans who had fought beside him.

  He nudged Dee’s side. “Hey.”

  “Hey yourself.”

  He kissed her lips and turned, raising his rifle. The beasts shrieked and howled as the fire took hold. The humans waited.

  Jack, like many others, drew in deep breaths and gulped down some water. He patted his combat vest. Only a few magazines left.

  Everywhere he looked, he saw fire, burning bodies and charred wood. Death and destruction.

  Abezi, the name Ken had given the winged demon, dove out of the clouds wailing its terrifying screech. Any poor soul caught out in the open was plucked from the ground and torn in half.

  Jack grimaced as he lined up the beast, adding his bullet to dozens of others. But none of them penetrated the thick skin.

  He turned his attention back to the Variants that were crowding into the Pa. Hundreds poured in and stacked themselves in lines. And waited.

  An Alpha lumbered into view through the smoke and rain, towering over the other beasts. They parted for him.

  “He’s mine,” growled Yalonda.

  Jack caught a glimpse of her steadying herself.

  Crack!

  Yalonda’s aim was true. Her round entered its right eye and exploded out the back of its skull. The top of its head burst open like an overcooked creme brule. Brain and skull sprayed out. The Alpha slumped to the ground, lifeless.

  With the death of their last remaining Alpha, the Variant horde turned feral. Gone was their order and strategy. They howled and charged en masse.

  Jack barely had time to react as they threw themselves at the spiked logs that protected the tunnel.

  “Boss! Take Max and go!”

  The teenager grabbed Max’s collar and sprinted down the trench.

  The beasts crawled over the impaled bodies of their kin. Some stopped and gnawed on a limb, tearing at the flesh, blissfully oblivious to their comrades’ primitive hunger, having satisfied their own. Jack shook his head at the sight. Even in the heat of battle, their animal instinct to feed took over.

  He shot another Variant, scoring a headshot. Within minutes, the creatures had swarmed into the trenches. He slung his rifle and pulled out his machete and knife. Dee unsheathed her katana, and the two exchanged a look. Jack grinned. It was only for a fleeting second, but it was enough. That look told him everything.

  I love you. Until the end.

  “Retreat. Into the tunnel, Renegades,” cried Ben.

  Jack turned and hacked the arm off one Variant, pivoted and cut deep into the torso of another. Dee lopped the head off a beast and cleared a path to him.

  Yalonda followed, swinging her hatchets.

  Together they ran down the trenches, dodging between fighting beast and man. The Variants chased them, but the warriors zigged and zagged amongst the ruins of the Pa.

  “Hurry!” Jack called.

  He glanced at Dee as the tunnel entrance loomed up ahead. A Variant leapt at him, slashing its claws across his chest.

  Jack howled as his flesh tore. He landed with a thud on the ground and brought his machete up in front of his face as the beast smacked its mouth at him. The beast’s strength was incredible.

  Jack’s tired limbs shook from the exertion of the last few days and his adrenaline reserves were spent. He simply lacked the energy to fight off the rabid animal.

  Jack looked at Dee as she slashed her katana, hoping to glimpse that beautiful face one last time. The face of the woman who had saved his life in so many ways.

  A flash of black and white fur blurred in his peripheral vision. Max snarled and latched onto the beast’s throat, tearing it out. Black blood gushed over Jack while strong hands pulled him to his feet.

  “C’mon, old man. Stand up straight,” Boss said, his voice tinged with worry.

  “Thanks, Boss.”

  “I only saved you because Dee would’ve killed me otherwise.”

  Yalonda buried her axe between the eyes of a creature and turned. Dee disposed of the last Variant with a swinging slash. She kicked the beast and looked between Jack and Boss.

  “What would I do?” Dee asked.

  “Nothing, baby. Let’s go.”

  “Hurry up, nerdy lovebirds. I don’t want to die yet,” Yalonda quipped, smirking.

  Jack grabbed his wife’s hand and quickened his pace, catching up to Hone and Ben.

  Ben looked at Yalonda. “All set?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Ben held up the detonator to Hone. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. We built it once. We can build it again.”

  A Variant dropped down and looked down the tunnel, its yellow eyes shining in the dim light. It howled, and several other cries joined it.

  “Sir. I think now would be a good time.” Yalonda wiggled her head.

  Ben pushed the button, and the ground rumbled above them. He turned and shoved Jack down the tunnel. “Run!”

  — 35 —

  Courage.

  Major Ken “Pig” Hind raked the minigun from side to side as the pilot expertly followed the twisting and diving winged beast. Abezi howled and wailed at them. Ken pummelled it with the .50 cal. rounds. He knew he was hurting it.

  The beast climbed higher into the rain-heavy clouds, and they pursued it. Rain lashed the chopper, soaking Pig as he clung to the gun.

  “Where the hell is it?”

  “Searching now, sir.”

  “Watch our six.”

  Frantically Pig scanned the sky, but the clouds and rain made it near impossible. He could see the Kaimai mountains below him. A sudden thought entered his mind.

  “Johnson, watch out for Te Aroha.”

  Pig knew as well as the pilot that the instruments that would normally warn them of approaching ground had been destroyed by the acid.

  “There!” shouted Johnson.

  The clouds had parted a few hundred metres ahead, revealing the fleeing creature. Beyond the creature loomed the antenna array on top of Te Aroha.

  Abezi dived suddenly, disappearing back into the rain.

  Pig leant out of the chopper, looking below. “Take us higher. See if you can get above this damn rain.”

  “I’m on it.”

  The battered and scarred chopper suddenly shook violently as Abezi slammed into them from underneath. Johnson screamed, struggling to wrestle control.

  Pig tilted the minigun at the sharpest angle he could, firing, filling the sky with .50 cal. rounds. But Abezi clung to the underside, avoiding the round
s.

  The beast tore at the chopper, taking hunks from the fuselage. Then it bolted from below and swung into the hold.

  Pig had no time to react as the winged beast latched onto his arm and tore off a hunk of flesh. Blood spurted in an arc. He shouted in agony before putting all his strength into a kick. His foot bounced off the beast and it snarled. Pig grimaced and groped along his waistband, searching for the Glock. His fingers closed around the polymer firearm and he unloaded the last of his rounds.

  Abezi swatted at the bullets and dived back out the window. He screeched loud and long and thudded against the listing chopper.

  The winged demon smashed one claw through the remaining window and drove a fist through Johnson’s skull before tearing the pilot’s head and spine from his body in one gore-soaked, shrieking motion.

  The chopper spun wildly and began to drop from the sky.

  So many thoughts raced through Pig’s mind, he couldn’t grasp any of them. Above them all, Ben’s training screamed at him to react. He swivelled the minigun around and unleashed a barrage of rounds. Abezi glared at him as the bullets found their mark and blew his head apart. The creature that had caused so much pain and death slid off the windshield and dropped into the clouds.

  Pig dropped the minigun and jumped into the vacant pilot’s seat as the machine kept falling. He only had basic training for his helicopter licence, but it was enough to at least land safely.

  I’ve got a brunette to take out.

  He managed to bring the chopper under control as its skids sparked off the road leading up to Te Aroha. He caught a glimpse of a strange blue substance coating the building tucked underneath the antenna. Smoke escaped from the instrument panel, and he struggled to gain any altitude.

  His wound burned, shooting pain up his arm. He had been shot, stabbed, beaten and tortured, but this new pain was something else, something worse. Something evil.

  Pig wrestled the helicopter and tore at his fatigues, desperate to stem the flow of blood.

  After five minutes trying to gain altitude to get over the Kaimai mountains, he gave up and guided the aircraft east. Captain Ben Johns had told him the location of the FOB, so that was where he now headed.