The Rule of Three (Extinction New Zealand Book 1)

by Adrian J. Smith

  The tractor coughed once, then turned over. Engaging the gear, Jack eased his way down the driveway. He looked back at the house every few seconds, half expecting someone or something to chase after him. But it all stayed quiet. He risked a quick glance up at the stars; he wished he and Dee were already in their cabin, doors bolted and safe. He sighed and focused on steering the old tractor.

  Arriving back at the cars, he found Flatcap and his family sitting on the hood of their car, their feet resting against the small clay bank. The children were eating, nestled into their parents’ sides.

  “I’ll reverse up and get yours first,” Jack said, pointing at the front of the vehicle.

  “All right,” Flatcap nodded, pushing himself up.

  “Don’t chain it up around the axle. There should be a hook, near the front.”

  “Yup, sure thing.”

  Jack reached down and put the tractor in forward. Looking back up, he saw movement over Flatcap’s shoulder.

  Six figures were moving through the school yard. Their limbs seemed strange, elongated, their movements jerky, inhuman. Jack wasn’t sure if they’d been spotted. But then one of the creatures let out a bloodcurdling scream. They all dropped to all fours and with an incredible burst of speed flew across the intervening ground towards the group.

  Jack gave an inarticulate shout, but there was nothing he could do for Flatcap and his family. Within seconds, the monsters were on them. Two of the creatures slammed into Flatcap and his wife, tearing and snarling. The stench of blood permeated the air.

  Time shifted into slow motion as Jack reacted. Thinking fast, he leaned over and grabbed the chain off the platform. Unfurling it, he swung it at the nearest creature, which had grabbed one of the boys. Slamming the hook into its head, he was shocked when bits of skull and black gooey sludge fountained out. The creature slumped against the car, dead.

  Pulling the boy into the cab and onto his lap, Jack gunned the engine. The tractor lurched down the road. With one hand on the wheel, he swung the chain at two more of the creatures and searched for the second child. All he could see were the creatures fighting over what he guessed were the remains of Flatcap.

  He swung the chain again at the snarling monsters. He couldn’t believe how fast they were, easily dodging his wild swings.

  The boy on his lap screamed in agony as one of the creatures tore open his leg. Jack managed to boot it in the face, smashing its sucker. It loosened its grip and Jack kicked it again, harder. He grinned as the beast fell off and crunched under the back wheels.

  Three more of the creatures shrieked into the night and sprinted towards the fleeing tractor, flanking them in a classic pincer movement.

  Ugly, but not stupid.

  Jack was still managing to keep one creature at bay with swings of his chain. He knew he couldn’t outrun them on this old workhorse. He’d just have to outmanoeuvre them. The tractor might not have speed, but it did have torque.

  Jack swung the wheel hard right, down a steep embankment.

  Bounding over the rutted ground, the creatures drew closer.

  So damn fast.

  They slammed into the side of the tractor with abandon, causing it to tilt like a listing ship. Cradling the boy, and trying to tuck himself into a ball, he leapt off the vehicle. Thumping into the ground, the boy jolted free of Jack. Immediately, one the creatures caught up to the boy and, with a sickening sound, tore a hunk of muscle from his torso. The boy screamed, in terror and agony, his eyes finding Jack’s. Pleading for the monster to stop. Pleading to not be left to die.

  Jack rolled to a stop and found himself at the bottom of a ravine, next to a small bridge crossing over a river. Two blurs of black came flying towards him. To his surprise, he found he was still holding the chain. Channelling his inner Viking berserker, Jack swung the chain with all his remaining strength. It connected with the closest creature, smashing into its horror hole. It ripped away the monster’s lower jaw and continued up through its eye socket, taking out black muck and brains and killing it instantly.

  Before he could turn fully, the other creature careened into him, smashing him against the bridge railing. Pain streaked up his spine as his breath fled from his lungs.

  The creature’s sucker mouth snapped at him, its claws trying to grasp him. Jack swung his arms, fists clenched as he thumped a few blows against the beast. Kicking out, he fought with everything he had.

  Jack managed to get the chain up under the monster’s chin to hold off its snapping jaws, but the terrible stench of rotten fruit emanating from its mouth made him gag. One of its claws gouged deep into his thigh muscle. Jack let out a scream. He delved down deep inside himself and found an inner strength he never knew he had. He wrapped the chain around the creature’s neck. Reaching behind him, he coiled it around the railing, then secured the hook over it. The creature dug its claws deeper into his thigh, its sucker mouth smacking at him as it strained to get at his face. With a last grunt of frustration, he tumbled over the railing, clasping the snapping creature in his arms. The chain went taut and, with his added weight, the creature’s head ripped off, covering him in black gunk. Jack plunged towards the river, releasing the creature’s body on the way down.

  The cold water prickled his skin as he splashed into the water, its frigid embrace a welcome respite. He kicked back to the surface from the blackened depths. Gasping, Jack prepared himself to be torn apart by approaching reptilian nightmares.

  To his surprise, the remaining creatures were still on the riverbank, apparently reluctant to enter the water. They snarled and hissed at him, joints popping as they paced up and down. He welcomed the reprieve. Struggling to keep afloat, he removed his hiking pack and cradled it in his arms. Turning over, he let the current drag him away.

  He stared up at the stars. His stars, the pinpricks of light.

  Years of wondering what hellish creatures dwelled out in the infinite reaches of space, and Jack had never imagined he would find them on Earth.

  I never knew their names…

  I’m sorry, Dee…sorry…I tried…

  — 4 —

  Dee stared down at her smartphone, hoping for a signal. She paced the room, desperate to reach Jack again. But no matter where she held the phone, the bars remained empty. Sighing, she sat back down on the bed and pulled back the curtain. They lived in a two-storeyed house, with the garage and basement below. She was plagued by indecision, whether to hide down there or barricade herself upstairs. She got up again and walked around the room, her eyes flicking over their photos. Many were of them on various hikes around New Zealand. Others were of their travels around the world. She paused at the one of her, framed by a cascading waterfall. That was her favourite photo. It had been taken the day she met Jack.

  “Dee, stop pacing. You’re making me nervous.”

  She stopped and smiled faintly at Rachel, an old friend from school. They had recently reconnected. “Any word from Dion?”

  “Nothing. I tried ringing the base too. No answer.”

  “I don’t like it, Rach. You should come with us to the cabin. There’s plenty of room.”

  “Thanks, Dee, but I can’t. Dion said to wait at my parents’. He’ll come to me.”

  “What was the last you heard?”

  “All he said was that he was off to rescue some American official trapped on Tongariro.”

  “American?”

  “Yup.”

  Dee mulled it over. Since media reports had told everyone to stay inside and lock their doors and that the army would come through their area, they had heard nothing. Not a peep.

  Dee and Rachel sat in silence for another ten minutes. Dee listened to sounds outside, or lack of sound. An eerie silence had descended over the city. She and Jack lived on a busy street. It was all they could afford at the time, but she loved this house. Jack always commented that it had good bones. He had spent hours rewiring it to his standard, often coming home from his job as an electrician to strap on his work belt and crawl into
the hot ceiling cavity. Dee would hear him muttering to himself about the bad workmanship done by others. She glanced up at the ceiling and wished he was up there now, muttering, not fifty kilometres away in the bush.

  “I think I’ll go, Dee,” Rachel said, standing up and smoothing the creases in her jeans.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah.”

  “At least let me drive you.”

  “Okay. That would be nice.” Rachel flicked her eyes outside. “Do you think those things are here?”

  “All we saw was that blurry video someone took in Auckland. Let’s make it quick. Get home and lock your doors.”

  Rachel smiled and grabbed her handbag. She grasped Dee’s hand. “What about that policeman they found?”

  “Who knows,” Dee said. “I agree, though. It looked bad.”

  Rachel nodded and followed Dee outside.

  The sun was sinking lower over the hills to the east as Dee edged her car out onto the normally busy road and turned left. As she drove down the road, she couldn’t get over the lack of traffic. The lack of everything. It was if everyone had vanished. In a weird way, it reminded her of being in London in 1997. She was there on a working holiday when Princess Diana was killed in that car crash. The day of the funeral was eerie. London, one of the busiest cities in the world, became a ghost town. Dee and a friend had biked through the streets, a creepy feeling snapping at them. Dee glanced left and made the next turn. It felt exactly like that now. Hamilton, where she and Jack lived, was a tiny city, but on any other April day there was hustle and bustle as people went about their routines.

  She sighed. “This is weird,” she said, shaking her head. “Do your parents have any guns?”

  “A few. Why?” Rachel said.

  “I’ve got a strange feeling that we’re going to need them.”

  “Huh,” Rachel murmured.

  Dee let the conversation go and drove on through the empty streets. Everywhere she looked, she saw cars parked on the road. Bikes abandoned. She even saw a golf cart parked outside someone’s front door. Rachel’s parents lived a few kilometres away, but thankfully not across the river. As she turned into Rachel’s street, she slammed on the brakes. Standing in the street, his body rigid, was an old man in a dressing gown.

  Dee looked at Rachel and shifted the car into neutral. “I’ll go around.”

  “Wait,” Rachel said, putting a hand on the dashboard.

  The old man, now ten metres away, slowly turned around and stared at them. Blood was seeping out of his eyes and Dee could see dark patches all over his exposed skin.

  “Eddie?” Rachel said. She made to leave the car but Dee grabbed her hand. “It’s okay, Dee. He’s my folks’ neighbour.”

  Dee put her hand on the door handle. Something didn’t feel right. Maybe Rachel was correct. Maybe the rumours about creatures attacking people were real. Maybe that shaky video was something real. Maybe. But she couldn’t be sure.

  Surely, with everyone having a camera at their disposal, they would have footage by now?

  Dee chuckled to herself, remembering something Jack had said about UFOs.

  You would think, with our technology, someone, somewhere would have decent footage.

  She watched Rachel through the windscreen, that creeping feeling inching up her spine. Eddie turned at the sound of Rachel approaching and let out a weird shrieking sound. His eyes locked on her and he lunged, bringing her down.

  Dee gasped and bolted out of the car. Rachel was struggling to hold off the old man. He had her pinned down with his knees and was trying to bite her throat.

  Dee dropped her shoulder and thumped into Eddie, knocking him off Rachel. Eddie rolled once and leapt into a crouch. The speed of his movements amazed Dee. Eddie snarled and let out another weird shriek. This time, other shrieks answered. Dee glanced at Rachel. Her eyes were wide and she clutched at her handbag, kneading it like it was a lump of dough.

  Dee grasped her hand and pulled her back towards the car, all the time keeping an eye on Eddie. He watched them move but made no indication that he was going to charge again. Instead, saliva drooled from the corners of his mouth. That was when Dee noticed his mouth had shrivelled and his lips had turned black.

  “Rachel,” Dee whispered, “when I say, run to the car and lock your door.”

  “Yup.”

  “Now!” Dee cried. She let go of Rachel’s hand and pivoted. Straining, she leapt for her open door. A piercing howl jolted her head up.

  Three more figures were sprinting down the road towards them. Rachel let out a scream as Eddie caught her and tackled her to the ground for a second time.

  Dee skidded to a stop and changed direction as Rachel disappeared under him. He seemed stronger and more agile now.

  “Get off!” she screamed, kicking and punching.

  Frantic, Dee searched for a weapon, anything, but came up short. More shrieks filled the air, reminding her of the new threat. She paused. Conflicted, Dee didn’t know what to do. Help Rachel and risk both of them dying, or flee?

  She grimaced and slammed into Eddie with her shoulder. There was no way she was going to let her friend down. Eddie rocked back but held on. His movement pushed Dee off balance and she tumbled to the ground, sprawling on the pavement.

  Her skin tore on the concrete. Dee winced and shook her head. Rachel had used the distraction to kick Eddie the rest of the way off her. She hoisted Dee to her feet.

  The others were only twenty metres away now, their shrieks filling the air with a bone-chilling din.

  Dee yanked Rachel’s hand. “Run!”

  Dee spotted their destination halfway down the road. She pumped her legs, thankful to Jack for the many hours of hiking up hills. The exercise had conditioned her muscles. She ran faster, hoping Rachel was still behind her.

  The thing about being chased is that you enter a surreal state, like an ancient genetic memory that boils up to the surface and forces its way into your mind. Your brain screams, “Flee!” over and over. Adrenaline floods your body, giving muscles new energy.

  Dee risked a peek over her shoulder. Half to check on her friend and half to see the location of the creatures that pursued them. Dee shook her head. She was having a hard time comprehending what was happening. So the rumours were true. The virus did something to you. Mutated you into something primeval. Whatever it did, all Dee could think of was “Run!”

  Rachel sprinted past her in a burst of speed as they reached her parents’ house. As she made up the last few metres, she fumbled for her keys in her handbag.

  “Hurry!” Dee said. She reached Rachel and spun around. The creatures were coming up fast.

  “I can’t find the keys!” Rachel screamed, her voice coming out in a high-pitched squeal. She banged her fist against the door, shouting. But the house remained quiet.

  Dee picked up the rubbish bin next to the front step and hurled it at the nearest creature. Its yellow eyes flared back at her. The rubbish bin bounced off its head. It had been a man once. Now his skin had a translucent glow to it, showing veins and arteries. He was mostly bald, but she could still see tufts of hair. The man stumbled and tripped over, sprawling on the ground.

  “Go!” Dee shouted, cursing to herself. They needed weapons, and fast. They darted down the side of the house and through the wooden side gate, locking it behind them. Immediately the beasts chasing them slammed into the timber. It creaked and wobbled, but held.

  “What do we do, Dee?” Rachel whispered.

  “We need to hide or find something to fight with, fast.”

  “Dad has some tools in his shed,” Rachel said. She gestured at the glasshouse and tin shed in the corner of the section. Large, well-maintained gardens led up to the door.

  “That’ll have to do. C’mon,” Dee said.

  Dee cast her eyes over the peg board that lined the back wall of the shed. Rachel’s father had every tool she could think of. Garden forks, spades. Dutch hoe. Weird tilling implements. She smiled when she spot
ted an axe leaning against the bench. Rachel grabbed a machete and hefted it, checking its weight.

  Thumps and shrieks echoed around the back yard. Dee felt a little better with something to fight back with. She took a couple of seconds to refocus and pictured her car a couple of hundred metres down the road. She pictured them running to it, getting into it and getting the hell out of here.

  “Are you ready?” Dee asked, looking at her friend.

  Rachel grimaced, and sighed. “Yeah.”

  “We’re going to run out the other gate and get to my car, all right?”

  “Okay.”

  Dee grasped Rachel’s shoulder. “We have to do it. Okay?”

  “Yeah. I’m just scared, Dee. I’m not used to this sort of thing.”

  Dee smiled. A soft smile. She knew what Rachel meant. For so long, many humans had lived lives of luxury. Lives that kings from the Middle Ages could only have dreamed of. Medicine. Food. Technology. Flushing toilets. Roads. Everything.

  “No one is. But I want to live. To see Jack again. I’m not becoming food for whatever those creatures are.”

  Several sounds reached Dee. The gate rattled and splintered. A howl rang out, answered by several shrieks. She ducked below the bench and looked over into the adjacent glasshouse, hoping for somewhere to hide.

  Dee spotted a pile of compost and, next to it, potting mix. She crawled over and began to dig as more howls filled the air.

  Rachel soon joined her at the task. Within a few seconds, they had made a large enough indent. Dee grabbed some bamboo stakes and shovelled the compost over her legs and torso. The soil caved in, burying them underneath. Dee pushed the bamboo stake out and tested it for air. She couldn’t see her friend in the dark, but she could feel her shaking. Dee shut her eyes and hoped they had done enough.

  — 5 —

  The chill of the water surprised Jack. It seeped through his soft tissue and into his bones. He could feel his body shaking, trying to warm itself up. If he wasn’t careful, he’d get hypothermia.