Within seconds they were at the tree, and without hesitation they crouched down over the bodies and went into a feeding frenzy. The children beside her whimpered. Dee raised her finger to her lips, urging them to remain silent. All she could hope for was that the monsters would be too caught up in their meals to notice the feast above them.
A dozen more creatures crested the hill, howling. The feeding creatures paused their grisly meal to shriek at the new arrivals. There was a brief second of silence before the new creatures charged. They joined the beasts below them and fought over the scraps. Dee hugged the tree tight, mesmerised by the horror of the scene unfolding below. One creature broke away, clutching a leg. Dee could still see denim material covering it. The creature turned and looked up at Dee.
It let out a high-pitched shriek and jumped up and down. The feeding frenzy below stopped. All the creatures glanced up and howled. Jeans dropped its meal and, with an astonishing leap, landed in the tree. Dee hacked at it with the machete, but it dodged the blows as it hissed at her.
“Go!” she yelled at the kids.” Get in the river.”
Crack! Crack!
Gunshots rang out, distracting Dee. Jeans struck out its claws at her, missing her by a whisker as she ducked just in time. More gunshots followed the first two in quick succession. The creatures below looked around in confusion as they began to drop like flies.
Jeans shrieked at Dee, baring its mouth. She gasped as she caught a glimpse of its tiny sharp teeth. Grunting, Dee swung the machete and connected with a blow to the side of the neck. The blade was sharp and dug in deep, finally silencing the creature.
Dee glanced up as two men, rifles nestled into their shoulders, approached. From the way they walked and swept their rifles from side to side, she assumed they were military.
The two men killed the last of the feeding beasts and, while one took up a covering position, the other looked up at Dee.
“Evening, Mam.”
“Hey.”
“How many are with you?”
“Three,” Dee said. “Children.”
The army man nodded. “Sergeants Holt and Bawden.” He clicked in a fresh magazine. “We should go before that pack gets wind of us.”
“Go where?” Dee said, frowning.
“Claudelands. We’re evacuating everyone out of the cities.”
“Why there?”
“Less questions. More moving. Let’s go.”
Dee waved to the kids and helped them as they climbed down and into the arms of Sergeant Holt.
— 9 —
There was a strange smell of rotting fruit as Jack tiptoed over the wooden floorboards. He could never understand the appeal of that choice of flooring. Too noisy in his opinion. He made it to the kitchen without seeing anything suspicious. The house was clean and tidy, like whoever had lived here had never returned home when the news broke. Next to the internal door that led to the garage, the owners had kindly mounted a keypad.
Jack smiled. That saved him a lot of time hunting. He snatched up the keys for the Toyota Hilux and pocketed them.
“You hungry, grumpy boy?” Emma said, opening kitchen cupboards. She pulled several boxes of muesli bars and crackers from the shelves and placed them on the counter.
“Grab it and let’s go,” Jack said. “I want to be on the water asap.”
“Here.” Emma threw Jack a box of protein bars. He caught them and shoved them into his backpack.
Jack pressed the door release again and frowned. He tried the light switch, checking to see if there was electricity. It blinked on and bathed the garage in a soft glow.
He tried the release button again with no luck. Giving up, Jack pulled the manual override cord and strained as he lifted the large garage door. Besides the new Toyota, the owner had a couple of 1970s muscle cars. Jack let out a whistle. Even though he wasn’t a car person, he knew the value of the machines. He chuckled wryly to himself.
Not anymore.
Jack busied himself. First, he manoeuvreed the Toyota to the boat trailer. Next, he wound down the trailer and mounted it to the tow bar. He didn’t bother attaching the electrics.
“Why don’t we just take the 4x4?” Emma said, munching on a muesli bar.
“Because those things hate the water,” Jack mumbled. “I tried driving; the roads were crazy yesterday. I’d hate to get stuck in some gridlock. We wouldn’t stand a chance.”
“Okay. How are we getting around Karapiro?”
“Driving,” Jack said, grunting as he clicked the shackle closed. “Ready? Let’s go.”
Jack had opened the door to the Toyota when he heard the noise. He paused and reached for his bachi hoe. He strained his ears. It wasn’t a howl or a shriek. As it drew closer, he could make out the distinctive sound of V8 engines tearing down the road. He glanced at Emma and flicked his head at the house. She nodded, understanding.
Until they knew who these people were, they weren’t going anywhere. Jack shut the front door as the noise of the V8 engines grew louder. A bright red Holden Commodore screeched to a stop and skidded into the driveway.
Jack peeked through the curtains and watched as four men climbed out of the car. They were dressed in blue jeans, T-shirts and leather jackets. They were all armed with assault rifles. Jack had no idea what kind or what they were capable of. He had always thought those kinds of guns were unavailable in New Zealand.
The driver stretched his back and slung his rifle over his shoulder. He ambled up to the door, skipping a few steps along the way, and knocked once, twice, three times.
“Little pig. Little pig. Let me in.”
Jack could feel his heart slamming in his chest. His tired mind swam with thoughts. But the one that shouted the loudest was Why? Why were these men here?
He glanced back at Emma and gestured towards the back of the house.
“Little pig? Are you there?” the driver shouted this time, anger lacing his tone. “Tell you what. We just want the girl. You can go free.” The driver cackled. “Good luck out there.”
Jack crouched down next to Emma and leaned in closer so that his mouth was next to her ear. “On the count of three, we’re going to run out that ranch slider and into the trees. Keep running. Don’t look back, all right? Head for the river.”
Emma nodded and glanced at the front door.
“Last chance, Chief,” the driver said. “I’ll give you to the count of three.”
Jack tightened his grip on his bachi hoe.
“One!” The front door smashed open, slamming into the wall. Boots thumped on the floor as the driver and his three companions stormed into the room. Within seconds, Jack and Emma were surrounded.
Jack dropped his weapon and held his hands up. He and Emma were roughly hauled to their feet. Emma struggled and winced as her arm was twisted behind her back.
Jack turned and faced the driver. “What do you want?”
“I told you, Chief,” the driver said. “Her.”
He looked up at his men and smiled before looking back at Jack. “You. I don’t need. Kill him.”
“Wait!” Jack pleaded. “C’mon man. I’m just trying to get home to my wife. Please let me go.”
Jack glanced at Emma, trying to convey that he wouldn’t let them take her. That he would find her and help. She was struggling against the man who was holding her, but for once remained quiet.
“They call me Duke. Tell you what, Chief, I’ll give you a one-minute head start. If you can evade my men, you’ll be on your way and home to your wife.”
Jack frowned and looked at the other three men. They were dressed for a chase. If he could make it to the river, he knew he stood a chance.
As he stood there facing Duke, Jack ran the plan through his head.
Evade these assholes.
Circle back.
Rescue Emma.
Go home.
Problem was, they had guns. Real guns. Not just some vermin pea shooters. Real military rifles. He hesitated and looked at Emma.
He watched her for a few moments, trying to gauge the sincerity of her words. Finally he turned back to Duke. Duke was watching him, a big grin spread over his face.
“One minute?” Jack said.
Duke crossed his heart. “Promise. One whole minute.”
“Okay.”
“You better run, Chief,” Duke laughed. “Clock is ticking.”
Jack pushed past the men holding Emma. “Sorry,” he whispered as he went past. Jack made for the back of the house before pivoting and sprinting out the front door.
The only plan he had come up with involved the speedboat. Laughter followed him as he jumped into the 4x4 and tore out of the driveway, pulling the boat. It had been a long time since he had driven down this road, but he was certain of a boat ramp at the beginning of Lake Karapiro.
Faster he urged the vehicle on, constantly glancing in his mirrors, checking for pursuit. By his reckoning he had perhaps thirty seconds left and still there was no sign of the lake or the boat ramp.
Something glinted in the side mirror a fraction before a bullet pinged off the 4x4. Jack ducked and frantically looked around for the shooter.
Another bullet pinged off the metal. Jack cursed himself. Why had he expected Duke to keep his word?
He caught a glimpse of the lake through the trees as he whizzed by. Slowing down, Jack took a deep breath and wrenched the wheel, aiming for a narrow one-lane road.
The Toyota bounced and fishtailed around as he struggled to regain control.
At least they’ve stopped shooting.
Lake Karapiro was spread out in front of him as he desperately searched for a way to get the boat into the water quickly. He glanced left and right. He soon realised there was no way he could launch the craft: the terrain was simply too steep. He needed to lose the boat, and fast.
Jack brought the 4x4 to a halt and leapt from the vehicle. V8 engines growled on the wind. Duke and his men were getting close. Jack wiped his sweaty hands on his hiking shorts and peered around the back of the Toyota. Duke’s vehicle and three others were hurtling towards him. Men were leaning out of the windows, guns raised in the air.
Jack sighed and blinked away tears. He hated to leave Emma to whatever horrible fate these men had in mind for her, but he had to think of himself. Of Dee. She meant everything to him, and Jack wanted nothing more than to see her beautiful blue eyes again. To hold her. Feel the safety of her arms wrapped around him.
He glanced at the dark water of the lake and cast his eyes across to the other side. He could see houses. Perhaps he could shelter there.
With one last look back at Duke and his men, Jack grabbed his hiking pack and dived into the lake, gasping as the cold water embraced him.
Here we go again.
— 10 —
“Single file. Follow Bawden. Keep silent,” Holt said. “Understood?” He stared at Dee, waiting.
“Understood. But I’m going home. I’m waiting for my husband.”
“Negative. All civilians are to be evacuated.” Holt grabbed her arm and pushed her in front of him.
She bit her lip and decided to play along for a while. They were heading in the direction of her house and, more importantly, away from the creatures.
Holt thumbed the radio he had strapped onto his tactical vest.
“Four civvies for extraction,” Holt said.
There was a moment of static before a garbled voice rippled over the airwaves. “Negative. Holt…they’re everywhere. Go!” The popping sounds of gunfire filtered through.
“Say again, Nikau?”
“Creatures…” Crack! Crack!
Holt tried to reach Nikau a couple more times, but to no avail. He turned back to Dee, his brow furrowed. “Looks like we’re walking. What’s the quickest route to Claudelands Arena?”
“Follow this river trail for about three kilometres until we reach the rail bridge. Cross that and we’ll nearly be there,” Dee said.
He nodded and tapped Bawden on the shoulder. The two soldiers had a brief, hushed conversation before taking up positions, Bawden in front of the children and Holt just behind Dee.
Bawden led them back onto the paved riverpath. He swivelled his rifle constantly from side to side, his eye glued to the scope on the back. Dee had only seen equipment like that in one of Jack’s action movies.
After the golf course, the path ascended steeply, hugging the limestone cliffs that edged this stretch of the river. Expensive mansions perched precariously atop the cliffs, overlooking the water. Dee could hear the occasional scream, shout and the odd crying out. But, other than that, there were no other human sounds. No cars. No music. Not even the usual night-time squawk of birds or hoot of the morepork. The howls and shrieks of the creatures had taken over, every screech reminding her of the nightmare.
Bawden came to a sudden stop and held up his fist. He stopped so quickly, the children banged into his stumpy frame. He crouched down on one knee and signalled Holt, waving his finger and pointing ahead into the gloom.
Dee looked to where he was gesturing and cringed at the sight of a dozen pairs of yellow glowing eyes. The eyes blinked as one, and a hideous shriek rattled Dee’s brain. Chaos broke out as everything happened at once.
Holt and Bawden aimed their carbines into the mass of yellow eyes and began firing. Over the din of the gunfire, Holt screamed at her, “Get the kids out of here!”
The eyes morphed into creatures as they flitted out of the dark and bounded towards the humans. Bawden and Holt were dropping them as fast as they could, but every time they killed one, another took its place.
Dee was rooted to the spot, paralysed by indecision. The only way out was up. Up through the scrub and through the grounds of the mansions. The children began screaming as they spotted the beasts. Dee snapped out of her immobility and picked up the nearest kid. She struggled over the flimsy wire fence, turned, and helped the other two children over. Holt glanced back and shouted something, his words lost in the commotion. Dee pushed the children in front of her, urging them on through the scrub. Behind her, the gunfire became sporadic before falling silent as she made it into the back yard of a house. It gleamed in the moonlight, its bright white paint shining like a beacon. They made it up onto the deck and huddled against the house, gasping for breath. Dee hugged the children close. She still had the machete and turned it over in her hands. Its blade and handle were pitted and chipped. She listened to the sounds of the beasts and twisted the weapon in her hands. She looked down at the children as they hugged her tight, frightened. Dee sighed. What use was this machete if two highly trained soldiers with assault rifles couldn’t make it.
She knelt down next to the kids. “I don’t live too far away. We’re going to find a car and go there, okay?”
The children whimpered but didn’t speak. Dee didn’t blame them. If she paused to admit it, she was terror-stricken to the point of giving up. The sights and sounds of Rachel, Machete and Broomstick being eaten would haunt her for the rest of her life.
Dee had a sudden image of Jack flit through her mind. He was wearing his hiking pack and he was smiling. Those blue eyes that seemed to smile at her, no matter his mood. One of his favourite sayings, something he’d tried to instil in her, flashed through her mind.
There is always a way out.
Dee stood and gazed down at the river. She could see the glow of fires on the other side as she tried to get her exact bearings. By the way the crow flies, she was still two kilometres from home. Three by the streets.
She gritted her teeth and took the smallest child’s hand. “No noise, okay?”
For the second time that night, Dee crept around the side of a house, heart pounding, fingers tingling with fear. Gripping the machete tight, whitening her knuckles, she led the kids away from the mansion, keeping to the shadows. She marvelled at how the children didn’t make a sound, at how they were allowing her, a complete stranger, to guide them. Trusting he
r. Dee just hoped she had made the right decision. Common sense told her to get inside one of these houses and wait until daylight, but Dee wanted the familiarity of her own house.
Once there, she had access to a month’s-worth of food and water. She had a katana and the basement could be easily secured. Better that than going into the unknown.
Dee and the kids ducked behind a car that had slammed into a power pole. Glass and oil covered the ground. Tentatively, Dee looked inside and smiled at the sight of the keys hanging from the ignition.
“Lady?” A kid tugged on her arm and pointed across the road. Dee froze when she spotted the creature. All the hair on its head had fallen out except for a wispy clump near its forehead. It reminded her of some of those bad haircuts back in the 90s. She reached behind and nudged at the children, gesturing at them to get into the car. Dee cracked the door open, all the while keeping an eye on the beast. For now, it seemed intent on sniffing the driveway opposite. Once the kids were in the car, she edged around the front of the vehicle.
Unfortunately Dee was too busy watching the creature and not keeping an eye on where she was placing her feet. Glass crunched under her feet, cracking like she was walking on eggshells.
The beast’s head snapped up and swivelled around. It locked onto Dee in a split second and let out a bloodcurdling shriek. Dee cursed and sprinted to the driver’s door. Within seconds the creature barrelled into her, knocking her into a garden. She braced herself for the beast to start tearing her flesh, but no pain came. No snarls. No shrieks. No agony.
Dee shook her head and brought the machete up, looking for the beast. It lay slumped on the grass verge with what looked like an arrow sticking out of its head.
Dee took a step back when she saw a man dressed in black army fatigues and holding a bow walking towards her. He gestured with his head to get into the vehicle, and held the door open for her. Without a word, Dee slid into the passenger seat. The mystery man started up the car and pulled away.
Only once they were several blocks away did he speak. “Where to?”
The Rule of Three (Extinction New Zealand Book 1) Page 6