Not wanting to speak for fear of attracting Variants, Dee using mime demonstrated that she wanted Matt to cup his hands together and give her a boost.
Grunting, Matt pushed her through the window and onto the kitchen bench. Dee did her best to stay out of the glass, but she felt a few pinpricks on her hands. Looking again to the spot where the body had lain, shivers travelled up her spine. Quickly moving on, she grabbed the keys off the hook near the pantry and let herself out the side door.
Signaling with a nod of her head, she indicated the garage to Matt, and handed him the keys.
Matt and Dee were struggling with the garage door as Aston and Alice joined them.
Whispering to Matt, Dee said, “Wait a few minutes. We’ll try to leave together.”
Matt nodded.
Alice grabbed Dee in a bear hug. “Thank you.”
Pushing Alice back slightly, Dee wiped a tear from her own eye. “You’re welcome. Good luck, and thanks for all the fish.”
Alice smiled distantly at Dee, not getting the reference. Embarrassed, Dee jumped over the fence. Crouching low, she made a dash for her car. Mike and Boss had raised the garage door in readiness. Easing the car out, she glanced around, looking for Variants. Gripping the steering wheel, she indicated right, and headed up the road, away from her sanctuary. Dee wondered if she was doing the right thing by leaving. Would Jack know to head to the cabin? She pushed her doubts aside and concentrated on driving everyone to safety.
Matt followed her to the end of the road. Turning south, Dee and her group waved them goodbye.
They made it across town without incident, weaving in and out of vehicles clogging the road. Everywhere they looked, they could see evidence of violent confrontations. Blood, broken glass. Dee saw one car with the doors peeled off like a tin of sardines.
What the hell did that?
Dee drove them to a hunting shop she knew, but they could see it had been looted.
She drove on, heading for one of the bridges crossing the river. As they drew near to it, she could see it was blocked. Vehicles were strewn everywhere, tangled in a bottleneck. Some were burnt out.
“We’ll have to try the next bridge down,” Dee said to no one in particular.
“They’ll all be the same,” Matt said sullenly.
Dee shook her head in annoyance. “We have to try, though.”
“What about Narrows Bridge, out by the airport?” asked Boss.
“Yeah, all right. Less traffic. Could be a winner,” agreed Dee.
Reversing the car, Dee looked in the rearview mirror, and mouthed Thank you to Boss.
The going was slow, as all the roads were nearly impassable. She had to backtrack several times and try different routes, but finally they made it out of Hamilton. Speeding up as much as she dared, Dee couldn’t help thinking that the Variants would be out on the hunt in another couple of hours. If the roads carry on like this, we’re going to have to find somewhere to hole up for the night.
Dee could see the the golf course up ahead, and knew the bridge was just around the corner. Slowing down, she crossed her fingers for some luck. Turning the corner, her heart sank. Just like the others, the bridge was clogged. Damn it!
Several cars were pressed against each other, much like a road block. Looking into the jumbled mess, she could see a small gap, perhaps just wide enough to squeeze the car through.
“What do you think, guys?”
“We could shunt them over a bit,” replied Mike. “Do you want me to drive?”
Anger at the implied insult flowed through her. “No! I’m fine!”
Dee inched the car forward, scraping it on both sides. The metallic screech making her clench her jaw.
Easy, easy does it.
Dee was alternating between both wing mirrors when Vicki and Mike screamed. Looking up, she saw a Variant perched on the roof of a car. Heart pounding, she grabbed the gear stick, jammed the car into reverse, and slammed the accelerator down, spinning the tyres.
With a horrifying screech, the Variant leapt onto the hood of her car. Several screeches answered its call. Dee swung the steering wheel hard from side to side, trying to remove the Variant, but it dug its claw-like digits into the hood.
One arm drew back and smashed through the windscreen, spearing a stunned Mike right through the skull. Vicki’s screams went up several octaves.
Boss pounded Dee’s shoulder. “Down there! Go right, through the golf course!”
She didn't have time to answer. Swinging the car hard right, it whipped back and went down the embankment. Rolling over once before righting, the wheels still spinning in the soft earth, Dee put it into drive and tore away from the screeching Variants.
The roll had crushed the Variant that had speared Mike. His lifeless body flopped around, then leaned onto Dee.
“Boss, get him off me,” she shouted.
Boss pushed Mike against the passenger door with his feet.
Tearing over the pristine greens, she looked around furiously for an escape route.
“Over there,” yelled Boss, pointing to a large motorboat moored at a pier. “Let’s see if these fuckers can swim!”
Dee turned in the direction he was pointing. Staring in the rearview mirror at the pursuing Variants, she wasn’t watching where she was going. The car roared as it left the grass, then plummeted into a sand trap, where it stuck fast. Dee slammed into the steering wheel, her breath whooshing out of her lungs. Grunting with pain, she looked back at the Variants, stunned at their speed and agility.
“Run! Everyone, run!” she yelled as she leapt from the car.
Dee stole a glance back, to check if Boss and Vicki were following.
Over the crest of the hill, several Variants were moving toward them, fast. She slowed, letting Boss pass her.
Reaching the boat, Boss scrambled to start the engine. “Get in,” he shouted. Then his eyes went wide. “Vicki! No!”
Dee looked back and saw Vicki at the end of the jetty, arms outstretched like Christ the Redeemer. Vicki turned her head back toward Dee, and looked into her eyes. And in that moment, Dee saw Vicki’s anguish over Mike’s death. She had given up. This was her sacrifice. Her heaven-entering deed. For them to survive. To live on.
She looked on in horror as the leading Variants slammed into Vicki, tearing and fighting over her flesh.
“Dee! Come on!” screamed a panicked Boss.
Scrambling and slipping on the jetty, she covered the last few metres and, with a swish of her Katana, cut the bowline and jumped in.
Boss gunned the engine and the boat surged out into the river.
A lone Variant bolted from the pack. With an awe-inspiring leap, it sailed through the air toward the fleeing survivors.
Dee turned and, with all the anger and frustration that had eaten away at her soul for the past fifteen days, cooped up in that stinking basement, she let out a screaming war cry, bringing her Katana up in a slashing arc.
The Variant twisted in mid air in an attempt to avoid the swinging steel, but Dee’s blow cut deep into its torso, nearly severing it in two. With a sickening thud, it landed quivering in a heap on the boat deck. Disgusted, Dee kicked it into the river.
“Ughhh. I hate these things.”
Boss stared at her. “You’re getting good with that.”
Dee shrugged her shoulders and looked to the river bank, where the other Variants had gathered in a pack, screeching. They were jumping up and down, but did not enter the water. She could see more on the bridge. Pointing south, Dee said, “Looks like we can only go that way, toward Cambridge.”
Boss nodded in agreement. “Yeah.”
Dee sat down in the seat next to Boss as he moved the boat into the current and away from the banks. Taking a moment to calm herself, she looked around the largish boat and saw that it was all kitted out for pleasure cruising. Huh? What people spend their money on. She shook her head.
Boss looked over at her, a frown creasing his forehead. “You know what, Dee?”
“What Boss?”
“You’re not what I was expecting.”
“Well, as they say, you have to expect the unexpected.”
“Who’s they?”
Even amongst all the horror they had witnessed over the past couple of weeks, Dee found herself smiling at Boss, shaking her head in amusement.
Onwards into the fray. Where are you Jack?
CHAPTER THREE
The primal screech echoed through the warm damp air, reverberating off the walls, and jolting Jack from his fitful sleep. He snapped his eyes open and looked left and right, heart hammering in panic. Trying to calm himself, he forced his breathing to slow. Listening for the cracking, popping sounds they made, Jack took note of his surroundings.
He was in a corridor, its floors and walls made of concrete. Twisting his head as far left and right as he could, the corridor seemed to go on forever in both directions. A constant humming buzzed in his ears. Surrounding him, other people were glued to the walls in the same way he was, behind a white cocoon or some such. No one moved, and given the stench of death, some appeared to be long dead. It reminded Jack of a science fiction film he had seen in his youth; the title escaped him. He remembered the victims being used as incubators.
Is that what I am? An incubator?
His fevered mind struggled to grasp what he was seeing. He had no idea how long he’d been down here. His throbbing head and intense hunger told him it was several days, at least.
Jack could feel the tube of his water bladder resting on his shoulder. Fleeting memories of the last few days returned, flashing in his mind's eye.
Struggling against his bonds; rubbing his wrist raw; water so tantalizingly close. Screeching. Clacking. Cutting. Thud…!
With all his remaining strength, he pushed his backside against the wall, relieving some of the pressure on his right arm, which was twisted around uncomfortably so the back of his hand touched the concrete wall, the membrane holding it fast. This time, he managed to wrench his left arm free. He grabbed the water valve and, twisting it towards his mouth, sucked on the tube, releasing the tepid but wonderful water into his mouth. Jack could feel it as it ran all the way down into his rumbling stomach. Gulping a few mouthfuls, he stopped himself from drinking too much. Making himself sick would alert the creatures.
His mind began to clear. Pushing his left arm back under the membrane, he felt along the waist belt of his hiking pack for the little pouch. Finding it, he unzipped it. Slowly, fearful of alerting the monsters, he removed one of his protein bars. Rabidly, he tore off the wrapper. Forgetting about the creatures for now, he fed his hunger. To survive, he had to eat.
With his appetite sated for now, and his thirst quenched, Jack took stock of his situation.
What is it that guy always said? There’s always a way out?
All right. I’m stuck to a wall. In some horror-filled nightmare. Surrounded by dead or dying people. Creatures from the seventh circle of hell want to eat me.
Great. Just great.
Typical.
Jack tore at the membrane holding his right arm fast against the wall, stopping every few seconds to listen for them. Hell, but the stuff was tough. Again and again he pulled on it. It was like trying to tear a plastic shopping bag at the handles: it stretched, but refused to break. With a final tug, he managed to free his right arm.
The stench of rotten fruit wafted down the corridor, alerting him to creatures approaching. Clenching all his muscles tight, he rammed his arms back into position and went stiff as a board. Prayed to anything.
The horrors scurried along the corridor, their joints popping as they moved. Heart pounding, Jack risked a peek through his semi-closed eyelids. Two had stopped a few meters away.
One of the creatures used its claw-like appendages to quickly saw through a membrane, and as he watched, a blonde-haired women dropped to the floor with a thud. Shock made him unable to look away. The other creature bent down, joints popping, and scooped her up with ease. The pair turned and scurried away. Jack was about to look away when a shadow to one side caught his attention.
A short, overweight man with a red trucker’s cap loomed into the light. He scratched his butt, and looked over toward Jack. Then spat on the floor next to a red-haired women. He reached up and groped her breasts.
Quite clearly, Jack heard him say, “Pity. This one’s pretty.”
Then he shuffled off after the creatures.
A man was walking around in this place of horrors, unscathed? Jack’s foggy mind struggled to comprehend it. He inhaled to call out for help, but some innate sense stopped him. Instead, Jack just stared as the man walked away down the corridor. The whole thing felt wrong to Jack. Very, very wrong. He needed answers. Wanted answers. Where am I? How long have I been here? What is this place? Why is that creep walking around when the rest of us are stuck to the walls?
With renewed determination, Jack redoubled his efforts to get free. He wanted to see Dee again. To see those beautiful, smiling eyes. To feel her reassuring touch. He needed her. When Dee was around, everything seemed right. I have to survive this. We have to survive this.
He wondered what was happening to her. She must surely be really worried about him by now.
With both arms now free, he started working on liberating his legs. Pulling and tearing, even biting when he could. But the membrane tasted foul, so he gave that idea up quite quickly.
Once he got one leg free, he was able to twist his body and, with one last shove, wrenched the rest of his body free. He landed on the floor with a thud. Cringing, he glanced down the corridor in the direction the creatures had gone, followed by the red cap-wearing man. Seeing nothing, and more importantly, hearing nothing, he gingerly got to his feet. As soon as he put weight on his right leg, he winced in pain. He quickly adjusted his weight off the leg. A bloodstained bandage was wrapped around his leg. Removing the bandage, Jack found a gash that ran twenty centimeters up his thigh from his knee, cutting deep into the skin. Congealed blood had crusted around the wound, but plasma was beginning to seep thanks to his recent activity. As quietly as he could, he removed his pack and opened the bottom compartment, pulling out the outdoorman’s best friend, a roll of duct tape. Tearing off a segment, he closed the wound as best he could, then wrapped the bandage back around his leg. Adjusting his pack on his back, Jack then crept toward the humming.
As he slowly made his way down the corridor, warm air flowed over him. Treading carefully down the centre of the corridor, he kept his focus straight ahead. He dared not look to either side, at the other victims strung up like slaughtered cattle. Waiting to be butchered and fed on.
Is this what animals think of us?
Jack didn’t want to put any faces into his memory, traumatised as it was. What if he saw someone he knew? Could he deal with that? What if he saw Dee? This last thought made him pause and crouch down. Forcing himself to breath slow and deep, Jack looked farther down the corridor. About halfway down was a door with a big red sign on it, but the text remained unintelligible. With something to focus on, he was about to rise when something moved at the edge of his vision. Half stumbling, he fell back on his arse. Staring into his eyes was a young, red-haired boy, his ice blue eyes piercing. Jack knew him, and as he stared back, his tired, traumatised mind cleared.
Shivering in the river, half floating, half swimming, Jack could see the creatures on the banks. There seemed to be packs of them. Never entering the water. They weren’t afraid, just unsure…
Following him, they gathered into larger packs. Screeching. Howling. Spitting.
Occasionally their heads would lift, sniffing the air, and they would tear off with excited howls, gone for a time. Jack enjoyed these interludes. He didn't feel so on edge, waiting for one of them to pluck up the courage and dive in for him. But they returned...always. And in greater numbers.
He laughed to himself; they were like the sandpeople! If Dee was here, she would be telling Jack to be serious, but this was his superp
ower. His coping mechanism. Always finding the silly side of something, or finding a movie or TV reference in anything. He had once been on the wrong side of an armed robbery and had had a gun pointed at his head. This was how he’d got through the trauma; well, the Valium was nice too…
The sun came up, the sunlight turning the sky from red and orange to pink, to blue. The nightmare creatures slowly left the riverbank, and by late morning Jack couldn’t see any. Not wanting to risk it, he stayed in the water for another hour. As he came around a bend in the river, he saw a house he recognised thanks to its unique architecture. Swimming ashore, Jack clambered out, then sat for a while on the riverbank, enjoying the warmth of the sun. At length he field dressed his wound, then made for the house, hoping for food.
Searched the house… New clothes… A little food… No cars… A mountain bike…
Jack pedaled down the centre of the road, his ears straining for any sounds, but all he could hear were insects and the odd bird call. And the squeaks of the bike.
Biking past the school, Jack stopped and looked in the windows, searching for the staff room and more food. Piled up in one corner, he saw a sort of blanket fort that made him smile.
Going inside, he met Sarah and her son, George. Sarah told him she was a teacher there. That because the school was a local Civil Defence safe zone, Sarah had come here to wait out the virus. Jack was the first person to show.
He spent precious hours trying to convince Sarah to go downriver with him, explaining what he had discovered about the creatures: that, for some reason, they wouldn’t enter the water. He was sure that taking a boat downriver to Hamilton would be the safest way to travel. Sarah argued, saying, “What then? Where do we go from there?”
Jack then told her about Dee. About their cabin in the mountain valley, its total isolation…
A screech and a couple of answering howls made them all jump. Sarah ushered Jack and George into the blanket fort.
Extinction NZ (Book 1): The Rule of Three Page 4