Dee could see by the expression on the old man’s face that he was telling the truth. She decided she liked him already. Plus, he seemed really handy with a rifle. If she wanted any chance of finding Jack, she needed Ben. His expertise.
Till now she’d been extremely lucky, but luck will only get you so far. She knew she reacted well under pressure. A calmness would come over her, as if time slowed down and she saw the way out. More than anything, she wanted to survive this. She wanted Jack back. To take them all to the valley, to start afresh.
Cleaning the last of Missing Teeth’s skull off, she turned. “Ben?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m curious. How did you know we were there?”
“I didn’t. But I knew they were. I’d been tracking their movements for a few days.”
Dee looked at Ben, startled. Tracking them? For a few days? Why? She opened her mouth to ask, but Ben slowed the 4x4 down and turned into a tree-lined driveway, magnolia trees creating an avenue.
“We’re here,” he announced.
Dee looked down the drive and could see it curving up behind a small hill. As the 4x4 got closer to the hill, a house nestled into the leeward side came into view. It looked as though the walls were made of earth, and she could barely make out the roof line. Wildflowers covered it.
Ben pulled up around the back, next to a large utility shed. This too blended into the surrounding countryside.
Ben and Dee half-dragged a semi-conscious Boss out of the 4x4. Ben indicated with a tilt of his head toward a side door. Entering the house, it struck Dee how warm and dry it was. And with the door closed behind them, the silence was complete.
Jack would love this house. It looked like a safe room, and went back a good ten meters or so.
Ben guided her and Boss past some shelves toward a couple of bunks in the back left-hand corner of the room. Dee struggled with the deadweight of Boss. Pain shot up her arms, and the muscles of her lower back started to cramp. She concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, watching the smooth concrete floor as sweat dripped off her forehead from the exertion. Once there, they gently laid Boss down.
“First aid and medical supplies are in here.” Ben pointed to a large medical cabinet on the wall. “I’m heading outside to lock up and set the sensors.”
“Thanks Ben.” Thinking quickly, she added, “Oh hey, do you have any fertiliser? We used to use it to mask our scent.”
Ben picked up a large twenty-litre container, grinning. His sharp eyes appraised her. “Not just a pretty face, are you? I use this. Industrial grade disinfectant. I’ll be back.”
Dee watched him go. Normally, she would be offended by such a remark, but Ben was an up-front guy. A spade was a spade. She busied herself cleaning out the wound on Boss’s head.
Boss tried to get up, tried to speak. Dee helped him swallow a couple of painkillers, then pushed him back down. “Sleep, Boss.”
She heard Ben come back into the room, and the huge steel door shut with a clunk. Dee got up and walked over to him, watched as he slid thick bolts across the door, locking them in. Turning, she took in her new surroundings. Dee was impressed to see block walls all around. The concrete floor she had already noted. To the left and right were shelves filled with food, water, and plastic containers. Three shelves on each side, making six total, with a gap in the middle forming a corridor reminiscent of a supermarket. She couldn’t quite see the back of the room through the shelves. Turning to her left, she saw a rack, behind a cage door, filled with guns. She recognised a couple of shotguns, and a few more of those same rifles Ben carried with him. A row of handguns and boxes of ammunition were stacked on more shelves.
Dee let out a whistle. “That’s a lot of guns. I feel like I’m in the Matrix.”
Ben just grunted in response. Then walked with her towards Boss. “How’s he doing?”
“Just concussed, I think. I gave him some painkillers so he’ll sleep it off.”
“Good. I’m glad. Poor kid. He took a real knock to the head. If you want, I’ll show you around my humble abode.”
Dee nodded, only too glad for a distraction. Ben led her away from the sleeping Boss.
“Now, it’s no bomb shelter, but it’s kept those Variants out so far. They’re getting bolder each day.”
Dee followed him to the back right-hand corner, where two rooms were separated from the rest of the structure.
As Ben opened one door, he pointed to the other. “Bathroom with chemical toilet in there.” He nodded toward the opened room. “In here is where the fun happens. This is the war room.” He gestured for Dee to enter.
Dee gasped. A desk with four monitors and a keyboard lined the back wall. Two of the monitors were on, and she could see camera feeds from outside. A stack of radio equipment lay on the table on the right-hand side, static hissing from the attached speakers. A large table covered in maps was set against the other wall. Dee could see Ben had been marking red Xs through the surrounding small towns, and the city of Cambridge was scribbled out.
“Wow, you're organised. But how are you getting power to run all this?”
“Solar. I’ve got a bank of them down the hill a bit. It’s enough to keep this going, just. Also gives me a little hot water.”
Dee went over to the map. “I suppose this means no survivors?” She pointed at the red Xs.
“Unfortunately, yes.”
Dee traced the river north from Cambridge up to Hamilton. A big red X was drawn through it.
How had her basement group gone undetected? Not only from the Variants, but from the collaborators too.
She looked at all the surrounding towns. Te Awamutu, Morrinsville, Huntly. All had red Xs through them. Dee rubbed her eyebrows and reached down to her neckline, desperate to feel the reassurance of the necklace Jack had given to her as an anniversary present.
So many red Xs. It started to really sink in just how fortunate she and Boss had been.
Was it luck? Common sense? A bit of both? The Hemorrhage Virus had hit so fast, so furiously, that it had caught everyone but a few by surprise. She and Jack loved post-apocalyptic fiction. The more they read, the more they’d thought: What if? What if something did happen?
They’d thought they were prepared for it. But fate was a funny thing. They’d never taken into account where they would be when it hit.
Now Jack was God knows where, and Dee was here. In a bunker. Safe. For now.
Ben took Dee back to the main living area, to all the shelving units stacked with supplies. Pointing to each row in turn, he said, “Food. Clothes. Survival gear, like tents, etc. Batteries, that sort of thing. I don’t have any women’s clothes, I’m afraid, but you’re welcome to try and find something to fit. Feel free to have a shower too, but please, five minutes only. Very limited water supply.”
“Thank you very much, Ben.” Dee’s eyes filled with tears. “For your kindness, and for…” she gulped, unable to voice her thanks further, and waved her hands.
She could see Ben understood, his eyes growing soft. “You’re welcome.”
Dee nodded, then started to select the smallest clothes she could find. Though little may fit her, she just wanted fresh clothes. She could still smell the stench of Missing Teeth on her. Shuddering in disgust, Dee headed to the shower.
CHAPTER FIVE
The cool night air caressed Jack’s skin, causing goosebumps to form. He leant his head back against the wall and looked down at the sleeping George. Smiling, Jack was amazed at how well the kid had adapted to this new hidey hole. They had hidden here since escaping, and had eaten half of the supplies from his pack. George had been resistant to the protein bar and beef jerky, but had devoured the chocolate.
Through the tiny window, Jack could see the moon. It was showing its half face. He estimated he had been down in this pit of hell for eleven to twelve days. How had he survived with no water or food? For that matter, how had George? He was so small…so young, at only eight years old. So much for the rule of three, then.
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br /> Three weeks without food. Three days without water… Blah blah blah...
But with the food, he could feel some life coming back into his body.
He needed a plan. To escape. As a teenager, he’d been fascinated by WWII escape stories. Reading the small town library out. The daring. The ingenuity. Both were incredible.
Gazing out the window, he could see his stars. His pinpricks of light. Millions of light years away.
There is always a way out of any situation.
All right, so we’re in the Hydro Dam. Surrounded by monsters that want to eat us. A man is helping them. I’ve got probably two days’ food at best. George’s mum, Sarah, is missing. Dee is God knows where. It’s dark, and I don’t even have any sunglasses on.
He couldn’t help but grin at his movie reference. He couldn’t even think of moving until at least midday, so he shifted his weight and leant back, closing his eyes. Nothing to be done till then.
Eat when you can. Sleep when you can. Be ready.
Jack woke to the sun shining in his eyes and George poking him in the arm.
“Mister. I really need to pee.”
Jack rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. “Ummm, okay buddy. Can you hold on a bit longer?”
George started squirming, a panicked look on his face.
Jack placed his hands on George’s shoulders, and looked the boy straight in the eyes. “George, I’m going to have to check if the coast is clear, all right?”
George nodded.
Jack jumped up on top of the lockers and searched the room. Seeing nothing, he reached down and lifted George up next to him. Pivoting, he dropped George down to the floor. Pointing to the wash basin in the corner, Jack said, “Sorry buddy, it’ll have to be in there.”
Checking his watch, he decided to risk some exploration. He guessed the room they were in was a couple of levels down. He didn’t know the layout of the dam wall, but he trusted his instincts not to go down any deeper. He decided to stick to this level, for now.
George finished, and wandered back over to the lockers. Jumping down, Jack grabbed George’s hand. Then he crouched down so he could look him in the eyes again. “We’re going to go find your Mum, okay. But we have to be super silent. We don’t want to wake the monsters, do we?”
George twisted his fingers nervously, intertwining them in a wringing motion. He murmured back, “Nope.”
“Good. If they find us, you run, okay? You run in here and hide.”
He continued to stare at George, waiting to see if the kid understood. The kid’s eyes were wide, pupils dilated. The sight broke his heart. The poor kid, having to live through this. He should be out playing. Running around. Gaming. Kid stuff.
Jack shook his head in anger. Anger at those responsible for ruining the kid’s innocence. He embraced the anger. It gave him new energy.
They moved over to the door of the room. Placing his ear to the door, he listened for any sounds. He could smell that faint rotten fruit smell. It amazed him how it smothered even the stench of death, Jack cracked open the door and looked into the corridor. Seeing it was clear, he took George’s hand and placed it around the waist belt of his pack. Whispering, he said, “You hang on to this. Don’t let go. Unless I tell you to run.”
Not wanting to head back the way they had originally come, Jack headed in the opposite direction. Several other doors lined the corridor, and a large green door stood at the end. More people were glued to the walls here, their faces oddly calm and serene as if in some sort of coma. He tried not to linger on their faces too long.
“Don’t look, George. Look down.” Jack said, as he searched the people for blonde hair.
He felt George’s grip tighten on the belt.
Tears pricked his eyes, a long-buried pain bubbling to the forefront of his mind. Jack had thought he had buried that particular memory deep, away, forgotten. He had avoided having his own children, limited his time with other people’s kids. All to avoid the pain.
Jack loved his little brother, even though there was a ten-year gap. He was so full of life and curiosity. Jack read to him every night, played games, built forts.
As his brother grew, he introduced him to films, comics, and the wonders of creativity and the imagination.
Before the fateful trip to the snow.
Jack took his brother sledding. With each run, he squealed louder and louder.
“Higher Jik Jik, higher!” he pleaded.
Caught up in his brother’s delight, Jack relented. Took him to the very top of the steep hill.
Down they flew, getting faster and faster, the cold wind stinging their faces.
A fallen tree branch poking from the snow caught Jack’s trailing foot, throwing him off.
The sled turned sharply. His brother slammed into the trees lining the hill.
Racing up, he found his loving little brother crumpled to one side, blood streaming down over his face, his little head crushed.
Jack cradled him and screamed until he was hoarse. That was how the paramedics found him.
They took his little brother away.
He never saw him again. The funeral directors advised Jack’s mum to have a closed coffin.
Once an outgoing sixteen-year-old, Jack retreated within himself. Shutting away the world, he found solace and comfort in his books, his comics, his movies.
His mum sent him to see a psychiatrist. He went, but begrudgingly. How could a stranger know his pain? Know his shame? Know his failing? His little brother was dead because of his error of judgement. His little brother was ashes in the wind because Jack’d been trying to impress his brother with his bravery.
But time heals all to a point, eventually. The psychiatrist helped Jack realise that it wasn’t his fault. He hadn’t put the branch there. To think more on the times he shared with his brother, the love, the laughter, the joy they’d brought to each other.
So Jack buried the guilt and pain deep down. Never forgetting the memory of his little brother, he learnt to live with it.
I’m sorry, Georgey. I’ll save this one…
Wiping away the tears that had formed, Jack stopped at the first door and listened. Not hearing a sound, he tried the handle. Locked. Cursing silently, he quickly moved on to the next one. After several locked doors, he found an unlocked one. Opening it, Jack saw it was a maintenance room. A workbench lined one wall, with a peg board above filled with tools.
He couldn’t hold back the exclamation that escape his lips. Finally, a little luck. Grabbing some screwdrivers and a hammer, he jammed them into his belt. If those things attack, at least I can go down fighting, give the kid a chance to run.
“What’s this, Mister Jack?”
Jack looked down at George, who had crawled under the bench. He was holding out a rusty old machete, its wooden handle so cracked and pitted that someone had wrapped red electrical tape around it.
“That is a very dangerous weapon,” Jack said, gently taking the machete out of the child’s hands.
“But I want something to fight the monsters,” George moaned.
Jack crouched down. “Okay, George, but let’s find you something more suitable.”
Jack searched the work area and found a tool belt. He placed it around George’s waist, adjusting the strap as small as it could go. Then he populated it with chisels, screwdrivers, and a small ball pein hammer.
“If they come, you stab and hit them as hard as you can, all right?” Jack demonstrated the motions.
George beamed up at him as he nodded his head.
He knew the tools wouldn’t do much good against those creatures; they were so damn fast, so ferocious. For that matter, he didn’t know how long either of them would last. But a little hope and something to live for goes a long way.
“C’mon kid, I don’t know about you, but I want to get out of here.”
“Mummy?”
“Yeah, we’ll keep looking. Remember, super silent. If they come, run back to the red door and hide, okay?”
George pulled out his little hammer and, holding it up to him, said, “But I am Thor.”
In spite of all the the horror, the fear scratching at him, Jack smiled at George. The kid’s resilience was incredible. He just wanted to find his mum.
As they approached the green door at the end of the corridor, the stench of rotting fruit became overpowering. Jack’s hand was shaking with fear as he reached out and opened the door. Peering through the gap, he saw a sight that even the best horror writer’s minds would struggle to imagine. Not wanting George to see, he spun the kid around. Standing in front of him, he blocked the child’s view.
Beyond the door, steel stairs descended into a cavernous area. Piles of bones, some with bits of tissue and sinews still attached, lay stacked in corners. Bits of people were strewn about, some half eaten. He could see torsos, arms, and legs. Bones sticking out. One of the monsters was lying on top of a pile of intestines covered in blood and plasma. Lining the walls of the room, severed heads in varying states of decay had been placed on spikes made of bones.
In the deepest shadows of the room, Jack could see sleeping creatures. Some smaller creatures were nestled against some of the larger ones for warmth.
Jack paused, shocked. Were they breeding? Already?
He could see a particularly large stack of bones in the centre of the room. A throne of bones, reminiscent of one Jack had once seen in a catacomb in Europe.
The large mass moved. It was a massive creature, and plated bones protruded from its shoulders, forming spikes. A severed child’s head had been placed atop each spike, much like some sort of grisly trophies. Fighting the bile rising up his throat, Jack turned away, his mind reeling. He had seen this creature before. When they were captured. It hadn’t had the heads then. The creature led, gave out orders.
Jack stumbled back, pushing George farther into the corridor. His eyes wandered lower. At the big creature’s feet, blonde hair flowed over a woman’s half-eaten body.
No! Sarah…!
Jack remembered that, in a moment of clarity when he was drifting in and out of consciousness while trapped on the wall, he had seen Sarah being taken. Taken for slaughter. All her past, present, and possible futures snuffed out in an instant. In the end, she had become these monsters’ sustenance.
Extinction NZ (Book 1): The Rule of Three Page 6