Extinction NZ (Book 3): The Five Pillars

by Smith, Adrian J.

  Jack grimaced at the sound of mere and taiaha hitting the diseased flesh. The Maori lacked firearms, but they made up for the lack with sheer courage and determination, throwing themselves bodily into the melee.

  The Variants continued to stream over the now-abandoned outer wall and down into the pit.

  Jack spun and shouldered his rifle, shooting down any beast that crossed in front of his sights. Soon the last of the humans had scrambled across the three drawbridges. Once they were across, Ben gave the order.

  “Now!”

  Simultaneously, using sledgehammers, Maori smashed pins out from under the bridges. As they did so, the Renegades and Hone dropped lit torches into the pit. Earlier, the Maori had soaked the structure in kerosene.

  Max yelped as the flames ignited and sent a shockwave across the inner wall as the creatures caught in the pit screamed in agony.

  Jack was thankful Hone had taken down the beautiful carved panels and hidden them in the caves.

  “Who’s hungry?” Yalonda shouted over the din before shooting a beast through the head.

  Jack pulled Max back and hugged him. The fire was only going to hold the monsters off for so long. “Boss. Take Max, get up the stairs. Protect Dee.”

  “What about you?”

  “I’m going to greet these bastards with the M2.”

  Boss grabbed the dog by the collar and nudged him up the stairs.

  Jack looked at the dog’s brown eyes as he followed Boss up the stairs. He knew Max hated leaving his side, but he wanted him out of harm’s way.

  Jack met Ben at the minigun and turned with him to look out at the mass of monsters still beyond the fire. The rain eased to a drizzle, making the flames spit and turning the ground into mud and ash. Jack wiped his brow and squeezed the water out of his cap.

  The ground shook under their feet with such force it knocked him sideways onto the .50 cal. He knew that rumble. He had felt it before. Ben was picking himself up off the gangway when a mole broke through, exiting in the pit. It burst skyward and shrieked.

  Jack thumbed his radio. “Dee, baby!”

  “I see it!”

  The crack of Yalonda’s rifle answered Jack’s plea. The bullet bounced harmlessly off the fur-like exoskeleton. She fired again with perfect timing as the mole opened its mouth to screech. The beast never finished as the bullet lodged deep in its brain.

  Jack picked himself up and stared at the burning outer gate as a deep bellow rumbled through the Pa like a bass drum. The gate smashed inwards, sending splinters of wood, some as large as a labrador, flying through the air.

  The Alpha plucked a splinter from the air and in one smooth motion flung it at the defenders. Jack heard the scream but had no time to find who had perished.

  The Alpha had broken through, leaving the inner wall open to attack. Hundreds of Variants poured into the pit, screeching for blood.

  Here we go!

  — 33 —

  The Leyak screamed and spewed its acidic bile over the FOB buildings. Unlucky soldiers caught in its path had no chance as the fluid melted the flesh off their bones. They screamed and crumbled to the ground in puddles of tissue, blood and marrow, leaving behind half-melted bones and tatters of clothing.

  The cladding on the buildings fared no better. It quickly melted through the metal, singeing the wood.

  Mahana kept glancing up at the winged demon as he sprinted for the jeep fifty metres away. An M2 had been mounted in the back. James used his rifle to push the dead soldier off the back.

  “Badminton, cover me!”

  James held the hand grips and squeezed the trigger. The Leyak, almost preternaturally wise to this barrage, twisted away and climbed higher. He scored a couple of direct hits and grinned, satisfied, as it tumbled and spun. The Leyak tried to right itself, but one of his .50 cal. rounds had blown off one wing at the shoulder. It screamed as it thudded to the ground just outside the fence. He adjusted his aim and held down the trigger.

  Fifty cal. rounds tore into the Variants. Blood, gunk, limbs and gore soon coated the land. Hundreds of Variants remained. A knot of them sheltered the Leyak as they hustled it away.

  James swore in frustration and unloaded his M2. But for every beast he shredded, another took its place.

  The M2 clicked dry and James kicked the empty ammo box. “Where the hell is my air support?”

  He looked up at the sky, hoping to see the helicopters. “Badminton. Get our birds in the air. And take out those bloody stupid armoured vehicles!”

  “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 swa
rmed 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. Well 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.