The Fourth Phase

by Adrian J. Smith

  Maggie rose and made her way towards their sleeping quarters. She could see a dim light shining through the window. Good. She still had time. She sniffed and wiped her nose, memories of her own daughter rising to the forefront of her mind. As unwanted as the memory was, she welcomed it. To relive any memory of Isabella was a treasure. Laughter, hugs, and tears. Falls, running around the park, swinging from trees. Baking in the kitchen, flinging flour around, making a mess. Sitting on the sofa, snuggled in watching Toy Story for the one-hundredth time. Isabella’s delight at school, and making friends. Her first birthday party, stuffing so much sugary food into herself she was sick for two days afterwards.

  Maggie couldn’t believe one could love another human being so completely. Izzy had become sick not long after her eighth birthday. Frantic visits to doctors, and many tests later, it was discovered that Izzy had a rare form of leukemia. They tried everything, but only a year later her baby had passed on. And Maggie’s world crumbled into a chaotic mess. She buried herself in her work as a nurse. Maybe if she could help others in their hour of need, the pain would go away. As hard as she tried to forget, though, the pain remained.

  She and her husband grew apart slowly. It began with them sleeping in separate rooms. The excuse was her shiftwork. It led to them hardly speaking to each other. When they’d needed each other the most, they’d each abandoned the other. Maggie had never felt so alone and directionless. She’d popped a few pills one day, to try and bury the way she was feeling. Within a few months, she was an addict. After one night of bingeing, Maggie sat watching the TV in a stupor. Show after show of mindless drama. Amongst the haze, she saw a recruitment ad looking for more medics in the Army. She’d joined the next day; anything to escape the hell her life had become.

  In the Army, Maggie had found a new purpose in life. Defending her country by helping others when they were having their worst day ever.

  The shadow of the sleeping quarters snapped Maggie out of her teary memories. She smoothed down her shirt and walked up the stairs. I may have lost Izzy, but my family needs me now more than ever.

  Maggie entered the room, the fragrance of the rose-scented candles burning lifting her mood. She made her way down the gap between the bunks. She and Alice shared a bunk against the back wall near the window. Maggie could see Becs sitting cross-legged on Maggie’s bed, a pile of books spread around her.

  “Hey kiddo.”

  Becs smiled up at her. “Hey.”

  Maggie returned the smile, and her eyes flicked to Alice, who was brushing out her long blonde hair. “What story is it tonight?” Becs held up one of the books. “The Witch in the Cherry Tree by Margaret Mahy? Looks good.”

  “It’s my favourite.”

  Maggie sat down on the edge of the bed. “Scoot over a bit.”

  Becs moved the pile of books and Maggie leant back, getting comfortable. Becs snuggled into her as she began to read, enjoying the warmth emanating from the child.

  Later, Alice helped Maggie lift the sleeping Becs up off the bed. They gently placed her on her own mattress and tucked the blankets under her chin. Maggie motioned with her head towards the two chairs next to a small table before moving over and sitting herself down. She waited for Alice to get settled, mentally going over the plan she had to get them out of this prison.

  Maggie licked her lips, watching as Alice brushed her hair away from her face.

  Alice caught her gaze and smiled, dimples forming on her cheeks. “So, what did Ian want?”

  Maggie shifted her weight off her bottom. Trying to get comfortable on these wooden chairs was difficult. She mulled over what to say. “Not much, He offered me a job, but I told him to shove it.”

  “Job? Don’t you already have one in the gardens?”

  “Yes, exactly. We didn’t get to the job description though. I stormed out.”

  “Does he know you were in the Army?”

  “I think he suspects but doesn’t know for sure. Unless someone has told him?” Maggie watched Alice, looking for any sign of betrayal. Her face remained neutral, her blue eyes glittering in the low light. “How did you get on with your guard friend?”

  Alice dropped her gaze, looking to the door and then back to Maggie. “Ah, good. You were right. They leave the keys in the vans.”

  Maggie nodded. “I thought so. This is good news. That’s one less thing to worry about. And the red jump suits?”

  “Kept with them in their rooms. Jill from the laundry said she can get us a couple.”

  “Good, good. What about those newbies? Do they know where we are?”

  “Yeah, yeah, they did. They said we’re just south of Putaruru.”

  Maggie raised her eyebrows. “Which means what, exactly?”

  “It means we’re close to the coast and a boat.”

  Maggie nodded, contemplating this new information. Remembering the piece of paper she had been palmed earlier, Maggie pulled it from her pocket. “New gas in today, 10.” She smirked, some air escaping her lips in a whisper.

  Alice glanced down at the paper in her hand. “More good news?”

  Maggie looked up at her, grinning. “Yes definitely. Do you think you can get us those jump suits tomorrow?”

  Nodding, Alice replied, “Should be able to, yeah.”

  “Good. Excellent.” She patted Alice on the leg. Giving her a squeeze, she lowered her voice. “I want us gone by the day after tomorrow. We leave at 0400, and we’re taking Becs.”

  Alice stared back at her before turning away and looking out the window. “What about the others?”

  “We have to save ourselves first. Let’s get Becs to safety. Try to find some semblance of an Army. Then we can come back and free everyone.”

  Alice turned back around, her eyes widened. “The newbies. They said they were on the way to Mayor Island. They were in contact with someone there. They went looking for fuel to make the journey, and were ambushed by these bastards.”

  Maggie sat up straight and stretched out her legs. This was excellent news. It was the break she had been waiting for. For three weeks she had played along, done her work. Today was the first time she had let her anger and frustration get the better of her. Ian and his baton made her skin crawl, and his eyes gave her the creeps. She smirked to herself. We’re getting out of here, Ian. I have a surprise for you.

  Maggie and Alice stared out the window, enjoying the silence. Nothing moved outside. Maggie could hear the occasional screech of a Variant, but they sounded far in the distance. She had heard them closer before, but normally much later in the evening. Their presence intensified in the early hours before dawn. Maggie decided she needed to do some recon tonight to find out why.

  Alice looked up at her, getting her attention. “Why do you think these guys are helping the Variants?”

  Maggie leant in closer. “Because they are scorpions.”

  “Scorpions?”

  Maggie smiled. “Yeah, scorpions. You see, one day, a scorpion was walking through the jungle, looking for his next meal. After a while, he came to a raging river. The scorpion looked around for a log or some rocks so he could get across, but found nothing. He needed to get across that river. After a while, a frog came along and the scorpion yelled out, ‘Hey, how about a lift across?’ The frog turned to the scorpion. ‘No way. You’ll just sting me.’ So the scorpion says, ‘Why would I do that? We’d both drown.’

  “The frog thinks about it for a while. ‘All right. Jump on. Let’s go.’ About halfway across the raging river, the scorpion stings the frog. The frog turns his head and asks, ‘Why did you do that?’ to which the scorpion replies, ‘I couldn’t help it. I’m a scorpion.’”

  Maggie looked up at Alice. Alice had her mouth hanging open. They looked at each other for a few seconds. Alice let out a small laugh and giggled. Maggie couldn’t help but laugh with her. It felt good to laugh after all her frustrations. She stood up and rolled her shoulders. “I’m going to turn in. Big day tomorrow.”

  Still giggling, Alice
replied, “Yeah, good idea. Night.”

  Maggie walked over to her bunk. Pulling off her boots, she tucked them under it, within easy reach. She lay still, staring up at the ceiling for a few minutes, mulling over her plan. It was simple, but simple plans were the best; less to go wrong. She glanced over to Becs, sleeping peacefully. Satisfied, she let sleep pull her into its embrace.

  ***

  The crack of the wooden door smashing into the wall of the room jolted Maggie awake. She threw back the covers and instinctively reached for her rifle. Cursing, she focused on the four figures bursting into the room.

  Ian stood, swinging his police baton, behind one of his muscular goons. “Wakey wakey, ladies!” He eyeballed Maggie, a sour smirk plastered on his pointy, ratty face. “Don’t worry, we’re only here for one of you.”

  He lifted his baton, pointing it at each woman in turn. “Not you, not you. Oh, I like you, I’ll save you for later.”

  Maggie stepped closer to Becs. Reaching out her hand, she clasped Becs’s, pulling the shaking child into her side.

  Ian spun around. He swung his baton and let it thump onto the wooden floor. Raising it, he smirked at Maggie, a cruel glint in his eye. “Yes, Maggie. I’m here for her. Did you really think I was going to let you get away with that? What did you say? I could shove my job up my arse? Well, I don’t think so.”

  Becs started sobbing, pressing herself closer into Maggie.

  Maggie looked up at Ian, teeth clenched. “If you touch her, I’ll end you!”

  Ian cackled, his laughter echoing around the room. Several of the women in the room moved away, putting distance between themselves and the men.

  Ian indicated to his goons and they moved towards Maggie. She backed up closer to the wall. One of the goons pulled out a Glock and grasped Alice in a headlock, pushing the gun against her temple. Ian grinned. “I’ll give you a choice, Yank. The girl, or I splatter Alice’s sexy head all over the wall.”

  Maggie glanced at Alice. A vacant look had come across her face. She focused her eyes on Maggie’s and nodded, accepting her fate. Distracted, Maggie didn’t notice the other two goons flanking her. She turned at the movement, jolting her head to one side. A meaty fist slammed into her head, followed by a blow to her side. The strikes were powerful and strong, and pain exploded up her spine. She dropped to one knee, losing her grasp on Becs. The other goon reached out and picked up the squirming girl.

  Maggie gasped for air, each breath hurting. She glared at the grinning Ian staring at her, an amused smirk on his face.

  “There. That wasn’t so hard, now was it?”

  Maggie stared up at him, heat rising up through her body. She pressed one fist to the floor as she struggled for breath. “This isn’t over, you skinny little bastard.”

  “Oh, but I think it is, Sergeant.”

  Maggie struggled to keep her face neutral.

  “Yes. I know what you did before. That’s the problem with women. You talk too much. You can’t help it. Talk, talk, talk. You never shut up.” Ian swung his police baton up and pointed it at Alice. Turning to the goon with the gun, he said, “Bring her too. My bed needs warming tonight.” He turned and raised an eyebrow at Maggie crouched on the floor. “Sleep well now, you hear.” Then he slammed the baton to the floor, causing the other women to jump.

  Cackling, he turned and stomped out of the room.

  Maggie glanced up at Alice. Catching Alice’s eye, she mouthed, Stay strong. I’ll come for you.

  She wasn’t certain, but she thought she saw Alice nod as they hauled her down the steps.

  SEVEN

  Colonel James Mahana stared at the vodka bottle sitting on his cheap flatpack desk. He wanted to reach out, unscrew the cap, and down the burning clear liquid in one gulp. He imagined the fiery sensation as it made its way to his rumbling stomach, dousing his hunger and, for a moment, clouding his mind, making him forget this nightmare, if only just for a time.

  James pushed back his chair as he stood, hearing it thud against the wall. He rubbed his temples with the fleshy part of his thumbs, trying to expunge some of the tension. Sighing, he glanced back down to the report in front of him. Another stronghold gone. Auckland had gone dark, and to add to matters, his attempt to get the Prime Minister out from the bunker under Government House had failed miserably. It had been four hours and there was still no word from NZSAS Team Kehua. A garbled radio message was the last communication he’d received from Major Ken Hind. He and his remaining team had been heading for the harbour, the bunker overrun by Variants. The Prime Minister and all those who’d sheltered within were dead.

  James slammed his fist down on the table, causing the paper report to jump. And now I have a foreign Navy heading this way. Where did it all go wrong? I should be relaxing on the East Cape, maybe doing a little fishing.

  He knew where it had gone wrong. Those damn-fool scientists had played God once too many times, trying to create a super-soldier. Idiots. James rubbed the back of his neck, trying to ease out some of the knots. His gaze flicked to the vodka bottle once more. The thing just sat there, tempting him.

  He reached out to the bookshelf beside his desk and took out the red binder. The “American” binder. He looked down at the report he’d written for the Brigadier, shaking his head in frustration. How did the Brigadier expect him to beat back the Variant hordes? The Americans had failed at so many attempts. First with the bombing of the cities, Operation Reaper. Operations Depletion and Kryptonite had all failed. They had reached out with Kryptonite, but with no air force to deploy it, the Brigadier had ordered him to come up with an alternate plan to rid the land of the monsters. It was time to fight back. They were on their own, and they weren’t going to leave the mainland to the Variants. But he was to wait until the Americans had secured themselves before asking for help again. It pained James to wait. The thought of the Variants running wild, tearing apart everyone he cared about and turning his beloved East Cape into a wasteland, drove him crazy.

  James had fought hard and long to get to the position he had. He came from a poor, forgotten, and downtrodden neighbourhood, rife with domestic abuse and drug and alcohol dependency. He had shivered and coughed his way through many cold, damp winters, huddled under blankets with his siblings as his mother and father partied, smoked, and drank their way into oblivion every weekend. The parties always ended with a fight. Some were brutal and quick, others long and full of screaming and shouting.

  As the eldest, he’d done his best to protect the others, often taking beatings from his enraged mother and father. He’d learnt to protect his head and vital organs from the raining fury of the blows. A deep rage had seeded in his belly, and as he grew older it festered, and had eventually bubbled to the surface. He’d grown to hate his culture, to hate the way they drank and smoked everything away. Food, education, and your own child’s health came second when you were an addict.

  As James had grown into his body, he had worked out and taken up martial arts, learning Karate, Judo, and Kung Fu. When he was sixteen, his life changed. Cleaning up the room his sisters shared, he’d found his youngest sister’s diary. It had fallen to the floor. James had flicked through it, and been horrified at what he read. One of his uncles had regularly abused his sister. The deep-seated, festering rage burst forth. James stomped down the road to his uncle’s house, barged in, and attacked him. He’d smashed the man’s face with all his anger and fury. Everything that had built up over the last ten years came out, providing fuel to the raging fire. He didn’t stop until the police arrived and hauled him off his uncle’s lifeless body.

  James had pleaded guilty and was tried as a minor. He served five years in a juvenile detention centre. He joined the Army soon after getting out, and channeled his anger into forging a career.

  A knock at the door pulled James back to the present. With a last look at the vodka, he smoothed his receding hair down. “Enter.”

  A private swung open the door and met his gaze. “Sir, the Indonesians are makin
g their way around Miner’s Head. ETA in one hour.”

  James scratched at the stubble on his chin. “Very good, Private. Inform the men to go on high alert.” He held the private’s gaze as he turned with a nod. “And Private, is that radar operational yet?”

  “No Sir. The team you sent to fix it are still working on it.”

  “Damn it! We need that up and running!” He placed his hands on the desk in front of him. He stared at the private. “That will be all. I’ll be out shortly.”

  “Very good, Sir.” The private shut the door with a thud.

  James pushed back his chair, turned, and gazed out into the darkness. A few lights around the settlement were twinkling through the falling rain. He could see soldiers walking briskly as they prepared, moving mortars into position, moving vehicles. He had ordered all civilians indoors as soon as he’d received word of the approaching ships. He wanted to wait until he learnt what the Indonesians wanted before letting them out. The fact that the radar was down bothered him. It had been working fine. It was if someone had sabotaged it just as the Indonesians were sailing in. Who? And more importantly, why? The timing was too convenient.

  Normally HMNZS Te Mana was anchored in harbour, and they’d been using its radar. But it had sailed north three days ago to support HMNZS Taupo, forcing them to erect a new one. The small islands scattered around the aptly-named Bay of Islands had become overpopulated, their fragile ecosystems failing. The Brigadier and the Commander, fearing disease and anarchy, had ordered that the inhabitants be relocated. Half were to be integrated here on Great Barrier, the other half on the Chathams, with the Commander and the Brigadier.