The Fourth Phase

by Adrian J. Smith

  The river he was searching for emerged out of the morning light, mists swirling over its surface. Jack glanced back, looking for Ben. It amazed him how the 65-year-old kept going.

  He leapt off the small bank and plunged below the water, enjoying the chill. The sweat, mud, and frustrations washed off him as he kicked to the surface.

  Jack realised the water wasn’t much deeper than his height, so he bounced off the bottom into the shallow water and pushed himself out onto the rock-strewn sand bank in the middle. He looked at the shrieking and howling Variants as they poured down the valley towards them. Several had climbed up the zip-lines and were hauling themselves over to the other towers. Jack shook his head. He had never seen them climb before.

  He glanced over and watched Dee help Tony off the last tower, Katherine hovering nearby. Eric bounded down the ladder and pushed them away. A few Variants were scrambling their way across the last zip-line, eager to taste the fleeing man-flesh. Jack and Ben’s radio crackled.

  “Fire in the hole,” yelled Eric, and three huge explosions tore through the once-peaceful landscape. Ben grabbed his shoulder, shoving him down onto the sandbank as the shockwave thumped into them. It felt like someone had reached into his brain and split it apart. He pressed his hands over his ears, desperate to lessen the pain. Heat washed over them. It was like the first time he had hopped off the plane onto the tarmac of Sydney Airport and into the heat of Australia. Coming from the milder temperate climate of New Zealand, Sydney’s heat had been a shock.

  Ben hauled him to his feet and yelled something at him. Jack signaled he couldn’t hear anything above the ringing in his ears. The light from the sun seemed to strobe around him. Ben grasped him by both shoulders, getting his attention. He pointed towards Dickey Flat and signaled a chopper. Understanding, Jack took a couple of unsteady steps after him. Nothing like a movie explosion at all.

  Jack splashed through the water. Acrid smoke blew over the gorge, invading his olfactory nerves. The stench of burning flesh caused him to gag. He had no sympathy for the wretched beings as they lay scattered about, screaming and burning.

  Water cascaded off Jack as he jumped up the bank and ran out onto the grassy clearing. The ringing in his ears was beginning to fade, and a cacophony of noises filtered through. Howls, shrieks, the thumping of the chopper. He reached Dee and the others. Jack threw open his arms and pulled her into a hug. Squeezing her tight, he didn’t want to let go for fear of never being able to hold her again. He nuzzled her neck, kissing it. Enjoying her comforting embrace.

  She leant back and whacked him on the arm. “Don’t do that to me again, you bastard!”

  Jack grinned at her. She was smiling, tears falling down her flushed cheeks.

  “Sorry, baby. I thought we were finished.” Dee sniffed and wiped her nose.

  Jack pulled her back into the hug. “I love you so much.”

  “And I you, you silly thing.”

  She kissed him. Jack reveled in the sensation.

  The howls of the gathering Variants gaining on them reminded him of the danger they still faced. He heard Ben yell into his radio as the chopper hovered above the clearing.

  His radio crackled. “It’s too hot, I can’t land. I’m running on fumes. I’m sorry. I’ll come back for you.”

  Jack looked up into the morning sky, horrified to see the chopper banking away.

  Ben screamed into his radio, “Don’t you fucking leave us! I’m going to kill you, you piece of shit!”

  Jack spun towards the Variants gathering on the opposite river bank. There were dozens, if not hundreds now, lined up and ready to attack. They jumped up and down howling, but waiting. Waiting, but for what?

  A deep baritone bellow echoed up the gorge, bouncing off the steep cliffs. Jack flicked his eyes to Dee. She reached down and checked that her safety was off.

  Katherine Yokoyama cowered behind Dee, her eyes flickering around. Fear was evident on her face. Even from where Jack stood, he could see her trembling.

  Another bellow sounded out, and the Variant horde parted. An Alpha Variant lumbered into view. It stood at least seven feet tall, with huge, bulky muscles. Its skull had distorted into an oblong egg shape, giving the Variant an alien-like appearance. But that wasn’t what chilled Jack. The Alpha had a swollen, deformed left forearm ending in a huge pincer-like claw. It reminded him of a cross between Hellboy and a crab. It glared at Jack and the Renegades. It raised up its deformed arm and slammed it into the ground, bellowing.

  This was the signal the Variants had been waiting for. They split and ran down the banks towards the two foot bridges spanning the river.

  Still afraid of the water, then?

  Jack spun around, scanning the grass clearing behind them. Variants streamed out of the thick bush, snarling and hissing as they leapt over each other, eager to taste flesh.

  “Renegades! Into the river! Head south into deep water,” Ben yelled.

  Jack reacted, pushing Katherine ahead of him. He fired off a burst into the charging beasts. Katherine had stopped in the knee-high water, terror etched on her face. Jack urged her farther into the river. “Keep going!”

  He caught up to Ben. “Sir, our cabin is three kilometres upstream.”

  Ben nodded, his eyebrows rising. “All right, Jack. Let’s hope we make it.”

  The Renegades waded out into deeper water, rifles raised up, watching as the Variant hordes streamed across the bridges. The deformed Alpha led a squad of beasts up the far side, tracking their movements.

  Jack kept glancing upstream, looking for the deep swimming hole he knew was coming up. The swarm of Variants had reached their side of the river, joining with the other beasts. They were now surrounded, with only the river remaining clear.

  Some Variants had stayed on the bridges, howling and shrieking at the group of humans. Several jumped up onto the wire rope side, clinging to it with their claws.

  Ben let out a curse. “Clever fucking bastards.”

  Jack turned and caught a glimpse of Tony. He stood in the river, barely managing to hold his rifle out of the water. Jack could see sweat pouring off him as he leant into Eric.

  He turned around in a slow circle, keeping his rifle at the ready. He patted his vest, checking to see how much ammo he had left; a couple hundred rounds, he estimated. Dee reached out and squeezed his hand, her eyes finding his. No words were said. They didn’t need to say anything. The Variants had them surrounded like the Russians had surrounded the Sixth German Army during the battle of Stalingrad.

  What movie is going to save you now, Jack?

  Ben turned around, looking first at Jack and Dee. His lips were drawn tight over his teeth. Addressing them, he said, “Renegades, I want you to concentrate all your fire on the south bridge. We need to move upstream. Take them out. We need to break through their ranks.”

  Jack squeezed Dee’s hand, finding encouragement in her touch. Jack checked his rifle and peered through the scope.

  “Fire!” Ben yelled.

  The Renegades let loose with a barrage of leaded death. Jack aimed, fired, aimed and repeated, looking for head shots. They eased their way upstream, careful to keep in the middle as they fired. Dozens of the Variants started jumping into the river at the Alpha’s bellow. Jack adjusted his aim, taking out as many as he could, but more poured in from the sides. So many noises assaulted Jack that he was having trouble picking individual sounds out. Screeches, howls, gunfire. Screams. Suddenly a deeper, foreign sound broke through. A sound he had heard only at Pacifica festivals. A conch shell being blown. He paused to reload, pulling out a magazine and slamming it home. Booooorrnt. Jack saw Dee’s head turn towards the sound, her brow furrowed. She had gone with him to the same festivals.

  A commotion was breaking out on the campsite side of the river. The Variants gathered there were turning, howling and shrieking. War cries were screaming out and Jack stared, mouth agape. Dozens of men charged out of the bush and into the Variants. Jack shot another Variant on the bri
dge and pivoted towards the charging men. His heart soared. He could see them more clearly now. He shook his head at the crazy sight. The men looked to be of Maori descent. Most had traditional tattoos called ‘Ta Moko’ adorning their bare chests. Some had the full-face tattoo. They raised their Taiaha high, bringing them down hard on the skulls of the stunned creatures. Some of the Maori had Mere, and quickly brought them up, smashing them in the heads of the Variants, caving in their skulls.

  Ben pivoted. “Renegades! Retreat to the campsite! Jack and Dee, take the north, Eric take the west!”

  Jack had thought that was it. He shook his head at their luck. He wasn’t a religious man, but after the events of the past few weeks, and now today, someone somewhere was definitely looking out for him. For Dee, too. He gritted his teeth and, with a new determination, raised up his rifle.

  THIRTEEN

  Maggie forced her breathing to calm as she jogged through the pine trees. She glanced over her shoulder, making sure Ian was following her deeper into the woods. As she ran, she kept check on her location and peered up into the trees, looking for the knotted branch. On her frequent walks around the camp, she had looked for access roads. Maggie had seen the white van sitting out here numerous times. By chance, she had spotted the weird-shaped branch and decided to use it as a landmark to aid her escape.

  Spying it, she slowed and turned, waiting for Ian to catch up. She strained her ears above the noise of the fire and the shouting coming from the camp. Her plan depended on the noise she waited for. Without it, she would have to fight Ian. She trusted her Army training and thought she had a chance, but Ian deserved more than just a beating. Screeches rang out between the trees. Maggie smiled and put her hands on her hips.

  Ian ran the last few feet, slowing as he got near. He stopped a good body-length away, his ratty eyes glaring at her. He started swinging the police baton, its leather strap wrapped around his wrist. He twirled it around and up, catching it as it fell back down. It slapped into his hand with thwack. He grinned at Maggie, showing his crooked teeth.

  “Nowhere to run, is there, Maggie?”

  She gave him her best flirting smile and half closed her eyes. “No.”

  Maggie reached up and started unbuttoning her shirt, one button followed by another, all the time keeping an eye on Ian. His thin lips broke to a grin as he watched her hand movements. Maggie stopped about three quarters of the way down. She took a step towards him and reached out, stroking his arm.

  “How about we get busy and you let me come back into the camp?” She tugged on her pants as she said the last bit. Ian reached out and grabbed her. He groped her, running his hands over her derriere roughly. He pushed his mouth against her neck and licked her like a dog. A cold feeling enveloped her and she shuddered in disgust. His tongue reminded her of a slimy eel. Maggie could feel her muscles tensing as she did her best to remain calm and compliant.

  Several howls echoed around the forest, louder. They sounded really close. Maggie couldn’t help the smile that spread on her lips. She had been waiting for the beasts to arrive. Maggie hugged Ian back and whispered in his ear.

  “You forgot something, you disgusting piece of shit!”

  She pulled back and brought her knee up into his groin with everything she had, slamming her kneecap against one of his testicles, crushing it into his thigh.

  Ian dropped on the ground, groaning in agony. Clutching his balls, he seethed through gritted teeth, “Fucking bitch! I’m going to let the monsters rip you apart!”

  Maggie smiled at him as she pulled off her pants, wriggling them over her boots. She quickly pulled off her shirt, revealing the red coveralls underneath. Ian stared up at Maggie, pure hatred boring into her. He squinted at her through thin slits before looking down at his half-naked state. Maggie grinned at him. Ian had taunted her several times about how the Variants he worked for had instructed him and his guards to wear the coveralls. Do so and the Variants would leave them alone.

  Maggie lashed out with her boot, kicking him in the face. She reached down and grabbed his baton, giving him a few whacks on the legs. Ian screamed obscenities at her.

  A Variant shriek rang out behind her. Maggie pivoted. Half a dozen of the dark beasts bounded through the trees. Letting out a breath, she stepped to one side and pointed with the baton at Ian.

  “Not me! Her!” he screamed as the creatures tore into him, ripping away muscle and tissue, blood and bone.

  Maggie turned, forcing herself to calmly walk away. She had bet everything on these red coveralls.

  So far, so good.

  Maggie had formed her plan within a few days of arriving in the camp. She had noticed how the guards walked through the trees, their strides confident. Even when she heard the tell-tale screeches and caught whiffs of the rotting fruit smell carried on the wind, the Variants had stayed out of sight of the camp. But she had seen their shadows. Maggie had deduced that the red coveralls told the Variants that the wearer worked for them, and so was protected. Ian’s tormenting of her and boasting had confirmed it. She had convinced Alice to get friendly with one of the guards, even selecting the quietest one, the thinker, the one who still had a conscience. Alice had asked him to snip the wire on the chain-link fence.

  Ian had been right about one thing, Women talked. And Maggie had used this to her advantage, spreading false rumours about herself, knowing Ian and some of the guards would become curious. With their minds fixated on her, they didn’t keep an eye on Alice, Jill, and even little Becs. Becs had hidden the lighter and rag in the shed. After that, it had been a waiting game. When she’d first arrived, the LPG tanks had been half full. She’d had to wait another ten days for the scavengers to bring more. Ian’s taunting and abduction of Becs had moved her plans up. Maggie just prayed that they could carry out the next step. Not for the first time, Maggie wished she had her rifle with her.

  Maggie walked briskly over the ground, which was covered in pine needles. Thoughts and plans swirled around in her mind. She caught a glimpse of the white van she was looking for, and grinned. Alice stood by the passenger door waving an arm, motioning for her to hurry. She didn’t need to be reminded of the excited howls of the Variants leaping through the forest, attracted by the noise, smoke, and raging fire. She reached Alice and gave her a quick hug before hopping into the van. She reached out for the steering wheel, but grasped only air. She let out a laugh. Of course. They drive on the right here in New Zealand. Maggie crawled over and sat in the driver’s seat. She glanced in the rearview mirror and smiled at the sight of the children in the back. She started up the van and pulled out onto the gravel forest road.

  Alice reached over and gave her leg a squeeze. “Thanks, Maggie. We couldn’t leave those kids in there.”

  Maggie glanced over. “Definitely. Have you still got that package I gave you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “There should be some caps in there. We need them for the next phase.”

  Alice reached down into the foot well and picked up the package. She pulled out the caps and handed one to Maggie.

  “What’s next?”

  “If I remember correctly, there should be some sort of guardhouse coming up. Even though I was hooded when I was brought here, I remember the drivers talking to the guards. Just let me do the talking.” She took her eyes off the road, quickly looking at Alice. “Tuck your hair under the cap. We need to trick the guards for a few moments.” Without turning, she addressed the kids in the back. “Okay, sweeties. I need you all to stay extra quiet for me, okay?”

  She heard a few murmurs in response.

  A white wooden shed appeared, tucked to one side of the road. The guards had fashioned a makeshift barrier out of 44-gallon drums and wooden poles. Maggie slowed down and wound her window down a few inches. She brought the van to a stop and surveyed the area. One guard sat in the small shed smoking, and another was standing a few yards in front of her, a rifle tucked over his shoulder. He was busy trying to light his cigarette, and wasn’t even l
ooking at the van. The guard in the shed looked up and slowly got up from his seat. Maggie could see an AR-15 sitting behind him, leaning against the shed wall. Sloppy, very sloppy. She smiled and let out a breath. Taking her hand off the steering wheel, she gripped the door release and waited for the guard to get closer.

  “What’s going on back there?” the guard said, leaning in, bringing his head level with the door. Maggie shoved the door open, slamming the metal against his skull. The guard fell back with a grunt. Maggie pushed the accelerator down and the van lunged forward, smacking into the other guard and throwing him back several feet. His body thudded into the ground and rolled a couple of times, coming to a stop against a tree, He didn’t move. She turned her attention back to the first guard. He was sitting up, clutching his head. Maggie jumped out of the van, jogged a few steps and kicked him in the head like it was a soccer ball. His head snapped back and he crumpled to the ground. Maggie reached into the guard shed and grabbed the rifle. Checking it was loaded, she flicked off the safety and put a bullet into the unconscious guard’s head. She had a flutter of regret, but brushed it aside. These bastard traitors deserved no less. She glanced over to the guard lying prone against the tree and jogged over. He was grunting something.

  Maggie looked down at him. He reminded her of the young men she had seen on reality programmes, all swagger but no brains. He clutched his side, nursing his ribs. His eyes squinted at her.