A screech echoed out, distracting him. Three Variants scampered down the small alley, their reptilian eyes glowing in the night. Boss raised his gun, aiming for the head of the middle beast. It glared back at him as if daring him to fire. Boss squeezed the trigger. A black arc of gunk sprayed out behind it as the bullet tore through its skull. The other two Variants sprang off the ground in opposite directions. They used the buildings on either side like springboards and bounced off, leaping at Boss, shrieking.
He raised his Glock and got off a round, killing one of the creatures. Pain raced up his good leg as he was lifted off the ground and slammed into the building behind him. The children inside screamed. The Variant on top of Boss howled and spat thick gobbets of sludgy goo onto him. He desperately tried to bring his gun up and fire it, but the Variant knocked it aside, howling.
The force of the blow had stunned Boss, stars and colours swirling in his vision. Trying to focus, he looked into the eyes of the beast, waiting for its sucker mouth to latch onto him and tear at his flesh.
He flicked his eyes towards the window of the games room, hoping to get a last glimpse of George so he could apologise for failing him. The window was now open. What did that mean for Beth and the others?
The Variant hissed and dug its claws under his shoulders to pull him away. Boss shut his eyes, ready for death. He heard a wet thumping sound and opened his eyes. The creature on top of him was staring past him, its eyes bulging. It looked down at the jagged piece of timber speared through its torso before reaching up with clawed hands to grasp it. It let out a muted gurgle, blinked rapidly and slumped to the ground, dead.
Beth stood, looking down at the dead beast. She flicked her eyes to him, her mouth opening and closing. Boss pushed himself up and retrieved his Glock. He put a round through its grotesque skull.
“Thanks. I thought I was a goner for sure.” Boss grinned.
“I killed it,” Beth said, gawking at the creature slumped on the ground. Black blood had begun to pool under its body.
“You sure did. C’mon. We have to get these kids to the bunker.”
He turned back to the window and saw George staring out at him.
“G-man? C’mon, let’s go.” Balancing on his good leg, Boss reached up and lifted him out. The crushed shells on the path crunched under his feet.
He handed Beth his Glock. “Cover us, just like Ben taught us. George, you keep watch up that way.” He pointed up the hill towards the villa. They both nodded.
Boss lifted out the remaining kids, his muscles straining. The sweaty smell of fear permeated the smaller children. He got a few wafts of urine too as he lifted the two youngest down.
The gaggle of frightened kids huddled around Boss and Beth. Gunfire smoke hung in the air, the constant flashes and bangs strobing through the night like some crazy discotheque.
“All right. We’re going to run as fast as we can up this path to all those tents up there, okay?”
He indicated the shell-strewn path and a couple of the kids nodded. Boss did a quick head count. Five, including George.
“Good. And then we are going to run for the bunker, just like we practised, okay?”
He reached down and grabbed a couple of hands and as quickly as he could, headed up the path.
Beth pushed a few of the kids in front of her, and the little gang raced for the tents.
They ducked down behind the first tent just as a huge explosion boomed around the bay. The concussion wave caused the tent to buffet as if a sudden tornado had sprung up. Boss pulled the kids down, covering them with his body. Several of the children started to cry as his ears began to ring.
Shaking his head, he hauled up two of the kids, urging them on. He crawled behind the row of tents, hoping the thin nylon fabric hid their getaway. At the last gap, Boss got a glimpse of the harbour. The luxury yacht was a raging ball of fire. He paused, stunned.
Someone had managed to fire an ATGM at the yacht. Variants writhing in flames leapt into the ocean.
The remnants of the army left on this outpost were fighting their “Gallipoli”. They were mowing Variants down in their dozens, but Boss could see more pouring out of the boats behind the burning yacht, filling the jetty in a rolling black wave. The machine gun nests and gun placements were fast becoming overrun by the Variant horde. Soldiers, mothers, fathers and children were being torn apart. He could hear their terrified screams, even over the gunfire.
Boss looked at the old hotel, to where the bunker was. Ben had commandeered the old cellar and repurposed it. He had run the camp through drills, getting them to practise again and again. Children and medical staff were to be evacuated, everyone else was expected to fight. Boss peered into the chaos. He could just see the stocky figure of Sergeant Haere moving guns into position to protect the bunker. Seeing this gave Boss new hope. He took some deep breaths and checked that his gun was loaded. He ran his hand around his belt, feeling for his extra magazine.
“Lead them to the bunker, just like we practised. I’ll bring up the rear with George, covering you. Run, and don’t look back,” Boss said, holding Beth’s gaze.
“Okay.”
He moved to one side and ferried Beth and the four kids in front of him. “Go!”
Boss pushed up, getting his good leg under him. But his new prosthetic caught on the ground and he stumbled and fell, landing heavily. George turned at the noise, glancing down at him. Boss waved him on, but George stopped and ran back to help him balance on his good leg while he adjusted his prosthetic. Bloody thing.
He nestled his stump back into the leather cup and tightened the strap. Boss looked at the entrance of the bunker and saw the soldiers ushering the kids in. He let out a sigh of relief. Beth stood at the door, beckoning.
Screeches and howls tore through the night above the chaos. A group of a dozen Variants prowled into the gap, screeching and hissing at the retreating humans. They were cut off. The soldiers at the bunker door pushed at Beth, but she spun out of their grasp and sprinted up the hill and into the bush.
Beth, NO!
Sergeant Haere and the soldiers opened fire on the Variants.
“Get out of here, Shepard!” he yelled over the sounds of the battle.
Boss was still reeling from the sight of Beth dashing into the bush. He shoved George in front of him and hobbled towards the villa.
— 7 —
Maggie paused outside the yellow door, her hand raised ready to knock. Absently, she read the sign stuck on the door. Manager. The guard posted outside stood a few metres away. She narrowed her blue eyes as she followed his gaze sweeping over her curves. He didn’t even try to hide it. She pushed an errant strand of hair behind her ear and rapped on the door.
“Come in,” called a muffled voice.
Maggie took a deep breath to calm her building temper and pushed through the door. The skinny frame of Ian waited, leaning against his desk, a smirk planted on his face.
A sour tang formed in her mouth. “You wanted to see me?”
Ian motioned to the free seat on her side of the desk. “Please, sit. Would you like a drink? Some tequila arrived today.”
Ian moved around the desk and eased himself into the chair behind it.
“No. I’m good.”
Ian swivelled in his chair, turning his back to her. He grabbed a bottle of tequila from the shelf, the glass clinking against the tumbler as he spun back around. His eyes narrowed.
“I know you hate me, Maggie, but I want to offer you a job. Better rations for you. I might even spare you. Look at this like an opportunity.”
“Spare me?” Maggie said, scrunching her eyes together.
Ian placed the tumbler down and poured a couple of fingers of tequila.
“What? Did you think this was a nice little holiday camp where you could all live out your lives and the creatures would leave you alone?” Ian smirked again.
Heat rose through Maggie’s stomach and up her neck. She clenched her fists under the desk, her nails cutting i
nto her palms. “Of course not. Tell you what. You tell me what’s going on here and I’ll consider it.”
“I can’t tell you that.”
“Why not? Is it that bad?”
“Listen, Maggie. We all did what we had to do, to survive. I might tell you later. When you are on board with the programme.”
Maggie stared at Ian as he sipped his drink.
He swirled the liquid around the glass, watching her through the sloshing liquid. “So, do you want to know what the job is?”
Maggie thought about her work, about how most of the children never stayed long. Her suspicions regarding their fate angered her.
“Whatever the job is, you can shove it up your ass!” Maggie pushed herself out of her chair.
Ian followed her up and slammed his glass down on the desk, spilling his drink.
“You’re going to regret that, Yank! And your little friend Becs? I’ll send her out on the next tribute. Oh, and Alice? They have special plans for her. Yes. Special plans for her.”
Maggie could see spittle forming at the corner of his mouth. She cast her eyes down to the tequila bottle. It was within easy reach. She could grasp it. Break it. And jab it into his throat.
“Go on, Yank, do it. You’ll be dead within moments, and your friends too.”
She spun around and flung open the door. Ian’s cackling laughter followed her down the hall.
Maggie exited the building and strode out over the grass, heading for the gardens. She needed some space and time to calm down. Breathing in the cool night air always helped. She reached the gardening shed and sat down on some bags of potting mix. So many questions swam through her mind, each bobbing to the surface, demanding answers. Questions she didn’t have answers to.
Why were they here?
What was Ian talking about? Tributes?
To succeed at warfare, you needed intel. She had very little of that. She remembered reading The Art of War. It was full of wise quotes. The plan she had put into motion for their escape was based around her favourite: “In the midst of chaos, there is opportunity.” She smiled. Yes, Ian. I have a special plan for you. But first, I promised a little red-haired girl a story.
Maggie rose and made her way to 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 front 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 hundredth time. Isabella’s delight at school and making friends. Her sixth 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 leukaemia. 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. But as hard as she tried to forget, the pain remained.
She and her husband grew apart slowly. It began with them sleeping in separate rooms. The excuse was her shift work. 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 to 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 days ever.
The shadow of the sleeping quarters snapped Maggie out of her teary memories. She smoothed down her shirt and walked up the stairs.
As Maggie entered the room, the fragrance of the rose-scented candles burning lifted her mood. Becs was sitting cross-legged on Maggie’s bed, a pile of books 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,” Maggie said, taking the book from her.
“It’s my favourite.”
Maggie sat down on the edge of the bed. “Scoot over a bit.”
Becs snuggled into her as she began to read, and Maggie enjoyed the warmth emanating from the child. Reading to Becs stirred more memories of Izzy. She pushed them aside for now and read on.
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.
“So, what did Ian want?” Alice said, dimples forming as she smiled.
Maggie mulled over what to say.
“Not much, He offered me a job.”
“Job? Don’t you already have one in the gardens?”
“Yes, exactly. We didn’t get to the job description though. I stormed out, telling him to shove it.”
“About time someone did,” Alice said. She grinned. “What did you say exactly? I want details.”
“I told him to shove it up his ass.”
“I’d loved to have seen the look on his ratty face at that,” Alice said. “Do you think he knows you were in the army?”
“I think he suspects but doesn’t know for sure,” Maggie said. “How did you get on with your guard friend?”
Alice dropped her gaze, looking to the door and back to Maggie. “Ah, good. You were right. They leave the keys in the vans.”
“I thought so. This is good news. That’s one less thing to worry about. And the red jumpsuits?” she said.
“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, 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 gave a sly grin, some air escaping her lips in a whisper.
“More good news?” Alice said.
“Yes definitely. Do you think you can get us those jumpsuits tomorrow?”
“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.”
“The newbies. They said they were on their 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 be
en 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. She smiled to herself. We’re getting out of here, Ian. I have a surprise for you.
Maggie sat, enjoying the silence. Nothing moved outside. She 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.
“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’.”
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.”
“Yeah, good idea. Night,” Alice said, still giggling.
Maggie walked over to her bed. 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.
Extinction New Zealand Box Set | Books 1-3 Page 22