Extinction New Zealand Box Set | Books 1-3

by Smith, Adrian J.

  She turned and waited for him.

  Ben looked grim. “They haven’t found Boss and George amongst the dead. At this point they are MIA. Szabo here counts seventy-eight dead so far, many more wounded. Doc is attending now. Thankfully, most of the kids made it to the bunker. It looks like Haere and his men died protecting it.”

  Dee glanced over to the bodies. “Beth? Six? What about Max? Has anyone seen him?”

  “Beth is MIA too. Six is wounded. He’s in the hospital now. No one has seen Max either.”

  Ben looked over at Jack. “You guys go search the villa for the boys. I have to attend to things here, and sort Eric out. Stay frosty. We don’t know how many Variants, if any, are still on the island. Keep me updated via two-way, especially if you see any of the bastards. Don’t be heroes. We’ve already lost too many.”

  Dee pulled him into a hug. His long beard tickled her face.

  “Be back by 1800 hours,” he said.

  She nodded and turned. Grabbing Jack’s arm, she pulled him over towards the hospital.

  They walked along the boardwalk, passing the bodies. Some had sheets covering them, others were lying open. She recognised a few faces. Erin, whom she’d had dinner with a few times. Henry, who had a boy around George’s age. She turned her head towards the sea, not wanting to see any more. The guilt threatened to overwhelm her. It gnawed at her, taunting, whispering. You should’ve been here, you should’ve been protecting the children.

  The stench of blood mixed with disinfectant made Dee retch as she entered the hospital. Doc was furiously trying to save someone in one corner, with a couple of nurses handing him instruments. Bloody rags lay scattered around. All ten of the beds held someone. More people lay on the floor, blankets and pillows trying to keep them comfortable.

  Dee spotted Six lying on the far bed, A woman with brown hair and wearing army fatigues was wiping his brow. She smiled as Dee and Jack approached.

  “How’s he doing?” asked Dee.

  “It’s touch and go. Doc stitched him up as best he could and pumped him full of antibiotics. It’s a waiting game now.”

  “Can he talk?”

  Six’s eyes fluttered open and smiled. “Yeah, I can talk.”

  Dee sat down opposite the army woman, the bed creaking with her added weight. “Hey, Six. Still trying it with the ladies, eh?”

  Six gave a weak laugh. He tried to raise himself, wincing with the effort. “Don’t make me laugh. You’ll pop my stitches.” He pulled back the covers, revealing his heavily-bandaged side.

  “What happened?” Jack said, helping him with the blankets.

  “I got a call on the radio around 1830 hours. Flotilla approaching. Said they saw our lights. I reported it to the Sarg, and he okayed it. I watched out the window as they cruised in, this huge luxury boat leading. It had just tied up at the jetty when those Variant bastards swarmed out. It was chaos. They caught us totally by surprise.” Six stopped and looked away, looking out the small window. He turned back, searching out Jack’s eyes. Six lowered his voice. “I saw it…th…the big one.”

  Jack exchanged a look with Dee. “The big one?”

  “The one you guys talk about, the Alpha. With three heads.”

  Dee scrunched the blanket in her hand. Could it be? She’d thought they’d left that horror behind.

  “Are you sure, Six?” she queried.

  “I think so, yeah. I couldn’t see too many details, but I saw the heads. It was so chaotic, and there was this huge Variant leading them. Bullets just bounced off him.”

  Dee felt Jack’s soothing touch on her hand. She looked up, meeting his gaze. Tears filled his eyes. Her worry for the boys amped up, and her heart pounded. She forced herself to take some deep breaths. She needed to remain strong and clear-headed. Nothing was achieved angry and foggy-brained.

  Letting out a breath, Dee grasped Six’s hand. “Boss? George? Beth?”

  Six smiled, looking at Dee. “Boss, he’s a hero, Dee. Both him and Beth were leading a bunch of kids to the bunker but they got cut off by a group of Variants. I’m sorry Dee. The last I saw of them, they were running up the hill towards your place.”

  “They could still be alive out there, hiding somewhere,” Jack said, his voice rising.

  “Thanks, Six. You get better, okay?” Dee pushed off the bed and stood next to Jack.

  “When you find Boss, tell him he owes me a game?” Six grinned.

  “All right, but I think you should tell him yourself,” Dee said.

  The shell-strewn path crunched under their feet as they strode up to the villa. The Walsh Villa, as Jack called it. Jack and his movies. She smiled at him, catching his eye. He would have likened the scene that confronted them as they approached the village to something out of Saving Private Ryan. All that smoke, bodies and chaos. The smell of burning flesh and cordite hanging in the air would stay with her for a long time, if not forever. In truth, the events of the last few weeks would be on a continual loop in her mind. She doubted if they would ever find peace, some sort of normal. It was only going to get worse as the Variants grew stronger and more desperate. She feared that this attack was the first of many.

  Dee bounded up the steps and onto the verandah of the house they shared with their new family. A Variant body lay slumped on the deck, its brains blown out. She glanced to her right. Two more bodies lay on the bank. Boss?

  She turned to Jack. “Looks like they put up a fight.”

  “He did well. Let’s check in the house. You ready?”

  Dee sighed. “Yeah.”

  Dee and Jack moved inside. The first thing she saw was the open gun cage, with a rifle and shotgun missing. Half a dozen boxes of ammo were missing too. She glanced over to the coat rack where they kept their go-bags. She was thankful to see the pegs empty.

  She ran into their rooms, calling, searching. Her calls became desperate.

  “They’re not here,” Jack said. “Boss must have fled into the bush with George.”

  Dee slumped onto the bed and held her head in her hands. She took a couple of deep breaths, trying to control her growing anxiety. She felt the bed depress as Jack sat next to her.

  “Shall we go?”

  Dee sniffed and poked out her tongue. “God, I need a shower first. We reek.”

  Jack looked at her, confused. “A shower, now? Shouldn’t we go look for the boys?”

  “I want to go find them too, but I need to get some of this stench off me. We’ve been on the go for days, with little to no sleep. I just need this to centre myself.”

  “But what if we’re too late? Wasting precious time on showers?”

  “I’ll be quick, I need this. I know it’s weird. I want to find them as much as you.”

  She could see Jack searching her face, looking for a reason to deny her. He wouldn’t come up with one. Dee knew she was right; they needed a breather. Showers had a bizarre way of washing away bad feelings as well as dirt.

  “Okay, you win.”

  “Don’t I always?” Dee punched him on the arm. “Go use the downstairs shower, I bag this one. Ten minutes?”

  “Okay, see you in ten.”

  Dee watched him leave. Sighing, she started stripping off her sweat and gore-soaked clothes. Just taking them off felt heavenly. She stepped under the warm water and washed away the sludge coating her hair and skin.

  Dee met Jack in the kitchen. He handed her a protein bar before tearing the wrapping off his own. He raised an eyebrow at her. “Better?”

  “So much. Let’s go find the boys.”

  Jack nodded and shuffled into his pack. Dee held the door open for him. He was still looking for something.

  “What are you doing?”

  “My machete. I can’t find it.”

  “The rusty one?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Leave it. Let’s go.” She watched him look around one last time. “C’mon!”

  “All right.”

  Dee looked up the bank into the bush behind the house. If
she were Boss, where would she go? Did he flee in panic, or did he have a plan? There were a few broken branches directly to their left. She pointed. “It has to be them. C’mon.”

  Dee followed Jack as he bashed his way through the bush. Branches scratched at her face and tangled in her hair, but she didn’t care. She could see indicators that Boss and George had fled this way: scuffs in the soil here, a broken branch there. Dislodged rocks everywhere.

  Up and up they climbed. Dee grunted with every step and the sweat trickled down her back. Only her desire to see the boys again fuelled her exhausted body to climb farther up the hill. After forty minutes of exertion they broke out of the bush and stepped onto one of the tracks that circumnavigated the island. Dee glanced left and right, searching for more signs. She looked down at the path in front of her. Seeing footprints, Dee frowned. There was a different print, human-like, but not quite human. Variants, she realised.

  “Jack, look!”

  “Yeah. And look.” Jack showed her some other impressions in the dirt.

  Pawprints! Max! Her heart soared, and a new batch of adrenaline surged through her veins. Dee looked out to sea. It shone back turquoise, sunlight dancing off the breaking waves. She looked back up the mountain.

  “What about those caves George found?”

  “It’s worth a try,” Jack said. “Do you remember where they are?”

  “What? Mister-I-never-get-lost can’t remember?”

  “I know. Shocking news.” Jack laughed.

  “This way, Doofus.”

  Dee pushed past him and broke into a run. She could hear Jack’s boots thudding on the ground as he caught up and fell in step beside her. Dee rounded a corner and saw the cave opening ahead. She ran up to it and ducked inside.

  “Look! Good old Boss.” Jack stood in the entrance holding up his rusty red-handled machete.

  Dee couldn’t help but smile. Good old Boss indeed. Smart kid, leaving them a huge clue as to his path. She reached into her bag, grabbed her torch and clicked it on, illuminating the lava tube cave twisting away. She was just about to head into the cave when she caught a whiff of rotten fruit.

  Jack stopped, clearly smelling it too. He raised his rifle and lowered his voice. “You smell that, right?”

  “We should radio Ben,” Dee cautioned.

  “Let’s check out that lake first. Carefully.” Jack smiled. “Give him some good news.”

  After twenty minutes of navigating their way through the many caves, Dee stared across the crater lake to the small island on the far side, a lone pohutakawa tree standing sentry over it. She would have admired the scene if it wasn’t for her growing fear for the boys’ safety. A screech sounded moments before movement to her left flicked into her peripheral vision. Half a dozen Variants scampered down the crater walls, howling as they ran.

  We should have radioed Ben.

  Dee let out an angry scream and, bringing up her rifle, let loose with a barrage of hot-leaded death. She quickly dropped two. Jack shot another one. Their bodies splashed into the lake. The other three dropped onto the sandy beach in front of them and charged in a sudden burst of speed. Dee squeezed off another burst, hitting one in the neck. Black gunk sprayed out. It stumbled and rolled before lying still. Jack hit the other one in the head with a quick burst from his AR-15.

  The last Variant leapt off the ground, claws extended, howling as it flew through the air. Dee yelled a warning to Jack. He pivoted, bringing his rifle up in front of him, which saved him from the gnashing mouth of the Variant. It dug its claws into his legs instead and Jack screamed in agony.

  Dee dropped her rifle onto the sand and drew her Katana. All the pent-up anger she had about what the world had become, and these man-made abominations, coursed through her veins. Screaming, she ran forwards and swung her blade like a skilled assassin. Bringing it up in an arc, she sliced the creature’s head off with one clean cut. It spun away and landed with a thump on the obsidian-laced beach, a snarl forever etched on its face.

  She stared at the decapitated head. These creatures disgusted her. The thought of what they could have done to the boys pained her. She wanted to make a statement. Memories of the Variants tied up and decomposing on the trees flashed through her mind. Yes. A statement. Dee glanced around the lake and smiled.

  She stalked over to the head and speared it with tip of her katana. Then she walked over to an old fence post and slammed it down on top, spiking it.

  There’s your statement!

  Dee returned to Jack and helped him to his feet. “You okay, baby?”

  “Bloody Variants. Thank you.”

  Dee nodded and looked out to the island. “I’m going to check the island. Wait here.”

  “Okay, be careful. I’ll radio Ben. Let him know we found Variants.”

  Dee swam the last few strokes to the island and pulled herself up, pricking herself on the sharp obsidian as she did so. There were a couple of Variant bodies, but no sign of the boys. Then a glint caught her eye. She knelt down on the ground and found a makeshift prosthetic leg. She smiled. Boss! Clever boy.

  “Jack! Look!” She held up the leg.

  Jack waved and beckoned her to come back. Within moments she was back and drying herself off with a small hiking towel from her pack.

  “What are you thinking?” Jack asked, rolling the prosthetic over in his hand.

  “I think they’ve been taken. It’s the only logical answer.” Dee said.

  “You don’t think the Trophy King took them, do you?” Jack said, swallowing a sob.

  Dee nestled her head into his shoulder and let the tears flow. Her head swam at the thought of Boss and George being taken away to be consumed, or worse. She had seen inside one of those nests. Seen what they did to people. Once was enough.

  Composing herself, Dee pulled away. She stared at the island. A barely audible whimper reached her ears. She pricked her ears, straining. There! Another whimper, clearer this time. She scanned the island, looking for the source. There was a small patch of black and white fur amongst the flax bushes. Max! How did I miss him?

  Dee ran back into the water and once again was splashing to the island.

  — 25 —

  Where are the bodies? Maggie scanned the area around the 4x4. Three of its doors stood open, dark pools of blood stained the cobblestones and empty shell casings lay scattered around. But no bodies. Maggie paused and breathed, searching for the tell-tale rotten fruit smell. She could detect faint decomposing garbage and the salty air of the ocean, but no Variants. She flicked her eyes up to the rooftops. The creatures loved to jump down from above. She had learnt that the hard way.

  Maggie, like any veteran, reported for duty to the US Embassy in Wellington after they were recalled. She helped ferry American citizens to chartered planes flying home. The Commander promised that all personnel would be evacuated by the end of the week. She was then ordered to accompany a Marine platoon to rescue an official who had injured himself on a hike. Chopper extraction was out due to poor weather, so she and the Marines hiked into the Tongariro National Park. Into the mist, and back into hell. Variants swarmed over them in the car park, and they barely made it out with their lives.

  Entering the town of Turangi, their rescue mission went south. Hordes of Variants harried them, attacking the APV. Running low on fuel, they pulled into a gas station. It all looked clear. Then a lone Variant jumped down onto the Staff Sergeant, tearing out his throat. It severely injured two others before they managed to kill it.

  Maggie took over the driving from then. After the weather cleared, she radioed for extraction. Variants attacked them constantly, so to avoid the towns, Maggie started to take back roads, hoping to avoid any further entanglements. The chopper called in the new LZ.

  Ten miles out, the injured soldiers succumbed to the virus, turning into Variants, they attacked the remaining platoon. In the confusion Maggie slid off the road, damaging the APV. Now three remained of the original twelve. Maggie, the official, and some fresh-faced
kid from Nebraska. On they ran, through the thick tussock grass of the volcanic plateau. With five miles to go, Maggie’s legs were burning: carrying the injured official was taking its toll. She sent the kid up ahead to scout since, from the looks of his skinny frame, he wouldn’t be able to take the load. Gritting her teeth, Maggie shifted the official and trudged on.

  They saw the army base in the distance, with choppers buzzing in and out. She tried the radio again, but only received static. She was relieved when the guardhouse came into view and she sent the kid up ahead for help.

  She heard screams and she watched, horrified, as the kid turned and ran. Two Variants chased him down and tore him apart. She was frozen with indecision. Should she run? She was exhausted, and the official was useless. The Variants charged them. Maggie brought up her M4, letting off a burst. She hit one in the torso, causing it to tumble, knocking the other one down. She flicked the selector to auto and unleashed a barrage of metal death, unloading a full magazine into the still-advancing beasts. Even with their chests full of holes, black flesh torn off, they still crawled at her. Maggie clicked a new magazine and, flicking her selector back to semi, she shot both of them in the head. Finally, they lay still.

  Maggie left the official in the guardhouse and went looking for either a radio or a vehicle to get them the hell out of Dodge. Bloodcurdling shrieks filled the air as Variants leapt off the rooftops, swarming the remaining soldiers on the base. Maggie fired, taking as many of the monsters down as she could. Soldier after soldier fell. A jeep picked her and the official up, and they fled into the wilderness surrounding the base. Maggie looked west to the mountains, filled with guilt at their escape. She scanned the skies, looking for the chopper that never arrived.

  After that, the Variants hunted her relentlessly. Maggie survived by sheer determination. Variants ambushed them on a bridge. Maggie killed as many as she could, but there were simply too many. The injured official was no use. Variants swarmed over them. In desperation, Maggie launched herself and the official off the bridge. They managed to cling to a floating log, shivering in the freezing water. Surprise turned to hope when the Variants stayed out of the water. The injured official died during the night from what Maggie suspected was hypothermia. Wary that she would follow the same fate, Maggie left the relative safety of the river and fled into the chaos. Alone, and far from home.