Extinction New Zealand Box Set | Books 1-3

by Smith, Adrian J.

“Roger.”

  Dee stepped over to the far side of the central path with Aroha still behind her and took up a covering position. The howls of the Variants beyond went up several octaves before the roller door shook with a mighty smash. The shrieking sound of metal tearing punched through the cellar.

  Boss came running into the dim light, his prosthetic clicking on the concrete, and he pivoted around next to Dee. She heard footsteps behind her as Jack ran up.

  “We’ll have to take the tunnel. It’s the only way out.”

  “Incoming!” shouted Yalonda as her L96 rifle barked.

  Five Variants had squeezed through the gap and were groping towards them, snarling. Dee pulled her trigger, taking down a Variant. The Renegades made short work of the other four.

  The monsters outside howled.

  Dee grabbed Aroha, cradled the child against her combat vest and sprinted for the tunnel. Reaching the only escape route, Dee grunted with the effort as she launched Aroha up and onto the shelf. Jack scooped Max up and climbed, lifting the dog into the entrance.

  The Renegades scrambled into the tunnel and crouched down, staring at the advancing Variants as they tore through the wine cellar below.

  Dee unclipped the last of her grenades and threw it down into the fray before ducking back a few metres. She grasped Boss’s shoulder. “Go!”

  Dee looked back at Yalonda, who was pushing square objects into the soft tunnel walls. Yalonda saw her looking and waved her on. Dee clicked on her flashlight and ran. After a few moments she heard Yalonda’s heavy footsteps.

  “Run! Go!”

  Dee caught a glimpse of something in Yalonda’s hand.

  The Renegades sprinted down the tunnel. The rough floor made it difficult to keep her footing, but Dee had worse things to worry about. Boss had lifted Aroha into his arms and was beginning to lag behind. The tunnel curved up and narrowed. Yalonda pushed Dee against the wall and held her arm across Boss and Aroha. Dee could now see Yalonda was holding a detonator.

  She grinned at Dee. “Fire in the hole!”

  A concussive whump rang out, showering them in soil and dust. Dee held a hand over her mouth. Max barked and growled at Jack’s feet.

  Dee smelt the tell-tale whiff of rotten fruit and peered through the debris, spotting the yellow eyes a second before the Variant leapt at her. That second saved her life. It was all she needed to whip her rifle up in front of her face, protecting her neck. The Variant dug its claws into her legs. Dee cried out and tried to wrestle the Variant off. Gunfire from Jack and Boss echoed around the tunnel.

  The Variant on top of her smacked its sucker mouth, trying to latch on to her flesh. Dee desperately shoved at it with her rifle. The beast’s eyes bulged, then it went still. Dee kicked it off her and looked down. One of Yalonda’s hatchets was buried in its deformed skull.

  “Thanks.”

  Yalonda winked. “Anything for a sister,” she said as she plucked her hatchet from the corpse of the beast.

  Dee searched her immediate vicinity for any more threats. Four Variant bodies lay slumped on the ground around the Renegades. Satisfied that they were safe for now, she crouched down next to Aroha. “You okay?”

  Aroha nodded. Dee kissed the little girl on the cheek, more to calm herself than anything.

  Jack spoke. “Let’s keep moving. Combat spacings. I’ll take point, with Max. Yalonda, you take back.”

  Dee nodded an affirmative and followed Jack into the gloom.

  — 15 —

  Jack searched the tunnel for any signs of Variants, scratches or claw prints. So far all he could see were boot and shoe prints of various sizes in the muddy ground.

  The survivors?

  The man-made passage continued on for another hundred metres before a cave-in blocked their escape. Hunks of quartz and rock mixed with clay filled the tunnel from floor to ceiling.

  Great, just perfect.

  He shook his head. Jack had seen plenty of movies with this scenario. He knew how something like this always went. A group of people trapped in a cave are picked off by some creature. Jack chastised himself. Simpson had been right. He had to stop thinking in movies and focus on real life.

  Dee moved up beside him. “Bugger.”

  “Yeah. Bugger.” Jack kicked at the cave-in. “Did we miss a turn or something?”

  Dee shook her head, grabbed a rock and tossed it at the pile. It sparked as it collided with another rock. Jack held out his hand.

  “Careful. Once gas builds up, it could explode.”

  “We’re going to have to dig our way through then,” Dee replied, shifting another rock.

  “Let’s make it quick. Always SNAFU, eh Ben?” said Jack as he joined her, shifting debris.

  Yalonda took a covering position and Max instinctively dug at the bottom, using his sharp claws to scratch at the sludgy clay. Dee and Boss formed a chain, and in a few minutes they had made a hole big enough for Jack to shine his torch through.

  “Anything?” Dee called up from below.

  “Yeah. More tunnel.”

  “Very funny.”

  Jack pulled a larger rock free and rolled it down the slope. Max bounded up and started growling, his ears flat against his head. Jack ruffled his ears. “What is it, boy?”

  Something had him excited. Max jammed his face into the hole and wriggled his body through, barking and snarling.

  “Max! Get back!”

  But the dog ignored him and scrambled through the small hole, dropping out of sight.

  Jack groaned. The time for being careful was over. “Dee, give me a hand.”

  With Dee helping him at the top, they made short work of creating a hole big enough for a human. By some miracle, the cave-in wasn’t wide and was loosely packed.

  Jack activated his comms. “Yalonda, Boss. We’re going through. You cover our six. Out.”

  “Wilco.”

  Jack had a sudden flash of memory. Of wriggling through limestone caves, hunting for unexplored passages. Of twinkling stalactites soaring metres into the darkness. Of roaring underground rivers. Pure, crystal clear water. Of showing his younger brother George the statues he had discovered deep within a forgotten cave. They had been made with mud and clay, with strange spiral rock circles around them. He had made George promise not to tell anyone about the statues. Something about them made Jack keep them secret. Like they were ancient and sacred. He hadn’t even told Dee.

  Jack brushed aside the memory. It still pained him to think of how his brother had died that day on the snowy slope. He hoped that by saving this other George he had redeemed his mistake.

  Jack hauled himself through and swept his beam around the tunnel. He spotted long scratches and gouges in the soil. This new section of tunnel was taller but narrower than the one before the cave-in. His flashlight gleamed across a glassy surface. He frowned and moved it back, focusing the light on the substance. Sliding down the rockfall slope, Jack crouched down to investigate close up. He could now see that it had a blue tinge and, using his machete, that it was a sticky goo. He wiped the residue on his pant leg and turned. A jab of pain shot up his leg and he looked down at his pants, puzzled. Wisps of smoke twirled up, and his skin felt like someone had pressed a branding iron to it. Jack sucked in a mouthful of water from his hydropack and spat it out on the burn.

  Acid?

  After a few more mouthfuls of water, the burning ceased. Jack did a quick search of the area, peering into the gloom beyond his flashlight’s radiance, looking for any sign of Max. He wanted to shout out and whistle and chase after him, but Max was a smart dog. All he could do was hope that he came back soon.

  Jack thumbed his radio. “Clear.”

  He kept his eyes trained down the new tunnel as he waited for the Renegades to join him. Glancing back to the opening, he watched Yalonda scramble through, cursing as her knees scraped against the sharp edges of the quartz. She stopped at the entrance and hacked at the clay with her hatchet, dislodging a large rock. It thumped into place, sealing
them in. Inky blackness closed around the Renegades, sending a shiver up Jack’s spine. But he was sweating, despite the chilly temperature of their underground prison.

  He lowered his voice. “Okay. Lights on. Keep quiet. And don’t touch that gooey substance. It burns like a bitch.” He pointed at the sludge. “Same positions as always. You hear anything, smell anything, see anything, let the team know. If we are going to get home safely, we need to be a unit, just like Ben taught us. Let’s find Max and go home.”

  He looked to each of them in turn, searching their faces, affirming that they understood.

  Yalonda, as always, had a crooked grin, her head tilted to one side. Jack smiled. She had a warped sense of humour and often had him in stitches with her no-nonsense views on world events.

  Boss’s lips were pulled tight, his eyes bright and wide. He gave Jack a nod. Not for the last time, Jack felt guilty for the teenager having to join in the fight. Boss and he bickered frequently, but Jack loved the smartass and vowed to do everything to keep him safe. Last, he looked at Dee. His rock. The woman who had stilled the ocean of anger that had boiled away within him for so many years. Anger and frustration at the world. Anger at the way people treated each other.

  As if she sensed his thoughts, Dee grasped his arm and gave him a quick kiss. She looked into his eyes. Affirming what he already knew.

  Until the end, Jack. Until the end.

  “Let’s go,” she whispered to Aroha.

  With a final nod, Jack turned and lifted his carbine to his shoulder. Stepping heel to toe, he crept forwards.

  The tunnel twisted and turned, often sloping down and up with no apparent reason. Puddles of the goo were splattered around the walls and floor. Jack was careful to avoid them, leading his team on.

  The Renegades followed the tunnel for over an hour with no end in sight. It would often branch off and stop in a dead end, causing them to backtrack and take a different route. Jack didn’t want to admit it, but with all the turns, twists and backtracking, he was lost. His normally solid sense of direction, gone. He paused at another fork in the tunnel. The fetid stench of rotten fruit and decaying meat assaulted his nose.

  Dee came up beside him, Aroha clinging to her leg. “Ugh. Why do they have to smell so bad?”

  He chuckled. “What do you think? Stinky tunnel or not?”

  “Haven’t we been down the other one?”

  “I think so, yeah.”

  “Wait. Is Mr GPS lost?”

  He chuckled again. “For the first time, yes.”

  Dee grinned at him. “There’s always a first time for everything.”

  “Stinky tunnel it is.”

  Jack wrinkled his nose at the strengthening stench coming from the cave as he advanced. Even the meat locker he had escaped from hadn’t smelt as bad. He took another few steps. The tunnel opened into a huge cavern. Jack shone his flashlight up and around the cathedral-sized space. More openings, some much like the one they stood in, dotted the wall opposite. Sucking in a breath, he trained the light down, searching out the bottom. Huddled twenty metres below were hundreds of Variants, curled up and sleeping. Flanking the cavern were strange blue cocoons. The light beam glinted off the saliva that oozed down the sides of the cocoons.

  The flesh on his exposed arm prickled into goosebumps. Jack held his arm out, fist closed, stopping the other Renegades. Dee peeked over his arm and gasped. She clamped her hand over her mouth and pushed Aroha behind her.

  Then Dee pulled on his arm, coaxing him away from the entrance. With a quick glance around for any guards, he backpedalled, waving the others back down the tunnel. Dee furrowed her brow but followed him without a word.

  Arriving back at the intersection, Jack turned off his flashlight and spoke in a whisper. “Now we know where all the Variants are.”

  “I’ve never seen so many,” said Dee. “Boss, get Ben on the radio.”

  “No signal down here. We have to get topside,” Boss replied.

  Jack nodded. “We need to find another way.”

  Yalonda turned her head towards him. “What did you see?”

  “Yeah, Jack?” Boss chimed in.

  “Variants. Hundreds of them. Sleeping, by the looks of it. And some weird egg cocoons.”

  “Cocoons?”

  “Yes. That’s what they looked like to me. Dee?”

  Dee nodded. “Creepy as hell. We need to find another way. There’s no way through that.”

  Jack clicked off his safety. “Problem is, which way?”

  “Shit. We’re lost, aren’t we?” asked Yalonda.

  “Afraid so.”

  “Well, my dad always said ‘Forward, always forward.’”

  Jack didn’t reply. He glanced left and right down the passageway, trying to figure the best way to go. The doubt that always simmered just below the surface of his mind threatened to overpower and consume him. A blood-curdling shriek from the cavern made up his mind. He spun around and clicked his light back on. Crawling over the edge of the tunnel were dozens of now very-awake Variants. They howled when they caught sight of the humans.

  “Go!” shouted Jack as he crouched down and squeezed his trigger.

  Yalonda fired from the other side. He risked a peek at Dee. She scooped up Aroha and sprinted down the tunnel after a fleeing Boss. He turned his attention back to the approaching mass from hell and swept his AR-15 from left to right, mowing down any beast he saw. Yalonda continued to fire next to him. The Variants gobbled up the metres. For every monster they killed, three more took their place, stomping their dead kindred into the muddy ground.

  Jack shouted above the din. “Go! I’ll hold them off.”

  “Piss off, nerd boy. Dee would kill me if I left you to die.”

  “On three, then. We turn and run.”

  A deep baritone bellow reverberated down the tunnel. Jack’s heart spasmed. He knew an Alpha call when he heard one. He grabbed Yalonda’s arm and pushed her away.

  “Run!” he screamed.

  Jack pumped his legs, urging them to run faster. He ignored the protests from his exhausted muscles. He ignored the howls and screeches. Instead, he focused on the bobbing lights in front of him and frantically searched for a way out.

  — 16 —

  Loyalty.

  Duke and the plebs picked over the wreckage of the three 6WD vehicles they had smashed off the road. Pig watched as the men walked around, laughing as they turned over the dead soldiers, robbing them of their rations and collecting their weapons. The whole activity disgusted him.

  These beast worshipers were nothing more than maggots, feeding on the decay of society.

  Grinding his teeth, Pig seethed as they methodically went about their morbid business. The dead soldiers were placed in the back of the two remaining vehicles.

  Four soldiers had survived the raid and were loaded up next to him. Only one was coherent enough to move on his own and make eye contact with Pig.

  The soldier had his hair shaved tight against his scalp, and Pig caught a glimpse of a Samoan tribal tattoo on his shoulder, under his torn shirt.

  “What’s your name, soldier?”

  The soldier’s eyes flicked around at the plebs before answering. “Lance Corporal Nathan Mauger.”

  Pig gave him a curt nod. “We’ll get through this.”

  Nathan looked at him and shook his head. His eyes surveyed the wreckage. “Who are these guys?”

  “They call themselves plebs. That tall one is their leader, he calls himself Duke.”

  “Plebs?”

  “Umm yeah. It’s short for plebeian, which is Latin for peasant or commoner.”

  Nathan cast his eyes down, tore a strip off his fatigues and field-dressed a gash on his leg. “Why did they do this?”

  “I don’t think you’ll like the answer.”

  “Tell me anyway.”

  Pig sighed. How do you tell someone that members of your own species have betrayed you to survive? That Duke was a megalomaniac who’d killed, looted and raped his
way across New Zealand. That he worshipped the beasts and supplied them with meat. All so he could live out his sick, twisted fantasies.

  “It’s what they do. Find surviving humans and steal from them. Kill the men and children. Keep some of the women for themselves.”

  He paused mulling over how to tell him the rest.

  “They worship the beasts, keeping them fed.”

  Nathan’s eyes went wide. He glanced over to the truck containing his fallen comrades.

  “Sick fuckers!” he said, shaking his head. “Why would anyone worship the Variants? They’re the enemy.”

  “Variants?” questioned Pig.

  “Yeah, Variants. The beasts. Monsters. Whatever you want to call them.”

  Pig felt a tickle in his mind, a tug of something buried deep within the fog.

  Variants? Yes. I’ve heard that name before.

  The V8 engine of the F350 roared to life under his feet. Duke slammed the side of the cab with his machete.

  “You two homos can bum each other later,” he said, cackling with laughter.

  His door slammed shut and he spun the tyres in the gravel. They squealed in protest as they met the asphalt.

  Pig yanked on his cuffs in frustration. It was bad enough he had to watch the plebs kill innocent men, let alone being chained up like an unwanted dog.

  He kept his head turned so he could see where the convoy was heading. Duke turned south for several kilometres before finally turning east and once again heading for the mountain with the communications tower on top.

  Pig contemplated whether or not to get more intel from Nathan, but with the wind howling by, any decent conversation was out.

  After twenty minutes, they sped through another town, then bounced across the open fairways of a golf course.

  Duke hollered out his window, “Sorry, boys! Can’t see the road.”

  An empty liquor bottle came whistling past Pig’s head and smashed against the cab, showering the prisoners in tiny shards of glass. Nathan casually brushed the glass off himself and continued to stare out at the passing countryside. Pig grimaced and turned back to the road ahead, committing all to memory.