95 Million Killers

by Gary Weston

  'Shit,' said Kevin. 'How are you doing?'

  'The baby's coming,' cried Susan.

  'It can't. We need a doctor.'

  An eighteen wheel truck pulled up behind them. In front, the man with the sign turned it to go. Slowly, almost in slow motion it seemed to Kevin, the vehicles in front started to move. Kevin opened his window and yelled, 'Bloody hurry up.'

  It didn't seem to make any difference.

  'Kevin. The baby's coming out.'

  'We're on our way.'

  'Too late. Too late.'

  The line of vehicles were passing the roadworks. Kevin was almost by the man with the sign that was still turned to green.

  'Kevin,' Susan screamed.

  Kevin turned off the engine and got out the ute. The man with the sign yelled, 'Oi!' and the man in the eighteen wheeler blasted his horn. Kevin ignored both of them and opened the passenger door. Susan was wearing her stretchy tracksuit bottoms and there was a big wet stain on them. He got on his knees and pulled off her sneakers, then got hold of the elasticated waistband of the tracksuit and pulled them down and managed to get Susan's one leg out. He could see the top of the head of the baby.

  'Oh, crap.'

  The truck driver blasted his horn impatiently, which didn't help the situation one little bit. Susan screamed and needed to hold onto something which turned out to be Kevin's hair.

  'Ouch. That hurts.'

  'You wanna swap? Catch the baby.'

  'I'm here, but you gotta let go of my hair.'

  Susan let go and grabbed his shoulders with both hands, her fingernails digging deep into his skin. He ignored that and concentrated on the job in hand, and what was in his hands was his baby being born. Susan's screams hurt his eardrums, but the baby was in a hurry to come out.

  'Nearly there,' said Kevin. 'Just a little push.'

  From somewhere, a truck door was slammed angrily and heavy footsteps came up behind him.

  'If you don't shift your bloody ute, I'll...shit.'

  'Mate,' said Kevin. 'We're a bit busy right now.'

  'Good on yer, mate. I'll tell the others.'

  'Susan. She's nearly out.'

  'She?'

  'Female and gorgeous, just like you. Push.'

  The rest of the baby girl slipped out into Kevin's hands, so small but perfect. Both parents were crying.

  'Hospital,' gasped Susan.

  Kevin gently handed her the baby, mindful of the umbilical cord and Susan covered her the best she could. Kevin jumped into the drivers seat and started the engine. The truckie was by the man with the sign, still turned to go, and leaving the line of more than a hundred vehicles behind them, Kevin drove past the roadworks to the hospital.

  Kevin pulled up right outside the main entrance where it clearly said no parking. He jumped out and ran inside, yelling for help. He saw a man in blue surgical clothes, carrying a clipboard of papers. The doctor saw the young man covered in the many wounds from fighting possums, and his his hands covered in fresh sticky blood.

  'Okay, son. Come to A and E with me.'

  'No. Not me. In the car. My wife. My baby.'

  Less than a minute later, Susan and baby were on a gurney, being rushed along to be cared for.

  'How are they?' Kevin asked the doctor.

  'Both looked fine to me, but we'll have a better idea soon. What on earth happened to you?'

  'Possums.'

  'Possums?'

  'Yeah. And I gotta tell somebody.'

  Chapter 37

  'Thanks for the clothes, Bill.'

  'No worries.'

  Pritchard had showered, dressed in Bill Prickles clean clothes and was feeling more positive. He had emptied the hit man's wallet on the kitchen table.

  'Just money. No driving license, bank cards, nothing to identify him whatsoever.'

  'He probably had a bank card hidden somewhere. He'd be carrying a load of cash so he wouldn't have to use it much. He wouldn't be leaving any sort of a trail.'

  Pritchard said, 'It would be good to find out who he worked for.'

  'Might possibly find something with a check on the car or his fingerprints but I doubt it. Even if we could identify the man, there'd be nothing to tell us who had hired him to get you.'

  Pam entered. 'I've got your pants in the wash, Mick. The shirts beyond saving.'

  'Thanks. I'll be using this money for the time being, so I'll buy new gear later. I'll not be going home for my wallet any time soon.'

  Bill said, 'It's almost time for the news. Be good to see if anything else has happened.'

  Bill turned the T V on and they waited for the news to come on. The intro music started.

  'This is Three News and I'm Darren Walker. In breaking news, a young couple had to deliver their own baby on their way to the hospital. Our reporter, Cliff Thompson is at the hospital where we go live. Cliff. What is the situation there?'

  'Darren. The baby, a girl, was two months premature and is in intensive care as a precaution, but the doctors say both mother and baby are doing well. But it transpires there is far more to this story than just having a baby. Both mother and father, Mr and Mrs Milligan, have received multiple lacerations for which they have been treated, and Kevin Milligan insists they were out in the bush fixing up a hut, when they were attacked by possums. Literally dozens of them.'

  'Cliff. Did you say possums?'

  'That's correct, Darren. Mr Milligan told me they were literally barricaded in the hut, and the possums were smashing their way in to attack them. I've spoken to the doctor who treated the injuries and he confirmed the wounds are very much what one could expect from an encounter with a possum.'

  'Cliff. Wouldn't an attack of this nature be most unusual?'

  'Yes, Darren. That's my understanding of it. To have possums acting in a pack to hunt down humans to eat them, is something unheard of. Mr Milligan was most concerned that this was brought to the attention of the public so others didn't have to endure it.'

  'Can you tell us exactly where the attack occurred?'

  'According to Mr Milligan, the attack occurred in the bush off Old Quarry Lane, about sixty miles south of Patch Creek. I spoke to Deputy Police Commissioner Tony Rawlings, who personally came to the hospital to interview Mr Milligan, and is organising armed officers to investigate the area. Commissioner Rawlings told me this before he left.'

  The recorded interview of the dour face Rawlings came on and he said, 'It certainly looks as if the injuries sustained could well have been inflicted by animals, the claw and bite wounds consistent with what a possum could cause. Until further notice, the Old Quarry Lane site is off limits to the general public until further notice.'

  The live image of Cliff Thompson appeared. 'The Commissioner was obviously eager to get away and coordinate the police response to the situation. He has promised a full press statement as soon as he has a clear idea of what happened and how they are going to deal with it.'

  'Thank you, Cliff Thompson, live from...'

  Bill Prickle turned off the T V. 'I know that area like the back of my hand. These critters are spreading all over the place.'

  'Rawlings is a good man,' Pritchard said. 'You got a spare map?'

  Chapter 38

  They spread the map out on the kitchen table. 'Right,' said Prickle. 'The hunter Gordon, we found here.' He marked the spot with yellow highlighter.

  Pritchard pointed at the map. 'The camper van was here, north of Whanganui.'

  Prickle marked it. 'Where exactly were you this morning?'

  'Here. Interesting. The site of the original experiment was about here, around fifty miles to the east. A bit of a pattern emerging. Where's that quarry, Bill?'

  'Here. Nearly sixty miles south of here.'

  Pam had been watching with interest. 'That doesn't look good. Join up the dots and it's almost a circle. And Patch Creek is right in the middle of it.'

  To confirm his wife's observation, he joined the dots. The three villages were indeed almost central to the circle.<
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  'Mick,' said Prickle. 'With the deputy commissioner taking charge, you are off the hook. All we have to do is let the brass handle it.'

  Pam said, 'I expect they'll bring in the army to deal with the possums.'

  'I've no doubt you are both right. But knowing about the possums is one thing. That doesn't put those responsible in the spotlight.'

  Prickle said, 'Let it go, Mick.'

  'Bill. Five people have been killed. The hunter, the tourists and the two who were going to kill me. That young couple with the baby only just got away with their lives, so that would have been eight with the baby. The country has a right to know who is responsible.'

  Pam Prickle agreed. 'Think about Mrs Gordon and her family. If I were her, I'd damn well want to know why my husband died.'

  'Fair enough,' conceded Bill. 'But Mick. When somebody high up wants to cover their asses and thinks you a big enough threat to have you killed, we have to be careful.'

  Chapter 39

  Charlie Matai had had a gut full. Five mornings on the run he had done the four o'clock milking. His teenage boys, Rickie and Stevie, were given a pile of chores to be getting on with, and in his opinion, they should have been old enough and mature enough to be working without him having to check up on them every five minutes.

  He stared at the trunks of old dead pine cut down from the copse of trees at the far end of the farm. All they had to do was use the chainsaw to section the logs, use the splitter and then neatly stack the firewood in the woodshed. Hardly rocket science. Between the two of them, he doubted the boys managed to do one full days work in a week.

  'Right.'

  He knew exactly where they would be. He'd found their marijuana plants in a cleared section of the copse, hidden from view by trees. Carrying a five litre petrol container, he trudged angrily across his fields and through the trees, and sure enough, there they were. The boys were lying on their backs in the sunshine, smoking huge joints. Charlie took the lid off the fuel container and started splashing the contents over the plants.

  'Dad, no. What the hell are you doing?' Stevie said.

  'Getting rid of your dope, sonny boy. Maybe then I'll get some work out of you two.'

  Rickie was on his feet. 'You can't do that, Dad.'

  Charlie took his lighter out of his patched up dungarees pocket and flicked it alight. 'Don't you dare tell me what I can and can't do on my own land, boy. This is illegal and I'm getting rid of it.' He started lowering the naked flame towards the dripping plants. 'All I ask is that you two pull your weight around here. Like chopping a bit of firewood, for instance.'

  'Okay,' said Rickie. 'We'll do the firewood. Just leave our plants alone.'

  'Are you still here? I thought I would be hearing the sound of the wood splitter going by now.'

  'Don't hurt the plants, Dad,' pleaded Stevie, as the pair raced across the fields.

  From his pocket, he took out an oily rag and set fire to it, letting the black smoke drift upwards in the breeze. He knew the boys would be looking back as they ran and their hearts would sink thinking he really had set fire to their crop.

  Charlie started laughing as he poured the water out of the fuel container over the plants. 'Mustn't let the roots dry out, boys. You two had better start pulling your weight, or the next time, I use real petrol.'

  Above him, he heard a rustling in the branches in the tallest of the trees.

  'Bloody possums.'

  As he walked back to the house, he smiled as he heard the wood-splitter being used. Hopefully they had learned a valuable lesson. He was in a brighter frame of mind as he walked across the five acre field. Twenty of his cows were grazing contentedly barely giving him a second glance as he walked through them.

  He was halfway across the field when he heard a sound so terrible, he turned to look back.

  'Shit!'

  One of his favourite cows was screaming in agony, being dragged to the ground by more possums than he could count. Running to help his stricken cow, he stopped dead, horrified at the feeding frenzy as wickedly sharp teeth and claws slashed and tore at the poor animal.

  Charlie raced back to the house, grabbed his gun and a box of ammunition and ran back as fast as his legs could carry him. The possums hadn't let up for a moment, and Charlie fired his gun into the carnage, scattering them high into the surrounding trees.

  His heart sank as he looked at his cow, her eyes gone, her face chewed off, and most of her guts hanging out. She still twitched, and Charlie placed the tip of the barrel to her head and put her out of her misery. Reloading, he entered the copse.

  He saw one blood soaked possum on a nearby branch and took the top of its head off with a clean shot. He dispatched a dozen others the same way, until he was out of ammunition. The gunfire had brought Rickie and Stevie to him and they had seen the remains of the cow.

  'What the hell happened?' Stevie said.

  Charlie kicked a dead possum. 'This happened.' With that said, Charlie trudged back across his field to the house.

  Chapter 40

  Deputy Police Commissioner Tony Rawlings told his driver to stop on Old Quarry Lane, at the start of the track that led to the hut. Eight more black vehicles halted behind him and twenty six fully armed and armoured, highly trained officers got out and awaited the commissioner's instructions.

  'Listen up, people,' said Rawlings as he suited up. 'I saw the injuries that young couple received. They'll carry their scars for the rest of their lives. I have no idea if the possums are still around, but I want you to exercise extreme caution at all times. Make sure your helmets are strapped on tight and have your visors down. If you see a possum, make sure you have a clear shot and kill it. Right. Follow me.'

  With eyes everywhere, they followed the commissioner along the path. They hadn't gone far when they found their first dead possum. It had a nail embedded in its head. It was also partially eaten. Maggots were already crawling around where its guts used to be. Rawlings kicked it out of the way and carried on.

  They came to the clearing where the hut stood. The officers spread out, covering every angle. They scanned the trees and bushes. Possums were still around.

  'Fire at will,' said Rawlings.

  The expert marksmen made every shot count and the possums dropped to the ground. Rawlings wanted to see inside the hut where the Milligans' had taken on the wild animals and escaped alive.

  As he opened the door, he disturbed a black cloud of flies. With his camera phone he took photographs of the dead possums and the blood splattered room. Over in the corner was the compressor and nail gun.

  On the floor was the “bat” Kevin Milligan had swung desperately to protect his pregnant wife, like some warrior of old. Rawlings could imagine the violent battle and his admiration for the young couple soared to new heights.

  The evidence was there before him and it was crystal clear Milligan hadn't exaggerated one iota. He realised something else. This was just the tip of the iceberg. He stormed out of the hut, slamming the door behind him.

  Chapter 41

  Pam Prickle took the call. 'Okay, Charlie. Yes. Bill's here. I'll pass you over to him.'

  'Charlie. What's up, mate? Okay. Calm down. I'm on my way.' Bill hung the phone up. 'Come on, Mick. There's been a possum attack at a mate's place.'

  Five minutes later, Prickle and Pritchard were standing with the Matai family, staring at the dead cow.

  'I've been here all my life,' said Charlie. 'I've bagged my share of possums. But I never saw a sight like that. What's going on, Bill?'

  'You might as well know, Charlie,' said Bill. 'It isn't good. Call it a mutation, if you like. They've become out and out meat eaters and are hunting in packs.'

  'You mean eating our cows?'

  Bill and Mick shared a look and Mick shrugged.

  'Charlie,' said Bill. 'I wish it were just cows. People are what they are targeting.'

  'We were in the woods this morning,' said Rickie. 'Crap. They could have attacked us.'

  'Wha
t do we do, Bill?' asked Stevie Matai.

  Charlie answered that question. 'I'll tell you what we do, boy. You get the guns and ammo. Rickie. You go into town and get more ammo. Have it put on my regular account. These little shits want a war, they can have one.' As the boys raced off, Charlie stared at Bill and Mick. 'Do the authorities know about this?'

  'They do now,' said Mick. 'Charlie. We have to go. You take care.'

  Leaving Charlie Matai to deal with his own problem, Prickle and Pritchard walkeded back to the car.

  'We have to start planning, Bill. This is getting too close to your patch.'

  'We need some serious help. If they're coming our way, we need to be ready for them.'

  Chapter 42

  The genetic modifications to the possums fifteen years earlier had inadvertently unleashed a series of changes. The original female had carried her babies to full term, having barely survived herself. Her instincts were to eat the vegetation, supplemented by the occasional eggs and even chicks from raided birds nests.

  Trying to eat as nature had intended, resulted in sickness and pain. The fire had released her from her cage prematurely. Dr Tasker had been particularly interested in any pregnant females, to see if their offspring would survive and carry on the genetic changes artificially induced and accelerated in the parent.

  Tasker had seen promising results over nearly three years of continuously tampering with nature, each step showing increasingly small but significant progress. With each generation, the possums tolerance to digesting vegetation declined and although they survived, their metabolisms slowed dramatically, and they were susceptible to illnesses they would otherwise have shaken off.

  The young were the next step and they ate the vegetation offered in their diet, merely to survive, even though it was slowly destroying them internally. It was a fine balancing act of change that Tasker sought. He wanted the possums to live long enough to mate and produce offspring to continue the cycle, but also to have the induced modifications to become slightly more debilitating.