Adrian Smith - The Rule of Three

“Morning.”

“I dreamt that a virus had made everyone sick, and now monsters chased us.” Emma turned her head.

Jack grinned as she looked at the creatures running along the distant shore. He frowned, noticing that their numbers had dropped significantly.

“Oh wait. It’s not a dream,” Emma said. Her mouth twitched into a sardonic grin.

“Are you always so cheerful in the morning?” Jack asked. “Especially in these circumstances?”

“Shush, Grumpy,” Emma groaned, splashing water on her face. “Besides, it could be worse.”

“Worse?”

“Could have been shot.” She laughed. “And at least we’re outside.”

Jack’s tired mind twigged to her reference. “Always look on the bright side, huh?”

“That’s the spirit,” Emma said. “Now, what’s for breakfast?”

“I’ve got some food in my pack. Help me paddle to that pontoon first.” He gestured to a small platform about five hundred metres from the lake shore. Directly beyond it was a campground.

With both of them using their hands to paddle, they made short work of reaching the pontoon. Now that he was closer, Jack could make out its construction: it was simply six forty-four-gallon drums lashed together with wooden planking secured on top to make a square platform. Jack could just picture children swimming out to it and using it to dive into the lake, making as big a splash as possible. He tried to recall what the pastime was called but couldn’t remember. Something like “manus”.

Jack combed through his bright green hiking pack. He kept an emergency box of rations in the bottom. He liked to keep a six-pack of MREs along with protein bars and, of course, chocolate.

He offered an MRE to Emma. “Chicken and noodle. Fresh off the stove.”

“What is that?” Emma said, frowning at the purple and white packaging.

“MRE,” Jack said. “Meals. Ready to Eat.”

Emma raised an eyebrow but accepted the food.

“Look. You can heat it,” Jack said. He spent a minute showing her how to heat the food before doing his own. They floated silently on the pontoon, enjoying the high calorie meal and the light of the sun. Relaxing on the spacious pontoon after the painful excursion on the narrow log that had been their saviour for the last six hours.

Jack kept an eye on the creatures and noted their numbers dwindling as the sun grew in strength. April was his favourite time of year as the last of the summer heat hung around, keeping the days warm though the nights were cool.

“Waiter. I’m ready for my dessert now,” Emma said.

“Chocolate?”

“You have chocolate?” Emma grinned. “And you gave me that MRE? What did you call it again?”

“Meals. Ready to Eat.”

“More like ‘Meals. Regurgitate till empty’.” Emma groaned, holding her stomach.

Jack barked out a laugh. “I’ve heard them called ‘Meals. Requiring enemas’.” He winked.

“I’ll say. Oh well. Beggars can’t be choosers. Now cough up, Townie.”

Jack smiled as he handed her a Whittaker’s peanut slab. He still had a small stash in another compartment, so was confident of it lasting until he reached Dee. Thinking of Dee, Jack cast his eyes north, past the towering bush-covered mountain of Maungatautari to its sister peak, Pirongia. He could just make out the top third and smiled wistfully.

Hold on, Dee.

“You don’t happen to have a first-aid kit in that box of tricks, do you?” Emma asked.

“Sure do.”

He looked down at the wound in his leg as he handed her the kit. Jack was surprised that he hadn’t thought of it since last night. It still throbbed and, inspecting it, he could see that blood had congealed around the torn flesh. It would definitely need some professional attention, and the sooner the better.

Jack set about field-dressing the wound. He swapped items with Emma as she cleaned out the dozens of scratches on her arms and legs. After he’d wrapped a thick bandage around his leg, he spent some time checking that he had no other injuries.

“Can you do the cuts on my back?” Emma said, handing him the tube of disinfectant.

“Okay.”

As they worked, Jack continued to watch the shore. At some point, all the creatures vanished. He strained his ears, listening out for their terrifying howls, but the wilderness remained silent.

“What do you think?” Jack said. “Make a run for it?”

“Yeah. I need to attend to this wound better. Get some stitches.” Emma held up her wrist. “Where are we exactly?”

“I think the town of Arapuni is a little way down that road.”

Emma nodded. “I can’t see any of those things, so I say let’s go.”

Together they propelled the log to a sandy beach that had a concrete boat ramp at one end. Jack patted the log as he shrugged into his pack. It was strange how you could get attached to inanimate objects. The willow log had kept them safe when they’d needed it most. He looked around, scanning his immediate vicinity. Jack knew he needed a weapon. Anything that would give him a better chance at survival. A better chance to see his wife again.

Spotting the campground maintenance shed, he tapped Emma on the shoulder, pointed and took off at a steady jog. He heard her fall in step behind him.

The roller door was up, bathing the shed in natural light. The heavy stench of petrol, oil and cut grass hung in the air. A red ride-on lawnmower lay abandoned on its side, its blades lying haphazardly next to it. Tools were scattered about, as though whoever had been working on the machine had left in a hurry. Jack let his eyes wander over the rest of the workshop. He spotted hammers and chisels. Spanners. Wrenches. Lots of mechanical tools but nothing he was happy using for a weapon. Emma brushed past him and grabbed a jacket off a hook. She turned it over before slipping into it.

Jack walked through the shed but came up weaponless. He went to the door of a smaller room that joined onto the garage and spied exactly what he wanted. Something with a blade. A bachi hoe. It was similar to a pickaxe but had only one wedge-shaped blade, primarily used for digging out weeds or harvesting.

Jack tested its weight, turning it over in his hand. He felt better having something to defend himself against the beasts.

Emma picked up an axe and turned to face him. “I’m a lumberjack, okay?”

Jack shook his head and smiled. “Let’s go.” He pushed past her to stand in the doorway.

“What? No sing-song?”

Jack stopped in his tracks and forced out a breath. Normally he would play along and goof around, but all he wanted was to get back to Dee. He had wasted too much time as it was. Way too much time. “I just want to get home to my wife, okay. So I’m sorry if I don’t join with you in singing the lumberjack song.” Jack pointed outside with his bachi hoe. “Those monsters could come back any second. We need to get around the dam, find a boat and get back on the water. All before getting torn apart.”

Emma held up her hands in mock surrender. “Okay.” She looked down at the floor and murmured something Jack couldn’t hear.

“I’m sorry, Emma. I’m just really tired. Worried, and, to be honest, freaked out by what’s going on.”

“I know, Jack. I am too,” Emma said, grinning. “Serious face from now on.”

Jack grimaced and took a few seconds to refocus. He had always had a short temper. For years he had struggled with keeping it in check. Meditation and not drinking coffee helped, but the stress of the last twenty-four hours weighed heavily on his mind.

“No problem. Let’s just go,” Jack sighed.

Emma led them out of the campground and down the main road of Arapuni. It was a small rural town with only one shop, a dairy, a small convenience-type store, the windows of which lay broken all over the car park. The shelves had been ransacked. Even so, Jack stopped to look and found a few bars of chocolate and some water. The cash register had been smashed open and all the money taken.