Adrian Smith - The Rule of Three

Tearing over the pristine greens, she looked around frantically for an escape route.

“Over there!” Boss shouted, pointing to a large motorboat moored at a pier. “Let’s see if these bastards can swim.”

Dee turned her head in the direction he was pointing and nodded. She spun the wheel and swung the car towards the boat. As she checked in the rearview mirror, she spotted dozens more Variants joining the hunt. Some ran on all fours while others ran upright, more human-like. Others still bounced along, shrieking. The car left the ground and Dee gasped as it smashed into a sand trap. Her chest slammed into the steering wheel, the air whooshing out of her lungs. Grunting with pain, she looked back at the Variants. She was stunned at their speed and agility.

“Run,” Dee gasped. Boss tossed her pack, the katana strapped to the webbing. She caught it and they sprinted for the boat.

“Hurry.”

The Variants screeched in unison as they ran. Dee stole a glance back to check if Boss and Vicki were following.

Over the crest of the hill, several Variants were moving towards them, fast. She slowed, letting Boss pass her.

Reaching the boat, Boss scrambled to start the engine. “Get in,” he shouted. His eyes went wide. “Vicki! No!”

Dee spun and searched out the other woman. Vicki stood at the end of the jetty, arms outstretched like Christ the Redeemer. She turned her head back towards Dee and looked into her eyes. And in that moment, Dee saw Vicki’s anguish over Mike’s death. She had given up. This was her sacrifice. Her heaven-entering deed. For them to survive. To live on.

Dee looked in horror as the leading Variants slammed into Vicki, tearing and fighting over her flesh.

“Dee! Come on!” Boss screamed.

Scrambling and slipping on the jetty, she covered the last few metres and with a swish of her katana, cut the bowline and jumped in.

Boss gunned the engine and the boat surged out into the river.

A lone Variant bolted from the pack. With an awe-inspiring leap, it sailed through the air towards the fleeing survivors.

Dee pivoted and, with all the anger and frustration that had eaten away at her for the past fifteen days being cooped up in that stinking basement, she let out a screaming war cry, bringing her katana up in a slashing arc.

The Variant twisted in mid-air in an attempt to avoid the swinging steel, but Dee’s blow cut deep into its torso, nearly severing it in two. With a sickening thud, it landed quivering in a heap on the boat deck.

Disgusted, Dee kicked it into the river.

Boss stared at her. “You’re getting good with that.”

Dee shrugged her shoulders and looked back to the river bank where the other Variants had gathered in a pack, screeching. They were jumping up and down but did not enter the water. She could see more of them on the bridge.

“Looks like we can only go that way, upriver towards Cambridge,” Dee said pointing to the town south of Hamilton.

Boss nodded in agreement. “Okay.”

Dee sat down in the seat next to him as he moved the boat into the current and away from the beasts. Taking a moment to calm herself, she looked around the largish boat and saw that it was kitted out for pleasure cruising. Huh? What people spend their money on. She shook her head.

Boss looked over at her, a frown creasing his forehead. “You know what, Dee?”

“What Boss?”

“You’re not what I was expecting.”

“Well, as they say, you have to expect the unexpected.”

“Who’s they?”

Even amongst all the horror they had witnessed over the past couple of weeks, Dee found herself smiling at Boss, shaking her head in amusement.

Where are you, Jack?

The primal screech echoed through the warm damp air, reverberating off the walls and jolting Jack from his fitful sleep. He snapped his eyes open and looked left and right, heart hammering. Trying to calm himself, he forced his breathing to slow. Listening for the tell-tale popping sounds the creatures made, Jack took note of his surroundings.

He was in a corridor, its floors and walls made of concrete. Twisting his head as far he could, it seemed to go on forever in both directions. A constant humming buzzed in his ears, like someone had left an engine running. Surrounding him, other people were glued to the walls in the same way he was, behind a white cocoon or some such thing. No one moved, and given the stench of death, some appeared to be long dead. It reminded Jack of a science fiction film he had seen in his youth; the title escaped him. He remembered the victims being used as incubators.

Is that what I am? An incubator?

His fevered mind struggled to grasp what he was seeing. He had no idea how long he’d been down here. His throbbing head and intense hunger told him it was several days, at least.

Jack could feel the tube of his water bladder resting on his left shoulder. Fleeting memories of the last few days returned, flashing in his mind’s eye.

Struggling against his bonds; rubbing his wrist raw; water so tantalizingly close. Screeching. Clacking. Cutting. Thud…!

With all his remaining strength, he pushed his butt against the wall, relieving some of the pressure on his right arm, which was twisted uncomfortably so the back of his hand touched the concrete wall, the membrane holding it fast. This time, he managed to wrench his left arm free. He grabbed the water valve and, twisting it towards his mouth, sucked on the tube, releasing the tepid but wonderful water into his mouth. Jack could feel it as it ran all the way down to his rumbling stomach. Gulping a few mouthfuls, he stopped himself from drinking too much. Making himself sick would attract his captors.

His mind began to clear. Pushing his left arm back under the membrane, he felt along the waist belt of his hiking pack for the little pouch. Finding it, he unzipped it. Slowly, fearful of alerting the monsters, he removed one of his protein bars. Rabidly he tore off the wrapper. Forgetting about the creatures, he fed his hunger. To survive, he had to eat.

With his appetite sated and his thirst quenched, Jack took stock of his situation.

What is it that guy always said? There’s always a way out?

All right. I’m stuck to a wall. In some horror-filled nightmare. Surrounded by dead or dying people. Creatures from the seventh circle of hell want to eat me.

Great. Just great.

Typical.

Jack tore at the membrane holding his right arm fast against the wall, stopping every few seconds to listen. Hell, but the stuff was tough. Again and again he pulled on it. It was like trying to tear a plastic shopping bag at the handles: it stretched but refused to break. With a final tug, he managed to free his right arm.

The stench of rotten fruit wafted down the corridor, alerting him to creatures approaching. Clenching all his muscles tight, he rammed his arms back into position and went stiff as a board.

They scurried along the corridor, their joints popping as they moved. Jack risked a peek through his semi-closed eyelids as his heart pounded harder against his chest. Two of the beasts had stopped a few metres away and were sniffing the human stuck to the wall in front of them. Jack couldn’t help but look. Scared as he was at being discovered, his natural curiosity begged him to observe these strange creatures.

Perhaps if I learn their routines, I can find a weakness.

One of the creatures used its claw-like appendages to quickly saw through a membrane, and as he watched, a blonde-haired woman dropped to the floor with a thud. Jack flinched at the sound of her body hitting the concrete. The other monster bent down. Its tongue flicked out and licked the woman’s face. The monster scooped her up with ease and flung her over its shoulder. It made a weird clicking sound to the other beast before the pair turned and scurried away.