Adrian Smith - The Rule of Three

“George, help me push!” he yelled.

George scrambled away from the noise of the beasts and stared at Jack.

“Push. Buddy. Please,” Jack pleaded, straining with the weight of the locker.

George pushed against the metal side, and with their joint effort it crashed across the doorway.

“And this one too.”

A second locker joined the first.

Exhausted from the fight and the effort of moving the lockers, Jack stood gasping. Blood continued to pour from his wounds and he was beginning to feel lightheaded. He knew he needed to stop the bleeding, at least temporarily. Sitting down with his back against the far wall, Jack taped up his wounds with the last of his duct tape. He could see they were deep.

God knows what bacteria and germs those things have on their claws. Will I become one of them?

The creatures continued to slam against the door. Jack could hear tearing sounds. They were beginning to tear the plasterboard walls surrounding the door.

Frantic, Jack looked around for an escape route. The small window was out; Jack had already tried it the day before. Welded shut, for some reason. The glass was reinforced with wire mesh.

They were trapped in a room with horrifying creatures attacking them, and with no way out. The same as in Aliens… Aliens! Suddenly, Jack had the answer. The ceiling! He looked at it. It was a false hanging ceiling made with cheap plaster tiles that could be individually moved.

Thanking his movie obsessions, and his knowledge of building materials, Jack grabbed George under his arms and hoisted him on top of the lockers. Jumping up, he pushed a tile up and to one side and poked his head through. Jack could see right across the rooms, and dividing the rooms were solid concrete walls with enough space to walk on.

Throom. Throom. Throom.

“C’mon, George.” He grabbed the child and lifted him through into the ceiling cavity. “See that concrete bit? Run along to the end. Go! Now!”

Screeching, and then a huge rip, sounded from below as the monsters tore through the wall and into the room. Jack’s heart leapt into his throat. With one final look below, he replaced the tile and turned to follow George, blood dripping off his boot and onto the ceiling tiles.

A monster smashed through the ceiling behind. If they hadn’t been so dangerous, he’d have laughed as it got all tangled in the metal struts and wires. A red mist descended over Jack’s vision. Pulling the rusty, red-handled machete from his belt, he lashed out at the nightmare’s head, slicing into its neck and on, down through muscle and tissue. Black, gunky blood gushed over his hands. The machete stuck fast, lodged on the spinal column.

He pushed against the monster’s chest, yanking the blade out.

Another one smashed its way through the ceiling.

Oh, you want some too!

He swung out with the machete, taking a big hunk of its face off.

“Jack! Jack!” George screamed.

More creatures started slamming through the ceiling.

“Run! I’m coming,” Jack said. Taking a last swipe at the nearest creature, Jack half ran, half hobbled after George.

There! He could see sunlight streaming through a maintenance tunnel. He lifted George up and pushed him into it.

This red-haired kid, his chance at redemption.

Jack pushed himself through the tunnel, pain beginning to take its toll. Gritting his teeth, he fought through it. He wanted to find Dee so bad, to hold her again. Feel her soul. To sit on their couch and watch their favourite movies and talk into the night.

He and Dee could talk about anything. It was one of the things he loved about her.

Jack glanced at George. Now he had someone else who needed him.

Dee would love him.

With the warmth of the sun on his battered body, Jack inhaled his first clean air in days, revelling in the scents; the river, the slight smell of decaying plants, even the lime from the surrounding concrete. He looked down at the boiling, bubbling river so far below. The spillways were open. They were standing in an opening halfway up the dam. On both sides, high cliffs led downriver. The rest of the concrete dam wall soared above them.

Screeching from above echoed around the sides of dam. The monsters howled, eager for their prey. The leader stared down at them, his huge muscles rippling under his bark-like skin. Severed heads on spikes, jiggled as he pointed at Jack and George, and howled.

Monsters ran down the dam from all sides, racing towards Jack and George. A dark avalanche of unstoppable sharp-toothed suckers and claws that made Jack’s blood run cold.

Glancing quickly to his left, Jack grabbed George in a bear hug. “Take a deep breath buddy.”

Filling his lungs, he leapt off the ledge and into the roaring water of the spillway.

Sorry kid. Better to drown than be torn apart.

I’m sorry, so sorry I’ve failed another George…

Dee couldn’t believe how refreshed the shower made her feel. To wash all the stench, grime and dirt away after so many days. It was heavenly. She stood under the glorious hot water, for a time forgetting the repugnant Variants outside, the horrors of the last few days. Forgetting the sight of Faye being torn apart, of Rachel disappearing under a mass of Variants, her hand outstretched, her gasping, pleading for Dee to save her. She even forgot about Missing Teeth and his attempt to rape her.

The water washed away her fear and relaxed her tired mind.

Reluctantly she reached up, turned off the water and stepped out. Drying herself, she paused. Looking into the small mirror, she gazed at her gaunt reflection. Dee let out a bark of laughter at the sight of her collar bone poking out and she traced the curvature of her neck with her hand, surprised. She was happy to lose some extra pounds, but shocked at how quickly it had happened. With one last look at her lack of curves, she turned away from the mirror.

Dee pulled on her borrowed clothes, grateful to have something clean against her skin. She headed back into the main section and checked on Boss. The swelling on his head seemed to be going down but the bruise was darkening. His breathing was shallow but steady.

Hearing Ben talking in the war room, Dee walked over.

“Yeah, that’s correct, Falcon 1. I picked up two today. Over.”

Hissing and static carried over the airwaves through the speakers. “Anything happening on the Variant front? Over.”

“Heard some on my travels and the usual sniffing around my place. I had to take out two of them collaborators though. Over.”

“All right, Dusty Hollow. Report in tomorrow. Over.”

“SNAFU, Falcon 1. Wilco, Out.”

Ben reached up. Switching off the radio, he turned to Dee. “Hey, howa you feeling?”

“Great. Thanks so much. You don’t know how much I’ve been wanting a shower.”

Dee was staring at the monitors and the camera feeds they showed. She could see several Variants moving across the feeds.

“You’re not worried?” Dee said, pointing to the screens.

“Not really. I’m more worried about the ones I can’t see. These ones are just looking for a way in, probing, looking for a weak spot. I don’t get much sleep, though.”

Dee could see from the bags under his eyes that Ben was telling the truth. Hell, no one got much sleep these days. Last night in the boat was the best sleep she’d had since all this began.

“Well, since I’m here, how about I watch for a few hours?”

“Yeah, maybe. We’ll see how we go.”

Dee looked back to the monitors and could now see at least twenty of the Variants roaming around, sniffing at everything. Searching.

“You’re seriously not worried?”