Adrian Smith - The Rule of Three

Ben reached the platform and Jack rushed to help haul him over the lip. A ferocious bellow sounded out as the giant creature leapt ten metres into the air and landed on the ladder behind Ben. It pulled back one of its huge arms and speared Ben with a claw right through his side.

Ben screamed in agony as Jack tried to pull him to safety.

“Dee! Help!” Jack cried, his voice full of anguish.

Jack turned, his eyes finding Boss’s. The teenager dropped the flare and rushed over. Together they wedged their feet against the railing. Ben screamed once more as they tried to pull him to safety. The beast ripped his claw free and raked it down Ben’s back.

The Alpha swung his other arm at Boss, spearing him through his calf muscle. With a savage bellow and an insane glint in his eyes, he ripped off Boss’s lower leg, spraying blood over the teenager. Warm, red blood arced, hitting Ben and Jack.

Thump, thump, thump.

The chopper hovered above the lookout, the wash of its spinning rotors sweeping over Jack as he hung on to Ben. The blessed sound of the minigun firing pounded in his ears. The gunner swept the blazing rounds of hot metal death at the gathering mass of creatures. The Alpha raised it arms, shaking its claws at the helicopter. Jack breathed out and, using the distraction, pulled Ben onto the platform. Frantic, he glanced at Boss. Boss was shaking and staring down at his missing leg as blood soaked the wooden planks underneath him.

Brrrrooooootttttttt.

Jack saw Dee push George towards the lowering chopper but the little boy looked back, his eyes falling on Boss and the gruesome injury.

“Take the kid and go, Jack!” Ben yelled, pain evident on his face. He winced and swung his rifle up to his shoulder. Without waiting for Jack’s answer, he fired it at the beast, point blank range, until his magazine clicked empty. The beast shook his head and slammed his claw into Ben, pinning him to the platform.

Jack looked at George, conflicted. He wanted to get to safety but he didn’t want to leave this man to such a horrible fate. With an angry yell, he let go of Ben’s arm and reached over to pull Boss away from the Alpha. The poor kid was still shaking from the shock of his injuries.

Dee screamed as George broke loose from her grip. Pulling out the screwdriver he still had in his tool belt, George charged, screaming at the Alpha and jammed the screwdriver into its eye.

The Alpha let out a deafening bellow and released Ben.

Dee sprinted over and helped Jack pull Ben and Boss into the chopper. A man dressed in a grey flight suit jumped out and hauled the injured Boss into the hold. He said something into the mike on his helmet, but Jack wasn’t paying attention, as the howls of the Variants had grown in ferocity. Dozens of them poured onto the platform as the helicopter lifted into the air.

Two Variants leapt the remaining metres and hung on to the side. Dee shot one through the head and grinned as a soldier kicked the other into the air. It flung its arms in a windmill motion before dropping out of view.

The minigun operators let loose, firing upon the Alpha, the bullets slamming into his tough bark hide. He howled up at the helicopter, swiping his huge claws at it in frustration. The gunner continued to fire. The Alpha howled once more, saliva dripping from its sucker. It jumped down from the ladder and retreated into the forest below.

Strong hands grabbed Jack, pulling him and Ben deeper into the chopper. Dazed and confused, Jack sat on the cold metal floor as the chopper soared away.

He could see monsters covering the road and stairs. They streamed out of the bush, howling up at their escaping prey. The fire still burned on the airfield, thick black smoke rising into the air. Jack let his eyes wander over the landscape and shook his head.

He was alive. He had found Dee. He had survived. He had found hope amongst the tragedy of the last couple of weeks. Jack looked over to George and couldn’t help but smile at him. The little kid had saved them all. The smallest of souls can have the greatest effects.

Finally, Jack looked over at his wife. She leant against the wall of the chopper, cradling the teenager’s head in her lap. One of the minigun operators was attempting to stem the flow of blood from Boss’s leg. Their eyes met and they smiled at each other.

Jack found Ben’s eyes; the man with the long wizard beard who had risked his life to reunite Dee with him.

“Thanks, mate. Thanks for coming to get me,” Jack said. He moved over and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“No one left behind, soldier. That’s always been the motto. You go and be with your family, Jack.”

They exchanged a look of respect, of shared experience.

Is this what all soldiers experience?

Jack nodded at the medic tending Ben’s wounds. “Is he going to be okay?”

“He’s losing a lot of blood. All I can do is stabilise him until we get back to base.”

Jack patted the medic and slid over to Dee, taking her hand in his. He just stared at her, tears of joy, mixed with sorrow, welling in his eyes. I made it. I found her.

Dee watched Jack looking at her. No words needed to be said. They knew how lucky they were. They had survived. They had found each other amongst the chaos. Battered, bruised, wrung out, but alive.

Stroking Boss’s head, she tried to reassure him. Tried to use her touch to say that it was going to be all right. She was no medical professional, but even she knew he had lost a lot of blood.

The man in army fatigues tied a strap around Boss’s torn leg. “He’s going to need blood, and lots of it. What blood type are you, Ma’am?” he said, adjusting the strap.

“Umm, O negative, I think,” Dee replied.

“Perfect. Universal donor. I’ll get set up.”

Dee looked into Boss’s eyes. “You hear that, kiddo? You’re going to be fine.”

Boss murmured something. Dee leant closer to his lips. He kissed her cheek. “I’m Samaritan, so don’t bury me in the Jewish section.”

A sobbing laugh escaped Dee’s lips. Even when facing death, he quoted Monty Python.

Jack stood on the cliff top watching the sun sink below the New Zealand mainland. The cooling salt air brushed against his healing skin.

For two weeks he had stayed in the makeshift infirmary. When they’d first arrived, the army medics and surgeon had worked through the night to save Ben and Boss. Both of them had required long surgeries and litres of blood. Dee had stood vigil next to Boss, refusing to leave his side until he was in the clear. Jack visited Ben as much as the nurses allowed; the tough old goat was sitting up in no time. Jack discovered he was a fellow WWII enthusiast. Discussions about a familiar subject had helped the healing process for them both.

Ben gave him some information about how bad it was out there in the world, while Jack told Ben of his experiences in the dam. He explained how he had made it out. They discussed the men they’d seen helping the Variants. Collaborators, Ben called them.

On the long walks Jack took to calm himself, his mind replayed how he had killed the man with the red trucker cap. Even though he had no remorse, it haunted him. He had killed someone. Snuffed out a life.

He reasoned that the man was a traitor. He’d betrayed his own kind to save his skin.

Perhaps he had deserved to die .

In Jack’s opinion, they all had to band together, man against monsters. They had to stop all this petty racial bickering because they were one race. The human race. These Variants were now the apex predators.

One thing still bugged him, though. How had he and George regained consciousness when no one else in that corridor had? He mused over this for days but couldn’t come up with any plausible explanation. Jack decided to let it go for now. They had bigger things to be concerned about.