Adrian Smith - The Fourth Phase

Maggie and Alice stared out the window, enjoying the silence. Nothing moved outside. Maggie could hear the occasional screech of a Variant, but they sounded far in the distance. She had heard them closer before, but normally much later in the evening. Their presence intensified in the early hours before dawn. Maggie decided she needed to do some recon tonight to find out why.

Alice looked up at her, getting her attention. “Why do you think these guys are helping the Variants?”

Maggie leant in closer. “Because they are scorpions.”

“Scorpions?”

Maggie smiled. “Yeah, scorpions. You see, one day, a scorpion was walking through the jungle, looking for his next meal. After a while, he came to a raging river. The scorpion looked around for a log or some rocks so he could get across, but found nothing. He needed to get across that river. After a while, a frog came along and the scorpion yelled out, ‘Hey, how about a lift across?’ The frog turned to the scorpion. ‘No way. You’ll just sting me.’ So the scorpion says, ‘Why would I do that? We’d both drown.’

“The frog thinks about it for a while. ‘All right. Jump on. Let’s go.’ About halfway across the raging river, the scorpion stings the frog. The frog turns his head and asks, ‘Why did you do that?’ to which the scorpion replies, ‘I couldn’t help it. I’m a scorpion.’”

Maggie looked up at Alice. Alice had her mouth hanging open. They looked at each other for a few seconds. Alice let out a small laugh and giggled. Maggie couldn’t help but laugh with her. It felt good to laugh after all her frustrations. She stood up and rolled her shoulders. “I’m going to turn in. Big day tomorrow.”

Still giggling, Alice replied, “Yeah, good idea. Night.”

Maggie walked over to her bunk. Pulling off her boots, she tucked them under it, within easy reach. She lay still, staring up at the ceiling for a few minutes, mulling over her plan. It was simple, but simple plans were the best; less to go wrong. She glanced over to Becs, sleeping peacefully. Satisfied, she let sleep pull her into its embrace.

The crack of the wooden door smashing into the wall of the room jolted Maggie awake. She threw back the covers and instinctively reached for her rifle. Cursing, she focused on the four figures bursting into the room.

Ian stood, swinging his police baton, behind one of his muscular goons. “Wakey wakey, ladies!” He eyeballed Maggie, a sour smirk plastered on his pointy, ratty face. “Don’t worry, we’re only here for one of you.”

He lifted his baton, pointing it at each woman in turn. “Not you, not you. Oh, I like you, I’ll save you for later.”

Maggie stepped closer to Becs. Reaching out her hand, she clasped Becs’s, pulling the shaking child into her side.

Ian spun around. He swung his baton and let it thump onto the wooden floor. Raising it, he smirked at Maggie, a cruel glint in his eye. “Yes, Maggie. I’m here for her. Did you really think I was going to let you get away with that? What did you say? I could shove my job up my arse? Well, I don’t think so.”

Becs started sobbing, pressing herself closer into Maggie.

Maggie looked up at Ian, teeth clenched. “If you touch her, I’ll end you!”

Ian cackled, his laughter echoing around the room. Several of the women in the room moved away, putting distance between themselves and the men.

Ian indicated to his goons and they moved towards Maggie. She backed up closer to the wall. One of the goons pulled out a Glock and grasped Alice in a headlock, pushing the gun against her temple. Ian grinned. “I’ll give you a choice, Yank. The girl, or I splatter Alice’s sexy head all over the wall.”

Maggie glanced at Alice. A vacant look had come across her face. She focused her eyes on Maggie’s and nodded, accepting her fate. Distracted, Maggie didn’t notice the other two goons flanking her. She turned at the movement, jolting her head to one side. A meaty fist slammed into her head, followed by a blow to her side. The strikes were powerful and strong, and pain exploded up her spine. She dropped to one knee, losing her grasp on Becs. The other goon reached out and picked up the squirming girl.

Maggie gasped for air, each breath hurting. She glared at the grinning Ian staring at her, an amused smirk on his face.

“There. That wasn’t so hard, now was it?”

Maggie stared up at him, heat rising up through her body. She pressed one fist to the floor as she struggled for breath. “This isn’t over, you skinny little bastard.”

“Oh, but I think it is, Sergeant.”

Maggie struggled to keep her face neutral.

“Yes. I know what you did before. That’s the problem with women. You talk too much. You can’t help it. Talk, talk, talk. You never shut up.” Ian swung his police baton up and pointed it at Alice. Turning to the goon with the gun, he said, “Bring her too. My bed needs warming tonight.” He turned and raised an eyebrow at Maggie crouched on the floor. “Sleep well now, you hear.” Then he slammed the baton to the floor, causing the other women to jump.

Cackling, he turned and stomped out of the room.

Maggie glanced up at Alice. Catching Alice’s eye, she mouthed, Stay strong. I’ll come for you.

She wasn’t certain, but she thought she saw Alice nod as they hauled her down the steps.

Colonel James Mahana stared at the vodka bottle sitting on his cheap flatpack desk. He wanted to reach out, unscrew the cap, and down the burning clear liquid in one gulp. He imagined the fiery sensation as it made its way to his rumbling stomach, dousing his hunger and, for a moment, clouding his mind, making him forget this nightmare, if only just for a time.

James pushed back his chair as he stood, hearing it thud against the wall. He rubbed his temples with the fleshy part of his thumbs, trying to expunge some of the tension. Sighing, he glanced back down to the report in front of him. Another stronghold gone. Auckland had gone dark, and to add to matters, his attempt to get the Prime Minister out from the bunker under Government House had failed miserably. It had been four hours and there was still no word from NZSAS Team Kehua. A garbled radio message was the last communication he’d received from Major Ken Hind. He and his remaining team had been heading for the harbour, the bunker overrun by Variants. The Prime Minister and all those who’d sheltered within were dead.

James slammed his fist down on the table, causing the paper report to jump. And now I have a foreign Navy heading this way. Where did it all go wrong? I should be relaxing on the East Cape, maybe doing a little fishing.

He knew where it had gone wrong. Those damn-fool scientists had played God once too many times, trying to create a super-soldier. Idiots . James rubbed the back of his neck, trying to ease out some of the knots. His gaze flicked to the vodka bottle once more. The thing just sat there, tempting him.

He reached out to the bookshelf beside his desk and took out the red binder. The “American” binder. He looked down at the report he’d written for the Brigadier, shaking his head in frustration. How did the Brigadier expect him to beat back the Variant hordes? The Americans had failed at so many attempts. First with the bombing of the cities, Operation Reaper. Operations Depletion and Kryptonite had all failed. They had reached out with Kryptonite, but with no air force to deploy it, the Brigadier had ordered him to come up with an alternate plan to rid the land of the monsters. It was time to fight back. They were on their own, and they weren’t going to leave the mainland to the Variants. But he was to wait until the Americans had secured themselves before asking for help again. It pained James to wait. The thought of the Variants running wild, tearing apart everyone he cared about and turning his beloved East Cape into a wasteland, drove him crazy.