Adrian Smith - The Fourth Phase

“We tried that around the Pacific, but were chased away every time. We reached out to our Muslim brothers. One heard, praise Allah, and led us here. We came in the dark, hoping, and prayed. He heard us.”

James shook his head and glared at Hassen. He was going to have to deal with him later. He made eye contact with Badminton. “Take him out of my sight. Put him in the brig until I can deal with him.”

He raised his binoculars up to look at the bridge of the Sigma-class corvette. He could see dim lights shining on the bridge, figures moving about. The decks remained void of any activity.

“All right, Captain Koto, listen carefully. You are to remain anchored where you are. Any sign of intrusion, and you will be fired upon. Are we clear?”

There was a slight pause before Koto answered. “I understand Colonel. But please, we are out of fresh water and have very little food.”

James clenched his jaw. These Indonesians were really testing his patience. “I’ll get you some water, Captain. You can fish from your boat. And when it’s light, you are coming ashore to have a little chat.”

“Thank you, Colonel. Peace be with you.”

James clicked his radio off and hooked it into his belt. He turned and walked briskly to his vehicle, sitting waiting on the gravel road. He sat behind the wheel, staring at the bush-clad mountains rising up inland, mountains his people had lived on for generations. He turned the ignition. Revving up the engine, he jammed the accelerator down, spinning the tires in the gravel as he tore up the road.

Bloody Variants.

Maggie lay in her bed, her covers pulled up to hide the fact that she was fully clothed. There was no way she could sleep after Ian had come storming in, tormenting her by taking Alice and Becs. It was now early morning and light shone through the windows, making little orange squares on the wooden floor. In the old building they had put her and the other women in, there was very little in the way of insulation. It creaked and groaned as the timber expanded beneath the sun’s rays.

The frostiness of the pre-dawn chilled Maggie, even with all her clothes on and blankets on top. She strained her ears, listening to the sounds of the others breathing. She could hear their steady inhales and exhales. In the growing light, she could see the fogging of several breaths. She stretched her legs and pulled back the covers. As silently as she could, she slid under her bed and pried back the floorboard she had loosened. Quickly, she pulled up the others. Once she’d made a hole big enough, she slipped through, landing with a dull thud beneath the building. She froze, waiting for the guard posted at the door to shine his torch under, exposing her escape. Hearing nothing and, more importantly, seeing nothing, she wriggled away in the soft dirt, its musty smell threatening to make her sneeze.

Reaching the edge of the sleeping quarters, she peered out. She could see where the guard stood sixty feet away. She watched for a few minutes, waiting for him to move, but he didn’t. Maggie smiled to herself. People said the witching hour was midnight to 1 a.m., but she thought the true witching hour was that hour before dawn. If you have been on watch for the last few hours, your mind naturally wanders to thoughts of your bed, of food, of coffee. The yawning kicks in, your eyes droop, and before you know it you’ve nodded off.

Maggie pulled herself up into a crouch, getting her bearings. Spotting the laundry building, she dashed across the dew-laden grass. Her footprints marked her path.

Her plan was simple. Steal some red coveralls and a vehicle, make for the coast, find a boat, and find that island. She hoped she could find a yacht and someone willing to sail her across the Pacific and back home to the USA. Maggie thought of that as her quest; a near-impossible quest. Like her favourite hobbit’s difficult quest: take the ring to Mordor and destroy it. Okay, yeah, right. Sail across the vast expanse of the Pacific Ocean and then make your way across deserts, mountains, and urban wastelands to Texas. She could only imagine what was happening in her home country. She was alone and cut off in this land. Now it was time to leave this prison camp and find out about her family. She had to know if they were still alive. As much as she loved this beautiful country, she longed for the big open countryside of Texas.

Maggie reached the laundry building and peered through the window. She could see Jill, already hard at work washing the guards’ clothes. She tapped on the glass, praying the sound didn’t echo out. Jill looked up from her work and smiled. She reached under the counter and dug out a package wrapped in brown paper. Maggie glanced left and right, waiting to be discovered. Seeing no movements in the half-dawn light, she turned back.

The window creaked open and Jill handed her the package. “Good luck, Maggie,” she whispered. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

Maggie grasped her hand, feeling the warmth. “Thanks, Jill. Keep safe.”

She spun around, a tear forming in her eye. She hated to leave these people behind. Most of the guards behaved themselves towards the women, but Maggie knew that was only a temporary measure. Soon that animal instinct would take over. The power of their positions would corrupt any morals they once had.

She sighed and jogged over to the gardening shed. Pulling open the door, she slipped in. The pungent smell of compost and peat made her wrinkle her nose. She quickly undressed and pulled on one of the red coveralls, then struggled to pull her own clothes over the top of the coveralls. Searching under the potting mix, she pulled out the cloth parcel Becs had hidden there earlier. Unwrapping it, she checked to see if the items were all there. Grinning at the lighter and the blue rag, she wrapped it back up and shoved it down her front. Looking down, she saw that the legs of the pants had bunched up. She did her best to smooth them out, though it didn’t matter so much. They only had to last until she was into the forest. Satisfied with her disguise, she tucked the brown package under her arm and cracked open the shed door. Seeing her path was clear, Maggie headed through the garden. She skirted around the sleeping quarters, being careful not to walk where the guards posted at the gate could see her.

The large maintenance shed stood beckoning in the growing light. Off to one side sat a small steel cage. Sunbeams gleamed off the white surface of the gas bottles, making them shine like beacons. Maggie glanced down at the wooden pallet they were sitting on. Pausing, she looked around. Seeing no movement, she drew the parcel out from her front and unwrapped the lighter and rag. The fumes of the petrol soaking the rag made her eyes water. She got a slight whiff of gas as she leant through the steel bars to wrap the rag around the pallet. Flicking the lighter, it sparked to life, it’s little flame dancing in her eyes. With one last look around, Maggie lit the rag, and watched as the flame spread quickly. She took a moment to see if the wooden pallet caught before rising out of her crouch. Checking the coast was clear, she took off across the camp at a sprint.

Next to the guard’s quarters was a small prefab building with two guards posted at the door. Maggie hoped this was where Becs was being held. She dashed up behind it and slid under the building, the damp soil rubbing on her hands. Holding her breath, she waited. She checked the guards. One set of feet moved, jogging in place. Maggie wriggled farther under the prefab building. The fire, three hundred feet away, was taking hold. Waiting, her muscles tense and ready for action, Maggie prayed this was going to work. She was still confused by the camp’s exact purpose, but she guessed it was a breeding farm. It was the only way to explain the nearly all-female population, a few of them pregnant. The bastard traitors were helping the Variants by breeding them food. The thought disgusted her. Was this what the human race had become? Mere animals. She would have thought that, in a crisis like this, all the humans would band together, fight the common enemy and destroy it. It happened in movies, right? She sighed inwardly, looking out at the growing fire. Apparently not. How could people like Ian turn against his own? It shocked her. Maggie shook the thoughts from her head. Right now, she needed to concentrate on getting Alice, Becs, and herself out. Hopefully she could come back and save them all. If we live that long.