Adrian Smith - The Fourth Phase

Beth stood to one side, looking down at the dead beast. She flicked her eyes to Boss, her mouth opening and closing. Boss pushed himself up and kicked out at it with his prosthetic. He knelt down and retrieved his Glock. Raising it, he put a round through its grotesque skull. Grinning, he looked at Beth. “Thanks. I thought I was a goner for sure.”

Beth stared down at the beast. “I killed it.”

Boss reached out and grasped her hand. “You sure did. C’mon. We have to get these kids to the bunker.” He turned back to the window, and saw George staring out at him. “G-man? C’mon, let’s go.” Balancing on his good leg, he reached up and lifted him out. The crushed shells on the path crunched under his feet. He handed Beth his Glock. “Cover us, just like Ben taught us. George, you keep watch up that way.” He pointed up the hill towards the villa. They both nodded.

He turned back to the open window and lifted out the remaining kids. His muscles strained with the exertion. The sweaty smell of fear permeated the smaller children. He got a few wafts of urine too as he lifted the two youngest down.

The gaggle of frightened kids huddled around Boss and Beth. Gunfire smoke hung in the air, the constant flashes and bangs strobing through the night like some crazy discotheque. He crouched down next to the kids. “All right. We’re going to run as fast as we can up this path to all those tents up there, okay?” He indicated the shell-strewn path he was talking about. A couple of the kids nodded at him. Boss did a quick head count. Five, including George. “Good. And then we are going to run for the bunker, just like we practiced, okay?”

He reached down and grabbed a couple of hands, then hobbled up the path. He turned his head slightly, checking to see if Beth was following. She pushed a few of the kids in front of her, and the little gang raced for the tents.

They ducked down behind the first tent just as a huge explosion boomed out around the bay. The concussion wave caused the tent to buffet like in a gale. Boss pulled the kids down, covering them with his body. Several of the children started to cry as his ears began to ring. Shaking his head, he hauled up a few of the kids, urging them on. He crawled behind the row of tents, hoping the thin nylon fabric hid their flight. At the last gap, Boss got a glimpse of the harbour. The luxury yacht was a raging ball of fire. He paused, stunned.

Someone had managed to fire an ATGM at the yacht. Variants writhing in flames leapt into the ocean. The remnants of the Army left on this outpost were fighting their “Gallipoli”. They were mowing Variants down in their dozens, but Boss could see more pouring out of the boats behind the burning yacht, filling the jetty with a rolling black wave. The machine gun nests and gun placements were fast becoming overrun by the Variant horde. Soldiers, mothers, fathers, and children were being torn apart. He could hear their terrified screams, even over the gunfire. Many of the adults had guns, and were doing their best to stem the flow of beasts tearing through the camp.

Boss looked at the old hotel, to where the bunker was. Ben had commandeered the old cellar and repurposed it. He had run the camp through drills, getting them to practice again and again. Children and the medical staff were to be evacuated, everyone else was expected to fight. Boss peered into the chaos. He could just see the stocky figure of Sergeant Haere moving guns into position to protect the bunker. Seeing this gave Boss new hope. He took some deep breaths and checked that his gun was loaded. He ran his hand around his belt, feeling for his extra magazine. This is just like a raid in WOW.

Turning to Beth, he caught her eye. “You lead them to the bunker, just like we practiced. I’ll bring up the rear with George, covering you. Run, and don’t look back.”

Beth grasped his hand. “Okay.”

He moved to one side and ferried Beth and the four kids in front of him. “Go!”

Boss pushed up, getting his good leg under him. But his new prosthetic caught on the ground and he stumbled and fell, landing heavily. George turned at the noise, glancing down to him. Boss waved him on, but George stopped and ran back to help Boss balance on his good leg while he adjusted his prosthetic. Bloody thing. He nestled his stump back into the leather cup and tightened the strap. Boss looked at the entrance of the bunker and saw the soldiers ushering the kids in. He let out a sigh of relief. Beth stood at the door, beckoning.

Screeches and howls tore through the night above the chaos. A group of a dozen Variants prowled into the gap, screeching and hissing at the retreating humans. Damn it! They were cut off. The soldiers at the bunker door pushed at Beth, but she spun out of their grasp and sprinted up the hill and into the bush. Beth, NO!

Sergeant Haere and the soldiers brought their rifles up and opened fire on the Variants. Haere turned and screamed at Boss, “Take George and go !”

Boss indicated that he understood. He grabbed George’s hand and hobbled up the path, heading for the Walsh Villa. If we’re going to survive, we need our go-bags and better weapons.

Maggie paused outside the yellow door, her hand raised ready to knock. Absently, she read the sign stuck on the door. Manager. The guard posted outside stood a few metres away, his gaze lingering on her athletic figure. She narrowed her blue eyes as she followed his gaze sweeping over her curves. He didn’t even try to hide it. She pushed an errant strand of hair behind her ear and rapped on the door.

“Come in,” called out a muffled voice.

Maggie took a deep breath to calm her building temper and pushed through the door. The skinny frame of Ian waited, leaning against his desk, his brown eyes watching her, a smirk planted on his face.

She returned his gaze, a sour tang forming in her mouth. “You wanted to see me?”

Ian motioned to the free seat on her side of the desk. “Please, sit. Would you like a drink? Some tequila arrived today.”

Ian moved around the desk and eased himself into the chair behind it.

“No thanks. Can we get to the point? I’d like to see Becs before turning in.”

Ian swivelled in his chair, turning his back to her. He reached out and grabbed a bottle of tequila from the shelf, the glass clinking against the tumbler as he spun back around. His eyes narrowed. “I know you hate me, Maggie, but I want to offer you a job. Better rations for you and Becs. I might even spare you both. Look at this like an opportunity.”

“Spare us?”

Ian placed the tumbler down and poured out some tequila.

Maggie ground her teeth. Tequila? In a tumbler? Sacrilege.

He smirked at her. “What? Did you think this was a nice little holiday camp where you could all live out your lives and the creatures would leave you alone?”

Heat rose through her stomach and up her neck. She clenched her fists under the desk, her nails cutting into her palms. “Of course not. Tell you what. You tell me what’s going on here and I’ll consider it.”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“Why not? Is it that bad?”

“Listen, Maggie. We all did what we had to do, to survive. I can’t tell you. You’re a smart girl. I’m sure you’ve worked it out. Some of it, at least. I might tell you later. When you are on board with the programme.”

Maggie stared at Ian as he sipped on his tequila.

He swirled the liquid around in the glass, watching her through the sloshing liquid. “So, do you want to know what the job is?”

Maggie thought about her work, about how most of the children never stayed long. Her suspicions regarding their fate angered her.

“Whatever the job is, you can shove it up your ass!” Maggie pushed herself out of her chair.