Adrian Smith - The Fourth Phase

When I set out to write these books, I never realised how many people help an author along the way. First, I have to thank Nicholas for encouraging me in the first place. You have helped and inspired me from day one. Frances, you have been there from the beginning, reading every single version of both of these books. I couldn’t have done this without you. I hope I can repay your kindness in some way. Rodger, like you say, it’s probably good that we live far away from each other, otherwise we might cause a bit of chaos. Thank you for your encouragement and for keeping my spirits up with your humour.

To the Guardians of the Apocalypse, you are all wonderful people. Thank you for all your support.

A special thank you to Geoff Toni for helping me with the Maori aspects of this novel. Sadly, Geoff passed away before we could finish. I hope I got everything correct. Rest in peace, brother.

To my Beta readers: Col (Ret) Russ Olson, Lisa Omstead, Shelli Rodenbaugh Shear, Nathan Yokoyama, Frances Liontakis and Cynthia Terrones. Thank you for all your valuable advice and input. If you find any mistakes they are of my doing.

Big thank you to Kathy Stevenson for a final proofread.

Edited and proofread by Laurel Kriegler. Thank you for all your support, encouragement and advice. I couldn’t have done it without you.

Cover design by Libby Cameron.

How? How did they find us? Boss pondered this question on a loop as he ran his trembling hand along the smooth wall of the tunnel. If he was being honest, he knew the answer. Perhaps the better question was Why? Why are they here? But Boss knew the answer to that as well.

Six weeks ago, the Hemorrhage Virus had swept across the world. No country was spared. Humans that became infected mutated into monsters, monsters the survivors had named Variants. And Variants reverted back to the most animalistic of thoughts: Food. They were now the apex predators. A few Variants had retained some of their intellect and now commanded others, as an Alpha leading the pack. Surprisingly, and tragically, a few humans collaborated with these Variant Alphas and helped them locate survivors.

Boss had been lucky, He had survived. Well, most of him had. He gripped the shotgun he was carrying tighter, its familiarity comforting him a little. At least he would take some of those bastards out with him.

No. Why? wasn’t the right question either. He knew why. They all knew why. Besides the obvious What did they hope to gain? Boss paused and peered ahead. He could just make out George in the dim light a couple of meters away. He took a careful step forward, wishing again that he could turn on his flashlight. At least he didn’t have to worry about banging his lanky frame into a multitude of stalagmites. Mayor Island, where they had sought refuge from the Variant scourge, was volcanic, so the tunnel they now fled down had been formed by lava.

The cold air made his breath cloud in front of his face. In the distance, he could hear the faint sounds of gunfire, some single shots, a few rapid, close together shots. And the occasional boom of a shotgun. Checking that his own Mossberg shotgun was loaded, he hobbled along, his makeshift prosthetic clicking on the rock floor. He cringed. Would they hear it? Or did they track using scent? Questions he didn’t have time to answer. Not for the first time, he wished Dee were here to help him.

He strained his ears listening for them. A faint scurrying sound reached him, like a rat scampering across a wooden floor. Boss’s heart beat rapidly, causing the muscles in his chest to tighten. He turned away from George. He didn’t want the boy to see that he was struggling to keep it together.

You have to be the strong one, Boss.

Rubbing his hand on the back of his clammy neck, he glanced behind, towards the source of the sound. Hearing nothing further, he pressed on, increasing his speed. Something warm and soft nudged his good leg, pressing against him. Looking down, he saw Max, the New Zealand heading dog they’d adopted. Max pressed his nose into Boss’s hand and gave him a quick lick, as if to reassure Boss that he was doing the right thing. Seeing Max calmly padding alongside helped him focus. I must get George to safety.

Boss reached out and grabbed George, stopping him. “How much farther?” he whispered. George pointed down the tunnel. Boss could see a faint silvery patch of light in the distance. He guided George ahead of him and hurried towards it.

They exited the tunnel and Boss looked over at the dark patch that was the small island on the eastern side of the crater lake, which nestled against the eastern edge of the caldera. A lone pohutukawa tree stood its ghostly sentry over the low scrub covering the island. Like some Maori Guardian, it spread its twisting gnarled branches across the little island, protecting it. Beyond the island, the rim of the crater had eroded almost down to the height of the tree, allowing the sounds of the surf crashing on the rocks at the bottom of the cliff to enter the space. The moonlight danced across the water. If the Variants weren’t hunting them, he’d have admired the scene; enjoyed the little things, as Jack often said.

He nudged George and leant down close to his ear. “Can you swim, G-man?” George nodded. “C’mon then, quick, dude. Take off your pack and push it in front of you. It’s not far.” Checking to see that George followed his instructions, Boss took his own pack off and cradled it in his arms. Edging into the water, he was shocked at the cold.

I have to do this. George is my responsibility while Jack and Dee are away.

A horrifying screech reverberated through the tunnel. Boss shrank inwardly. He hated that sound, and for the last few weeks he had been spared from it. Bastard Variants. Boss had thought he’d escaped from the horror that was the new world. He’d fought through hell to reach this island sanctuary, even losing a leg to that evil abomination, the one with the severed heads spiked on each shoulder. He’d nicknamed him the “Trophy King”. He’d said it so much the name had caught on amongst the other survivors. Shaking away his thoughts, he prodded Max ahead of them, into the frigid water.

Boss waded out towards the island. He contemplated taking off the prosthetic, but screeching echoing around the caldera made up his mind for him. Pushing himself off the lake floor, he eased himself into the icy water and swam, keeping his pack out in front. He struggled to keep his shotgun above the water.

Looking back, he could see George still standing at the lake’s edge. “C’mon, G-man!” George had his head turned, looking back down the tunnel. Boss treaded water, his teeth beginning to chatter. “George, c’mon!”

George turned back and stared at Boss. “I’m scared, Boss.”

His heart sank at hearing those words. George had been so brave. Maybe he had reached his breaking point. They had all been through so much together. Jack and Dee had encouraged them to talk about how they felt. Dee had told him they were all suffering from PTSD. Boss remembered the conversation that he had had with Jack about the three phases of PTSD after a disaster.