Adrian Smith - The Rule of Three - An Extinction Cycle Novella

Dee and Boss kept to the tree line. Creeping along, they tracked inland, making for one of the houses. It was a single story brick home, with a large deck extending from the back. A couple of large sheds lay adjacent. Keeping to the shadows of the trees, Dee and Boss cautiously came up one side. They stopped a few meters from the back door. Heart pounding in her chest, Dee gripped the Katana for comfort. She looked for any signs of the occupants, or Variants. Glancing left and right, she came up clear. Not a sound came from the house.

Crouching down, she nudged Boss. “What do you think?”

“I don’t know?” Boss replied, shrugging.

Dee forced herself to remain calm. She wasn’t use to dealing with a teenager’s attitude. She let out a breath. “Boss, I’m sorry you didn’t get any sleep last night, all right? But right now, we need to focus on getting some food, and hopefully a gun or two. Something to better fight the Variants with. So let’s just do this, then get back to the boat. You can get some sleep then, okay?”

“Okay, sure, cool, whatever. But we need petrol too.”

Dee waited for Boss to add anything else. When he didn’t, she rose up and headed for the back door.

As Dee approached the door, she could see it was ajar. Frowning, her heart skipped a beat. She peered into the house through the gap. No movement. No telltale rotten fruit smell. Looking back at Boss, she raised a finger to her lips.

Dee pushed the door open with the tip of her Katana. Inside, she could see the kitchen. Drawers had been pulled out, cupboards opened and emptied. Ransacked. It looked like the only food left was dried pasta and rice.

Dee and Boss slowly made their way through the kitchen and into the living area of the house. Arriving at the bedrooms, she could see that whoever had lived here had made a hasty retreat. Unpacked clothes lay on the beds, along with personal items too big to fit in suitcases. Damn! I wonder if they have any guns?

Boss moved to the wardrobes, rummaging through them. “Hey, Dee, these would be handy.” He held out two fleece zip up jackets.

“Definitely, nice find. Keep looking. I’m going to hunt for food, okay?”

“Yeah, all right. What else should we grab?”

“See if you can find a couple of backpacks.”

“All right, sure.”

Dee headed into the other rooms, searching. Coming up empty handed, she went back to Boss searching around in the master bedroom.

“Find anything else?”

Boss turned around, still holding the jackets in one hand. “Nah.”

Dee ran her hands through her hair and sighed. “All right. Let's try that other house we saw. I think we should hurry, though.”

“We should grab that rice and pasta, at least,” Boss murmured. “And what about guns?”

“I figure the family living here took them when they cleared out,” replied Dee.

“Yeah, but we should at least check the garage. Or those sheds.”

Nodding, she agreed. Dee and Boss retraced their steps, collecting the dried food on their way out, and made their way to the sheds.

The sheds had open fronts, typical for New Zealand farm machinery sheds. Walking up to them, she could see a couple of big farm machines taking up most of the space. Boss pointed to a metal cabinet in the far corner. “What about in there?”

Dee looked toward where Boss was pointing. “Yes! That’s what we want.”

Hurrying over, deep gouges and scratches on the doors became visible. Damn it! Someone had beat them to it again. She was frustrated. And hungry. All she wanted was to find Jack, and get to the cabin. When he hadn’t shown up back at the house for over ten days, she had assumed the worst. Only determination and her love for Jack kept her going. Fear of the Variants tore at her soul. Shredded nerves, little sleep, no shower. Dee could feel the weight falling off her from the lack of calories.

Smiling to herself, she clenched and unclenched her fists. I suppose the apocalypse is good for something.

Turning around to talk to Boss, she faced a new horror. A shotgun, pointing straight at her. Another was at Boss’s head. Two tall, overweight men held them. Dee looked down the barrel and into the hard brown eyes of her captor, who was grinning at her, showing missing front teeth.

He swiped one hand through his messy, sweaty brown hair. “Hello, sweetcheeks. You looking for these?” He waggled the gun slightly.

Dee glared back at him. “Yeah, we were, actually. Want to give them to us?”

Missing Teeth pulled his head back, laughing. “You're funny. And cute too. This is going to be fun.” He gestured toward a wooden pallet with the gun. “Go sit over there. If you seem like you’re enjoying it, I’ll put a good word in with the monsters.”

The reality of the situation dawned on her. Rape. Even at the end of the bloody world, these bastards just wanted to get their leg over! Typical.

Trying her best to pacify the situation, she looked directly at Missing Teeth. Holding out her hands, palms facing down, she said, “Guys, c’mon please. It should be us against the Variants. Not this!”

“Variants?”

“Yes, Variants. The Americans call them Variants.”

Missing Teeth glared at her. He had an angry scowl on his face. Dee thought she saw a hint of confusion flit across his eyes before he spat on the floor. “Look, sweetcheeks, I don’t give a toss what some Yankee Doodle Dandy called them. Simon and I are going to have a little fun with you. SO MOVE YOUR ARSE, NOW!”

Missing Teeth grabbed Dee by her shirt front and hauled her to her feet. Dee started screaming as loud as she could. Struggling against the man’s grip, she kicked out at his shins.

“It’ll do you no good. It’s just us. Soon you’ll be with our monster friends. So kick and scream all you want.”

Boss started struggling with Simon, trying to wrestle the gun away from him, but Simon was too strong, too quick. Simon leant back and swung the gun stock, connecting with Boss’s head in a savage blow. Boss hit the ground like a sack of potatoes.

Dee watched him thud to the ground. “He’s just a kid, you bastards!” she screamed at the men.

Missing Teeth and Simon just laughed as they dragged her over to a wooden pallet covered with wool sacks. Then both of them started whooping and hollering like a couple of boozed-up teenagers.

Dee fought with everything she had. There was no way they were going to take her. She had fought off guys before. In a flash, a memory flitted through her mind. She blamed the rape culture for the way men thought they were entitled to act.

A water-filled quarry. Dee and her friends were enjoying the last of the summer before university. A few drinks in the sun. She fell asleep under a tree while her friends swam out to the rock in the middle of the lake.

Dee woke to a rough, callused hand over her mouth and hands grabbing roughly at her. She struggled and fought like a trapped cat. Finally, she connected with a well-timed knee to the groin. The man tumbled off her, clutching his balls. He rolled around on the ground, cursing at her. A red mist descended over her. She picked up a nearby rock and smashed the man in the head. Again and again and again. Another man Dee hadn’t seen tackled her, knocking her to the ground and out of her rage. Seeing her friends running up from the lake shore, the second man ran off. Dee looked down at the rock she still held. She could see blood and grey brain matter, and tiny fragments of skull. She promptly doubled over and vomited.

The police arrived and took Dee away in an ambulance. Later they arrested her for manslaughter.

A lengthy emotional and soul-destroying trial ensued. It exposed Dee to a very corrupt and male-favoured system. Psychiatric evaluations deemed her fit for trial, but thankfully she was found not guilty by means of self-defence. The media called her the mouse that roared. The rapist's family yelled daily abuse at her. After, she withdrew from society, finding comfort in books. In movies. In gaming. Where people are essentially anonymous.