“Captain, do you copy? Over.”
“Receiving. What have you got for me Jack? Over.”
“Two bogies approaching from the north. It looks to be Eric and Tony. Approximately eighty metres out, over.”
There was a pause. Jack assumed Ben was searching the area.
His radio crackled back to life. “Got them. Good work, Jack. Now find me Dee, over.”
“Wilco, out.”
Jack watched Eric and Tony for a bit before turning his attention to the hillside below. Where is she? Have I got everything covered?
Dee squirmed her way up the steep ravine, under rotting logs and through thick vines. Metre by metre, she crept on. She had spent the last day and a half slowly wriggling her way around the rocky bluff, and now she was heading up towards the camp. Her small frame was suited for this type of exercise. She leant against the rock and risked a glance up. The bright yellow flag that was her goal fluttered above her in the chilling sea breeze. Inhaling, she savoured the pungent but pleasant smell of the forest undergrowth. Dee pulled her woolen cap down over her ears. The cold May air was stinging her exposed flesh. Cupping her hand around her watch, she checked the time: 22:58. She had just over one hour to reach her goal.
It hadn’t taken her much to convince Eric and Tony to follow the obvious route up to the camp, allowing her to circumnavigate Jack’s position.
She had settled well into military life. She loved the routine and the sense that she was part of something bigger, a machine. A way to fight for their freedom, to not be afraid of the Variants.
Perhaps we deserved it?
Humans are like a virus. Feeding, devouring everything. Depleting all before moving on.
It took a virus to destroy another virus. If that’s even possible.
Dee shifted her weight, trying to relieve her cramped, tired muscles. She hadn’t had any sleep for the last twenty-four hours. And the persistent rain made this climb extremely perilous.
She strained her ears for any sounds above the pattering of the dripping water, for any sounds of discovery. Satisfied, Dee glanced around one more time. She checked her rifle and secured it. Reaching up above her, she gripped her next handhold and hauled herself up another metre. After several more aching metres, she paused again. She was so close now.
A couple of voices filtered down to her. She could just make out what they were saying.
“C’mon. The All Blacks would have won the Rugby World Cup, for sure.”
“I don’t know, bro. We’re good, but the Aussies always rise to the occasion.”
“Maybe, but we won the last one, bro.”
“True, too true cuz. ’spose we got that monkey off our back?”
“One word, bro: Richie!”
“Richie!” they chorused, their laughter echoing out.
Dee grinned, her cheek muscles twinging with the effort. Man, I’m exhausted. Those idiots were at least giving her the chance she needed. Using the distraction, she gripped the wet rock above her and, with her last bit of energy, hauled herself up and over the shelf. Rolling, she looked up, expecting to see the yellow flag above her. Instead, Ben’s eyes stared down, dark and wide, his rifle held over her.
A tight grin spread on his face. “Nearly, Dee. Very close.”
“Damn it. How did you know?”
“I knew these two were the bait you sent ahead, so I let them talk. Plus, this is the only other climbable route up here.” He reached down and gripped Dee’s hand, hauling her to her feet. “We’d better let Jack know. Do you want to radio him?”
“Yeah, thanks.”
He handed Dee his radio, turned to his camp stove, and ignited it. Dee watched hungrily as the flame sparked to life. She dearly looked forward to getting some food into her growling stomach. She pressed the talk button. “Jack, this is Dee, over.”
“Dee? How the hell?”
“Thought you had it all covered, eh?”
“Yeah I did. How?”
Dee shifted her weight from foot to foot. “I came up the other side. Up the ravine. It’s okay. I didn’t get the flag. Captain spotted me before I could, over.”
“Yeah, look, sorry Dee, I’m just tired. Congrats anyway. Should I come to camp, over?”
Dee looked at Ben. He nodded.
“Affirmative Jack, out.”
“Wilco, out.”
Jack slid the radio back in its pouch, and busied himself breaking camp. It didn’t take him long, as he had kept himself ready to go at a moment’s notice, per Ben’s orders.
Be ready, at all times.
He adjusted the pack on his back and secured the waistbelt so that some of the weight lifted off his shoulders. Jack glanced out at the grey Pacific Ocean, blanketed in rain. A silhouette looming on the horizon made him peer through the approaching gloom. It looked like a large ship, perhaps a container ship? He lifted his rifle to his shoulder so he could look through the scope. Scanning left to right, he couldn’t see any running lights on the port or starboard sides. On closer inspection, Jack frowned, perplexed: a large Navy vessel was steaming directly for the island.
That’s too big to be one of ours! If it isn’t ours, then whose? Australia? America? Two smaller vessels slid out of the rain, looking more like NZ Navy ships. A cold shiver went up Jack’s spine, the tingles webbing across his head.
He unhooked his radio and raised it to his lips.
TWO
Staff Sergeant Maggie Liontakis watched the dew drip off the wire mesh fence. The water formed droplets and then, with the pull of gravity, stretched off the metal and fell to the ground. She shivered, her body still acclimatising to these weird, back-to-front seasons she now found herself in. Sighing, she looked to the bush-clad mountains far in the distance, marvelling at the greens mixed with browns, the odd outcrop of rock jutting out into the early morning light. I need to get out of here. I need to go home.
Maggie stared into the pine trees surrounding her prison. She focused on one particular tree, letting the corners of her eyes do the work, just like she had been taught in the Army. She waited patiently. There! The guard walked through her line of vision. Dressed in red coveralls like painters wear, she saw him stop and light up a smoke. The nicotine billowed out above him, and he glanced around before carrying on his path. Cursing herself again for not being more cautious a few weeks back, she leant back against the post, gritting her teeth.
Maggie had been taken prisoner by humans, humans who were helping the Variants. She, along with several other women, had been brought to this makeshift prison. Children and men were also brought here, but neither stayed long. Maggie suspected something sinister was happening and she had a theory, something that frightened her to admit.
“Hey, Maggie.”
She turned to the source of the voice, and smiled when she saw the owner. “Morning Alice. Sleep well?”
“Not bad, considering. You dreaming of freedom again?”
Maggie looked down at the warm cup of coffee she held in her hands. Even after three weeks of being in this prison, she still had trouble with the Kiwi accent. To an untrained ear it sounded like the Australian accent, but to her it was totally different: not as nasal. The Kiwis tended to mash up their vowel sounds, so an “i” became a “u”, making “fish” sound like “fush”. The Aussies said “chance”, where the Kiwis made it sound like “Cha-r-nce”. Regardless of what she had learnt, she still had to give herself time to process what she heard. They also spoke rapidly, while Maggie was used to that Southern drawl of Houston, Texas.