“Hey Doc, sorry I’m late. Went to dinner and forgot.”
Doc looked over his glasses at Boss, his hazel eyes twinkling in the dim light. “Beth?”
Boss grinned at him and looked down at his feet. “Yeah, I suppose.”
Doc patted him on the shoulder. “No harm, no foul. You’re here now, eh? Now let’s see if this fits.”
Boss watched, intrigued, as Doc removed the bandage on his stump, checking his handiwork. “A little red, but that’s normal.” Then he rolled a soft, fluffy sock-like bandage over the stump, causing Boss to wince slightly. Then Doc grabbed the prosthetic, nestled the leather cup onto Boss’s stump, and tightened the straps.
“How does that feel, young man?”
Boss looked down at his prosthetic. One of the soldiers had welded a couple of metal pipes together off an old bike. Three smaller pieces of metal tubing were welded to it as support struts. “Okay, I guess. Can I try it out?”
Doc nodded his head. “Yes, yes, of course.”
Boss slid off the examination bed and tentatively put weight on his new leg. The leather cup pushed into his stump, and tingles raced up Boss’s spine. He grimaced. “It’s going to take a while to get used to.” Pointing at his crutches, he added, “But better than those things!” He grinned.
Doc smiled back at Boss, the warmth evident. “I think we’ll give your leg a bit more time to heal, then you can wear it for short periods. It will take a while young man.”
“Okay. Thanks, Doc,” Boss replied.
“You’re welcome. Boss, I’m proud of you, son. You’ve done a remarkable job recovering from such an horrific injury. I can only imagine the horrors you saw out there.”
Boss pursed his lips together. “Thanks. Dee and the others have helped.”
“Yes, yes. Good company and friends always help.”
Boss made his way around the infirmary, gingerly testing his prosthetic. He glanced out the window towards the games room, eager to meet up with his friends. The bark of gunfire stopped Boss in his tracks. More gunfire answered, gathering in urgency. Then the boom of a shotgun sounded, and the wail of the siren wound up, echoing around the bay. A shiver ran up his spine. The camp was under attack! George! Beth! He exchanged a look with Doc. Boss could see the fear emanating from Doc’s eyes. “Get to the bunker, Doc. Go!”
Doc nodded, and gathered a medical kit before racing out the back door. Boss flung open the front door and looked out at a scene of utter chaos.
The luxury yacht had moored at the jetty, easily dwarfing the other boats in the harbour. Hundreds of Variants were pouring over the sides, flinging themselves at the soldiers, who were firing into the rolling mass of terror. He watched as more Variants swarmed off the smaller boats, fighting, tearing, scrambling over each other to get onto the yacht and beyond, to their human prey.
They caught us by surprise. Ben is not going to be happy.
Boss reached down and pulled the Glock 17 from his holster. He looked up at the villa, and cursed himself for sleeping in and forgetting his go-bag that morning. He glanced left and right down the boardwalk, indecision freezing him. Would Beth have taken George to the games room? Screams, gunfire, and the boom of a shotgun from the direction of the games room made up his mind. Boss hobbled down the boardwalk, his new leg clicking on the concrete as he gathered pace. Hold on, G-man. I’m coming.
FOUR
Dee stirred the soup in the aluminium billy, watching the thick red liquid bubble. The acidic smell of the tomatoes made her lick her lips. She hadn’t eaten a decent meal for a couple of days. She could hear Ben and the gunners Jones, Eric and Tony, rustling around as they packed up the rest of the camp. What were the odds of Eric and Tony having the same surname? Even at the end of the world, it was common. Well, at least I don’t have to keep up with them. Dee smiled to herself at her little joke. Jack would have liked that one. Thinking of Jack, she hummed a few bars of their favourite song, Freebird. On a normal Saturday, she and Jack would be settling in, watching a movie, with Jack adding little facts as she enjoyed the warmth of his body pressed against hers. She loved watching movies with Jack; the sheer joy they brought him amazed her. His eyes would light up as each scene played out on the screen. He would grin and look at her, watching to see her excitement. He would cheer as Ripley swung her flamethrower over the xenomorph eggs, cooking them. He would cry as E.T. left Elliot and soared into the sky, leaving a rainbow. He would laugh as Baby learnt her dance moves. Movies were his thing, and now they were gone.
Dee sighed and stood up, stretching. She was looking forward to getting some sleep tonight. The squawk of the radio reached her, and she turned and looked at Ben. He flicked his eyes up at her, a flash of confusion dancing across his face. Dee watched as he turned up the volume and raised it to his ear.
Jack’s voice hissed out. “Ahh, Captain, receiving? Over.”
“Receiving.”
“Possible bogies spotted. Bearing north north east. Over.”
Ben exchanged a look with Dee before turning and looking out to sea. She followed his gaze, and strained to peer through the falling drizzle. She gasped. Three ships were cutting through the choppy sea towards the island.
What the hell?
Ben spun around. “Dee, put that fire out, now! Jones, lights out!” Dee could tell from the stern tone that he meant business. Gone was the friendly, wise man. The official, hardened, former NZ SAS soldier took over. The joking and backchat from the Joneses vanished as they quickly switched off all the lights and crouched down behind their gear. Ben raised the radio back to his lips. “Jack, do you copy? Over.”
“Receiving.”
“Go dark, Jack. And stay put. Maintain radio silence. Over.”
“Wilco, out.”
Ben crouched down next to Dee. “Eric, get me eyes on those ships. I want to know whose they are. They’re not allies, that’s for sure.”
Eric nodded. “Yes, Sir.”
Seeing his acknowledgement, Ben turned his attention to Tony. “Tony, get the Colonel on the horn. Let him know what’s going on and tell him that damn radar still isn’t operational.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Then Ben looked at Dee, concern showing on his normally stoic face. “Dee, break camp. We’re going to have to hightail it back to the FOB.”
She gave him a curt nod and started packing away the campstove. Seeing the soup, she shoveled a few spoonfuls into her mouth. She tipped out the rest of the contents of the billy. She hated seeing the food going to waste, as it had become an ever-increasing luxury. She listened as Ben spoke softly to Eric.
“What do you see, Gunner? Give me details.”
There was a pause, so long that Dee thought Eric hadn’t heard Ben.
“Two frigates, and one cruiser, maybe a corvette. No markings, no numbers, no lights, Sir. They’re sailing dark. Bearing straight for us.”
“Tony, give me that radio.” Ben walked the few steps to him and raised the long-distance radio to his lips. The drizzle made it difficult for Dee to hear the conversation, so she busied herself by packing away the remainder of the camp. Eric came over and helped take the tarpaulin down. Some of the collected rain tipped over Dee, running down the inside of her raincoat. The icy water making her shiver. Thoughts of standing under a nice warm shower, and a decent sleep, were now forgotten.
Dee snapped the last clasps shut on her pack and checked that her rifle was loaded and safety on. She patted her side, feeling for the Glock and knife. She looked at her Katana tucked into the back webbing of her pack, and smiled. There was no way she was going anywhere without it. That Katana had saved her life many times over. Something deep down inside told her that it had a bigger role to play. She sat on her haunches, awaiting news from Ben.