The Fourth Phase

TWENTY-FIVE

Maggie crept along the highway in the 4x4. The late afternoon sun was quickly descending to the horizon, casting long shadows on the road in front of her. She had left the main group a few hours back and now she followed the trail, looking for them. Radio chatter told her that she was close, and vehicles pushed to the side of the road indicated that she was on the right path. She could make out a green and white road sign up ahead, and as she drew closer, she read that it said Karapiro. She slowed the 4x4 to walking speed and crept along the road.

Maggie spotted a long driveway just after the turnoff. She pulled into it and made her way up the tree-lined drive. At the end, a large grey house sat amongst landscaped gardens. Once-manicured lawns were now overgrown and abandoned. Maggie recognised azaleas and rhododendrons flowering, and a few camellias lined the garage to her right. She maneuvered the 4x4 between the house and garage, tucking it out of sight. Moving her rifle to within easy reach, she scanned around the property, looking for any Variants or red suits. Seeing nothing, she wound down the window, sniffing the air. She couldn’t detect the rotten fruit smell of the Variants. Satisfied that she was alone, she carefully and silently exited the vehicle.

After a quick walk of the perimeter, Maggie tried the back door of the house. Thankfully it gave and she quickly entered, closing the door behind her. A quick search of the kitchen turned up nothing of use. Making herself comfortable on the sofa, Maggie rummaged through her small rucksack, searching for what little food she had. Chewing on the beef jerky, Maggie contemplated her next move. The red coveralls had proven their worth against the Variants, but she knew it would only take one human to spot her for a fraud and she would become dinner. She needed to wait for morning and do some recon. Maggie had considered sneaking into the collaborators’ camp and killing a few of them, but she wasn’t sure how the red suits operated at night. Were they just a day thing? Did they even leave guards out? Did the Variants roam the night, leaving the red suits to stay within their camp?

Maggie moved upstairs, searching out a room she could secure. In the master bedroom she found what she was looking for. A large walk-in wardrobe lay off to one side. She piled blankets and pillows inside it and pushed a chest of drawers across the doorway. It wasn’t perfect, but it was all she could do. Maggie lay down, snuggling into the warmth of the blankets. She strained her ears, listening for any sounds. She was greeted by silence. Checking her rifle was close by, Maggie let out a sigh and closed her eyes. The exhaustion of the last couple of days washed over her, dragging her down into a fitful sleep.

After a good night’s rest, Maggie had spent the morning sneaking around the small village, watching the routine of the collaborators. Satisfied she had it memorised, she now found herself crawling through the scrub lining the eastern side of the river so that she overlooked the buildings nestled at the bottom and top of the hydroelectric dam. This must be the dam the traitor had spoken of. Water gushed out of the spillway, thundering in the river. Limestone cliffs soared up from the river bed, creating a gorge.

She checked her watch: 11:15. She glanced up again. The sun was straining to peek through the overcast skies. The town of Karapiro was nestled on the eastern shore of a lake◦— of the same name, apparently. So far, she had counted twenty-seven men in red coveralls, many of whom were milling around with rifles. A few, wearing the same red coveralls, had walked out onto the concrete walls of the dam and stood there, looking out over the lake.

Some others, clearly guards, were posted at various doorways around the dam, their red coveralls standing out. She peered through her scope, sighting one after the other. She reached back and moved away the branch digging into her side, then rubbed her sweaty palms on her pants, drying them. She looked through her scope again. Like all new recruits, she had gone through rifle training, shooting at targets from different distances. She had surprised herself, accurately shooting targets at 300 yards from a prone position.

The scope on her stolen rifle told her the distance to the nearest guard was 82 metres. Maggie knew there was 0.9 metres to a yard, so was confident she could take care of the guards from this range.

Turning slightly, she could make out a metal ladder attached to the near side of the dam. It ran from top to bottom, with metal safety loops every few feet. Importantly, it was unguarded. Maggie checked her watch again: 11:25. The patrol she was waiting for would be coming soon. Maggie needed intel before she dared enter the buildings. She needed to know how many Variants there were, where the children were being held, and if there were any human guards on the inside.

She wriggled back from the clifftop and pushed her way backwards through the bush. Raising her rifle, she crept along the path, heel to toe, swiveling her head from side to side. She could smell the faint rotten fruit stench that accompanied the beasts but, so far, she hadn’t seen any in the village. She found the fallen tree stump she was looking out for and nestled behind it, waiting.

She didn’t have to wait long before she heard voices carrying through the silence. That was the thing about the apocalypse; all the ambient noise had disappeared. That background hum that had been a day to day occurrence had been snuffed out. Traffic noise, electricity humming through high-powered lines, lawnmowers, chainsaws… Gone. Sound travelled far these days.

Maggie took a few deep breaths, calming herself. She tensed her muscles, ready to spring her trap. As the voices drew nearer, she caught the tail end of their conversation.

“…lost a lot of men on that island. Jim said they were well-armed; they even blew up that fancy boat I was telling you about.”

“Really? Why did they want to go there?”

“I don’t know, dude? I just follow orders. I don’t want to get eaten.”

“Shit yeah.”

Maggie burst out of her hiding spot like a 100-metre sprinter out of the starting blocks. The two guards’ eyes went wide with shock. Maggie slammed her rifle stock into the nearest one’s head, knocking him unconscious. The other guard took a step back and went to raise the shotgun he was carrying.

“Don’t even try it. I’ll shoot you where you stand.”

Maggie took a better look at the guard. He had sandy blond hair. Hazel eyes stared at her from behind thick glasses. He looked to be about twenty.

Glasses smartly dropped his shotgun onto the ground and held up his hands. “You’re American.”

“Five points for Mr Obvious.”

Glasses stayed silent, watching Maggie warily.

“This can go one of two ways. One. You tell me what I want to know, and you live. Two. You don’t. I knock you out like your friend here, I strip those red coveralls off you, and leave you to the Variants.”

“Variants?”

“Beasts, monsters, whatever you call them.” Maggie nodded her head towards the dam.

Glasses held his hands up higher. “All right, whatever.”

“First thing. How many of you are there?”

Glasses flicked his eyes towards Karapiro village. “I’m not sure, exactly, because a lot died yesterday on the island. Maybe thirty of us now?”

Island? Maggie kept her face devoid of any emotion. She hoped he didn’t mean the island she had sent Alice and the kids to.

“How many of the creatures are in that dam?”

Glasses shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know, really, I don’t. A lot, maybe two hundred?”

“What about the kids? What do they do with them?”

Glasses looked down at the ground, and blood rose up his cheeks. When he looked back at Maggie, tears were in his eyes. Hoarsely he replied, “I’m sorry, but I don’t know. They never come out. Sometimes, on still nights, you can hear faint screams.”

Maggie tightened her grip on the rifle. “Last question, asshole. How many guards are inside?”

“None that I know of. I’m always on perimeter patrol, though, so it may have changed.”

Maggie mulled over this new information. She was confident about taking out guards on the outside, sneaking down that ladder and into the building. The Variants were another issue. She had no idea how long her disguise would hold out, if at all. She contemplated leaving, getting back to the island and coming back with an army. The thought of children being eaten spurred her on.

She stood watching Glasses, deciding what to do. As they stood, a distant thumping sound echoed up the river, bouncing off the limestone cliffs. She watched as Glasses frowned, confusion on his young face. Maggie knew that sound. She would never forget it. Hours spent inside the flying tubs of metal, skimming over the hot sandy wastelands of Iraq and Afghanistan, insurgents taking potshots as they landed, dispersing them into hell… What she was confused by was, why was a chopper heading this way? But then again, as her favourite quote from Art of War told her, “In the midst of chaos, there is opportunity.”

She would strike while she could. She spun her rifle around and slammed it into Glasses’s temple. His lanky body slumped to the ground next to his mate. She reached down and grabbed his shotgun. Then she searched the pair for extra shells, and shoved it all into her pack. Spotting the other guard’s shotgun wedged under him, she reached down and yanked it free. With a last look around, Maggie jogged back to the clifftop. The thumping of the chopper was growing louder. Adrenalin surged into her bloodstream at the promise of a battle.

I’m doing this for Izzy, to save the kids from this hell.

She reached the clifftop and looked north, searching for the choppers. Above the thumping came a distant booming sound. She pivoted around, looking south. Explosives. These guys mean business! This was a full-on assault. A cacophony of screeches echoed as dozens of Variants poured out of the dam. They scampered up the walls and disappeared, heading south.

These guys are smart! Classic divide and conquer. We just might have a chance after all.