The Rule of Three

— 8 —

Dee shuddered every time she heard a scream. When she first made it to the river path, all was quiet as she cycled along. But the deeper she got into the city and the closer she got to their house, the more frequent the screams became. Dee stopped her bike near the golf course and crouched down behind some bushes. She had spotted dark figures running across the greens, heading in her direction. After what had happened with Rachel and the creatures that prowled that neighbourhood, she was being cautious.

As the figures drew nearer, Dee could see they were the size of children. She watched their gaits carefully, trying to gauge if they were humans or creatures. The creatures had a strange way of walking, as if their spines had been bent, and they turned their heads constantly.

Dee observed them for a few more moments. Finally, convinced these children were not creatures, she decided she was safe. Standing, she let out a whistle, trying to get their attention. Now that they were closer, she counted five kids. Two were taller, while the other three appeared to be primary school-age. They came to a stop a few metres away. The taller kids were armed with a broomstick and a machete respectively.

Machete held his weapon up, showing Dee he was armed.

“Hey,” Dee said, holding up her hands.

“What do you want?” Machete answered, his voice and manner gruff.

“I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“We don’t need your help, lady,” Machete said. He waved it around again. “We can look after ourselves.”

Dee nodded and cast her eyes over the smaller children. They clutched each other and stared at her with wide eyes, their sclera shining in the bright moonlight. “Where are your parents?”

Machete nudged Broomstick and chortled. “You’re well munted, ain’t you?” He pointed back past the golf course. “Everyone is dead, girl. Or become one of those things.” He stared at Dee, holding his machete across his chest.

“Why don’t you come back to my house. We can wait for my husband to get back and then we’ll get out of the city.”

“Nah. We’re heading to the posh school across the river. Plenty of food, and we can lock it up good.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. What do you think you’re going to do with a machete and a broomstick against those things?” Dee asked. “We need the army, or guns.”

Machete scoffed and pulled Broomstick’s arm. “C’mon, let’s go.”

They both turned and walked away, ending the conversation. Dee watched them go, torn. She wanted to make sure they were safe, but from the way the smaller children followed the two teenagers, it was obvious that they either knew each other or were a family. A couple of the smaller children looked back as they disappeared into the trees that lined the path.

Sighing, Dee mounted her borrowed bike and pressed on. She thanked Jack silently for his insistence on exploring. They had spent many summer days cycling around the river and along Hamilton’s many bike paths. He’d shown her how they linked into gullies and onto main roads. Dee pictured the route ahead, mapping it out. Judging it by population density. She calculated the risk and figured that it didn’t matter. Sometimes you could plan something to death and a little quirk, some little incident of chance, turned it to chaos.

Dee slowed to take a sharp bend when a scream pealed through the night, followed by shouts and high-pitched squeals. The squeals sounded like children. The children! Dee slammed on the brakes. The screams had come from the direction Machete had taken with the kids. Cursing herself for letting them go, Dee swung her bike around and pushed down hard on the pedals.

The wind whistled in her ears as she raced back down the path, the screams and squeals continuing to guide her. She rounded another bend and skidded to a stop. Three of the creatures had Machete and Broomstick pinned against a tree. Broomstick thrust his weapon at one of the beasts, but it was like poking at a tiger with a straw. The creature snarled and swatted away the stick. The monster still had on a flannel shirt, though it was torn and hanging in shreds.

Dee didn’t pause to think, she reacted purely on instinct. Seeing the creatures hunting the children stirred something deep inside her. A motherly impulse boiled up and burst out.

Dee lifted the bike above her head and smashed it down onto the creature snarling at Broomstick. As the bike connected with its head, it grunted and slumped to the ground. Dee shifted her grip and shoved the bike on top of the middle beast. It shrieked and screeched, clawing at the metal frame.

Machete used the distraction and hacked at the creature in front of him. The blade dug deep into its shoulder. The beast snarled and leapt onto Machete. In a flash it had wrapped its claw-like hands around his neck and latched on. Machete screamed as the creature tore off a chunk his flesh and ripped out his throat. Blood arced out over Dee as she kicked out at the beast under her bike. With a sudden burst of strength, it kicked her to the ground and threw the bike into the bushes.

Dee sat up, gasping for breath. The force of the creature’s throw had knocked the wind from her lungs. Her eyes flicked around, searching for a weapon. Broomstick was leaning against the tree, a hand holding his stomach. Blood seeped through his fingers.

The beast clawed at the ground like a bull and howled into the night sky. Myriad howls answered it. Dee was stunned by the number. A few hours ago these beasts had been just a rumour, just grainy footage on the news. Now they were a nightmarish reality.

“Throw me the broom!” Dee cried out, her hand outstretched. She jumped to her feet and caught the broomstick. Immediately she snapped it over her knee, and just in time. The creature lunged at her.

Dee thrust her makeshift spear into its chest and it fell backwards, landing with a thump. The broomstick carried on through the deformed beast. It howled in agony and snapped its weird mouth at Dee.

Bringing her legs up, she used her thighs to hug the creature and hunted for the other broken half of the broom. Howls reverberated from the direction of the golf course, joining the cacophony of sounds that pounded her head. Dee was having trouble focussing. More and more howls drew closer. She needed to end this, and fast.

“Help me!” she called out to Broomstick. She heard a grunt and felt a thud on the ground. Broomstick had collapsed. He was struggling to hold out the other end of the broken stick, his fingers coated in his own blood.

Dee let out a scream of frustration, grasped the stick firmly and drove it into the skull of the beast, finally silencing it. She pushed it away and clambered groggily to her feet, a stick in each hand.

The creature feeding on Machete was ignoring her, so engrossed in its meal it didn’t sense Dee as she jogged up behind it and drove a stick through its head. It gurgled once and fell down next to the dead teenager. Dee glimpsed the mess it had made of Machete and stumbled back, bile rising in her throat. She clenched her teeth and swallowed.

Pivoting, she searched behind her for the sources of the howls she had heard. Dark smudges moved across the greens of the golf course, confirming they were still on her trail. Looking for food. Hunting.

The creature she had knocked unconscious stirred and rolled over. Dee chastised herself for not finishing it off.

Rule #2: Double tap.

She grunted and drove the other broken stick through its skull. It sank in as if the creature’s skull was made of clay.

“Lady. Up here,” a small voice whispered.

Dee glanced up and blinked rapidly. Machete and Broomstick had been stupid thinking they could hide out in the school, but they had been brave in their instinct to sacrifice themselves to protect the children.

“Jump down. Hurry,” Dee said.

The child shook his head and pointed behind her. “They’re coming.”

Reaching down, Dee extracted the blood-covered machete from the dead creature and hauled herself up the tree. Like many of the trees lining the river, it was a weeping willow and had thick branches that draped down over the water. Dee eyed the fast-flowing Waikato River and weighed up her options. If it came down to it, she would dive in with the kids and float downstream. Anything to get away from the claws and teeth of the beasts.

The shrieks of the monsters grew louder as they drew closer. A whole pack was now moving across the greens. Dee noted how they paused and sniffed the air before moving again. If a new beast joined the pack, the others would smell it, shriek at each other and move on.

As she huddled in the tree with the children, several creatures broke away from the pack and sprinted towards them. She guessed the blood of Machete and Broomstick was like candy to them, like the smell of baking bread to humans.

Within seconds they were at the tree, and without hesitation they crouched down over the bodies and went into a feeding frenzy. The children beside her whimpered. Dee raised her finger to her lips, urging them to remain silent. All she could hope for was that the monsters would be too caught up in their meals to notice the feast above them.

A dozen more creatures crested the hill, howling. The feeding creatures paused their grisly meal to shriek at the new arrivals. There was a brief second of silence before the new creatures charged. They joined the beasts below them and fought over the scraps. Dee hugged the tree tight, mesmerised by the horror of the scene unfolding below. One creature broke away, clutching a leg. Dee could still see denim material covering it. The creature turned and looked up at Dee.

It let out a high-pitched shriek and jumped up and down. The feeding frenzy below stopped. All the creatures glanced up and howled. Jeans dropped its meal and, with an astonishing leap, landed in the tree. Dee hacked at it with the machete, but it dodged the blows as it hissed at her.

“Go!” she yelled at the kids.” Get in the river.”

Crack! Crack!

Gunshots rang out, distracting Dee. Jeans struck out its claws at her, missing her by a whisker as she ducked just in time. More gunshots followed the first two in quick succession. The creatures below looked around in confusion as they began to drop like flies.

Jeans shrieked at Dee, baring its mouth. She gasped as she caught a glimpse of its tiny sharp teeth. Grunting, Dee swung the machete and connected with a blow to the side of the neck. The blade was sharp and dug in deep, finally silencing the creature.

Dee glanced up as two men, rifles nestled into their shoulders, approached. From the way they walked and swept their rifles from side to side, she assumed they were military.

The two men killed the last of the feeding beasts and, while one took up a covering position, the other looked up at Dee.

“Evening, Mam.”

“Hey.”

“How many are with you?”

“Three,” Dee said. “Children.”

The army man nodded. “Sergeants Holt and Bawden.” He clicked in a fresh magazine. “We should go before that pack gets wind of us.”

“Go where?” Dee said, frowning.

“Claudelands. We’re evacuating everyone out of the cities.”

“Why there?”

“Less questions. More moving. Let’s go.”

Dee waved to the kids and helped them as they climbed down and into the arms of Sergeant Holt.