The blonde girl twisted her fingers together as Maggie pulled on her shoes. She remained silent.
“I’m Maggie. What’s your name?”
“Leela,” she mumbled.
“Leela? That’s a lovely name. We’re going to get out of here now, okay?”
“Mmkay.”
Maggie patted her on the leg. When she looked around, all the kids had dressed themselves and stood watching her. She was amazed at their resilience, and pleased with how they had accepted her orders and now stood waiting for her. It would make her task that much easier. Maggie did a quick headcount. Six, including Becs.
She looked down at Becs. The child’s green eyes watched her. Giving her a quick smile, she addressed the kids. “Okay, we’re gonna go out and run over that way, to the fence.” She pointed south, away from the fire.
The children murmured their acknowledgement. Maggie took a few deep breaths, then led the kids out of their prison. She quickly glanced left at the raging fire. Any second now.
Maggie herded the children towards the forest. She scanned the fence surrounding the camp. Spotting the white plant label jammed into the ground, she jogged over to it. Maggie grinned. It hadn’t taken much to convince Becs to help. She had pretended they were doing a treasure hunt. She had asked Becs to plant the label here, away from the direct line of sight of the front gate guards.
Maggie had noted, on her frequent walks around the camp, that the exterior guards were quite lax, only doing the bare minimum. She had also worked out that they kept to a regular routine, and had used this to her advantage. She had set her plan into action a little earlier than anticipated, but that couldn’t be helped, thanks to Ian’s late-night incursion. Maggie had planned to use the fire as a distraction to free Alice, but with all these kids awaiting some unknown horrible fate, she’d had to adapt. If she didn’t, they would perish. She knew from reading Art of War that one had to adapt one’s plans as one went.
To succeed you must adapt to your surroundings… or something like that.
The motley crew of would-be escapees neared the fence. Maggie reached up above the white plant label. If Alice had done her bit, it should be cut. The chain link chilled her hand as she grasped it, running her fingers along, looking for the gap. The metal edge of the cut wire pricked her as her finger bumped over it. She smiled and grasped the wire in her fingers, pulling it. The thin wires slithered out like eels from a sack. As quick as she could, Maggie unravelled it until there was a gap big enough for herself and the children to squeeze through. With a wave of her hand, she indicated that the huddle of kids should crawl through.
Leela stopped at the fence, eyes wide, lip trembling. “Maggie, are the monsters still out there?”
A lump caught in her throat. She knew she had to lie to this innocent little girl just so she could have a chance at saving her. Doubt crept in as she looked down at Leela. “No, darli—”
Kaboom! The shockwave slammed into them, pushing Maggie, Becs, and Leela against the fence. The LPG bottles had finally exploded. The heat that followed reminded her of that sandy hell-hole that was Iraq. The shattering of glass echoed, mixed with the panicked screams of the guards caught in the fireball.
Maggie grimaced. She hadn’t wanted to injure anyone, but those men had chosen their side.
A screaming figure ran towards her. She squinted into the sun and smoke, and could just about make out the running figure of Alice. “Maggie! Go!”
Maggie looked back towards the fire and saw the skinny frame of Ian sprinting towards them, baton raised and dressing gown open, exposing his naked chest. Quickly, she hauled herself off the ground and pushed Becs and Leela through the gap. Alice ran up and gave her arm a quick squeeze.
With a quick look towards the charging Ian, Maggie pulled out the parcel from her front. “Take the kids into the trees and put this on. Head to the access road. There should be a van.”
Alice gave her a pained smile, grabbed the parcel, and slid through the gap. “What about you?”
Maggie met her eyes. “Ian and I have a date. Go! I’ll catch up.”
Alice grabbed Becs’s hand and guided the children deeper into the trees.
Maggie slid through the gap and, turning, watched as Ian ran the last few feet to the fence. She gave him her best smile. “C’mon, Ian. If you want me, come and get me.”
Maggie spun around and jogged off, away from the kids. She wasn’t interested in his reply.
“I’m going to fucking kill you, you American bitch!”
Maggie smiled to herself as she jogged through the trees, their fresh pine scents clearing her sinuses. That’s it, Ian. I need you angry. Anger clouds your mind.
ELEVEN
The shell path crunched under his foot as Boss ran for the villa, Glock held ready. George sprinted up ahead. Reaching the deck that wrapped around the 100-year-old house, Boss glanced around, scanning the immediate area for Variants. He hobbled the last few metres and made his way up the stairs. Pain from his throbbing stump lanced up his spine, making him grimace. He should have been only fitting the prosthetic, not running around on it, fighting monsters. But Boss was grateful just to be alive. He had seen some horrendous things since the Variant outbreak. Tonight simply added to the trauma.
He opened the door, running into the house after George. A flash of red to one side caused him to glance down. Jack’s red-handled machete leant up against the wooden box. He stooped down and grabbed it. Boss ran through the small galley-like kitchen, past dirty dishes stacked around the sink. George had reached the coat rack and was lifting down his small backpack. Next to the coat rack, Ben had installed a gun cage.
Boss reached up. Clicking the release button, he pushed open the wire-mesh door. He stared for a moment at the two shotguns and his AR-15. Boxes of ammunition were stacked below. Letting out a sigh, he gripped the edge of the metal door and pulled his rifle out. He grabbed a magazine and clicked it in. Checking the safety, he slid it over his shoulder. Boss turned to George. His blue eyes watched Boss while he waited. He could see fear in those eyes, but also determination. He knew how brave the kid was. Boss clenched his jaw and, taking a deep breath, he reached over George and grabbed his go-bag. He scooped up boxes of ammo and shoved them in before wriggling into the backpack. He reached back into the gun cage and grabbed a shotgun, shoving it into the webbing of his pack.
Boss caught his reflection in the glass. His hair was sticking out at weird angles. His brown eyes stared back at him, blinking rapidly. He took a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself. Rubbing his hand over his head, he tried to smooth down his wild hair. A plan formed in his mind. He looked down at George. “We’re going to go to those caves, to the lake you found. Okay, buddy?”
George nodded back at him.
Boss reached down, grasping his shoulder. “Jack and Dee will come for us, G-man.” Boss said this more to himself than George. In truth, he doubted that, even if the Renegades had been alerted, they would get here in time. They were over 100 km north. Boss clenched his fists. No. He had to keep George safe. Haere had given them a chance. He needed to honour that and get George out of this war zone. He picked up the machete and slipped it into his belt. Touching the cool, rusty metal gave him some comfort. It had saved Jack in the meat locker, perhaps it would save him now. Grinning at the thought of Jack wielding the machete, he turned towards the door.
A screech blared out, and a couple more answered, closer. Boss quickened his pace. Glancing back to George, he threw open the door and stepped out onto the deck. Three Variants bounded up the path, shrieking. The high-pitched sound jangled his nerves. Boss unslung his rifle and sighted the lead Variant, trying to get a bead. It zigged and zagged, leaping all over the place. Ugly, but not dumb. He took a punt at where it would go next, and squeezed the trigger. Watching over the sight, he saw the bullet enter its sucker mouth. Gunk flew out behind it as it crumpled into a ball of flesh and bones. Dead. He spun to his left, letting off a couple of bursts like Ben had showed him. He aimed for the centre mass and took down another one. The third Variant screeched and leapt up onto the roof of the covered verandah, its claws scraping the corrugated iron. The metal moaned as the Variant dug its claws in, the sound reminding Boss of a ship rubbing against the poles of the jetty. Boss desperately watched as it walked across, making dents in the thin metal. With a hideous howl, the Variant bounded off the roof, hooking its claws into the gutter and swinging over the edge of the verandah, flinging itself at Boss. Its legs slammed into him, launching Boss off his feet and smashing him against the cladding. The sharp weatherboard edges dug into his back.