The Rule of Three

— 9 —

There was a strange smell of rotting fruit as Jack tiptoed over the wooden floorboards. He could never understand the appeal of that choice of flooring. Too noisy in his opinion. He made it to the kitchen without seeing anything suspicious. The house was clean and tidy, like whoever had lived here had never returned home when the news broke. Next to the internal door that led to the garage, the owners had kindly mounted a keypad.

Jack smiled. That saved him a lot of time hunting. He snatched up the keys for the Toyota Hilux and pocketed them.

“You hungry, grumpy boy?” Emma said, opening kitchen cupboards. She pulled several boxes of muesli bars and crackers from the shelves and placed them on the counter.

“Grab it and let’s go,” Jack said. “I want to be on the water asap.”

“Here.” Emma threw Jack a box of protein bars. He caught them and shoved them into his backpack.

Jack pressed the door release again and frowned. He tried the light switch, checking to see if there was electricity. It blinked on and bathed the garage in a soft glow.

He tried the release button again with no luck. Giving up, Jack pulled the manual override cord and strained as he lifted the large garage door. Besides the new Toyota, the owner had a couple of 1970s muscle cars. Jack let out a whistle. Even though he wasn’t a car person, he knew the value of the machines. He chuckled wryly to himself.

Not anymore.

Jack busied himself. First, he manoeuvreed the Toyota to the boat trailer. Next, he wound down the trailer and mounted it to the tow bar. He didn’t bother attaching the electrics.

“Why don’t we just take the 4x4?” Emma said, munching on a muesli bar.

“Because those things hate the water,” Jack mumbled. “I tried driving; the roads were crazy yesterday. I’d hate to get stuck in some gridlock. We wouldn’t stand a chance.”

“Okay. How are we getting around Karapiro?”

“Driving,” Jack said, grunting as he clicked the shackle closed. “Ready? Let’s go.”

Jack had opened the door to the Toyota when he heard the noise. He paused and reached for his bachi hoe. He strained his ears. It wasn’t a howl or a shriek. As it drew closer, he could make out the distinctive sound of V8 engines tearing down the road. He glanced at Emma and flicked his head at the house. She nodded, understanding.

Until they knew who these people were, they weren’t going anywhere. Jack shut the front door as the noise of the V8 engines grew louder. A bright red Holden Commodore screeched to a stop and skidded into the driveway.

Jack peeked through the curtains and watched as four men climbed out of the car. They were dressed in blue jeans, T-shirts and leather jackets. They were all armed with assault rifles. Jack had no idea what kind or what they were capable of. He had always thought those kinds of guns were unavailable in New Zealand.

The driver stretched his back and slung his rifle over his shoulder. He ambled up to the door, skipping a few steps along the way, and knocked once, twice, three times.

“Little pig. Little pig. Let me in.”

Jack could feel his heart slamming in his chest. His tired mind swam with thoughts. But the one that shouted the loudest was Why? Why were these men here?

He glanced back at Emma and gestured towards the back of the house.

“Little pig? Are you there?” the driver shouted this time, anger lacing his tone. “Tell you what. We just want the girl. You can go free.” The driver cackled. “Good luck out there.”

Jack crouched down next to Emma and leaned in closer so that his mouth was next to her ear. “On the count of three, we’re going to run out that ranch slider and into the trees. Keep running. Don’t look back, all right? Head for the river.”

Emma nodded and glanced at the front door.

“Last chance, Chief,” the driver said. “I’ll give you to the count of three.”

Jack tightened his grip on his bachi hoe.

“One!” The front door smashed open, slamming into the wall. Boots thumped on the floor as the driver and his three companions stormed into the room. Within seconds, Jack and Emma were surrounded.

Jack dropped his weapon and held his hands up. He and Emma were roughly hauled to their feet. Emma struggled and winced as her arm was twisted behind her back.

Jack turned and faced the driver. “What do you want?”

“I told you, Chief,” the driver said. “Her.”

He looked up at his men and smiled before looking back at Jack. “You. I don’t need. Kill him.”

“Wait!” Jack pleaded. “C’mon man. I’m just trying to get home to my wife. Please let me go.”

Jack glanced at Emma, trying to convey that he wouldn’t let them take her. That he would find her and help. She was struggling against the man who was holding her, but for once remained quiet.

“They call me Duke. Tell you what, Chief, I’ll give you a one-minute head start. If you can evade my men, you’ll be on your way and home to your wife.”

Jack frowned and looked at the other three men. They were dressed for a chase. If he could make it to the river, he knew he stood a chance.

As he stood there facing Duke, Jack ran the plan through his head.

Evade these assholes.

Circle back.

Rescue Emma.

Go home.

Problem was, they had guns. Real guns. Not just some vermin pea shooters. Real military rifles. He hesitated and looked at Emma.

She smiled and nodded. “Go, Jack. I’ll be okay.”

He watched her for a few moments, trying to gauge the sincerity of her words. Finally he turned back to Duke. Duke was watching him, a big grin spread over his face.

“One minute?” Jack said.

Duke crossed his heart. “Promise. One whole minute.”

“Okay.”

“You better run, Chief,” Duke laughed. “Clock is ticking.”

Jack pushed past the men holding Emma. “Sorry,” he whispered as he went past. Jack made for the back of the house before pivoting and sprinting out the front door.

The only plan he had come up with involved the speedboat. Laughter followed him as he jumped into the 4x4 and tore out of the driveway, pulling the boat. It had been a long time since he had driven down this road, but he was certain of a boat ramp at the beginning of Lake Karapiro.

Faster he urged the vehicle on, constantly glancing in his mirrors, checking for pursuit. By his reckoning he had perhaps thirty seconds left and still there was no sign of the lake or the boat ramp.

Something glinted in the side mirror a fraction before a bullet pinged off the 4x4. Jack ducked and frantically looked around for the shooter.

Another bullet pinged off the metal. Jack cursed himself. Why had he expected Duke to keep his word?

He caught a glimpse of the lake through the trees as he whizzed by. Slowing down, Jack took a deep breath and wrenched the wheel, aiming for a narrow one-lane road.

The Toyota bounced and fishtailed around as he struggled to regain control.

At least they’ve stopped shooting.

Lake Karapiro was spread out in front of him as he desperately searched for a way to get the boat into the water quickly. He glanced left and right. He soon realised there was no way he could launch the craft: the terrain was simply too steep. He needed to lose the boat, and fast.

Jack brought the 4x4 to a halt and leapt from the vehicle. V8 engines growled on the wind. Duke and his men were getting close. Jack wiped his sweaty hands on his hiking shorts and peered around the back of the Toyota. Duke’s vehicle and three others were hurtling towards him. Men were leaning out of the windows, guns raised in the air.

Jack sighed and blinked away tears. He hated to leave Emma to whatever horrible fate these men had in mind for her, but he had to think of himself. Of Dee. She meant everything to him, and Jack wanted nothing more than to see her beautiful blue eyes again. To hold her. Feel the safety of her arms wrapped around him.

He glanced at the dark water of the lake and cast his eyes across to the other side. He could see houses. Perhaps he could shelter there.

With one last look back at Duke and his men, Jack grabbed his hiking pack and dived into the lake, gasping as the cold water embraced him.

Here we go again.