SAFE HAVEN: REALM OF THE RAIDERS

by Christopher Artinian

  The walkie-talkie placed on top of the map crackled: “This is South Bridge calling Corporal Masters. We lost Iveson, but the route has been blockaded. Awaiting further instructions, over.” The radio went quiet for a moment. Although the entire village was now in the hotel, the locals were giving the operations area a wide berth, as if they wanted to stay oblivious to what was going on.

  Mike, Emma and Lucy walked through the dining room and made a beeline for the map table. They stood on the opposite side to Keith and Jenny.

  “This is South Bridge calling Corporal Masters. The route has been blockaded. Awaiting further instructions, over.” A few minutes passed by, then the voice at the other end of the walkie-talkie spoke again. This time there was more urgency. “This is South Bridge calling. Has anyone got a visual on Corporal Masters? I’ve been trying to reach him. His walkie-talkie might be dead, over.”

  “This is North Bridge. The corporal was due here, but we do not currently have a visual, over.”

  Keith picked the handset up and depressed the speak button. “This is Keith Martin at the hotel. The corporal left here for Marston Fields to pick up his father over fifteen minutes ago. He was due to bring Daniel back here then head to the north bridge. We’ve not seen him since.” He put the walkie-talkie down then quickly picked it up again. “Erm, over.” It suddenly occurred to him that if Darren Masters had never made it to his men, they wouldn’t know about the possibility of a RAM being on the loose in the village. He was just about to speak into the handset again when he looked around at the crowded room of people and realised that if they got wind of what he was saying, there would be a riot.

  “Roger that, Mr Martin, I’m sending a man to Marston Fields with an extra radio now, over.” The councillor’s face aged ten years as the realisation hit him that he could be sending that soldier into danger.

  “This is South Bridge. Our spotters have sighted multiple vehicles approaching, over.” Keith looked down at the handset in shock as it crackled back to life.

  “Roger that, South Bridge, this is North Bridge. Our spotters have sighted a flare. Could be the signal for attack. Stand by, over.” The handset crackled again.

  “Oh my god, oh my god!” Keith was beginning to lose his composure. How had they got through the roadblocks so quickly? What was coming next?

  The handset crackled again. “This is Noble. I’ve found the corporal’s car. No sign of the corporal. I’ll commence a recce of the area now, over.”

  “This is North Bridge. Roger that, Noble. Make it quick, son, we’re going to need all the firepower we can muster, over.” This time Mike noticed a tinge of anxiety in the previously steady voice. Things were turning very bad very quickly.

  Mike looked up at Keith. His wife was standing by him, but regardless of how many plans had been drawn up and how many drills had been performed, this was real life, and the pair were gradually beginning to realise they were ill-prepared for this new world. He turned to look at his sister and Lucy. Both sets of eyes were fixed firmly on the walkie-talkie, awaiting its next broadcast of impending doom.

  “This is Mark Mackenzie, reservist on the east ridge. There are two motorboats heading towards us, over.” The radio crackled and went silent before bursting into life again.

  Stifled cries echoed around the large dining room as an explosion sounded in the distance.

  “This is North Bridge. We’re under attack from mortar fire. Repeat, the enemy has a mortar, over,” the now panicked voice spluttered over the airwaves.

  The brows around the table were becoming increasingly furrowed each time the radio crackled to life.

  “This is Mark Mackenzie again. They’ve landed. I’ve got two men down. Requesting—” The radio went dead.

  Emma was biting her thumbnail with fevered vigour. Mike looked to Lucy. He had seen her scared before, but as she turned to look back at him he saw a whole new level of fear.

  Another explosion sounded in the distance. There were screams in the large dining room, and frightened murmurs circulated as the notion that the village was at war began to sink in. The radio crackled, then silence. Had that been someone about to call for help, only reaching for the radio when it was too late? Jenny Martin dropped her forehead onto her husband’s shoulder. Rome was burning.

  “Fuck this,” Mike said, kissing first his sister and then Lucy. He began to walk out of the dining room.

  “Where are you going?” Lucy demanded.

  He disappeared through the door before she could get an answer. The doctor suddenly realised that it was not just her and the people stood around the operations table that were curious as to what Mike was doing. All the eyes in the dining room were focussed on the swinging door.

  He reappeared a few moments later with his familiar rucksack. Two machete handles criss-crossed out of the corners of the bag and the butt of a pump-action shotgun protruded from the centre.

  “You need to tell me what you’re planning, Mike.” Lucy took hold of his arm firmly. “Seriously, this isn’t five gang-bangers or a pack of RAMs. This is an army.” Another explosion sounded, a little closer this time. “You hear that? They’re shelling us, Mike. Bravery and strength are only going to get you so far. Against an army you’re going to need a lot more.”

  “I’ve got a plan. I won’t say it’s foolproof, but it might give us a fighting chance. To make it work I’m going to have to act quickly,” he said, looking Lucy straight in the eyes.

  She’d seen that look before, and Mike had a track record of getting them out of near-death situations. She had more reasons to trust him than not. “Walk and talk,” she said, pushing Mike to the exit door while pulling her Glock pistol from the back of her jeans. She looked back to the table. “Emma, I’m going to need you to help Samantha and Jenny. I’m going with Mike.”

  Everyone in the dining room watched as the pair left. Emma’s mouth was agape. She had promised herself she wouldn’t let Mike walk out into danger again without her, but she knew she would hinder rather than help them with her lack of fighting skill. She felt defeated by her own inadequacies, but knew she could be of some help in the hospital, so she reluctantly made her way to the delivery room.

  Mike looked across as Lucy pulled the slide on the Glock to make sure there was one in the chamber. He smiled to himself.

  “Okay, what’s the plan?” Lucy asked as the pair of them reached the foyer. The reservists guarding the large open room were too nervous to pay attention to any conversation the pair were having, so Mike laid his idea out loud and clear.

  “We’ve got RAMs in the village. My guess is they were in the south where the corporal vanished. As we didn’t hear anything from the checkpoints or lookouts, they’ve probably wandered off the beaten track. The explosions to the north are going to be calling out to them.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “I’m going to get Bruiser on board with this as well, but I think if we can find them and take them down before they reach the north bridge, we can use syringes from the ambulance to draw some RAM blood. Bruiser and I can then head over to the opposite side of the river making sure we outflank the army’s forces. Then we move on them from behind. Knock the odd one out as we come across them. Give them a little injection of RAM juice and when they wake up, the enemy are going to have some serious dissent in their ranks.” Any bodily fluids from the RAMs were deadly. In hand-to-hand combat, drops of blood or saliva had occasionally sprayed into combatants’ eyes or mouths, and that had been enough to turn them. The flow of blood was slow in RAMs and, due to their livers producing vast amounts of thrombin, the wounds were sludgy and rarely spurted; but on the odd occasion, a combatant might be unlucky. Mike looked at Lucy, expecting her to get angry, to tell him his plan was mad, but instead her face registered no emotion.

  “It’s worth a try. After seeing what’s left of that emotional train wreck of a girl in there, I’m not really going to shed any tears for these guys. I’m not letting you go alone though. I’m going with you.”

&nbs
p; Mike was about to argue when he saw the look on her face. Arguing would just use up valuable time. They headed out of the hotel to find Private Hughes.

  “What’s the word, Mike?” Hughes asked as they approached.

  Mike relayed his idea to Hughes as quickly as he could. He was aware that every second that passed brought them one more second towards defeat. When he had finished, Hughes broke out into a wide grin.

  “I love this kid. He’s got brass knackers on him the size of fucking beach balls.” The burly soldier reached out and ruffled Mike’s hair like he was a proud parent.

  “So you think it’s a good idea?” Lucy asked, automatically focussing on Hughes’s missing tooth as she spoke.

  “Do I fuck! It’s a shit idea. What’s wrong with you, Mike? Did your mum drop you on your fucking head when you were younger? That would be suicide, but it’s given me a gem of a thought.” The normally hard-faced soldier looked towards the pair of them. “Who can you trust in there to do something a bit grim? Not dangerous, just not very nice.”

  “Like what?” Mike asked.

  “You know how some Amazonian tribes use poisoned darts?” Hughes asked.

  “Are we going to use darts on them?” the other, younger private asked.

  “I swear to God, Marsh, I’ve walked through cow shit that could have a more sensible conversation than you. Shut the fuck up and let me finish.” The young private looked hurt, but Hughes carried on, this time focussing on Mike and Lucy. “On our way down from Catterick Garrison we ran into an armed gang. Christ knows where they got all their gear from because it certainly wasn’t MOD issue. They had a case of hollow-point bullets. Now, if we take down the RAMs like young Mikey says, but, rather than going on some fucking lunatic kamikaze mission, inject the hollow points with the RAMs’ blood then seal them with hot wax. We’ve got a couple of real sharp shooters in our ranks. They could fire accurate non-lethal shots that won’t kill the bastards instantly, but that’ll infect them. We can carry out your plan without even crossing the river, Mikey boy.” As the words sank in, all the faces looked a little more confident.

  “Right, Marsh, you go get the hollow points off Grainger. Doctor, you go in and find a couple of willing recruits and some candles. Me and Mikey the RAM slayer here are going to go hunting.” Hughes seemed to be a natural leader. In the absence of the corporal he was clearly capable of taking the reins.

  “Be careful, sweetie,” Lucy said, kissing Mike on the lips before heading back into the hotel.

  “Aww, you’re making me tear up here,” Hughes said, with a big grin on his face.

  Mike just raised his middle finger and the pair of them headed for the ambulance.

  *

  Inside the hotel, Lucy found Emma and explained the plan. “Who do you think would be best suited to help us prepare the ammunition?”

  “What about Beth?” Emma suggested, thinking of how strong the farmer’s daughter had been in the face of adversity. Beth had returned to the hotel when she had not had any luck finding her father on the north bank. She had gone to help the nursery and school staff look after the children on the second floor.

  “I like Beth, but I think she may have a little bit of a problem using her father’s dismembered corpse to spike ammunition,” Lucy said, looking back to Emma for another suggestion.

  “Fair point. What about Jenny? She seems willing to roll her sleeves up when she needs to.”

  “Okay, let’s find out.” The pair cornered both Keith and Jenny and told them the plan. A few days before, the couple would have been horrified by such a barbaric idea, but now, as the sound of shells dropping on their once picturesque little village echoed around them, they were prepared to do anything.

  Jenny took Emma and Lucy into a small office behind the reception area. She cleared the desk and opened the sliding door on the large mahogany-veneered cabinet. On the lower shelf there were several torches and a box of candles. She removed the box and lit several of the candles so that there would be plenty of melted wax available.

  *

  Mike’s instincts had been proved right again. As the army ambulance pulled up on the wet road next to the only other field in the village, Hughes spotted a clumsily advancing group of figures, trudging rather than moving freely across the soaked earth at the opposite end.

  The pair climbed out of the vehicle and started shouting and waving. It was something that normally would seem foolhardy and that with a more intelligent opponent would be seen as a potential trap. There was no such danger with the RAMs, though. As Mike predicted, they had been walking north towards the sounds of the mortars, but now they were in sight of living breathing prey, and that was enough for their single-mindedness. The group turned and began to advance on the noisy, animated men.

  Another explosion sounded in the distance, different to the ones before. “That sounded like a Claymore. One for the good guys, hopefully,” said Hughes.

  The RAMs were making slow progress across the muddy field and Mike’s impatience began to get the better of him. He climbed over the gate and started heading towards them. Hughes began to protest, but the younger man was already several metres away before his thoughts turned to words.

  Previously when Mike had fought these soulless beasts, he had avoided using guns wherever possible. A gun would put one down but it could possibly alert another dozen as to his whereabouts. In this field there was no such danger. The village was under siege, on the verge of falling, and speed was of the essence. He withdrew the pump-action shotgun and tugged hard on the slide. The creatures were about fifteen metres away. He could hear Hughes cursing and slowly getting closer as Mike began to recognise the ashen faces of his would-be murderers. The creature that had been Darren Masters was leading the group. Mike raised the shotgun and placed the butt firmly against his shoulder. He could hear the familiar low growls over the sound of the falling rain and distant gun fire, and as the figure got closer he could see the grey lifeless eyes that he had encountered so many times before. Alex, his stepfather, had had those same eyes. The man who had helped him and moulded him, the man who had befriended him, the man who had made him promise to protect the family. That great man, that great friend, had turned into one of these abominations and tried to kill him. The only image Mike had left of that fateful morning were those grey eyes. He hated those eyes, he hated what they meant. So, when it came to closing them permanently, it came easier to him than it did to most. He pulled the trigger and an instant later half the creature’s head vanished in a spray of red mist and gristle. The body collapsed like a sack of potatoes being dropped to the floor.

  The ghoulish monster that had once been Joseph was next. Whatever affection Mike had possessed for the man in the past left him in a heartbeat as he pumped the slide and fired again, then again, then again. The four RAMs were motionless on the ground. Mike pulled a machete from his backpack and went from body to body, driving the blade aggressively through their eye sockets, not taking any risk that the creatures could spring back to life. He slid the rucksack off his back and retrieved a black body bag.

  “Take the farmer’s wife. There’s more fat on her, she’ll be easier to cut up,” Hughes said.

  “Nice,” Mike replied, as he laid the bag out on the wet ground next to where the body that had once been Alice had fallen.

  As the pair travelled back to the hotel, sporadic cracks could be heard around the island, interspersed with the sound of heavy machine-gun fire. “That sounds like one of our Jackals. Hopefully we’re managing to keep the fuckers at bay for the time being. It’s the boats that are worrying me. We’ve blockaded the bridges, so it will take them an age to take our guys out and get across there, but if they ferry enough soldiers across using the inflatable rafts, they could cause us some real damage.” Hughes looked pensive as he spoke.

  “When we get back, we’ll get on the radio and get an update from everyone, then you and I can go wherever we’re needed,” said Mike.

  Hughes smiled to himself.
“Seriously, kid, you’re a force of nature. Does nothing scare you?” He took his eyes off the road for a moment to look at his passenger.

  “Plenty scares me, but I’m not going to let a bunch of fucking bandits get near my family,” he replied. Hughes laughed to himself and shook his head.

  The ambulance pulled up outside the hotel, where Private Marsh was awaiting their arrival. “I’ve delivered the hollow points to Mrs Martin. They’re all set up in the office behind reception,” he announced as Hughes climbed down from the driver’s seat.

  “Nice work, Private. Now give young Mike here a hand to get our load in while I go and see what’s happening.” Hughes walked into the hotel, leaving the two men to carry in the weighty black body bag.

  The villagers’ frightened faces tensed when the double doors to the dining room swung open. They relaxed again when they saw it was one of their troops rather than the enemy. Hughes walked up to Keith and demanded an update.

  Keith had been frantically making notes every time the radio had crackled into life. He had built up an accurate picture of what was going on around the island village. Up until that moment Hughes had considered him just another pen pusher, a bag of hot air in a suit, but the man’s organisational skills suddenly impressed him.

  “From what I’ve gathered, Private Hughes, the only place we’ve been penetrated so far is the east ridge. They managed to get two boatloads of men landed and they took out the six reservists we had positioned there. A squad of six of your men from the north bridge headed over there, and from what I’ve heard they’ve currently got the enemy pinned down. The enemy do seem to have secured the landing zone, however, and they’re ferrying more troops across. The bridges are holding. One of the other boats has been sunk and the final one has been prevented from landing numerous times. The mortars haven’t caused any real damage yet. The turrets are still manned, but more of your men have taken cover in the trees behind as well. South Bridge has reported that as yet no shots have been fired, but more enemy troops appear to be taking positions in the trees. From what I can make out, there is a larger enemy presence to the north than there is to the south. Their armoured vehicles are no match for the heavy machine guns mounted on the Jackals, so the men in those have also sought cover in the trees.” The councillor looked up from his notes and spoke a bit more quietly. “How did it go?”