SAFE HAVEN:
RISE OF THE RAMS
CHRISTOPHER ARTINIAN
Published by Headless RAM Publishing
COPYRIGHT © 2017
CHRISTOPHER ARTINIAN
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
For more information about Christopher Artinian including finding out about further instalments of the Safe Haven series and other future projects, please visit:
www.christopherartinian.com
https://www.facebook.com/Christopher-Artinian-375358389495473
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
CHAPTER ONE
The light of morning crept into the grey room. The candles had burned through the night, and their wicks were flickering wildly. Each movement could be the last.
Mike and Emma looked from the small flames to the frail shadow of a man lying in the bed. Loud breaths greedily sucked in air, followed by deep hollow rattles as the man exhaled. He had a face as grey as the room. His brow furrowed as if a thousand thoughts were exploding like fireworks in his head, and his eyelids fluttered in laughter, then in sorrow.
Each time the breathing paused, Mike and Emma shot urgent glances at each other. Although Mike looked older than his sister he was just twenty, while Emma was twenty-four.
They had endured this same pain three years earlier. Their mum had died after a four-year battle with cancer: test after test, treatment, remission, and then it had come back, worse than before. It had spread to the lungs. As brave as she had been during the battle, in the end, she just wanted to go to sleep. The day before she lost consciousness, she had said to the two siblings sat around that same bed, “People have only got so much fight in them, and I think all mine is used up.”
They knew that their stepdad, Alex, would say the same now if he could. When he had originally come into their lives, he had tried too hard to be a father figure, which had alienated the pair of them. When Sammy, their half-sister, was born, and later Jake, their half-brother, they became even more detached from the family unit.
After their mum was diagnosed, everything changed. Blood became irrelevant and family took on an entirely new meaning. In some ways, the four years that their mother battled cancer were the best four years the family had together. When she died, the family carried on. The fact that Mike and Emma were not related by blood to Alex was not an issue. They were a family. And now, that family was about to shrink again.
“Do you think he can hear us talking?” Emma said. “I mean hear us and understand us?”
“When Mum was in her coma, during the last couple of days, she’d mumble stuff that me and Alex had been talking about the day before. I don’t know if she understood, but I’d like to think she did.”
Emma moved closer to the bed and took hold of Alex’s hand. “Alex, I don’t know if you can hear me, but I hope you can.” Tears came to her eyes and she took a deep breath to try and compose herself before continuing. “Alex, I just want you to know that Mike and I are very grateful for everything you’ve done. You were a thousand times more of a father to us than our own ever was.” Her voice broke as emotion overwhelmed her.
Mike took over. “I’ll miss you Alex. You were a great dad and a good friend.” Tears welled up in Mike’s eyes as he spoke, but he carried on. “And don’t worry about Jake and Sammy. I’d die before I let anything happen to them.”
Emma composed herself, took a deep breath and added, “We both would.”
For a split second there was a pause in Alex’s breathing and it looked like the corners of his mouth turned upward in a tiny smile of recognition, but later both Mike and Emma would deny it happened and just put it down to wishful thinking. His laboured breaths continued and both siblings sat back in their chairs, contemplating the hours ahead.
“What should we do about Sammy and Jake?” Emma whispered.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, they’re going to want to see Alex.”
Mike leaned forward and spoke softly. “Em, you and I are all they have now. We are going to have to do and say whatever is needed to get Jake and Sammy through this.” He paused, realising how strange it felt to be talking to his older sister like she was a child. “The fact is, they’re not going to be able to see him again, so we’ve got to get a reason straight in our heads now and stick with it.” There was another pause. “Do you understand me?”
“There’s no way they can see him now? He just looks like he’s in a deep sleep.”
“Remember, you weren’t here when Mum died. You weren’t here to watch the final breath followed by the death rattle. It’s a memory that will stick with me until the day I die. It’s one of the most horrible and disturbing things I’ve ever seen, and it could happen with Alex at any second. There is no way I’m risking Jake and Sammy being stuck with that image of their dad. No way!”
“You love bringing that up, don’t you?” Emma hissed, her eyes narrowing, her face hardening.
“What?”
“That I wasn’t here for Mum. That it was you and Alex who were with her on that last day. No-one knew how long she’d be like that. The doctors didn’t have a clue, nobody did. Do you think I would have gone back down to London if I’d known? That memory might have stuck with you, but it haunts me just as much that I wasn’t here.” She was almost spitting the last words out.
“That wasn’t the point I was making. What I was saying was—”
Emma cut in again before he could finish. “Don’t be a dick, I know exactly what you were saying and so do you. I swear, sometimes I can’t stand to be in the same room as you.”
Mike looked hurt and irritated. “Look, Em,” he began, trying not to raise his voice, “my point is that a six-year-old boy and an eight-year-old girl should not see their father die!”
Emma gestured as if she was about to continue the argument but she thought better of it as she calmed down. “Well, can’t they see him after? Just for a minute?”
A tear appeared at the corner of Mike’s eye and he tried to regain his composure. When it didn’t come, he just looked at Emma and slowly shook his head.
She looked down at the floor. Looking at Alex made her too sad and looking at her brother made her too angry. Her eyes followed the pattern of the carpet and she let her mind drift away to less painful thoughts.
In a soft, shaky voice, Mike said, “Em, this isn’t the way I want it. I’m not saying this stuff to hurt you, but this is how it has to be. We’ve got to make the right decisions for Jake and Sammy, as hard as they are.”
The minutes passed and the greyness within the room softened as the sun tried to break through. Mike stood up and looked through the thick lace curtains out into the back garden. A small blue tit skilfully edged its way around the bird feeder hanging from the branch of a willow tree. Each manoeuvre the tiny creature made caused a microscopic movement of the willow branch. And each shift coincided perfectly with the bird’s next grab at the fee
der. It was simple yet ingenious; its methodology was flawless. Mike smiled to himself as he watched. He realised it was the first time he’d smiled in quite a while. For a moment he felt guilty.
*
Noticing that Mike was at the window, Emma finally felt she could raise her eyes without being judged. She glanced at her brother, wondering what was going through his mind, and then back at her stepfather. A sad smile made her lips purse as she contemplated the past. All her work and all her plans were now meaningless. Three years at university and three more working for the largest weekly magazine in the UK. Everything was falling into place, there didn’t seem to be any limit to how far she could go, and then, with a thundering clatter, all her plans had fallen around her ears. She shook her head in self-pity and quickly checked that Mike was still looking out into the garden. She didn’t want him to see her; he already thought she was selfish and he was good at reading her body language.
Finally her curiosity got the better of her. “What are you looking at?”
There was no response.
“Mike, what are you looking at?” she asked, a little more urgently this time.
Mike blinked several times as if to wake himself from a daze. “There’s a blue tit on the bird feeder. It’s figured out a way to use its own momentum to work its way right round the feeder and score a nut each time. Clever little guy.”
“Sounds fascinating. You really know how to have a good time, don’t you?” Emma responded. “It’s a mystery why you don’t have a girlfriend.”
“Well, I’d rather have no girlfriend than one who turned out to be a sarky little gobshite,” he fired back at her.
He turned round. They looked at each other, and for the first time in a week they both let out a little giggle, which was quickly diffused by another loud and rattling intake of breath from Alex.
“What time is it?” Emma asked.
“Just after seven,” Mike said. “The kids will probably be getting up soon. When they do, will you be okay to deal with them while I stay in here? I mean, get them dressed and fed and just stay with them and try and explain things?”
“Yes, of course, but I think we should take it in shifts. We’ve both been here all night. You need a break too. It’s only fair, Mike. This is pretty exhausting, to say the least.”
“I know what you’re saying, Em, and don’t think I don’t appreciate it, but I’ve got to be here at the end.”
“I could call you if it happened while I was watching him.”
Mike shook his head, slowly but resolutely. “Em, I’ve got to be here. I don’t think he’ll last out the day.”
“Are you sure?” she asked.
Almost on cue, a thud came from a neighbouring room as Sammy jumped down off her bed. Mike and Emma shared a knowing look and she stood up to leave. She kissed Alex gently on the forehead and walked over to Mike at the window.
She took hold of his hand. “If you need me, you just shout and I’ll be here. You know that, don’t you?”
Mike said nothing, but he nodded as Emma left the room.
Mike turned back to look at the bird feeder, but the blue tit had gone. He had little doubt that watching the bird would be the high point of his day, and he reluctantly left the window and sat down next to the bed to carry on the vigil. Alex continued to breathe erratically. With each pause, Mike’s breathing also halted, in fear and anticipation.
Mike reached under the bed and removed a small black zipped pouch. On top, in thick white lettering, were the initials RPA. He put the pack on the small chest of drawers next to the bed and then extended his arm to check that it was in easy reach if he should need it quickly. He picked up the paperback that he had put down several hours before when he had found his eyes straining too hard in the candlelight. He looked at the candles; they had all now burned away to abstract lumps on their respective saucers. He glanced again at Alex, to make sure he was still breathing, and then opened his book.
Mike had never been a big reader when he was younger, but after being sent away to a young offenders’ institute for eight months he started getting through two or three books a week. They were a fantastic release: first from the fear, then from the drudgery of the place. Now they were just part of his life. He usually read fiction, but his gran, who he thought was the coolest sixty-eight-year-old in the world, had recently sent him one about an American couple who became self-sufficient. They were strict vegetarians, like Mike, and everything about the book lit a fire in his gut. And the way things were going, learning how to live off the land was pretty valuable knowledge, to boot.
He heard noises from the kitchen and assumed Emma had started breakfast. He hoped she’d bring him some coffee.
Mike flipped his bookmark to where he’d left off and began reading, but the stress of the night had caught up with him, and rather than invigorating him, the words on the page had a soporific effect. After a paragraph he started dozing and his eyelids began to feel like lead.
He put the book down and stood up. He slapped himself across the face a couple of times and then got down onto the floor and started doing press-ups. Down, up, clap, down, up, clap, down, up, clap. He had always kept himself in good shape. Before he went away he had played rugby and been the captain of the local under-eighteens cricket team. In the last couple of years, Alex had taken up jogging and Mike had accompanied him. It had been a great bonding experience for the pair of them and they’d taken part in a couple of half marathons. They had been talking about entering the next London Marathon when all this had happened.
He kept going. Down, up, clap, down, up. Then he heard a breath that didn’t sound like any that had gone before. He jumped to his feet and looked towards the bed. Alex’s last inhalation had seemed louder, more forced, and now there was a pause. A long pause. A very long pause. Then the death rattle. A gurgling exhalation, a disturbing memory rekindled. The sound stopped. Ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen. No movement. Mike gently took hold of Alex’s wrist and felt for a pulse. Nothing.
“Alex... Alex... Shit!”
A look of pure anguish swept across Mike’s face. He wanted nothing more than to run out of the room, but he knew it wasn’t an option. He reached for the black bag labelled RPA. He unzipped it and pulled out a printed document that he had read a dozen times before. The piece of paper gently floated to the ground as he fumbled with the contents of the bag and took out what looked like a clear thick plastic balloon with a hose attached. He carefully placed it on the bed. Although he’d memorised the document, his fastidious nature demanded he had it there while he worked, so he flattened it out in front of him.
REANIMATION PREVENTION APPARATUS
PLEASE NOTE: WITH SCRATCH VICTIMS, REANIMATION USUALLY OCCURS BETWEEN ONE AND TEN MINUTES AFTER THE SUBJECT HAS DECEASED. IT IS IMPORTANT TO ACT QUICKLY AND FOLLOW THE INSTRUCTIONS ACCURATELY.
•
Place protective balloon over the head of the deceased, making sure that the nose bracket clamps to the subject’s nose bridge.
•
Pull cord around neck until it comes away in your hand. The protective balloon is now sealed.
•
Take hold of pump and compress fully eight times or until the puncture delivery plunger is fully extended. Twist the base of the plunger counter-clockwise until you hear it click.
•
Place palms over end of plunger and push down until no further movement is possible.
•
The procedure is now complete. Please follow disposal instructions on reverse of this document.
Mike performed the task as if he had carried this out a thousand times before. He secured the bag in position, sealed it with ease and began pumping. A thick plastic plunger juddered upwards, almost as if it were growing out of Alex’s eye socket. With each squeeze, more of the device emerged from the thick, clear balloon. By the eighth pump, the tube was fully extended and positioned perfectly to punch through Alex’s eye and into his brain. Mike twisted its base counter-cloc
kwise until it clicked, just as the instructions demanded. The whole process took only seconds, but it seemed longer. He put his palms over the plunger and then removed them again. He paused.
“I’m so sorry, Alex. I’m so sorry.” He was frozen. The horror of what he was doing turned his blood to ice. He heard Sammy’s laughter from downstairs and Mike wondered if he’d ever be able to laugh again. He remained motionless, transfixed by the pale, greying face of his stepfather inside the wrinkled plastic balloon. Maybe Alex wouldn’t reanimate. Maybe he didn’t have to do this to the man who had become his best friend, his dad. Maybe... Suddenly Alex’s uncovered eye sprang open, revealing a misty greyness where once there had been brown and white. It was like a cataract had covered the whole surface of the eye, punctuated only by a misshapen pupil that flared like a drop of black paint falling on a hard surface. It was no longer Alex, it was no longer human. Within a second, his face had transformed from one of peace to one of pure hatred for the young man who now stood over him.
With puma-like speed, the thing that had once been his stepfather lurched for Mike. Its arms were outstretched, its fingers clenching like a mechanical grab in an amusement arcade trying to snatch its prize. A low-pitched growl emanated from the back of its throat as it bared its teeth behind the plastic of the balloon.
Mike was caught off guard by the speed and savagery of the creature. He stumbled back, unable to break his gaze away from the ghoulish eye of his attacker and the venomous spit showering the inside of the plastic. As the creature’s hands clawed for his neck, Mike’s survival instinct kicked in and he grabbed its wrists, pulling them in opposite directions away from his body. Undaunted, the creature began to snap like an alligator, despite the plastic bubble around its head. With each thrust, its mouth got closer and closer to Mike’s terrified face. There was another noise from downstairs and Mike realised he had to end this quickly. This thing wouldn’t just kill him, it would kill his family too. This abomination, this abhorrent freak of nature, was no longer Alex, and if it wasn’t stopped, it would tear Alex’s family to bloody pieces.
Safe Haven (Book 1): Rise of the Rams Page 1