The vehicles manoeuvred in a heart shape and formed a V between Emma and the infected. A dozen soldiers leapt out and began sighting and shooting targets as they advanced towards the junction.
An army Land Rover and ambulance pulled up behind the trucks. All the bone and sinew in Emma’s legs had been replaced by blancmange. They buckled underneath her and all that stopped her from hitting the hard tarmac was the box she had almost abandoned.
Nobody got out of the Land Rover, but a nurse and doctor dismounted from the back of the ambulance. To Emma’s huge relief, it was a pair of friendly faces.
“Emma?” Samantha asked, incredulous, as she bent down to help her.
Emma looked at Samantha, unable to speak. She reached out and took a tight hold of the nurse’s hand. She could only look at her as the sound of gunfire proceeded down the road. Lucy came to join the two young women and crouched down next to Emma.
“Emma? Emma? Tell me what’s happening. Emma?” Lucy checked her eyes and was about to measure her pulse when Emma snapped back to reality.
“How do you do it?”
The two medics looked at each other puzzled. “Do what?” Lucy asked.
“How do you deal with being out here? Day after day.”
“What else is there?”
Emma had no response. There was nothing else now. This was the new way of life, for as long as it lasted.
CHAPTER SIX
“When will Emma be back?” asked Jake, already missing his older sister. Getting ready in the morning was a lot nicer when Emma was helping. His older brother was fun to play with in the garden, but not so much fun the rest of the time.
“Soon, Jake. She’ll be back soon. Look, why don’t you and Sammy watch a DVD?”
“We’ve seen all our DVDs loads of times. They’re boring,” Jake replied with a whiney tinge.
“Okay, how about this then – I’ll let you watch one of my DVDs.” Jake’s eyes lit up and Sammy, who had been happily reading in the armchair, immediately closed her book. Alex had had two unbreakable rules. One, never swear in front of the children and two, never let them watch films deemed unsuitable for children. Mike was not going to break the first rule, but he didn’t see a problem breaking the second, providing it wasn’t something too graphic.
He ran upstairs and glanced through his shelf of titles. His selection was swift and soon he was back down with his hands behind his back. “Right guys, decision time. Left hand or right hand?”
The two youngsters looked at each other and conferred seriously for a moment. “Right hand,” Sammy replied tentatively.
“Good choice, Sammy Bear.” When Sammy was younger she had had a onesie that had a hood with bear ears. The nickname had stuck as a term of endearment. “Starring none other than Mr Christian Bale, you have selected The Dark Knight Rises.”
The two children looked at each other like it was Christmas morning. Sammy snatched the DVD out of her brother’s hand and ran across the room to the player.
Mike smiled to himself and put the other DVD he had brought down on top of the bookcase. Now his brother and sister were occupied, he wanted to read the document Samantha had left him.
The opening titles of the DVD began and the two youngsters were captivated. Mike snatched the document up, folded it and put it in his back pocket.
“I’m going to make a drink. Do you want one?” He looked at his brother and sister, saw a quick shake of the head, and walked into the kitchen.
Mike took out the folded paper and flattened it. It consisted of three sheets, stapled in the top left corner. It certainly didn’t look like anything the government or military would have produced; the printing was a little blurry and the diagrams were badly drawn. In large bold lettering at the top it read “RAMS – HAND TO HAND COMBAT”. What the hell does “RAMS” mean, Mike wondered, then carried on reading.
RAMS – HAND TO HAND COMBAT
Hand to hand combat is always a last resort. If there are no other options, there are some essential points to remember.
We all know that the only way to stop a RAM is with a head shot. In hand to hand combat, the idea is the same. With a bullet you don’t need to think about a skull’s weak points, as they are all weak. If you’re fighting with a knife or even with your bare hands, then it’s useful to know what your best options are.
1) The Eyes. Very weak. If you don’t have a weapon at all, push your thumbs into their eye sockets and keep pushing until they stop moving. Ideally have gloves on because if you’ve got any open wounds on your hands when you’re covered in their blood, you’re fucked.
2) The Temples. These are weaker areas of the skull and are easier to puncture than some of the more reinforced parts. If you’re using a knife, screwdriver or other strong, sharp object and it’s easier to hit the side of the head than the front, go for the temple.
3) The Throat. If you’re in a head-on situation where you can’t get good enough leverage to go for the eyes or temple, you can reach the brain by bringing your knife/weapon up quickly through the soft tissue where the throat is. (Bear in mind, this will only work if you’ve got a long enough blade.)
4) Base of the skull and soft area at the back of the ears. Your aim has to be spot on for this manoeuvre, so don’t try it unless you’re sure you can make it.
5) If you have neither the confidence nor the accuracy to stop the RAM by one of the above methods, get hold of a heavy blunt instrument and cave its skull in. This works, but unless you’re built like a brick shithouse it will take more time, and if you’ve got multiple attackers, those few seconds could cost you dearly.
Remember, the key to everything is keeping your head and acting quickly. Hesitation will get you killed. And never try to take these fuckers on in the dark. They’ve got perfect night vision.
Mike glanced at the crude diagrams that followed and then folded the sheets and put them back in his pocket. He poured water from the kettle into his waiting mug until the almost-black liquid reached the top. When he went back into the living room, Jake and Sammy were engrossed in the DVD.
Behind the sofa, there was a small workstation. Mike picked up the laptop in one hand while still holding his coffee in the other. He sat back, flipped it open and waited for it to spring to life. The internet was not the place it once had been. As countries had succumbed to the epidemic, so had websites, search engines, email servers; and what had once been the centre of the modern universe had turned nearly full circle and reverted to being primarily a device for the military to communicate. Commerce had been tricky, to say the least, and there was now only the UK and Ireland. International trade had ended, but due to some ingenious management, in the early months the British and Irish governments had traded medicines, technology and hardware to countries struck down by the infection in return for stockpiles of food and oil. It wouldn’t keep them going forever, but it provided a lifeline while they tried to manage their own situation.
Naturally, unemployment had skyrocketed. Millions had lost their livelihoods in a matter of months, and this had led to another brave move. The government conscripted anyone unemployed and able-bodied between the ages of sixteen and forty into the armed forces. Anyone able-bodied and aged between forty-one and sixty-five was drafted into the food, medicine, textile and arms manufacturing industries or utilities. Coal mines which had been closed for decades were reopened and people were effectively back doing national service “down the pit”. Mike had never been so grateful to have a job. He had never had ambitions to be a warehouse supervisor at a packaging company, but it beat being drafted. And since Leeds had gone into quarantine, the warehouse had been forced to close and no-one was conscripted from quarantine areas.
The idea behind the conscription to the armed forces was simple. Britain and Ireland had stayed in contact with heads of state all around the world until one by one they disappeared. Although relatively little was known about the virus and those infected by it, logic dictated that at some point either the infected would
run out of food and slowly starve to death or scientists would develop a cure or a way of killing the infected en masse. At which time the largest army the world had ever known would begin to reclaim the planet for humanity.
The civil liberties lobbyists had been virtually silenced since the British and Irish governments had decided that the news would be state run, and although the measures brought in seemed draconian, to say the least, they seemed to work. Most of the conscripts didn’t even get to see rifles but were put through rigorous physical training nonetheless.
Mike didn’t understand all the logistical and financial aspects of how everything worked, but even though times were very hard, people weren’t starving to death.
He looked back at the laptop. His browser had opened to reveal the now familiar search box of “Britfind”, the last remaining search engine. It was run and controlled by the UK government. Bookmarks like “Amazon” and “eBay” had long since stopped working. All that came up if he clicked on them was the standard “page not found” message. He typed “what are RAMS”.
A few pages came up, but all of it related to farming and male sheep. He was pretty certain what he had read had nothing to do with either. He slammed the laptop shut. He was frustrated at how easy it used to be to have a world of information at his fingertips and now, virtually nothing. He sipped his coffee and looked vacantly towards the TV as Bruce Wayne and Alfred the butler filled the large plasma screen.
*
Emma was about to stand up when she saw three soldiers approaching. Two were armed and one was not. She noticed that the one without a weapon had blood over his front.
“Need to get him checked over, doctor. He’s been in a close-contact situation with a RAM.” The soldier who had spoken pushed the blood-caked troop forward. He started towards the ambulance then stopped.
“You’re the one who shouted out. You’re the one who warned me, aren’t you?” he said, staring Emma straight in the eyes. She just nodded. “That was very brave, miss. What you did saved my life.” He stepped forward and she instinctively took half a step back – he was covered in blood – but then stopped herself. She kept her arms by her sides and he grabbed hold of her elbows firmly, yet with a degree of warmth. “Thank you. Thank you.” And with that, he released her and stepped into the ambulance.
Emma was still dazed by the events. “Are you going to be okay to get home, Emma?” Samantha asked.
For a second she didn’t reply, but then, realising someone was talking to her, she snapped out of her trance. “Sorry... yes... yes, I’m only a few minutes away. I’ll be fine.”
“You’ve had a nasty shock. Look, Lucy won’t be long in there. When she’s done, we’ll drop you off in the ambulance. It’s the least we can do, considering what you’ve just done.” She gently took hold of her arm. “Look, just come and stand with me against the ambulance for a few minutes and get your breath back, then we’ll get you home.” Emma was still a little distant, but picked up her rations and allowed herself to be guided across to the ambulance.
*
Mike had been upstairs for half an hour. Most of the time his face had been pressed against the window to get the widest possible view of the street. The rage he felt had turned his blood to magma. Emma should have been home by now; it wasn’t as if she could just drop into a neighbour’s house for a chat.
The magma suddenly turned to ice water as he saw a military ambulance pull around the bend. His feelings of anger were displaced by fear. He wanted to move, but couldn’t. His eyes followed the vehicle and widened as it pulled up in front of the house. Adrenalin kicked in and he turned from the window and ran across the landing and down the stairs, three at a time. He hit the ground floor with a heavy thud, unlocked the door and sprinted up the path. Just as he was about to reach the gate, Emma opened it. The ambulance pulled away behind her. She was startled to see Mike there and knew an ear bashing was due, but she had hoped to at least get inside the house first.
He grabbed her shoulders, his fingers tight like a vice. “What’s happened? Are you alright? Why were you in an ambulance?”
She wriggled her shoulders to get him to loosen his grip and then placed the ration box onto the path. “It’s okay, I’m fine. There was an incident up the road, but nothing happened to me, I just got a lift back from Samantha and Lucy.” She stood there, waiting for a response and expecting the worst.
Mike threw his arms around her and held her close. He closed his eyes, and the anger and fear he had been feeling previously were washed away by a torrent of relief. “Never do that again, Em, please. Never do that again.” His voice came out in a whisper, and for the first time in a long time, Mike and Emma felt the bond that they’d had in childhood.
“I won’t. I just wanted to help. You’ve had to deal with all this shit since it began, and I want that to change. That’s why I went for the rations.”
He pulled away from her and placed his hands on her shoulders once again, this time more tenderly. “Okay, you’ve just got to promise me nothing like this will happen again. And I’ll promise you we’ll start working more as a partnership. Deal?”
“Deal.” They shared a smile, then Mike bent down to pick up the box and together they went inside.
CHAPTER SEVEN
At just after 2pm, the TV went off. Mike looked at the DVD player and saw that there were no lights on that either. He stood up and turned the dimmer switch on the wall. Nothing.
“Might just be a power cut. I’m surprised we haven’t had more, really, given what’s happening.” He walked back to the sofa, sat down and picked up his book again, but his outwardly calm appearance was hiding an accelerated pulse rate.
“Aww. It was at a really good bit,” Sammy moaned.
“It might come back on in a minute. Why don’t you play a game or something until it does?” He looked across at Emma to bail him out; she was always much more patient with the children than he was.
When she had got them settled down with a jigsaw puzzle, Mike placed his book on the coffee table and went up to his room. He opened the drawer of his bedside cabinet and brought out a small wind-up radio. He frantically turned the handle a dozen times and began to search the bands but there was nothing but static. He tried the front bedroom to see if there was better reception in there – maybe he could pick up something, anything – but all he got was the same fuzzy crackle. He put the radio away and went back downstairs. Before going into the living room he picked up the phone. Nothing. It was an old-fashioned phone that they’d dug out of the loft when the power had been rationed. He clicked the switch hook five times in quick succession but to no avail.
Mike walked back into the lounge. “Em, will you come and help me find some more towels? I’ve looked three times now and can’t find any.” The request was inane enough to leave the two youngsters completely disinterested and believable enough because Mike was a typical man and couldn’t find something even if it was tickling his nose.
Emma begrudgingly left the jigsaw, which she seemed to be enjoying more than her two siblings, and got up to help. The pair went upstairs, and while Mike was still wondering how to express his concerns, Emma found the towels, pushed them into his hands and began heading downstairs.
“I don’t need towels,” was all he could think to say.
“What are you talking about? You just asked me to find you towels.” She was at the head of the landing, just about to descend, when she noticed the troubled look on her brother’s face. She stopped and lowered her voice. “What is it?”
“I can’t get a radio signal and the phone’s dead.” There was a pause as they both looked at each other blankly. A couple of times, Emma opened her mouth to say something then thought better of it.
“You couldn’t get anything? Local or national?” He just shook his head. “And nothing on the phone?” Another shake of the head. “Have you tried the mobile?”
Mike’s eyes lit up. “No.”
Emma ran down the stairs, grabbed her mo
bile phone from her jacket pocket and ran back up. She turned it on. NO SIGNAL. She went in and out of every room with Mike behind her and each time the display kept constant. NO SIGNAL.
“It doesn’t make sense. What should we do?”
“I can’t quite remember who said it, but ‘hope for the best, prepare for the worst’ sounds like pretty good advice to me at the moment.” He leant against the handrail, his mind whirring into action.
“Okay. Okay. So what do we do? What do we do to prepare for the worst?” Emma was starting to panic and Mike began to have second thoughts about whether he should have confided in her, but then he remembered their earlier conversation after she had returned in the ambulance. He realised secrecy was no longer an option, no matter how much of a pain in the arse the truth was.
“First things first. Fill the bath. Fill the sink. Fill all the bowls, glasses, bottles, everything you can with water. Start boiling as much as you can so we’ve got a supply of drinking water,” he ordered, passing her as he went into the bathroom.
“What are you talking about? The water’s fine, it’s the power that’s down.”
Mike kept his voice calm even though every impulse in his body told him otherwise. “Em. How do you think the water is distributed? When the power goes off, the water supply gets pumped by emergency generators. When they run down, what do you think is going to happen? And, to be honest, I don’t know much about how gas gets distributed, but my guess is we won’t have that for too long, either. So, you make a start with that, I’m going to get a saw and some rubble sacks from the garage.” Mike spoke as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
“What the hell are you going to do with those?” She looked at him as if he’d gone mad.
“We don’t know what’s going on. We don’t know if this is a temporary disruption or if it’s the beginning of something else. Either way, we need to stock up on what we can, while we can. We could be fending for ourselves now, for all we know. I’m going to cut off the bottom part of our down pipes outside and attach the rubble sacks, probably weigh them down with a few rocks for good measure. That way, when it rains, we can collect the rain water that would normally flow into the drains.”
Safe Haven (Book 1): Rise of the Rams Page 6