It was past midnight when the drone of an engine could be heard coming up the lane. Mike got into a crouching position and checked his boot to make sure he had easy access to his knife. His hatchet was on the ground in front of him and his screwdriver was safely in his belt. The farmer and his son, Peter, picked up their spears in one hand and their knives in the other. They stayed low and ready to spring. Samantha stepped to the side of the window, one eye peeking around the corner. Lucy knelt down, shrugging off the bath robe; she was invisible to those outside. The shotgun was steady and poised on the window ledge.
The vehicle was a Land Rover, a little older than the one Emma had driven up the road earlier in the day. Four doors opened in unison and five men got out, a variety of shapes and sizes, but all carrying guns of one description or another. The place looked the same as when they had left it. The door to the house was still slightly ajar and the bodies of their victims were in the same places they had fallen. There was no reason for them to think the farm wasn’t theirs for the taking. The tall skinhead who was driving said something and the others laughed; the laugh sounded forced, which told Mike that the skinhead was probably the leader and the rest of the gang were laughing more out of fear than being impressed by his comic genius. The skinhead started talking and pointing and the men slowly fanned out. They each had a torch or lantern in one hand and a gun in the other. Two headed towards the barn with the vehicles, the leader and a sidekick headed towards the building with the produce and the final figure started towards the house.
Lucy’s finger tightened around the trigger as she watched the four heading towards the outbuildings. Samantha’s eyes were fixed on the man heading towards the farmhouse. For Mike, it all seemed to be happening in slow motion. He watched the two sets of torches approaching, but he was more concerned about the one moving away from him.
A loud noise of ripping fabric echoed around the courtyard, closely followed by two screams and the sound of falling stone chips. One trap sprung and two raiders down. The leader and his sidekick raised their torches in the direction of the screams but could see nothing. They changed their course and headed towards their fallen comrades. Lucy took aim and fired. Stone chips sprayed up into the air in front of them. They stopped in mid stride and scurried back to the doorway of the barn. The leader almost pushed his sidekick out of the way to get there first. Before he knew what was happening, the ground disappeared beneath him. As his torch fell, he could see a shaft of wood glistening dark red through his right foot. He couldn’t see the one that punctured his left calf, but he could feel it. He screamed in agony. His sidekick, who had managed to avoid the hole, thanks in no small part to being pushed out of the way by his boss, dropped his torch and started running back to the Land Rover.
Mike set off after him. He had taken the knife from his boot and was sprinting at full speed. He needed to get to the henchman before he got to the car, and before he realised there was someone other than the sniper to worry about. Lucy saw what was happening and fired in front of the escaping raider. He stopped and aimed his gun in the general direction of the bedroom. He fired a few shots and Lucy ducked down behind the wall. Her actions had given Mike enough time, though, and he dived on top of the gunman, plunging the knife into his neck, right up to the hilt. A dribble of blood from the gunman’s mouth looked black in the moonlight as he collapsed first to his knees, then flat on his face. Mike paused for a second, making sure he was dead. It dawned on him that he killed RAMs out of necessity, but this looting, murdering, child rapist: well, he actually wanted to kill him.
The courtyard echoed with howls and screams of pain from the two sprung traps.
Mike withdrew his weapon and bolted towards the house. He had lost sight of the fifth man. He glanced over his shoulder and noticed that Joseph and Peter had emerged to stand guard on the off chance that one of the raiders made it out of the trap. On his approach to the house, he saw that the final trap had not been sprung and the door had not moved. He heard a boom from inside and leapfrogged the trap. He ran through the house, his fist clutched tight around the knife. He flew at the bedroom door, kicked his legs out in front of him and burst through in time to see a figure collapsing to the floor. Samantha had her spear raised towards Mike, her hands shaking wildly, and Lucy was pointing the gun square at his chest. As soon as she saw his moonlit features, she lowered her weapon and let out a breath. She looked down at the body on the floor in horror. Her entire adult life had been spent trying to save lives and now she had taken one. Her throat tightened.
Mike looked at Samantha, who was still shaking, and then at Lucy. “He would have killed both of you, or worse. Think about the little girl this piece of shit kidnapped, and then tell me he hasn’t got off lightly. Because I’m telling you now, if that was my sister and I had the time, I’d make sure it took days for him to die.” He grabbed the gun from the dead man, climbed out of the window, collected the gun from the raider he had killed and then went to join Joseph and Peter. The screaming from the pits was constant. Mike kept the handgun even though he had no idea how to shoot. He handed the pump-action shotgun to Joseph, who cocked it and pointed it towards the hole where the group’s leader had vanished. Peter had collected two torches and together the three of them slowly approached the trap. Mike and Joseph had their guns raised; Peter controlled the light. When they got to the edge, they saw that the once brave leader had fear and pain in his eyes. His shotgun was at one end of the pit, more than an arm’s length away.
Mike thought for a moment about leaving them all in the traps, but then realised there was a risk that they could fall unconscious due to too much blood loss, so he instructed Peter to go and get some rope. Getting the three of them out of the holes took more time than he had anticipated. There was no struggle, as they had no option but to put themselves at the mercy of their captors – it beat bleeding to death. They were in no condition to fight anyway; they could barely walk, never mind do battle. With guns in their faces, they got temporary patches put on their wounds.
One of the men from the other pit had fallen in almost horizontally. A spike had broken his collarbone and another had gone through his thigh. The third man wasn’t impaled as the cement had not set as evenly as it should have. When he fell, the wooden spikes folded underneath him, but the drop was enough to break his ankle, and the knowledge that he would not be able to climb out of the hole removed any will to fight.
They allowed themselves to be tied to chairs so they could be treated. If they were getting patched up, there was no way these people would kill them – what would be the point of that? They were soft, the kind of people Ripper and his crew had exploited all their lives. Bleeding hearts who always wanted to find the good in people. He’d turn on the waterworks and apologise; he’d plead for his life and they’d lap it up, especially the women. Yeah, he might have to give back the bitches that he’d taken the night before, and he’d probably even suffer a beating. He’d cry some more and beg forgiveness and then, when his crew was back to strength, they’d return here and fuck every last one of them over. Shit! The pain was unbearable, but the prospect of getting revenge on these fuckers was gradually numbing him to everything else. They had no idea who they were messing with. Every last one of them was going to pay for this. The world hadn’t changed that much; dumb fucks like this still thought people deserved a second chance. He could see the weakness in their faces. The blonde who was dressing his wounds and that cute redheaded bitch looked like they’d piss themselves if you shouted boo, and the old man, fuck, he’d shit his pants if you pulled a face at him. Yeah, he was going to get out of this mess like he had all the others and then he was going to get some payback. He’d get payback for them blindsiding the rest of his crew, but more importantly he’d get payback for himself, because nobody fucking messed with him.
When Lucy and Samantha had done what they could, Mike told them to take Joseph and Peter and go and get the others.
Lucy pulled him to one side out of earshot. �
��Mike, I don’t feel comfortable leaving you alone here with three guys. Yes, they’re injured, but there are three of them, for God’s sake.”
He pulled Lucy into the shadows of the work lights Joseph had erected, and spoke softly to her. “Doc. I lived with scum like this when they sent me away, and I know how their minds work. I’m going to find out where those girls are and I don’t want anybody I care about watching me do it, ’cos it ain’t going to be pretty. Now, please go check on my brother and sisters, and throw some water on your face. You look like shit,” he said with a cheeky grin. The best Lucy could manage was a strained smile. She glanced across at the three bound raiders and wondered if Mike really knew what he was doing.
When he was alone with his captives, he walked around them and dragged their chairs into a wide arrow shape. The leader faced straight ahead; his two goons faced sideways, opposite each other, but able to see their boss and their captor.
Mike dropped out of sight and the three prisoners looked at each other, puzzled. Had they been left alone? Their thoughts were not their own for long as their captor soon returned with a variety of objects. There was a fire extinguisher, a green jerrican, which was half full by the sound of the sloshing liquid inside, and a rickety white plastic lawn chair, which he positioned facing his prisoners, about ten metres back from them. He disappeared again.
“What the fuck’s this? What the fuck’s goin’ on here, man?” the youngest of the prisoners asked.
“Just keep it fuckin’ buttoned,” snarled Ripper. “Neither of you two say nothin’. Let me handle this, y’hear me? This fucking prick just wants to scare us, man. I looked in their eyes. They ain’t nothin’. None of ’em. Let me do the talkin’, you understand me?” The pair nodded and bowed their heads, not sure whether to be more scared of their captor or their leader.
When Mike returned, it was with a bottle of water. He sat down in the chair, casually unscrewed the top on the bottle and took a drink before placing the bottle carefully on the floor.
His three prisoners just watched him. Mike rolled his shoulders and his neck as if loosening up for a gymnastics event. He stood, picked up the jerrican of diesel, walked over to the leader and unscrewed the lid of the container. Translucent red liquid poured over the bound prisoner, who coughed and spluttered. Ripper was confident that all this was just for show. There was no way this guy was going to do anything. He had to play along, though. He had to feign fear.
“Look man! Don’t do nothin’ stupid, I’ll tell you whatever you want.” He spluttered and coughed the words as Mike screwed the cap back on the can.
Mike stood, looking down at his captive for a few seconds. Then he thought of his little sister, Sammy. What if this scum had kidnapped her?
He bent down close to the spluttering man’s ear and whispered. “No, you won’t. But your friends will.”
Mike stood back and saw a momentary look of confusion on the skinhead’s face as he reached into his back pocket and retrieved some safety matches he had taken from the farmhouse when he had got the bottle of water. He took out three and struck them.
Ripper began to scream even before the first match touched him. It was the realisation of what was about to happen more than anything else. The small flaming sticks seemed to dance in the air for an eternity. Mike stood a good six feet back, but even he was a little surprised at the initial heat blast that rushed towards him as the diesel ignited.
He watched from where he stood for a second then walked back to his chair. Ripper tried to flail and writhe, stopped only by the thick rope that held him down. At first his screams sounded like high-pitched wolf howls. As fabric slowly welded to his body and turned to black, the howling stopped and low-pitched growling yelps of pain took over. His frame shuddered again and again as the flames turned the skin into a burnt, crackling mess. Ripper’s comrades were wailing. Terrified that the same fate awaited them, they watched in abject terror, shaking violently beneath the ropes that bound them to their chairs.
Eventually the grating shouts of torment stopped and Ripper slumped forward in the chair. The ropes finally gave way to the flames and the body collapsed onto the floor, life already long gone. Mike took another drink of water and sat for a while cross-legged on the chair, looking at his two terrified prisoners. A few minutes passed and he picked up the fire extinguisher, walked up to the flaming mess and released the white foam over what was left of the body to extinguish the still violent flames.
Mike pulled the other two chairs closer together so he could talk to them both at the same time. Both men, younger than Mike, but obviously old enough to murder and rape, sobbed like infants in front of him.
“This is very, very simple. I’m going to ask you some questions, and you’re going to answer me. If you don’t answer me or you tell me lies, what happened to your friend here will look like a fucking spa treatment compared to what will happen to you. Do you understand me?” Mike asked in an eerily emotionless voice.
The two prisoners continued to sob and look down at their dead leader.
Outside, the ambulance, Land Rover and caravan pulled up in the courtyard. The doors opened and everyone filed out. Torches clicked on to light the way. Joseph started heading towards the barn, but Lucy went after him. She took him by the arm and guided him into the house. Peter jumped over the trap and opened the large kitchen window. Jake and Sammy found it amusing, being lowered into the kitchen through the window. The adults climbed through with varying degrees of ease.
Although the night was far from over, the mood was slightly more optimistic than it had been earlier. Alice put some logs in the range and lit a few candles. She took a large bottle of water from under the sink and poured it into a kettle which she placed on the range to boil. Joseph walked over to her and held her tightly.
They were an ill-matched couple as far as height went, Joseph nearly six foot two and Alice barely five foot, but their embrace spoke volumes about their love for each other.
They all stood around the black wrought-iron range that had driven heat through the old farmhouse for generations. Its warm glow comforted their bodies, allowed their minds to drift and relax for just a few moments, so much so that a few of them jumped when they heard Mike clattering through the window. All eyes looked towards him expectantly.
“There are only two of them left behind to guard the house. It’s a big detached place a couple of miles up the road, just on the outskirts of the village. They said it looked new. No furniture, no appliances, big enclosed gardens, two garages. There’s another girl as well as your daughters. They keep them tied up in one of the garages. They’ve got a lot of supplies, food, water, some more guns and ammunition.” He looked towards Lucy. “I know it’s not ideal to travel at night, but we need to go up there now. We’ll get the girls out and then head back there tomorrow. Supplies like that are too valuable to leave behind.”
“How do you know what they’re saying is true?” Joseph said.
“Don’t worry, it’s true,” Mike replied and looked Lucy straight in the eye. “We’ll take the Land Rover they came in. It’s got tinted windows; we can drive straight up to the house and they won’t suspect a thing. Joseph, you drive, I’ll ride shotgun. Doc, it would be good to have you there just in case.”
“I want to go,” Peter said indignantly.
“No, lad,” Joseph replied, “you keep a watch over things here.” The teenager nodded, pleased at being given the responsibility of looking after the homestead.
“Of course I’ll go,” Lucy said. “I was the one who got you into this anyway.” She swapped her shotgun for a pump-action that one of the raiders had brought and headed towards the window.
Joseph freed himself from his wife’s grip and followed her. Mike rubbed his eyes. He couldn’t remember when he had last slept, when he had last eaten, or even what day it was, but he could remember why he’d agreed to help these people. He went across to his siblings and bent down to give the smaller ones a kiss and a hug. He embraced Emma and
smiled reassuringly at Samantha, who was glued to the side of his family. It was time to end this ordeal once and for all.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Before the Land Rover even pulled away, Peter and his younger brother were barrowing earth to fill in the traps that had won them victory earlier in the evening. Joseph looked at his sons and allowed himself another guilty moment of pride.
“You’ve got two good kids there, Joseph,” Mike said, but rather than making Joseph feel better, it made him feel worse. He had a son dead not a few feet from where he sat, a son-in-law the same and his girls were still tied up in some garage. Anger overtook his thoughts and the Land Rover sped away.
Mike was worried that they could run into RAMs, but the worries were unfounded. There were far fewer people in rural areas so it followed that there would be far fewer RAMs. Until the food supplies ran out in the cities, that was. Then they would start going cross country to find prey.
It only took them a short time to reach the prison holding Joseph’s daughters. Mike put on a baseball cap that had been on the dashboard. In the dark, and at this distance from the house, there was no way that anyone could tell Mike wasn’t one of the gang. He opened the gate, allowed the Land Rover to pass through, then closed it safely behind them. He climbed back in and the vehicle proceeded up the long paved drive. It pulled up in front of the spacious property and Mike reached over and honked the horn twice. There were flickers from inside and then two figures carrying torches came towards them. Mike couldn’t see if they were carrying any weapons, but he guessed they would feel no need.
“Get ready,” Mike said, as the first figure sidled up to the passenger door and bent down, waiting for the occupants to lower the window. Instead, the door opened with brute force. The figure was knocked back, a fountain of blood spraying from his nose, and Mike was on top of him, plunging his knife into the area below the kidnapper’s Adam’s apple before he even had time to figure out what was going on. Joseph quickly opened his door and aimed the shotgun at the chest of the young man who had come round to the driver’s side.
Safe Haven (Book 1): Rise of the Rams Page 12