Safe Haven (Book 1): Rise of the Rams

by Christopher Artinian

  “What’s wrong, Mike?”

  “It’s my leg. I cut it yesterday, but didn’t think any more of it. I’ve just woken up now and I can barely walk on it,” he said, wincing as he leant on the worktop.

  Lucy pulled up his jeans. “That’s pretty nasty, Mike. We need to get that cleaned up to make sure it doesn’t get infected. You probably didn’t feel anything yesterday because of the amount of adrenalin shooting through your system. You need to stay off it as much as you can and we need to get it bandaged up.” Lucy stood and started rolling her sleeves up.

  “Don’t worry,” Samantha said, “I can take care of it.”

  “I think we’d better put off getting those supplies until Mike’s leg’s a little better,” Joseph said.

  “I’ll be fine,” Mike replied, wincing again as he put weight on his leg.

  “You’re not going anywhere today, Mike,” Lucy ordered.

  “Look, I’ll go with Lucy, Joseph and Peter to the house, and Samantha can stay here and sort Mike’s leg out,” Emma said, a little nervous but conscious of the fact she had said just two days before that she wanted to take more responsibility.

  “No. No way are you going out there, sis.”

  “So it’s okay for Lucy to go out there but not me. How does that work, Mike?” Emma snapped.

  “The Doc’s... the Doc can use a gun, for a start.” It was all he could think of at that moment.

  “Mike, I’ll drive. Lucy will have the gun in the passenger seat. Joseph and Peter will be right behind us, they’ll have weapons too. We won’t be gone for more than an hour, an hour and a half at the most. This isn’t something I’m arguing about, this is something I’m doing.” Mike opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, Emma was already making her way to the car. He went to follow her but winced as he tried to walk and instead put an arm around Samantha, who was already in position to support him.

  Lucy raised her eyebrows in surprise and smiled at Mike. “Don’t worry, we’ll be fine.” She headed towards the door. “Ready when you are, Joseph.”

  Joseph nodded and signalled for Peter to join him. Before leaving the house he turned back. “Don’t worry, Mike, I won’t let anything happen to them.”

  Mike’s frustration finally gave way to acceptance. He was in no position to argue.

  *

  Emma looked nervous behind the wheel as Lucy got into the car, still smiling.

  “Way to go, girl,” she said, playfully slapping Emma on the shoulder.

  “He can be so maddening.”

  “That’s what little brothers are there for. Hell, I felt like murdering mine sometimes.” Her joviality left her as she realised her brother was probably gone now, along with nearly everyone she knew. Even at his most annoying, his most enraging, it would be better to have her brother there than not have him at all. She placed her hand over Emma’s, which was resting on the gear stick. “It’s only because he loves you that he’s like that.”

  “I know, but he thinks I’m just some useless idiot. He treats me more like a liability than an equal.”

  “Well, you’re certainly paying your way today.”

  An engine revved behind them. Emma looked in the rear-view mirror and noticed a large white box van had rolled out of the second barn. She took a breath and turned the key in the ignition. The stone chips crackled as the two vehicles slowly moved off.

  *

  Samantha guided Mike back into the bedroom. She sat him on the bed and then left him to get some supplies from the ambulance. She returned with an array of items and was followed into the room by Alice, who was carrying a washing up bowl of steaming water.

  “Thanks, Alice.” The older woman smiled and left the room, shutting the door behind her. “Jake and Sammy are with Beth and Annie. I think Sammy has a new best friend there.” She smiled to herself. Amidst this nightmare, two little girls could still strike up a friendship. It gave Samantha a little hope. She removed Mike’s boots and then started undoing his belt buckle.

  “Whoa!” he said playfully. “I’m not sure what you’ve heard, Samantha, but I’m not that kind of boy.”

  She smiled. “A joke, Mike? You made a joke. I think that’s wonderful.”

  “Hey, I make lots of jokes, I’m funny, ask anyone.”

  “And just for the record, I’ve heard you’re exactly that kind of boy and I’m warning you, any funny business and you’ll get a cold sponge bath. That’s what we used to do on the wards.” This was the first time the two of them had been alone since the previous morning. It felt so good just to joke around for a minute after everything that was going on outside.

  “I have to say, I’m not impressed with your bedside manner.” Mike looked at her face as she struggled to loosen his belt. She was a lot like her sister, the blue eyes, the pale complexion, the red hair. If he squinted, it could be Claire in front of him. She finally loosened the belt and slipped his jeans carefully down his legs.

  “Too bad. Now I need you to get on the bed and lie face down for me.” He was about to respond and she brought a finger up reproachfully like a stern parent.

  He did as he was told and Samantha examined the wound. “Jesus, Mike, I’m amazed you were able to walk around on this at all yesterday. Now this is probably going to sting a bit,” she said as she took a sponge from the steaming bowl.

  *

  “Okay, if my memory serves, it’s a little way after the next bend,” Lucy said, attempting to recall the location of the kidnappers’ lair from the previous evening. Emma took the bend steadily and then she saw them. Two RAMs were wandering in the lane. On noticing the Land Rover, they began to run towards it. Lucy pumped the shotgun ready, but rather than slowing down to give Lucy more time to aim, Emma put her foot on the accelerator. As the car and the beasts got closer, she could see the creatures’ teeth as they bared them in anticipation. At the moment they were ready to pounce, she speeded up even more, giving them no time to get the height they would need to land on the bonnet. As metal crunched against bone, the two RAMs scattered like bowling pins, their legs barely recognisable as the jagged bones broke through flesh and cloth, rendering them unusable. The Land Rover had accelerated at such a pace that the box van was now some way behind. Emma jammed on the brakes. Lucy watched as the younger woman got out of the car and removed a crowbar from her belt.

  Emma stood over the first RAM. Both its legs were in splinters, yet no pain registered on its face. It still bared its teeth ferociously, and it began to swivel on its hands in a final attempt to reach its prey. It let out a low guttural sound from the back of its throat, similar to the sounds of the RAMs Emma had seen on the street a few days before, but much quieter. She continued to stare down at it as the box van slowly came to a halt behind them. Then, with all the power she possessed, she brought down the crowbar on the RAM’s head: one, two, three, four times. The final blow punctured clean through the skull to reveal the brain, the grey matter, but in this case it was crimson. She turned round to the other creature, which was clumsily dragging itself towards her on its hands, its legs as useless as those of its partner. There was no pause this time as she struck the would-be attacker down. Emma wiped the crowbar clean on the verge, placed it back in her belt and returned to the car.

  Joseph and Peter sat with their mouths open as they watched her. Emma climbed into the 4x4, released the handbrake and rolled forward the remaining few feet to the house. She pulled on the handbrake again and sat there, her body shaking all over, a mixture of anger, fear and bloodthirsty satisfaction pulsating through her, making every inch of her quiver.

  Lucy understood the feeling. She took hold of the younger woman’s hand in a motherly manner. “It’s okay, you did good, Emma,” she said as she climbed out of the car to open the gates. The Land Rover pulled through the opening and Joseph swung the box van as far left as he could in the narrow country lane before locking the wheel right to get the vehicle through the narrow gateway. As he did, there was a noticeable thud. The rear passenger
-side wheel left the tarmac and got caught in a narrow trough on the roadside verge. He revved the engine and continued to turn the wheel but it wouldn’t come free. The farmer forced the wheel the other way and revved it harder. This time, the van shot forward and Lucy had to leap out of the way as it went crashing into the brick gatepost, demolishing it as if it were made of Lego. The attached gate fell back in slow motion, making a deafening clang as it hit the block-paved driveway. The van was virtually unscathed, but there was no way they would be able to secure the tall black gate. Whatever supplies they were going to take from the house needed to be collected quickly.

  *

  “That feels a hell of a lot better,” Mike said as he slowly walked around the bedroom. “I’m impressed, Nurse White, thank you.”

  Samantha smiled as she tried to remember the last time anyone had referred to her as Nurse White. “You’re welcome. Now, will you be okay to get your jeans back on or will you need some help?”

  “Y’know, I think I might need some help,” he said, grinning.

  Samantha picked up the jeans and threw them gently at his face. “Fine, I’ll ask Alice to come in,” she said, going to the door.

  Mike shuddered at the thought of the rather rotund farmer’s wife helping him put his jeans back on. “On second thoughts, I think I’ll be fine.” Samantha looked back at him, and they both smiled.

  Then, almost as if coming out of a trance, she opened the door to leave. “Oh, before I forget...” She took out a small roll of sticky tape and a black plastic bag from her hoodie pocket and flung them towards Mike. “When you have your shower, make sure you cover the bandages. Try and keep them clean and dry for as long as you can.” Mike nodded obediently, and Samantha turned and left.

  *

  “Oh man, these guys have been busy,” Lucy said, as the four of them walked into the first bedroom. There were boxes of tinned and dried food stacked up against one wall. Against another were boxes and trays of bottled water and alcohol, spirits mainly, but some beer too. There were a number of pieces of small electronic equipment. The gang obviously struggled to break old habits. Lucy walked over to a large black holdall and unzipped it. Inside was a small selection of firearms with several boxes of ammunition. There were five pump-action shotguns and two handguns, a Glock 17 and a Browning L9A1. Lucy recognised the two handguns as being military sidearms. They were probably taken from dead soldiers, but she guessed the shotguns might have been with the gang for a long time. Underneath was a wide-bladed hunting knife and two 18-inch handcrafted machetes with walnut handles in thick vinyl scabbards. They had clearly never been used and had presumably adorned the wall or cabinet of some collector before being appropriated by the raiders. Lucy pulled one out and looked at it, in awe of the beautiful workmanship. “I think I’ve just found Mike’s Christmas present,” she said, smiling, and a small ripple of laughter went around the room.

  “Right then, we’d better get this lot loaded up,” Joseph said, moving forward and picking up two boxes at once. Peter tried to emulate his father, but in the end settled for just one box.

  Lucy and Emma followed suit, but rather than carrying their loads out to the van, they placed them at the foot of the stairs and returned for more. On re-entering the house, the two men realised they were setting up a chain and took the boxes back to the van. This time though, Peter climbed into the back and began positioning and securing the load while Joseph ferried more boxes from the house. The four of them worked well together. The pile of stolen booty was quickly loaded, and soon all that remained in the bedroom was the bag of weapons and two heavy trays of bottled water.

  “Jeez, I’m glad we’re nearly there,” Lucy said, panting, beads of sweat forming on her forehead.

  Emma was about to respond when a large crack sounded from outside. The two women looked at each other, their eyes widening and their weariness gone. Lucy picked up her shotgun, which she’d carefully placed against the wall on entering the room. The pair of them nervously walked downstairs, eyes searching for a clue as to what was going on. A second echoing crack sounded from outside, then a third and a fourth. They rushed out into the afternoon air to find Peter and Joseph with their weapons raised and several RAMs sprinting up the driveway towards them.

  There were no bodies on the ground so Lucy could only assume the shots fired had had little effect on the advancing group of snarling beasts. On the contrary, the loud bangs would have had an effect similar to a dinner gong for any other RAMs within hearing distance. The two women stood in front of the house, unsure whether to try and make it to the Land Rover or head back inside, where they would be trapped. When a further six RAMs appeared at the foot of the drive and began tearing towards the property, Lucy grabbed Emma’s arm and pulled her back into the house. Before she closed the door, she saw Joseph fling his shotgun into the back of the van and Peter grab his father’s hand in an effort to help him climb in. The first of the attackers was only a few feet away. Lucy slammed the heavy door closed and the two women sprinted up the stairs to the bedroom window to see if Joseph and Peter had got to safety. They hadn’t reached the top step before they heard what sounded like two bodies thud against the entrance to the house. Startled, they looked at each other then ran along the landing and to the bedroom window.

  The box van was high off the ground and the ledge came up to about chest height on an average man. Joseph had managed to get in, but now both he and Peter were trying to lower the roller shutter to stop the RAMs from gaining access. The beasts’ arms flailed in their direction as the farmer tiptoed and leant forward to reach the bottom of the shutter. Peter, meanwhile, was stamping on their hands in an effort to make them withdraw, but it had no effect. Just as Joseph caught the ledge of the door and swung it down, one of the RAMs seized Peter’s ankle as if grabbing a chicken drumstick. The young boy yelped and raised his weapon to fire, only to find it empty. He turned it around to use it as a club, but before he could swing, a second RAM grabbed his other leg and gathered enough purchase to drag itself over the ledge of the van and take a bite from the sweet young flesh of its prize. Its teeth sunk deep into the soft cotton of Peter’s sock and then, piranha-like, ripped away a piece of pink and red flesh. The boy howled in pain. Seeing what was happening, Joseph pulled the shutter down with all his might. The attacker’s body fell back as it lost its grip on Peter, the chunk of rubbery flesh still hanging from its mouth. The shutter bounced back up and Joseph forced it down again, this time trapping several forearms and wrists. A few withdrew to begin clattering on the outside of the door instead. Joseph placed all his weight on his front foot to hold down the roller shutter and reached across for his pump-action shotgun. He fired shot after shot, severing hands from wrists, forearms from elbows, to form a gluey, bloody pool. Eventually, the van fell into darkness as the shutter closed fully with a firm click. The banging from the outside was deafening. The black interior of the van made it all the more shocking, all the more frightening. Not knowing was sometimes scarier than knowing. Joseph reached up for the portable inspection light they used mainly in the winter months and turned it on. His son was shaking violently, his eyes rolled into the back of his head. Then all movement stopped. Joseph refused to acknowledge what was happening. He acted as if the boy had been caught on a piece of sharp machinery back at the farm. He tore off his shirt and bandaged the boy’s ankle, then, with his belt, tied a tourniquet.

  “Don’t worry, son, don’t worry, I’ll get us out,” Joseph said, desperately trying to think how. The cab of the van was separated from the back by a solid piece of board that they had put up to avoid loads falling forward if the van ever had to brake suddenly. This added safety feature, that Joseph had been so pleased with at the time, now had him imprisoned. Then he remembered the Leatherman multi-tool that Beth had bought him for his last birthday. At first he hadn’t really seen the point – he already had better screwdrivers, pliers and knives in his own tool box – but he gradually became less reliant on his old box of tools and us
ed this pocket miracle his daughter had given him more and more. Now it could very well save his life. He had installed the dividing board using normal wood screws; they had been perfect for penetrating the reinforced plastic surround of the cab. It would take him a while, but he’d be able to unscrew the board and drive the van out, then that young nurse could fix his boy. Joseph was shifting boxes to get to the board when he heard some movement behind him. He turned around to see Peter slowly getting up. He approached his son and then stopped abruptly. The boy’s eyes were no longer his own. The pupils flared angrily in the dull light, the irises and whites now an eerie opaque grey. Peter’s face, once rosy like a freshly picked apple, was draining of colour as each second passed. A guttural gurgling started in the back of the boy’s throat as he limped towards his father. Then he pounced, pivoting from his good leg, but Joseph had time to get out of the way and the creature that had once been Peter fell on a pile of boxes. The farmer wasted no time and climbed on top of him. The beast twisted and writhed, snapping at Joseph’s hands and arms with its teeth.

  “Don’t worry, son. Don’t worry. I’ll get you some help,” he said desperately, madly, hopelessly. Although only in his late fifties, his face had assumed the look of an octogenarian. This was one tragedy too many. He glanced around and saw the sturdy lashing straps they used to secure loads, then looked down again at his son. “I’m sorry I have to do this, son, but it will be for the best, you’ll see.” Joseph manoeuvred one of Peter’s hands down by his hip so he could kneel on it rather than hold it, then did the same with the other. It took him the best part of ten minutes to weave the straps around Peter’s body, but in the end, his son was almost immobile. The immediate danger was over. Joseph left him snarling and writhing like some trapped reptile and began to remove the partition.