“They saved our lives, we owe them everything.”
“Well, bring them in, bring them all in,” Daniel replied, putting his arm around his older brother and leading him into the large school house.
“Where’s Mike, Lucy?” Emma asked, almost running up to her. Lucy couldn’t respond. Her eyes welled up and streams began to run down her face. She pulled Emma towards her and kissed the top of her head as she hid her tears.
“No! No... No!” Her legs buckled underneath her and Lucy gripped her tighter to make sure she didn’t hurt herself as she came to rest on the ground.
“He said I had to tell you that he loved you and Jake and Sammy and that he’d see you again soon,” Lucy said, desperately trying to speak in between her own sobs. “He saved us, Emma. There was no way any of us would have survived if he hadn’t done what he did.”
Samantha and Tracey got out of the ambulance and headed towards their friends. Samantha caught Lucy’s watery gaze and she knew that Mike was gone. She put the palm of her hand up to her mouth to cover her silent scream and crouched down, struggling to breathe.
Beth sat in the cab of the truck for a moment. They had made it, but it was difficult to find any joy in reaching their final destination. The man who had rescued her and her sister, the man who had saved them countless times since, was lost, and his family and friends were grieving right there in front of her. Is this what life had become? Was it just one nightmarish episode after another, punctuated by death and misery? Beth climbed out of the other side of the cab so as not to intrude on the mourners. She walked back to the ambulance and led her mother and siblings into the old school house.
When their sister didn’t return for them, Sammy and Jake got down from the van and went to see where she was. They came around the corner to see Samantha crouched down, taking huge breaths in between turbulent sobs, with Tracey rubbing her back like a mother burping a baby. Then they saw their sister and Lucy holding each other tightly, both women crying uncontrollably. Neither child knew the reason, but instinctively they began to cry too.
*
“Fuck it,” Mike said to himself and launched into the air. He grabbed on to the edge of the loft hatch and felt splinters tear through the skin on his fingers. He forced his tired muscles to pull him up. Whereas once they would have responded quickly and powerfully, now the fatigue had slowed them. He rose shakily through the hatch as the first beasts reached the top of the stairs, their grasping fingertips brushing against his boots as he pulled himself through the narrow opening. He sat exhausted on the edge with his legs dangling down, tantalising the hungry beasts below. He caught his breath for a moment before shuffling off his backpack and pulling out his torch. Looking down, he saw the monstrous grey faces and the sickening yellow teeth gnashing between dark grey lips. A chill ran up his spine. The clutching, rapacious hands reached upwards, desperate to seize their prize. Dozens of them lined the staircase and landing, but Mike’s feet were safely out of grabbing distance. He had taken enough risks for one day and so he replaced the loft cover and turned on the torch, shining it into the blackness. He found the shotgun and placed it safely back into his pack. The loft was boarded in places and he carefully stepped across to the largest floored area and sat down, pulling the water bottle out of his rucksack. It was half full. He would have to make it last, but he took a few thirsty sips before lying down on the bare wood, completely drained.
*
In the hallway outside the headmaster’s office, Emma, her siblings, Lucy and Samantha sat on the floor with their backs against the wall. They held hands, embraced and shared their grief. Alice, Beth, Tracey, Annie and John sat on uncomfortable orange plastic chairs against the other wall. They had gone through the same, they knew the pain, and their grief was far from over too, but the promise of safety now they were in Candleton allowed them to delay their mourning for just a few more hours.
Joseph and his brother were inside the office with Darren and Keith Martin, a councillor, who, alongside Daniel Masters, commanded more respect than anyone in the district. Joseph told a brief version of the story which had led them to Candleton, mentioning the large inventory of food and supplies they had brought with them. On hearing this, the other three men couldn’t help but smile. He then went on to explain who the rest of the people were in the group. There would be time to go into more detail later on when they were all settled, but for now, the three statesmen of Candleton had heard enough.
The door to the office opened and they filed out. Keith Martin walked up to the young woman with dark hair who was being held by a motherly looking older blonde. By her side were two children gripping a red-haired girl tightly. All of them had tear-stained faces, all of them were scared, all of them were lost.
“You must be Emma?” Keith said as he bent down in front of the young woman, while making friendly eye contact with the older one. “What your brother did was nothing short of heroic, Emma. He didn’t just save all of you – with those supplies that you brought, he saved all of us as well. You, your family and friends, you’re all welcome to stay with us. As I speak, we’ve got accommodation being prepared for you in the local hotel. I think you’ll be more than comfortable there. Now, I’m certain all of you have just had enough for today and you want to be alone. I fully understand that. When you’re ready, we’ll give you a tour of the place. We’ll show you what we’re trying to do here. One thing you don’t have to worry about is your safety.” He placed a gentle hand on Emma’s and stood up.
“Thank you... erm?” Lucy replied, raising her eyebrows in expectation of being told a name.
“My name’s Keith Martin, that brutish looking bloke over there is Daniel Masters and you’ve already met Corporal Darren Masters. My wife will be across in a minute to take you all over to the hotel. It’s one of two places in the village that has electricity, thanks to a small turbine, and I’ve got some water being boiled so you can have a wash and freshen up.” He smiled sympathetically at the group. “If there is anything any of you need, you just let me know.”
“Thank you, Mr Martin, that’s very kind,” Lucy responded automatically.
“Please, it’s Keith. We’re done with formalities here,” he replied, and headed back into the office.
*
Mike didn’t know how long he had been asleep. He had turned the torch off, so as not to waste the battery for as long as it would take for him to catch his breath, and then simply passed out from exhaustion. The shuffling, thudding and growling from the floor below was still clearly audible, so it was obvious the RAMs were going to hold a macabre vigil until he reappeared. He turned on the torch and reached down to his rucksack, pulling out the bottle of water. Mike took a few sips then replaced the cap. His stomach groaned for food, but there was nothing he could do to abate his hunger. He looked around the dusty loft space and a black-and-white image of Oliver Hardy popped into his head saying, “Well, that’s another fine mess you’ve gotten me into.” And how, he thought. He panned the torch around, looking for anything that might give him a spark of an idea, just one tiny crumb of inspiration.
He was sitting on a small island of floorboards, surrounded by a sea of joists and itchy carbon fibre insulation covering a plasterboard ceiling which would result in his certain death if he was to step on it and fall through to the floor below. There were more floorboards directly surrounding the hatch, but that was it. This loft had never been used in earnest for storage. There were no boarded gangways and no light switch, and it was clear that nobody had spent any significant amount of time there. He became deaf to the angry sounds from below as his mind desperately sought a means of escape.
*
“I’ve put you in adjacent rooms,” Jenny Martin announced as she led the bedraggled group through the foyer of the four star hotel. Keith’s wife was the owner of the place. It had been passed down to her by her parents and she took great pride in running it well. Before the catastrophic events which had befallen them, the hotel had been a hugely
successful business. They had a full calendar of weddings booked, businesses from all over the country had streamed through the doors for meetings, conferences, team building excursions and, if that wasn’t enough, holiday makers flooded the place in summer, desperate for a little evening luxury after exploring the wilds of the Dales during the day.
“This place is beautiful, ma’am,” Lucy said as the group made their way through the hotel.
Jenny’s hard face softened and she broke into a proud smile. “Thank you. Just because the world’s coming to an end, there’s no excuse for a lapse in standards,” she said dryly, as the rather motley assemblage began to ascend the staircase. “We’ve got thirty-five rooms in total. We’ve designated the ground floor as a kind of cottage hospital. It made sense with us having electricity. We’ve got a young woman who’s due to give birth to twins in a few days. She’s the only patient at the moment, but I’m sure there’ll be more before long.”
“Oh! Do you have any medical staff?” Lucy asked.
“Alas, no, but we could really use some.” Jenny smiled knowingly at the doctor and then at the young nurse as they advanced down the hallway.
The daylight was beginning to fade and the hotel owner flicked a switch on the wall. There was almost a gasp when the lights went on. It had only been a few days, but they had already forgotten what the convenience and assurance of electricity had meant to them.
Jenny walked along the corridor, opening the doors as she went. “You can choose your own rooms. I’ll have my staff bring some hot water and towels up for you.
“You still have staff?” Lucy asked, amazed.
“My husband and Daniel were insistent that everybody should work towards the village being self-sufficient. As well as getting the hospital up and running, we’ve got a few other projects on the go in the hotel grounds, so it made sense for my staff to stay on here rather than be reassigned elsewhere. I’m sure my husband will explain everything to you when he gives you the tour.” Jenny made to leave and then turned back towards them. “Keith told me briefly what you’ve done and what you’ve lost. We’re very grateful to you and we hope you choose to stay here. Your story will bring a lot of hope to the village.” She paused for a moment, looking around at the tired, sad faces, and then she turned once again to go back downstairs.
*
Mike shone the torch towards the brickwork of the shared wall between the two semi-detached houses. The cement was old and the odd chunk had fallen away through the passage of time. He aimed the light down and saw joists and insulation. If he worked hard, he would be able to tunnel through to the loft of the adjoining property. Hopefully he could then make a careful exit while all the RAMs stood guard in this house waiting for him to reappear. The problem was that it wasn’t going to be a quick job. First, he would have to remove some floorboards from around the loft hatch and take them over to the wall so he could stand without the worry of falling between the joists. Then he would have to slowly chip away the cement and hope his torch didn’t run out of battery power before he finished. This was going to be quite strenuous and he didn’t have much water left. He was already thirsty; he could feel his lips drying as he sat planning. It was going to be touch and go whether he could do this, but the only other option was trying to fight his way out, and he didn’t really fancy those odds.
He knelt up, moved the ray of light over to the hatch and carefully walked across the narrow wooden beams. He didn’t have his claw hammer with him so he took the hatchet from his rucksack and chipped away at the wood surrounding the nails which secured the boards into place. Pulling them free still took a lot of effort, but eventually he had enough to provide a good working surface. He carefully carried the planks over to the shared wall and laid them down crossways over the beams.
He then collected his rucksack, put the torch between his teeth and began to chisel using a screwdriver and the wedge end of his small axe. Gradually, pieces of grey cement began to chip away, forming a hole.
*
“You okay, sweetie?” Lucy asked Samantha, tenderly brushing away a matted curl from the nurse’s forehead.
Samantha wiped away a tear from the corner of her eye and sniffed. “I still can’t believe it.” The pair of them sat on the edge of a single bed in a beautifully decorated room. “How are Emma and the kids?”
“Emma’s getting them washed and settled. I’ve given her a couple of sleeping tablets. The poor kid’s a wreck. Little Sammy’s convinced herself and Jake that Mike’s coming back. She said that if Mike said he was going to see them again then he would. She said he’s never broken a promise and she’s insisted that the room next door to them is kept free for when he gets back.” Lucy smiled at the optimism that children allowed themselves, while Samantha sniffed into her handkerchief.
“How are you holding up, Lucy?” she asked, lifting her bloodshot eyes towards her friend.
“I just feel weird. Being in a luxury hotel with electricity after what we’ve been through is a little surreal to say the least. One of the hotel staff told me that, provided we manually fill the cistern, we can even flush the toilets, because they’ve got power to operate the pump that feeds the septic tank. Now if that isn’t living the high life, I don’t know what is.” Lucy forced a smile to try and coax Samantha into one. She realised it was all down to her now; she had become the matriarchal figure of this small band. It wasn’t the life she had planned. What had Mike called her? Ah yes, a “rock chick”. She liked the sound of that, a thirty-four-year-old rock chick. It was a lot more exciting than being Mother Hen, but then again, she was getting good at playing curve balls, so maybe she would adapt. She hadn’t known Mike long, but there was an emptiness inside her now he was gone.
“Well, if you need me, sweetie, I’m just going to be next door. Try and get some sleep and then we’ll check this place out tomorrow, see if it’s as good as Joseph hoped.” Lucy stood and, in another motherly gesture, kissed Samantha on the forehead before leaving the room. She passed her own bedroom door and moved on to the next, where she tapped gently on the white painted wood.
There was a pause and she could hear shuffling before a voice said, “Come in.”
Lucy entered to see Tracey, half wrapped in a towel. “Hi, I was just freshening up,” she said, almost guiltily.
“Don’t let me stop you, I was just making sure you were okay before I turned in for the night,” Lucy said, not even entering the room.
“It’s funny. My dad used to go mad at me for wasting hot water. I’d leave the shower running for about ten minutes before I even stepped in.” She let out a small chuckle in recollection. “He used to go, ‘I’m not the Sultan of bleeding Brunei y’know. Wait until you’ve got your own place, you’ll understand then.’ It was true, I never valued it. My dad was brought up in the East End. The family was poor. There were times when they didn’t have hot running water or heating, and I suppose it’s only when you’ve done without it that you realise what a luxury it actually is. When I was locked up in that garage I thought I’d never feel hot water running through my hair or over my face again. I’ve got a small sink in the bathroom that I’ve filled with boiling water using a plastic bucket. Twelve months ago, that would have felt like living in squalor. Now, it feels like the lap of luxury. I don’t think I’ll ever take anything for granted again. I realise how lucky I am to be here, Lucy, and I want to thank you.”
“You’re welcome, sweetie, but it’s not me you need to thank.”
“Yes it is. It was both of you. You both played an equal part in getting us here, so thank you,” she said again.
Lucy gently closed the door before returning to her room. She unzipped her holdall, pulled out a change of underwear and a T-shirt, then moved into the en-suite bathroom and tugged on the light switch. An extractor fan whirred into action and the small room lit up. Lucy unbuttoned her shirt and removed her bra, then took off her jeans and pants and looked into the mirror over the small sink. She had dark rings beneath her eyes and
her face and neck were grimy with the day’s travel. Her blonde hair seemed to have become a shade darker with the accumulation of road dirt and dusty air, and even her blue eyes seemed to have lost their sparkle. She poured the bucket of hot water into the sink and looked back up at the mirror. A river of tears began to run down her cheeks, clearing a salty path through the grime. “If you’re up there somewhere looking down on us, Mike... We miss you, sweetie... I miss you.” The words stalled as they left her mouth and gave way to sobs. Lucy reached for the plastic pill bottle, turned off the light, sat down on the floor, hugged her knees and cried hopelessly into the night.
*
It was slow going. Mike didn’t know how long he had been working, but it seemed like an age and he’d only managed to get one brick loose so far. What was more, he was sure the torch was beginning to dim. He turned it off, hoping he could work by touch and save precious battery life, but working blindly would take him twice as long. Then it dawned on him. He had never been subtle in his approach to doing anything, so why try to over-think now? He needed light, so what better way than to smash a hole in the roof? He picked up his hatchet, balanced carefully on the boards to give himself a comfortable swinging action and then began to hack away. Chips of wood flew in all directions. Within a minute, he could see the red tile of the roof. Another minute passed and two tiles had been dislodged, revealing the dusky sky. He demolished a hole close to a metre in length before deciding it was enough. The torch would be needed to provide valuable light when he got through to the other side, and he’d already established that working in the dark was not a sensible course of action, so he took his rucksack and carefully climbed back to the wide island of chipboard. He took a drink from his bottle. There was very little left. He zipped his coat up, put the rucksack underneath his head and, with the growling, bumping, shuffling sounds below to keep him company, he drifted off to sleep.
Safe Haven (Book 1): Rise of the Rams Page 23