“Then what is it? I’ve never seen you like this,” she asked, nerves jangling.
Mike looked down at his other hand to see what she was talking about. It was trembling with fear. He tried to still it but to no avail. “We’ve got to get out of this place right away.”
“Sure, no problem, we’ll get the hosepipe and wire cutters. Oh, and where do you think they keep the fucking reanimated corpse and rat repellents?” she said hysterically.
“No, sis, you don’t understand. We need to get out of Skelton,” he replied ignoring her outburst.
“Why?” she asked confused.
“The rats attacked the RAMs. They tore them to pieces... literally,” He said, beginning to feel his stomach churning again.
“Surely that’s a good thing. I mean, I hate rats and when I saw them I absolutely freaked, but if they’re attacking RAMs, aren’t they doing us a favour?” she replied, regaining a little composure.
“Em, the rats don’t care who or what they attack, but if they’ve fed on RAMs, even if they’re not infected themselves, they might have RAM blood or flesh stuck in their teeth and claws. If they attacked a human, it could turn them. And even if it didn’t, those rats had absolutely no fear. They devoured the RAMs like they were eating sacks of grain.” He looked at her grimly.
“If we can make it back to the library, at least that place is secure. The doors and windows are locked, the shutters are down. We can get through until morning and then we’ll head out after we’ve had a night’s rest,” she said, trying to put his mind at ease.
“Em, rats can run up walls and squeeze through holes no bigger than a matchbox. Their sense of smell is better than that of a dog and there are thousands of these little fuckers running round out there.”
All the colour drained from Emma’s face. “The next time I tell you that I’m coming with you on a run, remind me of this moment, will you?” She moved her hands behind her to look for the wall and leant back for support. “Can they really run up walls?”
“They can run up walls, drainpipes, you name it. They’re intelligent as well, more intelligent than the RAMs. I remember reading a couple of years ago that there were at least two rats for everyone in the UK. That was back when the population was sixty-three million. Can you imagine what the situation is now? They’ll be able to breed without hindrance. It’s not as if we can call fucking Rentokil, is it?” He paused and gathered his thoughts. Mike looked across at his sister. The bravado she had shown back at the library had diminished severely. He had liked seeing the brave side of her, he had liked the prospect of someone else standing by his side in a tight situation. He saw that her confidence had taken a battering, but if he could lead her out of this, make her feel strong again, all was not lost. He clapped his hands together and walked down the short hallway through the plastic-ribbon door screen and out onto the shop floor. It was a traditional family-run shop with narrow aisles and high shelves. It had obviously closed soon after all the trouble started as it was still well stocked. Mike turned to his sister. “Okay, I’m going to get the wire cutters and the hose. You find me as many glass bottles as you can. If they’ve got something flammable in them, don’t empty them, if they haven’t, empty them.”
“Why?” she asked, baffled.
“We’re going to make some Molotov cocktails. One thing I do know is that rats are scared of fire.” A barely audible breath of relief blew from Emma’s lips. She didn’t have the first idea how they were going to escape, but her brother seemed to have a plan and that was good enough for her.
The pair went about their tasks quickly and quietly, while thumps and thuds could be heard against the wall as the massacre continued in the alley. Mike got the hose, found some wire cutters and decided to take some bolt cutters as well. He walked along the rows to see if there was anything else that could be of use. He opened his rucksack and threw in a few pairs of tough work gloves, some face masks and two thick rolls of duct tape, and then he went to see how Emma was getting on. When he found her, she had assembled ten glass bottles, all empty. “Good work, sis. Okay, now if you can fetch as much white spirit and oil as you can find, I’ll start making the fuses.” Emma disappeared without hesitation and Mike leapt over the counter and grabbed a pile of Skelton tea towels showing a charcoal sketch of the market square with a white rose above it and the slogan “Skelton, the heart of Yorkshire”. Mike began to tear the cloth up into strips and line them up with the bottles.
Emma returned with a carton of plastic bottles containing white spirit and two gallon containers of motor oil. Mike nodded appreciatively. “Okay, sis, watch what I do, then copy me.” He took one of the empty bottles and filled it two-thirds full with white spirit, the rest with oil, leaving a little gap at the top for the fuse to go in. The pair got to work manufacturing their small arsenal and within five minutes were done. Mike surveyed the bottles Emma had assembled and saw they were virtually identical to his. “Good work, Em,” he said. “I reckon three or four of these thrown towards the entrance of the alleyway should be enough of a deterrent to stop the rats coming after us.”
“How do we get out, though?” asked Emma, puzzled.
“I’ve picked up some proper bolt cutters. They’ll easily get through the chains on that gate out back, then we can leg it down the back streets. It means we’re going to have to cover a bit more ground, but we don’t have any options. Plus, we’ve got extra insurance in case we run into more rats,” he said, nodding towards the bottles. The pair screwed lids on all but four of the bottles and then split them between their rucksacks. Mike put an extra bottle of white spirit in Emma’s bag and one in his own then split the fuses equally as well. On the counter was a display of gas safety lighters. Mike took two, moved well away from the counter and tested them to make sure they were still working. He kept one and put the other in his sister’s rucksack. He then took the four remaining strips of cloth, doused them in white spirit and stuffed them into the tops of the four bottles still standing on the counter.
Emma looked at him, wondering where he had learnt about manufacturing the makeshift bombs. He read her thoughts. “It’s amazing what you can pick up in a young offender’s institute,” he said. She returned a sad smile. Mike’s incarceration had been devastating for her. It was a memory she would gladly give up if she could. “Okay, nearly ready.”
Mike bent down and started rolling Emma’s jeans up. “What the hell are you doing?” she asked.
Mike pulled two elastic bands from his pocket and put them on the floor next to him, then he took a grip of one of her socks, pulled it up as far as it would go, tucked her trouser leg into it and then fastened one of the elastic bands securely around. “We don’t want anything running up your legs, sis,” he said, and a shudder ran down her spine as she envisioned a rat scurrying up her jeans. He pulled the other trouser leg up and this time looked up at his sister. “Heard of a lady shaver?” he said, grinning.
“Heard of fucking off?” she replied, too nervous to find anything funny.
He made sure her legs were secure, and then put his thumb down the side of her waist. “You need to tighten your belt up as far as you can.” She was wearing one of Alex’s old lumberjack shirts, which she buttoned up to the top and tucked into her jeans tightly. Mike fastened elastic bands around her wrists as well, then went through the same process on himself. “Okay, sis, breathe deep,” he said, throwing his rucksack over his shoulder. “Don’t think, just follow my lead and we’ll be fine. Alright?” She nodded.
Mike picked up one of the bottles, put the fire lighter between his teeth and marched back through the shop. Emma followed, awkwardly carrying the other three. He walked up to the emergency exit and with his final step raised his foot and booted the panic bar. The door burst open. Mike pulled the lighter from his mouth and lit the fuse. He lobbed the bottle up in a long arc towards the alleyway. Before it had even landed he took another from Emma and lit its fuse. There were no rats in the square and no RAMs, but they could st
ill be heard in the alley. As Mike let go of the second bottle the first blew up and a small rush of heat washed over his face. When all four Molotov cocktails had been dispatched, the pair ran to the gates and Mike cut through the thick metal chain with one bite from the bolt cutters. The rusty hinges creaked as they gave way. Mike and Emma threw one last look towards the alleyway. The entrance to it was engulfed with flames, but beyond the flames, the vicious rodents could be seen still gorging on the RAMs.
“Oh, God,” gasped Emma.
The pair looked at each other and sprinted down the street.
CHAPTER TEN
As Beth returned to the camp, the sun was making its final bow before disappearing behind its curtain. All the vehicles were now parked in front of the admin building and the sounds of the soldiers were gone. Movement caught her gaze. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust, but she was just able to make out the familiar outline of Lucy with someone walking beside her. Despite what had happened to Jenny earlier on, Beth felt compelled to run across, but then she thought of Annie and John. She swiftly unclipped Humphrey’s makeshift lead. “Who’s that, boy? Who’s that?” she goaded him, in the hope that he would go bounding towards the two figures. Humphrey may have been a rescue dog, but first and foremost he was a Labrador. His excited eyes rolled around at the thought of having two more people to fuss him, and he charged towards them like a freight train. “Stop, stop, Humphrey,” shouted Beth unconvincingly as she began to run after him. It was a few metres before Lucy and Tuttle caught sight of the pair of them, and even though the private braced himself, he was nearly knocked to the ground by the sturdy retriever. Beth came running up behind, out of breath. “I’m sorry, he slipped the lead,” she said, ignoring the soldier and making eye contact with Lucy, who responded with a warm smile.
“Lucy, I didn’t expect to see you,” said Beth, sounding like she was reading from a script written by a nine-year-old.
“It’s okay, sweetie, this is one of the good guys,” she said, nodding towards Tuttle. “He’s just escorting me to my suite in the detention cells.”
“At least you won’t be alone. They took Jenny there this afternoon.” Beth looked cautiously towards the soldier.
“I heard.”
“Yeah, she wanted to see you and when they wouldn’t let her, she threatened to kick one of the guards in his nuts.” The pair looked at each other for a second and then burst out laughing.
“Oh, man! I owe her for that one,” said Lucy.
With difficulty, Tuttle guided Humphrey by the collar back to Beth. “You’re not really meant to speak to anybody, Doctor,” he said apologetically. Lucy nodded, realising the soldier would get into trouble if they were caught.
“Beth, listen, this guy is okay, so is the one they call Barney, Private Barnes. They’ve arrested Shaw, and Hughes is still in the infirmary. Don’t trust any of the others, and keep Annie and John close,” she said firmly as she moved away with Tuttle.
Beth just stood there for a moment holding on to the lead with both hands, trying to digest the new information. She puzzled as to why Lucy had put emphasis on keeping John and Annie close. Could she be planning an escape? She looked down at the yellow Lab who was panting after all the excitement. “Come on, boy, let’s get you some water.”
*
Thomson was sat behind a large desk. A map of the entire camp was rolled out in front of him. Four other soldiers were in the office, all smoking. They were waiting for their orders. “Right, lads. Me, Carter and Hoops went round every foot of the perimeter fence this afternoon and it’s as solid as the day it was put up. We’ll start getting the villagers on guard duty from tomorrow, but for tonight we’ll have two guards at the main gate for two four-hour shifts. I’ve been checking over this map and there’s a fallout shelter on site which will definitely be worth checking out tomorrow.”
“Why, do you know something about the Russkies we don’t?” asked Hooper, causing a small ripple of laughter.
“No, soft lad, but it’s possible there might be supplies in there. Those places were really well stocked. Some of those dehydrated meals could last for decades, and they often kept stockpiles of fuel for generators and the like.” He sat back as the faces became more appreciative of the idea. “Now, when they closed this place down, they might have taken it all with them, but then again, they might not. It’s definitely worth a look, yeah?” All the heads nodded enthusiastically. “Right, well, after breakfast tomorrow, me, Hoops and Daffy will head out to see if there are any goodies there.” He looked over at Hooper and then at Private Defreitas, another soldier built like a tank. “Ed, I’d like you to take the rest of the lads and start assigning jobs to the villagers. If there are any of the blokes left who were trained as reservists, start with them. They’re being drafted now,” he said, smiling. “I want somebody with half a brain to take a full inventory of the supplies and find out which ones were farmers. We need to start thinking about what land can be used for crops.”
Carter nodded. “What’s happening with Shaw and Hughes?”
Thomson leaned back in the chair and put his feet on the desk, pushing the map to one side. “That’s something we’re all going to have to think about, lads, but there’s no rush. Shaw can spend a couple of nights in a holding cell, it won’t harm him, and Hughes isn’t exactly going anywhere, is he?”
*
Visibility was worsening by the second as Mike and Emma skirted around the town centre to try and get back to the library. They were matching each other step for step when Mike grabbed hold of Emma’s arm. “Hang on a second, Em,” he said, stopping outside two large metal gates. The sign read “Craven District Council vehicle site, 24 hour security”, and underneath was a picture of a video camera.
“What?”
“I think our luck’s just changed,” he said, almost beaming.
Emma looked past the gates to a grey Portakabin and then beyond to several rows of yellow council vehicles of various shapes and sizes. “Y’know, you’re absolutely right, I’ve always wanted to take a ride on a dustbin lorry. Well thanks, Mike, this has made my day.” She turned towards him angrily. “Please can we get back to the library and out of this fucking godforsaken, rat-infested hell-hole?”
“The entire country is swarming with corpses that have come back to life and all they want to do is kill us. This town is full of them, but it’s the fact that the town is teaming with rats that makes you want to leave?”
“What’s so funny about that?” she said, maintaining her irritation.
He shrugged. “It just tickled me, that’s all.”
“Oh, well I’m glad I can entertain you, Mike. Maybe you could put something to that effect on my fucking gravestone. Here lies my sister: sweet, loving and a laugh a minute, just a shame she had a fucking psycho for a brother who thought it was more important to gawk at a yard full of council vehicles than escape marauding armies of rats and fucking zombies!” A vein began to pulse in the side of her head.
“Firstly, that wouldn’t fit,” he said calmly and began to climb the metal gate. He reached the top and then dropped down the other side. “Secondly, I would not use the word sweet if I was describing you,” he said, looking at her through the metal grill. “And thirdly, you really need to calm down and get over here otherwise I may well have to think about the exact wording I will use,” he said as he turned his back on her and walked further into the yard.
She hurtled up the fence and dropped elegantly down to the ground on the other side. She hoped Mike had seen the manoeuvre, but he was heading to the Portakabin. She ran to catch up with him, let out an angry snort and then tried to control her voice in order to get an answer. “Do you mind telling me what we’re doing?”
Mike drew the shotgun, aimed it steadily at the lock of the Portakabin door and fired. “Oh brilliant, Mike. Every RAM in Yorkshire will have heard that.”
He opened the door and stood in the entrance, looking around the dishevelled office. On the wall was a padlocke
d metal key-box. Mike took out the bolt cutters and cut through the thick metal. The lock fell to the floor with a heavy thud. Inside the box were rows of keys, each with a small label beneath them identifying the type of vehicle and the registration. When he came to one that said “snow plough”, a grin lit up his face and he removed the key from its hook. “Come on, sis, our chariot awaits.” As he headed back out of the small hut he noticed four jerricans sat just below an empty row of coat hooks. He handed two to his sister, picked two up himself and then continued out of the office with Emma following. When he arrived at the plough it was even better than he had hoped. Because it was a rural district and many of the roads were single track, the plough was arrow shaped rather than straight and angled. Emma walked up behind him, her eyes wide. “To tell you the truth,” Mike said, “I wasn’t looking forward to the prospect of driving through the night on unfamiliar roads. There could be all sorts of obstacles in our way, but with this... I think our problems are solved.”
Emma stood with her hands on her hips. “Okay, I’ve got to admit, this is quite cool. All you needed to say, though, was that we should steal a snow plough. You didn’t need to make it such a big bloody secret.”
“No, but it wouldn’t have been half as entertaining then.” He smiled at his sister, who extended the middle finger of her right hand at him. “Oh, yeah, nice dismount from the gate by the way.”
“You saw?”
“Yeah, I was impressed. You lose those few extra pounds on your bum and you’ll look like a natural gymnast,” he said, grinning widely.
Emma extended her middle finger again. “I’m a size eight, Mike. My weight is one thing you can’t wind me up about.”
“Sure, your top half and waist are, but it kind of goes pear-shaped below the belt, doesn’t it?”
She scowled at him and climbed into the passenger seat. Mike climbed up into the driver’s seat, still smiling, but the smile quickly faded when he looked towards the gate. Three RAMs had appeared and were aggressively banging against the cold metal barrier.
SAFE HAVEN: REALM OF THE RAIDERS Page 17
