SAFE HAVEN: RISE OF THE RAMS

by Christopher Artinian

  There was a pause in the conversation as the wine passed up and down the row.

  “Y’know, Doc, there’s something that’s been bugging me, something I don’t understand about the RAMs,” Mike said, and Lucy let out a small groan. “Barring the odd one here and there, they nearly all have single bite wounds, or only one that’s visible, anyway. I find it strange that the RAMs go to the effort of chasing and killing their prey simply to take a single bite of flesh. I mean, I’ve watched a lot of wildlife documentaries and I don’t remember seeing one where a predator just takes a single bite out of its prey. What the hell is that all about?”

  Lucy and Samantha looked at each other. “You noticed that too, huh?” Lucy took a drink from the bottle and continued. “The fact is, Mike, we don’t know. If we’d have had more time to study these things, I’m sure our scientists could have come up with some ideas. I can give you my theory if you want to hear it,” Lucy said, passing the bottle to him.

  “Please,” he said, turning sideways to listen.

  “I believe there is an element of feeding during the attacks, but to a greater extent I think it’s to do with spreading the virus. If you want to give your genes the best chance for survival, what do you do?” she asked, looking at Mike.

  “Mate?” he replied, almost apologetically.

  “That’s right. Only, the more women you mate with, the better your chance that some of those women will fall pregnant with healthy offspring who’ll carry your genetic code. Of course, for the purposes of this example I’m assuming that all your little guys swimming around down there are fit and ready for service rather than sleeping at the wheel.” She smiled at the opportunity to tease him, and Samantha and Emma both giggled childishly.

  “Nice, Doc, thanks. Anyway, moving along,” Mike replied.

  “Well, for us, sex is how our genes are passed on. For the virus, a simple bite or scratch is enough for the genetic code to survive, to spread, to take over. So yes, I think there is a nutritional aspect to the bite, although these things seem to be able to last a hell of a long time without food. But I think, and like I say, Mikey, this is just my theory, I think the primary reason, or certainly an equally valid reason, is to make us all one big happy family.”

  “How long can they last without food?” Mike asked, carefully listening to everything she said.

  “Jeez, can’t we just enjoy the wine and talk about, oh, I don’t know, music, films, books, anything but this?” she pleaded.

  “Please, Doc, last question and then I’m done,” he said, taking the bottle for another drink.

  “The French had had one for six weeks when we lost contact with them. It hadn’t had anything to eat for that period. It had slowed down a little, but all its other characteristics remained constant. We don’t know how long they can last without food. The one saving grace is that the virus doesn’t seem to be able to jump species, and the RAMs aren’t interested in anything other than humans. Can you imagine having to deal with reanimated rats and dogs and birds? Whoa! I don’t even want to go there.” She pulled the bottle back out of Mike’s hand and took a drink.

  “Thanks, Doc, I appreciate it. I won’t bother you any more with my questions tonight,” Mike said, smiling.

  Emma unscrewed the top to another bottle of wine and took a drink, then placed her hand in a bag of crisps and shoved them in her mouth. Like Lucy, she just wanted to forget about the day. To forget about the RAMs, just for a little while, to feel normal. “So, Lucy – music, film, book,” she said, as bits of crisps fell from her mouth.

  “Huh?” Lucy replied.

  “Music, film, book. What’s your favourite piece of music? Your favourite film? Your favourite book?” Emma asked, brushing the crisp fragments from her top.

  Lucy smiled. “Oh, man. Let me see. Oh, I’m going to have to think about this one. You go first, Samantha,” she said, handing the first nearly empty bottle to the younger woman and relishing the prospect of having something approaching a normal conversation.

  “Well. It would have to be ‘It’s You’ by Zayn,” Samantha said, beaming as she remembered the song.

  “Oh, good grief,” Mike said quietly, but not quietly enough, as Samantha flicked his knuckle with her middle finger. “Ow!”

  “Favourite film would have to be Titanic,” she continued proudly.

  “Oh, good grief,” Mike repeated. This time, she dug him in the ribs. “Ouch,” he yelped, pushing up harder against Lucy to try and avoid any further injury.

  “Favourite book has to be Wuthering Heights.” As soon as she said it she balled her hand into a fist, ready to jab Mike.

  “Actually, that’s a pretty good choice, I’ll give you that,” he said, before she could get her punch in.

  “You’ve read Wuthering Heights?” she asked incredulously.

  “Yeah, so?”

  “You? You, Mike Fletcher, have read Wuthering Heights?” she asked again.

  “Yes. Yes, I have. I don’t know how many other ways I can say it, Samantha. Yes, I’ve read Wuthering Heights. It’s a great book.”

  “Well I never,” she said, smiling to herself and taking another drink of wine.

  “That’s nothing compared to some of the books he’s borrowed off my shelf.” Emma chuckled, leaning forward to see how red her brother’s face turned.

  “Aww, poor Mikey, are you getting embarrassed, sweetie?” Lucy chipped in, making him turn even redder.

  He took a deep breath, a drink of wine and composed himself. “No, I’m fine, thanks,” he replied, handing her the bottle. “Y’know, Doc, it’s funny, you remind me a lot of my gran. I think you’ll like her.”

  Lucy paused in mid gulp and turned her eyes but not her head towards Mike. “How so?”

  “Just little phrases and expressions, and the fact you call me Mikey. She’s the only other person who ever calls me that,” he said, remembering fondly.

  “How old’s your gran, Mike?” Lucy asked, curiously.

  “She’s sixty-eight. Sixty-nine next month,” he replied.

  “So, you’re telling me that I remind you of your sixty-eight-year-old grandmother?”

  Mike was unaware that the other two women had put their heads down and were giggling away as he dug himself into a hole.

  “Erm, just... just with some of the things you say.” It dawned on him that, despite not meaning it as an insult in any way, comparing Lucy to an old-age pensioner could easily be seen as such. “I mean, not physically. I mean, hell, you’ve got all your own teeth and your face doesn’t sag and erm...” Mike gulped, took the bottle out of Samantha’s hand and drained it.

  “Girls, get the kids out of the room. Seriously, that is the hottest thing any guy has ever said to me,” she said, still straight-faced.

  Worried that he’d offended her, Mike soon realised he was the butt of yet another joke as he noticed Samantha and Emma shaking with laughter.

  “I’ve got all my own teeth and my face doesn’t sag.” She rubbed her hand up and down his thigh and rolled her tongue provocatively over her lips. “I want you now. Get over to that bed, no, in fact, screw the bed, we’ll do it right here.” She pretended to unbutton her shirt. Emma snorted wine through her nose and began coughing and spluttering.

  “What’s so funny?” Sammy asked from across the room, noticing the two women wobbling in hysterics.

  “Nothing, sweetie,” Lucy replied. The young girl thought about pressing for more information, but then went back to her crisps and jigsaw. “I bet you had women lining up at your door. Man, if my prom date had known how to woo a girl like you do, he’d have ended the night a lot happier.” She took a drink from the second bottle and passed it on to Mike.

  “Okay. Point made, Doc. So go on.” Mike said, taking a drink.

  “Go on what?”

  “Music, film, book?” Mike replied, wanting to get back to
the original conversation.

  “Oh, right. I’d forgotten. You got me all hot and bothered for a moment there. Let me see. Music? That would have to be ‘Paradise City’ by Guns N’ Roses,” she said contemplatively.

  “You’re a rock chick?” Mike said, surprised.

  “You betcha, babe. Film? Film would have to be The Shawshank Redemption. Everybody stayed silent but nodded appreciatively.

  “Book...” She trailed off and a look of melancholy swept across her face. “Book would have to be Charlotte’s Web.” Lucy grabbed the bottle back and took a drink.

  Emma leaned forward to look at her. “Charlotte’s Web? The children’s book? How come?”

  Lucy took another drink. “It was my daughter’s favourite book.”

  This time Samantha turned to look at her friend in surprise. “You have a daughter?”

  “Past tense. She died three years ago,” Lucy answered sadly.

  “I’m so sorry,” Samantha said. “I had no idea. What happened?”

  “We’d gone up to see my folks for a few days, and one morning they took her into town while I had a lie in. They were in a head-on crash with a guy who was coming home from his friend’s all-night bachelor party. Mom and Dad and the other driver died at the scene. Charlie died later on in hospital. She was six.” Lucy gulped and then took a drink. “That was her favourite book. I used to read it to her all the time. Out of everything we left behind at the base, that’s the thing that I miss the most.” She passed the bottle across to Samantha and unclasped a gold locket from around her neck. She opened it up to show her friend.

  “She was beautiful. She looks just like you,” Samantha said, smiling sympathetically. She passed the locket to Mike and Emma who echoed the sentiment.

  “Well, I might not have the book any more, but they’ll have to pry that photo out of my dead hands before I give it up,” Lucy said, taking the locket back and refastening it around her neck. She took a deep breath and, in an attempt to lighten the mood, turned the questioning around. “So, anyway, Emma. Music? Film? Book?” she asked leaning forward to look at her and handing her the bottle at the same time.

  Emma was still shocked and saddened to learn of Lucy’s misfortune, but taking her cue to change the subject, she responded. “Okay, music would have to be ‘Hymn for the Weekend’ by Coldplay and Beyoncé,” she stated confidently.

  “Ugh!” Mike said.

  “Do me a favour, Samantha,” said Emma. No sooner had she said it than Mike got poked in the ribs.

  “Favourite film would have to be The Notebook with Ryan Gosling,” Emma said, and quickly fanned herself with her hand.

  “Sometimes I am stunned that you’re my sister.”

  “Samantha,” Emma said.

  Samantha responded by giving Mike another sharp prod in the ribs. “Ow!”

  “Book? Book would have to be Fifty Shades of Grey,” she said finally.

  “Ooh, ooh! I want to change my favourite book,” Samantha said, like an excited schoolgirl trying to get the teacher’s attention.

  “No take backs,” Lucy replied, acting as moderator.

  Mike just shook his head despairingly, for which he got another painful prod in the ribs.

  “Okay, buddy boy. Music? Film? Book?” Lucy demanded, turning to look at him and handing him the bottle.

  “Music? ‘Octavarium’, by Dream Theater,” he replied.

  “Who is Dream Theater?” Samantha asked.

  A look of exasperation fell across Mike’s face and he was just about to tell her when Emma leaned forward and replied instead. “They’re an ‘extreme metal’ band.”

  “They are not an extreme metal band,” responded her brother indignantly.

  “Well, they sound extreme to me,” Emma retorted, clearly a little tipsy as she began to struggle with her diction.

  “Bloody One Direction are extreme compared to the bland shite you listen to,” he replied curtly.

  “Children, children. Play nice,” Lucy appealed, slowly beginning to enjoy herself again.

  Mike took another drink of wine and handed the bottle to Lucy. “Anyway, they’re a progressive metal band,” he stated, oblivious to the fact that Samantha and Emma had started laughing at him again. “Film? that would have to be The Seven Samurai.” He stopped this time because Lucy was leaning forward and chuckling. “What? What is it now?” he asked, frustrated.

  She took hold of the top of his hand in apology. “Oh, Mikey, I’m sorry, sweetie. It’s just I knew you were going to say that film before it even came out of your mouth. That is like the perfect Mike film. Emma and I got you a little gift earlier. You’ll understand when you see it.” She turned to the younger woman and they both continued to laugh knowingly.

  Mike was baffled by the whole exchange and was just about to ask more questions when a loud crack of gunfire sliced through the merriment like a white-hot blade through butter.

  The children looked up, the relaxed and contented smiles on their faces gone in an instant. “What was that?” Jake asked fretfully.

  Mike jumped up and Lucy extended her hand and gestured that she wanted him to help her stand. She got to her feet with a groan and the pair headed towards the door. “Stay here a minute,” Mike said to Samantha and Emma, who were already heading across to the children.

  “What the fuck is it now?” he asked quietly as the two of them headed down the hallway and out through the kitchen.

  “My question exactly,” Lucy replied, pulling the Glock out of the back of her jeans.

  Mike ran across to the ambulance to get his weapons and rejoined Lucy. The courtyard was deserted except for the vehicles. The pair looked at each other, wondering which way to go. Then they heard a scream, followed by another echoing crack.

  “That came from behind the barns,” Lucy said, beginning to run. Mike followed with just the merest hint of a limp. They reached the corner of the building and Lucy put her head round to see if she could catch sight of what was going on. A split second later there was another violent crack of gunfire and she went toppling back, knocking Mike off his feet. She was motionless on top of him.

  “Doc? Doc?” he said a second time, with more concern in his voice.

  A figure came rushing around the corner. “Oh, my God. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I thought it was more of those things,” Joseph said, looking down at the pair of them.

  “Yeah, well, as you can see, it’s not,” Lucy replied, pulling herself to her feet. Mike let out a huge sigh of relief. For a moment he was convinced she had been shot. “Jesus, Joseph, you’ve got to check your targets. You can’t just fire at anything that moves.”

  “You’re right. I’m so sorry. Are you alright? Are the pair of you alright?” he said, clearly flustered.

  Mike stood up. “What’s going on, Joseph? Why are you firing? Every RAM in earshot is going to be trying to find us.”

  “We’d just finished burying Peter. We were all saying our last goodbyes when one of those things appeared. If I hadn’t fired it would have been on top of us, on top of my family. Then just now another one came out of nowhere. I don’t understand. There must be a fence or hedge down somewhere,” Joseph said. His hands were visibly shaking.

  “Is everybody okay? Nobody got attacked?” Lucy asked.

  “We’re all fine.” Beth was breathless as she joined them. “Mum’s very shaken, the kids are crying, but nobody’s been hurt physically.”

  Mike looked past Beth and saw the two creatures on the ground. One with half its head blown away, one face down with a large exit wound at the base of its skull.

  “What do you think?” Lucy asked, ignoring Joseph and Beth and looking towards Mike.

  “Well, if two got in, more can get in. It won’t be long until dark and we’re getting out of here at first light tomorrow, so I think we should move out of the house immediately. We�
��ll get the vehicles into the largest barn, sleep rough in them tonight, post a guard and head out as soon as we wake,” said Mike, rubbing his hand over his face.

  “Why sleep in the barn? If we’re posting a guard, why not sleep in the house?” Beth asked.

  “The barn has two sturdy, lockable entrances. The house has lots of windows. If a few of those things attack at the same time, we’d struggle to defend it,” he said, with a little more patience than he would have had with Joseph, whose weaknesses were starting to annoy him. “Right, so I just want to confirm, we’re taking the box van, the flatbed truck, the ambulance, one Land Rover and the caravan. Is that right?” he asked, looking at Joseph and Lucy.

  “Yes,” Joseph said. “Only, I’ve been thinking. I think we should hitch the caravan to the truck. We’re going to be going over some rugged ground and it will be able to handle it even better than the 4x4.” Mike and Lucy nodded, impressed that Joseph had actually been thinking.

  “Okay, good. We’ll figure out who’s in what vehicle tomorrow, but bear in mind, when we’re on the open road, it’s not just the RAMs we need to worry about. A truck and a van full of supplies are going to be a real target for thieves. The four of us are going to be the first and only line of defence. You three can shoot and I can fight, so we need to think smart about who goes where.” They all looked at each other. “Now, let’s get the vehicles moved, get everything out of the house that’s going and get everyone safely in the barn. Joseph, Beth, can you organise that while the Doc and I patrol in case there are more of those things around?”

  “Already on it,” Beth replied, and headed back towards the funeral party.

  “Once again, I’m sorry, Lucy. I’m not really cut out for this,” Joseph said.

  “It’s okay, you were just trying to protect your family. I understand,” Lucy replied, considerably calmer than she was a few moments earlier.

  “No, it’s not okay,” Mike interrupted sternly.

  “Mike, there’s no need—” Lucy began, only to be cut off.

  “Look, Joseph, I understand where you’re coming from. I know how much you’ve lost, but people are depending on you. Your family and my family.” Mike placed a firm hand on Joseph’s upper arm and a soft hand on Lucy’s shoulder. She took a small intake of breath as the gesture was uncharacteristically tender. “You’re a good person and a good father, Joseph, but you’re going to have to ‘man up’ if we’re going to get through this. We won’t get any second chances out there, any of us.” Mike let go of Joseph, turned round and walked away. Lucy smiled weakly, a little embarrassed, and followed.