*
“How many rounds have we got?” Emma asked, wiping another tear from the corner of her eye and trying to compose herself in spite of the fear.
Lucy looked in the bag at the boxes of cartridges and the magazines. “All told, I’d say we’re looking at about one hundred and twenty, give or take.”
“How many RAMs would you say there are?” asked Emma.
Lucy stood up and leaned over to look down at the malevolent creatures snarling up at her. She looked towards the door and beyond to the landing. She looked outside. “I don’t know. I don’t know what’s in the rest of the house. The whole ground floor could be overrun with them. From what I can see, I’d say seventy or eighty. Why?”
“Don’t you think it would be worth trying to shoot our way out?”
“Not for a second. Firstly, I’m the only one who can shoot, and I’m not great, so the chances of me getting a headshot every time are slim. Secondly, every shot fired means that any RAM in hearing range is going to start heading this way. And thirdly... I don’t have a thirdly...” She saw the look on Emma’s face become more disheartened with each word she uttered. “We’re going to have to face facts, Emma. The only thing I’ve got the power to do is stop us turning into them. I can do that for us.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Mike, Samantha, Tracey and Beth were standing in the kitchen, drinking coffee and talking about anything but the previous few days, when the van rolled up. The children were in the living room with Alice.
Mike went to the door and saw that there was no-one in Joseph’s passenger seat and no Land Rover following. He ran across to the van, ignoring the pain in his leg, as the others filed out of the doorway. Before Joseph had a chance to pull the parking brake on, Mike had ripped open the door.
“Where is everybody, Joseph?” he demanded.
“Mike... Mike.” He swallowed, trying to hold back emotion. “We were overrun.”
Mike grabbed hold of the older man’s upper arm. “What do you mean, overrun? Where are they, Joseph? Where’s my sister?”
“They’re gone, Mike. They’re gone – my boy, your sister, Lucy. They’re all gone.” He placed his head in his hands, muffling his words. “There were dozens of those things, dozens of them. They got my boy. They got the girls. There was nothing I could do.” He began to sob.
Mike released his grip on Joseph and walked straight between the three women who had come out to listen. Beth wept as she went to hold her father. Tracey looked uncomfortable. Samantha stared in pure bewilderment then followed Mike back into the kitchen, passing Alice, who was rushing out to her husband.
Mike picked up his mug of coffee and sipped slowly as the first howls of Alice’s pain sounded outside. The children came in from the other room but Samantha immediately ushered them back. Mike stood there alone in the kitchen, the bitter black coffee making his lip curl with each sip. A familiar sensation slowly crept over him. His breathing became heavier and his hands began to shake. Samantha walked back into the room and leant against a kitchen unit. Her words “Are you okay, Mike?” went unheard as blood surged through his body, gushing like white-water rapids in his ears. He took another sip from his mug only to bang his bottom teeth on the china because his hands were shaking so violently.
Mike looked down at the mug then flung it across the room with venom. Shattered pieces of pottery sprayed all over the kitchen and the remaining dark brown liquid dribbled down the wall. He lunged at the solid kitchen table and flipped it over in blind rage, as if it were a piece of plastic patio furniture. The sturdy wood clattered as it fell on the quarry tiles. Samantha impulsively went to him, to try and calm him down, but she pulled back when she saw the vein throbbing on his temple and the look of unbridled anger in his eyes. Mike glared towards her and marched out of the front door into the courtyard. He passed the grieving family, not even sharing a glance with them as he went by, and stopped when he reached the wall where he had been lying in wait the previous evening. He looked down, saw the hatchet he had left lying there and picked it up. The sun glinted off the blade and shaft. Like a human time-bomb he ticked his way back to the ambulance. Samantha could only stare from the doorway.
The last time he had been consumed like this was after his mother had died. His little sister, Sammy, had asked the priest if her mum would go to heaven. The self-righteous horror of a man had replied that she wouldn’t because she had broken her sacred wedding vows made before God, but he would pray for her soul nonetheless. It took three strong men to pull Mike off that priest. If they hadn’t he would undoubtedly have killed him. Everyone thought Mike was lucky to get away with eight months in a young offender’s institute, but he knew it was the priest who was lucky to get away with his life.
He climbed into the driving seat of the ambulance and reached down into the passenger footwell. His bag of makeshift weapons was still there, including various screwdrivers, two of which he placed in his belt. He hunted for the crowbar and when he couldn’t find it, that just infuriated him further. Mike was an intelligent man who prided himself on being resourceful and living on his wits. He was able to think logically and plan well, which is why he’d been put in charge of people nearly twice his age at the warehouse. But when this feeling took hold of him, logic vanished. All that was present was a single-mindedness for revenge. It didn’t matter that the RAMs had no more understanding of who they were killing than a snake in the desert or a shark in the sea: Mike wanted to hurt them, needed to hurt them. The engine started and chips flew as the ambulance shot out of the courtyard, the violence of the exit jolting the grieving family from their mourning.
Samantha began running after it as quickly as she could. She hadn’t thought for a moment that Mike would head back to the house, but when she heard the engine start, she realised what he was doing.
“Oh my God! He’s going back there,” Joseph cried as he held his wife’s weeping face to his chest.
*
The pair sat, deflated, wallowing in defeat, their fingers once again entwined for comfort. Lucy held a handgun in her other hand, looking at it with contempt.
“I’m really sorry it’s come to this, Emma. I thought for a while yesterday that we might have had a fighting chance. I thought we might have made it to that sweet little home by the sea where we could have lived in safety and tried to start again. Man, was I a fool.”
Emma tightened her fingers around Lucy’s. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. I thought the same.” The younger woman looked at the gun in Lucy’s other hand, thinking it would all be over soon. “Do you pray, Lucy?”
“I haven’t prayed in a long, long time. You?” she asked, her eyes still transfixed by the weapon.
“No, but I think I’d like to now.” Emma began to cry, still looking at the handgun.
“I don’t see how it could do us any harm,” Lucy said, her eyes tearing up as well.
“Mike would be furious if he knew I was doing this,” she said, letting out a small sobbing laugh.
“Mike’s not here, sweetie. You say whatever you want to say.” Lucy put down the gun and put her other hand over Emma’s. They both closed their eyes.
“Dear God, please look after Mike, Sammy, Jake and Samantha. Please give them safe passage. Don’t let this be the future. Give them something more, something to live for, and if you can’t give them that, then at least allow them to live without fear and death hanging over their every waking hour.” Both women sobbed uncontrollably, their hands clutched tight, the sights and sounds of the RAMs blocked out. “And please, God, forgive us for what we are about to do. Amen.”
“Amen,” Lucy whispered in response. The pair remained for a moment in the same position. Their heads bowed, their eyes closed, their hands squeezing each other’s for strength. Finally Lucy released her grip and used the back of her hand to wipe away the salty, watery streams from her eyes. She picked up the gun and took a deep breath, then turned towards Emma. “Are you ready, sweetie?” she asked, her voice full
of sadness. Emma nodded, and Lucy brought up the gun to the side of the younger woman’s head.
*
“I’ve got to go after him,” Joseph said, breaking away from his wife.
“No, Joseph, no!” Alice cried in protest.
“That lad, those women, they saved us last night, they had no reason to. Lucy and Emma would still be alive if they’d just minded their own business and carried on. But no, they stayed and helped us, they risked everything, and look where it got them. I owe it to them.” His grief subsided as a sense of duty took over. “Take your mother back in the house, Beth.” His voice was stern but compassionate. The two women began to walk away as Joseph climbed back into the van.
The mother and daughter suddenly stopped. Beth ran to Tracey and whispered something in her ear, then climbed into the passenger seat of the van. The tear stains were still evident on her face but her voice was resolute. “I’m going with you, Dad. I know how to shoot, and I owe those people as much as you and more besides,” she said, picking up Peter’s shotgun from the footwell. Joseph looked across at her with pride and started the engine.
Before the van reached the gate, Samantha flagged them down. “I was too late. He’d already gone by the time I got to the road,” she blurted, out of breath.
“We’re going to see if we can talk some sense into him,” Joseph said.
“I know Mike, Joseph. You won’t be able to talk him out of anything.”
“I’ve at least got to try. I’ve at least got to try,” he repeated as the van moved off once again.
*
Emma felt the frigid metal pressed against the side of her head and shuddered. This was it.
Her eyes closed. A deep breath – decaying flesh. Not what she wanted her last smell to be. She could even hear the gun shuffling in Lucy’s hand. All her senses were at their peak. That sound, was it Lucy’s finger moving over the trigger?
“No!” Did she shout it or just think it? Her hand moved with lightning speed to push the cold metal from her head.
The gun made a deafening bang as the bullet pierced the wall over the side of Emma’s head. Neither woman heard anything but ringing. Both recognised, though, that the instant before there had been a noise, a split-second screech, from outside the house. It was the sound of rubber against tarmac, the sound of a vehicle being driven at speed.
The pair looked towards each other, the pain in their ears dulled by the anticipation of what they would see out of the window. They jumped to their feet. The ambulance. How they both loved the sight of that ambulance now, tearing up the driveway, battering everything in its way.
A group of RAMs began running towards it and the vehicle answered in kind, speeding up towards them. Figures were strewn in all directions as they were hit by the improvised battering ram. The odd ones not too severely damaged got up to pursue the ambulance, but were soon flattened, more conscientiously this time, as the vehicle reversed over them with malice, creating a nightmarish trail of gore.
More creatures stormed out of the house, excited by the prospect of easier prey, and the ambulance charged relentlessly towards them. Blood, flesh and sinew painted over the camouflage front and the underside of the vehicle as it moved.
“He’s got no idea we’re here,” Emma shouted, barely able to hear herself over the ringing in her ears.
Lucy’s hearing wasn’t as badly affected as the gun had been at arm’s length when it went off. She picked up the shotgun and used the butt to smash the window, then raised it and fired at some of the creatures that were running towards the ambulance. One down, two down.
Small explosions of red caught Mike’s eye as he looked towards the house. Two figures dropped. Then, like a balloon filled with thick red paint, another head exploded. This time, he heard the shot over the loud thuds of the RAMs hitting the ambulance. He looked up and saw Lucy and Emma at the bedroom window, and every fibre of his being told him to drive straight to the house, drive straight towards his sister – but he knew that wasn’t the smart play. He could see figures in the room below them and others elsewhere in the house. Mike didn’t have a problem battling these monstrosities, he’d wrestle alligators if it meant saving his sister, but the more of these beasts he could lure out and kill with the ambulance, the better chance they would all have.
He drove up and down the long, wide drive, picking them off sometimes one at a time, sometimes more. A few died instantly. Others were knocked to the ground with shattered limbs, their advance slowed to a snail’s pace. Still more ran out of the big, luxurious property, the downstairs rooms emptying slowly but surely. There was enough space in front of the building for a tennis court and the drive itself was long enough to reach third gear without unnatural acceleration, but Mike concentrated his efforts in the middle section, as this gave him the best vantage point for seeing what was heading towards him.
Lucy and Emma looked on with glee as each RAM fell, but they allowed themselves to enjoy the sight for just a moment before Lucy turned back towards the door, her face menacing, bitter. She pumped the shotgun and began to fire. Pump, fire, pump, fire, pump, fire. Over and over again, bloody explosions decorated the walls, doorway and floor. The beasts were beginning to thin; some had already gone outside to see if they could get to the driver of the ambulance. Lucy became so bent on destroying them that she failed to notice the holes appearing in the thin walls of the house where the shot had spread. The small gaps gradually revealed the part of the landing to their right. Like the rest of the house, it had been crawling with RAMs. Before, these creatures had known the women were there but could not see them. Now, catching glimpses through the holes created by the shotgun, they began to scratch and dig feverishly, like giant rats clawing their way into a cardboard box full of breakfast cereal. Grey hands broke through, then heads. Lucy did notice those, but her reaction was simply to fire at them, making the problem worse. The shot spread further and the walls became weaker. The digging hands multiplied and moved further along the wall from the doorway. Some of the scratching was now opposite where they were standing; the gap between them and the beasts had become frighteningly narrow. One good leap and any attacker would be upon them.
“Shit, I didn’t think this one through,” Lucy said, realising that in her zeal to battle the creatures she had significantly compromised their safety. She picked up one of the handguns and gave the shotgun to Emma. “Take this. You’ve seen me use it. If I say so, start firing.” Lucy pulled the slide back on the Glock 17 and extended her arm, cupping her other hand underneath to support the gun. Although she hadn’t used handguns in a long time, her father had insisted on teaching her. It was just like riding a bike. Lucy rolled her neck and held her breath as she lined the first RAM up in her sights. The snarling faces were appearing from behind the decimated plasterboard with more haste now, but Lucy kept her cool and remembered the times her father had taken her to the firing range. Relax, aim, squeeze, relax, aim, squeeze. Each shot landed square in the forehead, stopping the feverish digging. But other beasts, seeing the advancement of their fallen brethren, began to take their place.
*
Sweat was dripping down Mike’s face as he worked through the stiff gears and locked the wheel left, then right, then back again, reversing and then shooting forwards. He was meticulous in his destruction of the creatures but noticed that the shots from inside the house were attracting more RAMs. He reversed at full speed down the paved drive, skittling beasts this way and that. He jammed on the brakes as he reached the road, desperate to see how many more were heading their way. Mike squinted into the distance and saw only the odd few. If he could wrap this up quickly, they might just escape before a whole army of these things attacked. He looked ahead and saw that more menacing figures had left the house and were running towards him full pelt. What they lacked in intelligence they made up for in resolve. He crunched into first gear again, ready to advance, and then caught sight of movement out of the corner of his eye. It was the box van. He looked more caref
ully and saw Joseph and Beth. It pulled up and Joseph began to climb out but Mike vigorously shook his head to say no. He motioned with his hands to signal that he was going straight ahead, but Joseph needed to stay there. He then pointed at the few advancing figures working their way up the road. Joseph urgently wanted to speak to Mike, but to climb out of the van with RAMs advancing would have been more than foolhardy. He nodded reluctantly as Mike raced back up the drive.
Joseph pulled the box van forward, blocking the driveway. He was angry that Mike was putting them all at risk just for the chance to get revenge. Then he heard the shots. One, two, three, four.
“That was from inside the house,” Beth said, narrowing her eyes to see if she could see anything up the long driveway. She saw nothing other than Mike mowing down beast after beast.
“Oh, my God. Oh, sweet Jesus. They’re alive. The girls are alive.” The realisation gave Joseph renewed vigour. The RAMs working their way up the country road were at least a hundred metres away, but he decided to follow Mike’s lead. He put his foot down and used the van like a battering ram, pummelling the advancing creatures. When there were just a few left in the distance, he reversed back up and blockaded the drive once more.
Shots continued in the house, but Mike couldn’t see any more RAMs coming out. The driveway and garden looked like the gateway to hell: blood, bone, eviscerated bodies shuffling on broken limbs, arms outstretched, still grasping hopelessly. The soundtrack of the creatures choking back phlegm-filled growls of anger would shoot terror through most, but Mike didn’t have time to be terrified. He parked behind the Land Rover and picked up his small axe in one hand and a screwdriver in the other. He climbed down from the cab and was greeted by arms reaching out from beneath the ambulance. The movement was painfully slow as the body they were attached to had clearly been run over a number of times. When the head finally emerged, Mike plunged the hatchet into it without hesitation, and thick red and pink tissue squelched up the sides of the blade. He walked towards the house, pushing the screwdriver through an eye socket here and slicing into a forehead there, as damaged, beaten creatures still desperately reached out to seize their prize. Mike’s limp was virtually non-existent due to a combination of bandages, painkillers and adrenalin. He paused at the door, banged on it, then took a jump back, ready to fight if anything came towards him, but nothing did. He looked back and noticed that Joseph and Beth were both in the entrance to the drive, holding up shotguns and ready to fire if anything came their way. It was quiet inside the house and Mike carefully made his way up the stairs. Bodies were strewn everywhere. The occasional reaching hand was quickly dismissed with a sharp blow from the hatchet. Finally he made it to the landing, where the broken creatures were piled three high in places. He looked towards the room where he had caught sight of Emma and Lucy. Through the doorway he could see them: Lucy, her hands still clutched around the Glock pointed in Mike’s direction, and Emma holding the shotgun, bracing it against her shoulder. On seeing Mike, they lowered their weapons.
Safe Haven (Book 1): Rise of the Rams Page 16
