Safe Haven (Book 1): Rise of the Rams

by Christopher Artinian

  Jake and Sammy looked up from the plates in surprise at hearing the hotelier swear. The other adults smirked.

  “How’s Emma?” Keith asked, with genuine concern.

  “She doesn’t think Mike’s coming back,” Sammy replied, shaking her head comically. “But that’s stupid.”

  All the adults at the table were trapped between feeling sorry for the little girl and finding her manner and confidence amusing.

  “Mike said he’d see us soon and my brother has never broken a promise. Never, has he, Jake? And it’s his birthday tomorrow, he’s twenty-one, and that’s a very special birthday and Mike would want to spend it with us so I think he’ll come back tomorrow and if he doesn’t then it will probably be the day after, but it will be soon, because he promised.” The young girl’s expression became increasingly tense.

  “Well, if that’s the case, I’m sure he must be on his way here right now,” Jenny said, doing her best to placate the young girl. The other adults around the table looked sheepishly at each other. The discomfort of the lie was felt by all.

  Lucy drained her glass of wine and quickly refilled it. Getting drunk wouldn’t be a bad way to drift into sleep. Sober, she would just lie in bed and relive the past few days, relive the fear, the sheer unadulterated terror and the heartbreaking loss. But drunk, she could pass out into a dreamless coma.

  “I have to say, I can’t remember the last time I ate and drank this well,” Lucy said to Jenny and Keith.

  “It’s the least we can do. The prospect of delivering twins really wasn’t something I was relishing, so to have two medical professionals turn up at our door on the eve of the birth, well... Like I said, it’s the least we can do,” Jenny said, exuding gratitude.

  “Have you thought any more about those houses I was telling you about?” Keith asked as he poured himself some wine.

  “What houses?” Sammy demanded.

  “Mr Martin has said we can move into a house rather than stopping in the hotel, sweetie,” Lucy said, smiling at the young girl.

  “Well, it will be just until Mike gets here, because then we’re going to Grandma Fletcher’s.” This time Sammy didn’t even look up from her plate, she just announced it and carried on eating.

  Lucy raised her left eyebrow and gave Keith a look as if to say this is something we’ll discuss later.

  *

  Joseph missed his sons desperately, but there was peace within him as he sat at the large dinner table. His leg continued to be problematic and his cold symptoms had returned, but they were just trifling issues. He and what remained of his family were in the safe domain of Candleton. His brother had moved into this house just a few days ago as his farm was outside the village and therefore unsafe. But his wife, Bridget, had worked quickly to make the place her own, and as they all sat, about to say grace and feast on the bounty before them, they realised how lucky they were to be together.

  “Lord, thank you for the food we are about to receive. Thank you for guiding us to safety and bringing us to the house of my brother. And please, God, look after those we have lost along the way. Amen.” Joseph opened his eyes and looked at Daniel, who nodded appreciatively.

  “Well, have you told everybody the good news?” Daniel asked his older brother as he poured water into everyone’s glasses from a stoneware jug.

  “No, I was waiting for this very moment,” Joseph announced proudly. He took a sip of water. “Tomorrow, my loves, we move into our new house. It’s got five bedrooms, so there won’t be any need to share any more.”

  The smaller children looked at each other, spellbound. “Goodness, gracious,” Alice said, grateful for the prospect of being able to stay busy while she grieved for her fallen sons.

  “First thing in the morning, I’ll take you all to see it. It’s only one street away and, Beth, there’s a room there for Tracey if she wants to come and live with us.” He looked at his daughter. She had put her horrifying ordeal to the back of her mind, but with the mention of her co-captive, it all came flooding back.

  “I’ll go and see her tomorrow, Dad. I’ll ask her if she wants to.” Beth desperately wanted to leave the table. Suddenly the pain of her kidnapping was back. She felt like everyone was looking at her, imagining what she had gone through. There was no need to feel humiliation, but that’s exactly what she felt, humiliation and shame. She would ask Tracey, but she hoped she would say no. It was hard enough looking at her little sister. Even her sweet face brought back memories of being imprisoned in that breeze-block hell. Tracey had been the strongest one among them and, as grateful as Beth had been for the camaraderie at the time, now she just wanted to push those memories as far away as possible.

  *

  Mike made speedy progress out of the town centre and away from the hordes of RAMs who had persecuted him since his arrival in Skelton. As Ruth had promised, the car would not win a grand prix any time soon, but it was a lot faster and safer than being on foot. As soon as he was out of Skelton, the lanes narrowed and were surrounded by trees and hedgerows once again. He looked at the clock. 18:13. There was plenty of daylight left and at this speed he should be in Candleton within ten or fifteen minutes. He noticed the date underneath the time: 22 May. Tomorrow was his twenty-first birthday. Mike sniggered to himself. It wasn’t exactly how he had imagined it would be, but if he could spend it with his family and friends then it would be better than any present he could wish for.

  The sky was starting to cloud over, but with luck he would be in the warm embrace of his family long before the first drops of rain began to fall. The tyres screeched as he took a bend and Mike’s face lit up as he saw a sign saying “Candleton 4”. He didn’t understand why, but a tear ran down his cheek. Was it a tear of happiness? Was it just a physical release of all the stress? Or was it because he was scared? Beyond all the hardship and battles he had fought in Skelton, there had always been an underlying terror. Not for himself, but for his loved ones. Had they made it to safety? If not, everything he’d done had been for nothing. He had focussed so much on getting back to them that the nagging doubt had been pushed far to the back of his mind. Now that the answer was in reach, the hammering fist of apprehension was beating inside his chest.

  The Micra negotiated another sharp bend in the road before Mike hit the brake, bringing it to a bone-jerking stop. A huge tree lay across the tarmac. Even with rope, the small Nissan would barely be able to shift one of its branches, never mind the trunk. To either side of the tarmac were ploughed fields. If the group had made it this far, no doubt Joseph would have known of some secluded farm track that would have taken them beyond this obstacle. Even if Mike could find such a trail it wouldn’t be long before the small Micra got stuck or ran into a ditch. No, the only way forward for him was on foot. The anxiety he had been feeling was replaced by the more familiar feeling of anger as he walked the length of the tree. It looked healthy. To the best of his knowledge there had been no wind or lightning in the past few days. Then something caught his eye: sawdust. This tree had been deliberately felled.

  He instinctively withdrew his shotgun. Could it be raiders setting up a roadblock to rob anyone who stopped? Or was it a town or village further up the road making access harder for any potential enemies? He carefully surveyed the surrounding area and saw no signs of anybody or any vehicle ready to rush towards him. He pumped the slide on the shotgun just in case and walked around the fallen tree. He took the map out of his rucksack and studied it as he walked. If he stayed on the road for the next two miles he could then take a cross-country footpath over a small hill and rejoin the road just before Candleton. Mike took another look around. If anybody was going to pounce, they would have done it by now. He pushed the shotgun into the rucksack, zipped up his coat, pulled up the collar and began to jog.

  *

  There were three gentle taps on the door. “Hello?” Emma said, lifting her tear-stained cheeks from the pillow and looking up.

  The handle slowly turned and Samantha gingerly angled her
head around the corner. “Hi, it’s just me,” she said, entering the room and closing the door behind her.

  Emma wasn’t in the mood for company but she knew Samantha meant well, so she sat up and tried to look like she was happy to see her. “Where are Sammy and Jake?”

  “After dinner, the Martins took them into the bar area. There’s a dartboard and a snooker table in there. They looked like Christmas had come early. Don’t worry, Lucy and Tracey are with them.” Samantha gestured to ask if it was alright to sit on the bed beside her and Emma nodded.

  “At dinner, Sammy said it was Mike’s birthday tomorrow,” Samantha blurted, as if it had been on her mind all night. Emma nodded. It had been one of the things on her mind all night.

  “My sister would have been twenty-one next month,” Samantha continued. “The problem is, you never know when you’re going to see someone or speak to them for the last time. There were so many things I wanted to say to Claire, to my mum and dad, and now I’ll never get the chance. But they knew I loved them and I know they loved me and sometimes that has to be enough, otherwise you can drive yourself mad.” Samantha wasn’t looking towards Emma, but staring off into a corner of the room.

  Emma sat there, realising that this was one of the reasons she was in so much pain, the sheer wealth of things she wanted him to know. How sorry she was for leaving him to go to London, how grateful she was for how he had led her, Sammy and Jake to safety, and how proud she was that he had done it without a second thought for himself. “You’re right. The things you don’t say haunt you more than the things you do. And there’s so much I should have said to him.”

  Samantha turned and, using her practised bedside manner, took hold of the grieving sister’s hand. “It’s going to take time, Emma, but trust me, it will get better, little by little. And thanks to Mike, you don’t have to go through any of it alone.” Samantha released her hold and stood up. “I know from experience what it’s like and I know you’ll just want to be by yourself for a while. But if you wake up one day and decide you want to talk, you know where I am.” She smiled sympathetically and made to leave.

  “Thanks, Samantha, that means a lot,” Emma said, lowering her legs off the bed for just the second time that day.

  “I really liked Mike, Emma. From the first time Claire brought him home I could tell he was different to a lot of other guys. He possessed an honour and sincerity which you rarely see, and that’s what defined him. That’s what made him the kind of person who would run towards danger to save others while everybody else was running away. Remember, Emma, day or night, if you want someone to talk to, you just come and find me.”

  Emma remained on the edge of the bed with her bare feet gently stroking the soft woollen carpet as Samantha closed the door behind her. Hearing that Sammy and Jake were in the bar had given her the urge to drink. Alcohol might numb the pain for a while. Surely anything was better than feeling like this. She reached for her trainers and slipped them on.

  She arrived at the entrance to the bar area to see Sammy and Jake taking it in turns to throw darts with Lucy watching them, while Keith and Jenny sat at a table with Tracey. Samantha was standing behind them. All the adults had drinks in their hands. Obviously she wasn’t the only one who wanted to blot out reality or at least have a mild sedative. Jenny stood up enthusiastically and guided Emma to the bar.

  “I’ve had my fair share of heartache, girl, and I don’t care what anybody says – a stiff drink, a friendly ear and a soft shoulder to cry on make it a lot more manageable. Now, first things first, m’dear, what’s your poison?” Jenny smiled.

  When Emma had first met Keith’s wife she had thought that she was quite cold and aloof, but now she felt the woman’s warmth; she was taken aback by her compassion and the surprise rendered her temporarily speechless. She stood there trying to think of what drink would suit her purposes best. The seconds of indecision ran on, and Jenny took charge.

  “You’re absolutely right. Why just pick one?” Jenny smiled, grabbed an extra glass, put it on a serving tray and then did the same with bottles of vodka, gin, rum and brandy. She walked back round from behind the bar, signalled for Emma to join her and they returned to the table. “Move up, Keith,” she said, placing the tray down. “Emma’s sitting next to me.”

  *

  Mike hadn’t seen a single soul on his journey from Skelton. He had, however, come across four more felled trees. If Candleton was responsible for these, Joseph may have been right about the village’s resourcefulness – it was a smart move. With the right equipment and a lot of time, the trees were not immovable, but they would certainly use up effort and resources and would probably demoralise any potential attackers. There was a small sign up ahead. He slowed down to read it and check the map. This was it. This was the public footpath he needed to take. Light droplets of rain began to fall as he left the grey tarmac and began his uphill trek across to Candleton. Even though there was an incline, he was running faster now than he had been. The promise of this journey coming to an end was too much of a lure, and as his tired legs and aching feet thumped against the dirt track, he remembered happier times when he and Alex had gone running together. What he wouldn’t give to have Alex there now.

  At the brow of the hill he stopped. He could make out a church steeple, not too far away, and there was the sound of running water. He removed the map once again and checked it, brushing away the spots of rain that splashed onto the outstretched paper. He was nearly there. Down the hill, over a bridge, a couple of hundred more metres by road and that would be it. He would know then if his family had made it to safety.

  Mike descended the hill in no time, and the pathway levelled off as it followed the dry stone wall of a farmer’s field before coming back out onto the road. He could see the bridge up ahead and feel his heart pounding rapidly, partly due to the exertion, partly due to the anxiety.

  “Halt!” shouted a gruff voice as the stranger approached the gate at the end of the bridge. “We’re not taking anyone in. Clear off.”

  Mike wasn’t able to see anyone, but he’d spotted the two turrets and assumed that rifles were trained on him. “I was with a group. They should have arrived here yesterday,” he shouted in the direction that he’d heard the voice. But there was no response. “Please. Can you tell me, did a convoy of vehicles arrive here yesterday? I need to know.” Mike put his hands on the gate.

  “Stay where you are, son,” said a different voice this time, and two soldiers pointing rifles emerged from behind the turrets.

  Mike raised his hands. “Please, I need to know if they got here safely.”

  The soldiers opened the gate and ripped the backpack from Mike’s shoulders. One of them patted him down, finding the knife Mike carried in his boot. He removed it and threw it in the rucksack, which he then shouldered. “Wait here, the corporal’s coming down.”

  “Okay, I’ll wait. I’ll keep my hands in the air, I’ll dance a fucking tango, but will someone please tell me if a group of people arrived here yesterday?”

  Rather than being annoyed, the two soldiers looked at each other and laughed at the young man’s bolshiness. The one on the right had short brown hair and a squashed nose and was missing one of his teeth. He looked like a real bruiser. Not the type of person Mike wanted to get into a brawl with, but he was prepared to do whatever it took to get the answer to his question.

  “Relax, son. They showed up yesterday afternoon,” the bruiser replied.

  “How many? How many got here?” Mike asked impetuously.

  “Fuck me, kid, I don’t know. We’ve not got a fucking signing-in book at the gate. Let’s see, there was a Land Rover, a truck, a van and an ambulance. They were all taken away pretty quick. I heard there was a doctor and nurse among them, and a few kids and Mr Masters’ brother. The corporal will be able to tell you in a minute. I don’t know all the details.” The soldier motioned for Mike to follow him and the three of them stood at the other end of the bridge, awaiting the officer’s arriva
l.

  An army Land Rover screeched to a halt a moment later and Darren Masters got out. He was almost running towards the three figures.

  “This gentleman says he was with the group that arrived yesterday, sir,” the bruiser said to his superior.

  “Are you Michael Fletcher?” Darren asked urgently.

  “Mike, yes.” He was a little surprised that the stranger knew his name. The corporal stood there for a moment, smiling. He put his hand up to his mouth to wipe away a stupid grin.

  “Sorry, Mike, it’s just that I thought that if I ever saw you, you’d be wearing a red cape with an ‘S’ on the back. I apologise if my men were a little harsh with you, but we got attacked the other day. Just a small skirmish but we killed three of theirs before they fled. My troops are being a little more cautious now.” The corporal grabbed hold of Mike’s hand and squeezed it firmly in his own. He then looked at the two soldiers and noticed the backpack. He signalled for them to return it to its rightful owner. “This is Mike Fletcher, gentlemen. He took on a group of over fifty RAMs single-handedly so his family and friends could get to safety. It’s an honour to meet you,” Darren said, still gripping Mike’s hand.

  “Thank you,” Mike replied, clearly taken aback. “Corporal, did they all get here? Did they all make it?” His brow creased slightly in dreaded anticipation of the response.

  “Every last one of them, Mike. Now come with me, mate, I’ll take you to them.” Darren guided the new arrival to his vehicle and the pair sped away.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  “So how come you’re still so well supplied in the alcohol department, Mrs Martin?” Lucy asked the tipsy hotel owner.

  “Jenny, please, Mrs Martin’s my mother.” She giggled drunkenly. “What am I talking about, Mrs Martin’s his mother. Well, anyway, we used to go to the wholesaler in Leeds twice a year. We’d just stocked up when the bottom fell out of the world. Six months’ worth of hotel guests, diners and bar patrons get through an awful lot of booze, dear. Keith and I have tried valiantly but barely scratched the surface.” She giggled a little more and then filled everyone’s drinks up. “How are you feeling, sweetheart?” she asked turning to Emma.