Safe Haven (Book 6): Is This The End of Everything?

by Artinian, Christopher

  She looked into the rearview mirror and caught a glimpse of Jack staring back at her. She and Jack had worked on the security detail for one of JKC Petroleum’s senior executives. They had got closer and closer, and now that they were here on land, in what seemed like relative safety, they might have some kind of chance at normality, or whatever masqueraded as normality for two former mercenaries.

  She unleashed her killer smile, teeth glinting blue-white in the dashboard light. Jack winked at her, and she winked back then quickly checked to see if anybody else had noticed. They hadn’t; they were all preoccupied with their own thoughts about what this new start could give them.

  The first rock did not hit the sixteen-seater minibus, but its appearance in the full beam of the lights shocked Shep enough to tug the wheel left in desperation to try to avoid it. The tyres shrieked, and a gasp went up from several of the passengers. These narrow roads carved into cliffs did not leave a lot of room for error.

  When a dozen more rocks all struck the windscreen, the bonnet and the roof of the van at the same time, Shep screamed, jammed on the brakes and dragged the wheel in the other direction. The glass had shattered in several places. Spider web fractures and tiny holes let in the frigid evening breeze, and now Shep was not the only one screaming as everyone felt the wheels leave the tarmac. Rocks continued to clatter on the roof as the vehicle veered further. There was an ear-splitting metal on metal screech as the bus hit the antiquated knee-high crash barrier.

  The back door burst open with a powerful shoulder barge. Shep caught sight of a figure escaping before she felt the minibus bank and start to roll, only there was nowhere to roll to. It toppled over the barrier like an obese man attempting a Fosbury flop. The metal railing groaned, snapped and fell with the bus. With the back door open, the terrified screams of the passengers rose into the night air like a banshee chorus. There was a deafening crunch, then … silence.

  Dan Wellman was English by birth, brought up in Brighton before moving to the US at the age of twenty-one. He had gone to work as a techy in a private security firm but realised that the security operatives seemed to have a much more exciting job, so he decided to train as one. Despite living in the UK for twenty-one years, he had never visited Scotland. As he picked himself up off the road, looking at his broken and misshapen fingers, he could safely say this was not how he had imagined it.

  When he had been sprawled on the tarmac listening to his compatriots’ screaming prayers as they plummeted to their deaths, he had seen something black float down to the ground. He slowly limped towards it. As he bent down to pick it up, he registered the fact that not only had he broken several fingers but his ribs had taken a battering too. He let out a groan as he straightened up and pulled out a mini flashlight from his pocket. He flicked it on and held it between his teeth while he examined the gritty garment.

  Fragments of stone and soil fell out of it onto the floor, and there were two tears in the material. “What the fuck is this?” He looked up the rock face. He had assumed the falling stones that had made the minibus veer off the road had been part of a landslide, but it was very well targeted for an act of God, and since when did God use North Face jackets as slings for chucking rocks?

  Dan dropped the jacket back down to the ground and grabbed his sidearm. He kept his eyes on the cliff in front of him and carefully backed away. Clatter. There was a noise to his left, and he turned sharply, raising his weapon, grabbing the torch from his mouth with his thumb and index finger, the only two digits on his left hand that weren’t broken. He panned the light around looking for the man or woman who had killed fifteen of his brethren.

  Crack! He fell to his knees before he realised what had happened. Dropping the torch, he reached around to feel the back of his head and discovered a warm, sticky, wet patch in his hair. The Beretta M9 wavered for a moment before it dropped to the ground with a clatter. What a fucking idiot! Blindsided by someone using the oldest trick in the book. He started to feel dizzier and dizzier, then—.

  Richard watched as the man fell forward onto his face. The adrenaline was pumping through him like it never had before. He looked at the black rugby ball-sized rock he held in his hand and dropped it as he took a step back. It was one thing to kill a busload of people by slinging rocks at them from the top of a cliff, it was another thing to take a rock in your hands and literally bludgeon the life out of someone. He had done it. He had done what he had promised. He’d not given in, he had got some small modicum of revenge for David and Ruth, and on a primal level it did make him feel good.

  He felt something on his hands and brought them up in the torch lights to see what it was. It was blood. His hands were covered in the dead man’s blood. He started to feel queasy, and the world began to spin around him. He staggered forward; then everything went black.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  All day the pub car park had been a hive of activity, and the evening seemed to be no different. Although there was still work to do, the lion’s share of it had been done, and it was time to celebrate the start of their new life, this new home. Mike, Lucy, Emma and Barnes were silent as they crept through the dark, dingy woods. They simply followed the noise as some of the new inhabitants of Safe Haven discovered that the Haven Arms was still well-stocked with booze.

  “I’ve thought of a problem,” Emma whispered.

  “What?” Barnes replied as they all carried on walking.

  “How are you going to see the jar in this light?”

  Barnes stopped. “Holy shit! She’s got a point. There was still a bit of daylight when I came up with this idea.”

  “Have we got a small torch? Could we put one in the jar?” Lucy asked.

  “I’ve got a mini Maglite, but if we put that into liquid, it’ll short circuit,” Barnes replied.

  “Hang on, I’ve got an idea,” Mike said, sitting down on the ground and resting his back against a tree.

  “Sweetie, I really don’t think this is the time to—”

  “Give me a second,” he said, undoing the laces of his boot.

  “What the hell are you up to?” hissed Emma.

  “Trust me.”

  “That’s always the kiss of death.”

  Mike removed his boot, pulled off his sock, then placed his boot back on and tied it up. The others stood around watching his silhouette, wondering what he was doing. “Give me the torch,” he said to Barnes.

  Barnes grabbed the small torch from his pocket and handed it to Mike, who proceeded to place his sock over the jar and wedge the flashlight between the glass and the stretched material. He tried to turn it on but soon realised he could not do that through the material, so he pulled it back out, switched it on and wedged it in once more. The sock and the jar lit up like a salt lamp.

  “That’s a pretty good idea,” Emma said.

  “Let’s face it,” Mike replied, “I was due one.” He turned to Barnes. “Will this be okay?”

  “As long as I can see it, I can shoot it. It will be fine.”

  Mike climbed back to his feet, removed the torch and switched it off so they didn’t get spotted; then they continued towards the sound of the crowd. The noise grew much louder, and they came to a stop several feet before the tree line. Even from where they were standing, they could see there was something akin to a party starting. Lanterns had been placed on window sills and hung from bushes while others sat on the wall at the far end of the car park. There were still a number of pub tables outside, and although it was not the warmest of evenings, the alcohol that had started to flow was beginning to numb people to the chill.

  Some were still hastily finishing off scribbling notes on clipboards, there was even a whiteboard on an easel. The man in front of that held a torch in his teeth so he could see what he was doing. Mike brought out his binoculars and peered down them to see what he was writing. “It looks like some kind of inventory. Weapons, Water, Food. They’re cataloguing our stuff and theirs. Fuckers! Like they fucking own the town,” he hissed.

>   “Well, I suppose they do … now,” Emma replied.

  “By the time we’re finished, they’re not going to want to be anywhere near this place,” Mike said.

  “Yeah, but neither will we,” Lucy replied.

  A cheer went up as a group exited the pub carrying a tray of bottles to the men and women still working. Seeing the levity in the car park and how much these people were already taking their new home for granted made all four of them fume.

  “Come on, let’s get this done. Remember girls, you’re our cover in case we get spotted before we deliver the package,” Barnes said.

  “Good luck,” Emma and Lucy replied at the same time.

  Barnes and Mike edged forward to the tree line bordering the busy car park, and each ducked behind a trunk. Emma and Lucy drew their weapons and stood six feet back, scouring their surroundings, waiting for the first sign of trouble, but for the time being, the dark woods were the last thing anyone in the car park was paying attention to. They had won a decisive victory that day. The perimeter was secure, and now it was time for a little fun before another long day tomorrow.

  Mike pointed the torch towards the ground and turned it on. A circle of light bled out from the rim that almost touched the soil. “I really hope this works,” he said.

  “Me too.”

  A volley of gunshots cracked from somewhere else in the village, and the buoyant conversation and mood in the car park shattered like a crystal vase.

  “Oh shit!” Mike said.

  “Do it. Do it now or we’re fucked,” screamed Barnes.

  chapter 26

  Six growling shadows charged towards the crowd. Humphrey and Meg began barking at full volume, alerting their pack to the danger ahead.

  “Oh shit!” April screamed. “Everybody get ready!”

  Talikha looked around to see some people fleeing into the woods. A slight figure started sprinting to the front to join them. It was Vicky, the woman who had led the band of survivors from Loch Uig. Behind her were Prisha and Saanvi, two Sikh sisters who had also survived Webb’s nightmarish prison and come out on the other side. They each clutched branches, which they held in front of them like pikes, ready to fend off the first wave.

  The creatures were advancing quickly, and the terror in the air was palpable. Humphrey and Meg darted forward then pounced like lions defending their pride.

  Humphrey knocked down the creature on the left flank, Meg the right, ripping into the decaying flesh of the aggressors. “Come on, now!” shouted Vicky. She stormed forward with Prisha and Saanvi following. Talikha, Ryan, April and a few others advanced too, feeding off each other’s adrenaline-fueled rage.

  “Aaarrrggghhh!” Talikha roared as she charged. They needed a show of strength, a way to demonstrate to the others that everything was not lost, that while they were still standing there was still hope.

  Vicky smashed the first creature over the head with the heavy branch she had found. Prisha swiped at the legs of another, knocking it skidding to the ground, while Saanvi started to batter its head like a whack-a-mole, dazing it before fracturing its skull and then finally turning the lights out for good. Talikha stopped and braced herself. The centre beast, the biggest, lunged for her, and she brought her makeshift weapon up. Despite her diminutive figure, she was a strong woman, but she stumbled with the forward momentum of the hulking beast.

  “Talikha!” Sammy cried as she watched her friend, no, more than friend, family member, stumble back and fall onto the tarmac.

  Ryan, April and only a small handful of others continued to run forward, already past Talikha, unable to help. Three more creatures appeared up ahead, drawn to the roars and screams. Talikha shuffled back on her hands and buttocks, desperate to climb to her feet as the monster gathered itself and the makeshift spear fell from its shoulder. It leapt again, and Talikha rolled to her left, watching as the silhouette crashed down beside her. She felt the rush of wind as it landed and let out another frightened yelp.

  Rather than helping, the people behind her were taking flight, terrified of how many more of these monsters there might be. The beast sprang up again as Talikha edged farther away. She had forgotten how bone-chilling those low-pitched growls were.

  “Sammy, take Jake and run!” she commanded as she came to terms with the fact that it was too late for her and one monster would become two. Two would become four, and soon there would be an army. “Run!”

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  A vintage VW campervan was by no means the ideal escape vehicle for eleven people, but without entering the heart of the village, it was the only option they had. George had been working on Mike and Emma’s Gran’s hippy mobile with Richard and David as a fun restoration project. It had spent some time in George’s workshop, but when the new weapons project came along, they relocated it to the librarians’ house. There was nothing on the street but houses, and considering how most of the invaders seemed to be concentrated in the pub area, Shaw was convinced he and the others had the easier part of the mission.

  They observed the street carefully for a while before climbing over the wall and onto the pavement. The sun had disappeared a few minutes earlier, and although complete darkness had yet to fall, it was difficult to make out much more than shapes. They could see the distinctive contours of the VW campervan, however, and that was their goal.

  “Okay,” Shaw whispered, “keep your heads low and your eyes peeled.”

  They tiptoed over the street like a group of cat burglars. The rising sounds of celebration could still be heard coming from the pub area, making them all feel that little bit more secure. George reached the vehicle first and carefully opened the squeaky door, climbing inside and checking the ignition to make sure the keys were present. Vehicle theft was not really an issue in Safe Haven. He nodded to Shaw, who beckoned the rest of the group to hurry up.

  A powerful torch beam suddenly hit them like a prison searchlight. “Who the fuck are you?”

  A small group of soldiers, men and women, had been sitting on lawn chairs, having their own private party. The one who had sprung to his feet first looked like two rugby prop-forwards with a single head; he spoke with an Australian accent. Other figures rose to their feet around him. Shaw and the others paused in the middle of the road, not knowing whether to continue to the VW or run back to the wall.

  “Get in the fucking camper!” Shaw shouted, ducking down and opening fire. Jules crouched too, as did Raj. The men and women in the garden didn’t have a great line of sight. The hedges were a significant obstruction, and while they were stuck in the garden, they were fish in a barrel.

  One man screamed as a bullet entered his neck, a woman let out a piercing yell as she was hit in the shoulder. They all began to open fire too in the hope that they might get a lucky round in the right direction and that some of their compatriots might come to their aid.

  “I can’t see a fuckin’ thing,” Jules shouted.

  “Keep firing,” Shaw replied. “We only need to pin them down.”

  The engine of the campervan started, and there were pings as stray bullets bounced off the bodywork. Two guards stormed out of the gate firing, they had barely reached the kerb when the first one fell. “Ricky!” the other shouted, but a second later a bolt entered his chest too. Wren had positioned herself on the other side of the campervan in case the enemy tried to make a break for it onto the road. The ones inside the garden had no idea their friends had been victims of silent crossbow bolts, but seeing their shadows collapse to the ground stopped them in their tracks. They ducked lower, moved back to the house and pointed the weapons towards the gate, waiting for the impending incursion.

  “Go, go, go,” Shaw said, grasping the fact that they had got the advantage for the time being. The others piled in to the campervan. Shaw stayed outside, continuing to fire until George had manoeuvred the vehicle around. At the last second, he dived in too, and the camper not so much sped as chugged away. A few more shots whizzed and pinged from the garden, but they were out
of direct danger for the time being.

  They rounded the corner, and the camper picked up speed. It carried on up the hill, over the brow and down the other side, before pulling into a small National Trust car park that always used to be packed in summer but now was just a dark place surrounded by trees, rarely entered from one month to the next.

  “Well, that didn’t quite go to plan,” George said.

  “You can say that again,” Jules replied. “Err … I might have a bit of a problem.”

  It was pitch black in the interior of the camper, but instinctively Shaw turned around. “What is it?”

  “I ... I think I’ve been shot.”

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  The creature leapt towards Talikha once more. I love you Raj, I love you Raj, she said over and over in her head, praying for some kind of telepathic connection. After everything she had been through, this was how she was going to die.

  “Aaaggghhh!” For a second she thought the high-pitched cry had come from her own lips, but when she heard the hollow crack accompanying it and when she saw the beast veer off course slightly, she knew that the fight was not yet over.

  “Sammy?” The shadowy figure stood above her, still in batting pose. She had swiped at the monster’s head as if she was trying to knock a baseball out of the park. The creature had slumped, temporarily dazed, and Talikha knew she had been given a reprieve, albeit temporary if she did not act. She sprang to her feet, grabbing her own weapon from the ground and turning around in one fluid movement. The monster was vertical once more, heading towards Sammy now.

  “Help!” the young girl cried. Battles were going on all around as former Safe Haven residents swiped and stabbed and punched and kicked the attacking creatures, but this was the only fight that Talikha was interested in.

  She mimicked Sammy’s earlier action, swinging her much longer, much heavier branch like a bat. There was a wet thud as it smashed against the side of the beast’s head, causing it to stumble to the left. Talikha ran forward, putting herself between it and Sammy as it gathered itself again. She twirled the branch like a baton, turning it the right way up, making sure the sharp end was pointing towards the monster as it ran at them. “Aaaggghhh!” The scream rose from her own lungs this time, and she thrust the weapon towards the creature’s face.