SAFE HAVEN: RISE OF THE RAMS Read online

  It was 6.30am by the clock on the kitchen wall. Emma finished a further two crackers then went to the fridge and opened the door. The fridge was a tiny bit colder than the ambient temperature of the kitchen, but not much, and she wondered if they would ever experience twenty-four hour electricity again. She took out a bottle of water. Even though tap water was meant to be safe to drink, since the quarantine started, Mike had insisted that they boil all their drinking water as a precaution. She had chastised him at the time for being paranoid and he had retorted with his stock quote: “When you think you’re being too paranoid, you realise you’re not being paranoid enough.” As far as she was concerned, Mike’s default position was paranoia, but she was coming to realise that, in this new world, it wasn’t such a handicap.

  She took a sip from the bottle and leant back against the kitchen counter, just as Mike let out a loud snore from the other room. On top of everything else, it was hard to believe that but for sheer luck she could have lost her brother yesterday as well. Emma needed a good night’s sleep, just to reboot, to process everything, but the rattle of gunfire had kept her awake. There had been sporadic shots most nights since the quarantine had begun, but last night there seemed to have been more than usual. On top of that, the image of Alex with that balloon thing on his head just wouldn’t leave her mind, so sleep came only in short bursts. But now... now she felt more awake than she had in a long time.

  Mike would not be happy about her going to collect the rations. Then it hit her. Mike usually picked up the rations at about 10am, but the window was from 8am to midday. Her three siblings were still fast asleep in the other room. She could sneak upstairs, get changed, get the ration card and vest out of Mike’s room and be out of the door just before 8am. By the time the power jolted back on, she would already be a minute or so down the road and Mike wouldn’t be able to stop her. She would leave a short note and deal with the consequences later.

  *

  Emma tiptoed downstairs, placed the small swipe card for the family’s rations into the pocket of the luminous orange vest and then slowly turned the key in the worn brass lock. Sometimes it had a tendency to stick, but today, luck was on her side. She slid the bolt across and unlatched the chain, carefully placing it in position to avoid it rattling. Then she took a quiet, deep breath and pulled down the door handle with one hand, placing the other on the door to minimise the judder as the solid oak freed itself from the jamb. She took equal care closing it on the other side and hoped that the click of the lock wasn’t loud enough to wake anyone. She placed the key in her pocket and turned. Once she was through the tall wooden gate, she would be free.

  It wasn’t until she was about twenty metres down the street that she realised she had been holding her breath. She let it out with a satisfying blow. Made it. Free at last. The collection point for this area was the local high school gym. It was less than a ten minute walk but she would have to remain vigilant. As the end of her street came into view, she saw two armed soldiers standing guard and a police car positioned at the middle of the intersection. There was another person in an orange vest just a little further on.

  It was the first time Emma had seen any of this. She had heard about the military and police presence from Mike but it was hard to envisage armed patrols on the streets where she had grown up.

  She reached the end of the road and both soldiers nodded. Both looked young and well trained, but they had fear in their eyes. She turned the corner and continued, but then heard someone calling.

  “Miss... Miss?” It was one of the police constables who had got out of the car. She stopped until he had made his way over to her. He was an older man – probably close to retirement – and a little paunchy around the middle, but with a warm face.

  “Is everything alright?” asked Emma.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you, miss, but I just wanted to suggest you might be better off walking in the middle of the road rather than on the pavement. You see, there’s practically no traffic other than military and police vehicles and they’re few and far between. It’s just... if something happens, miss... I mean if one of the infected are around, you’ll have more time to react than if they just come out of an alleyway or a garden while you’re walking along the pavement.”

  “Yes. Yes, of course. Thank you. Thank you very much, I’ll do that.” Maybe this wasn’t the best idea she had ever had. It had never occurred to her to stay on the road, yet it was so obvious now it had been pointed out.

  What would she do if she did come across one of the infected? She hadn’t even brought a weapon of any kind. “Stupid bitch,” she muttered to herself. Mike never talked about arming himself, but then he probably wouldn’t have wanted her taking the piss out of him. Now she thought about it, she had caught him a couple of times with a long-handled screwdriver, once shortly before and once just after collecting the rations. He had made some excuse about tightening the bolt on the door or the latch on the gate and she hadn’t thought any more about it, but now, it was obvious. That’s what he used to arm himself on these journeys. She suddenly felt naked.

  She carried on walking down the centre of the street, slightly reassured by the fact that there was someone about a hundred metres in front of her doing the same thing. It felt like speeding on the motorway behind another car. Seeing the flash of the speed camera getting the car in front would give her enough time to slow down before she became a victim too, only now the stakes were a lot higher than speeding tickets. A further hundred metres or so down the street, she could see another police car parked at a junction. There were two more figures, but she couldn’t make them out clearly from that distance. As she got closer she saw they were soldiers too.

  It was strange walking past the greengrocers and newsagents her family had used for years. Now they were boarded up, unlikely ever to open again.

  Two more people in orange vests joined from a side street. The more people the better as far as Emma was concerned – safety in numbers. She heard a shot, and a chill raced down her spine as she noticed the other pedestrians had frozen. She swung her body 180 degrees and saw that the soldiers who had greeted her were talking to the police. There was another shot. It didn’t sound that close, but she no longer had the protection of her home, so any distance was too close for her liking. She looked back up the road and noticed the people in the orange vests had begun to move again, so she decided to do the same. Was this normal? Is this what Mike had experienced each time he had come to pick up the rations? Or did he go later for a reason? They always heard a lot more gunshots at night than during the day. Were the attacks less likely during the day? Were these gunshots just soldiers sweeping the last of the night’s infected detritus away before the streets were safe again? Mike had shared little about his journeys to collect the rations. Was he trying to protect them all from the reality of the situation?

  When Emma arrived at the gym, the tension and fear that had gripped her eased as she saw dozens of military personnel and vehicles. She walked through the double doors of the hall and was greeted by a surly soldier about a foot taller than her.

  “Card.” She wasn’t sure if it was a question or a demand, but either way she just handed the swipe card over.

  He ran it through the small device he held in his hand and gave her the card back. “Table four. Next.” She knew full well there was no-one behind her, but didn’t really feel like pointing this out, so she made her way to table four.

  She headed across to a trestle table with a large “4” on the wall behind it and was greeted by a young soldier, who was in a T-shirt despite the chill of the morning. Sweat patches were darkening under his armpits and it was clear that, although this was just the start of her day, the soldier had been working for some time. She handed him the card and he ran it through a swipe card reader. A few seconds later, her information appeared on the laptop screen.

  The young man looked at her and smiled warmly; he
had kind eyes. “Miss Fletcher?”

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss, miss,” he said, still looking at the screen. “The rations are made up a couple of days in advance, so there’s an extra person’s weekly allowance in here. Please try and avoid using it, as you’ll only get three lots next week.” The young soldier looked up to make sure she understood before he carried on. “Your box won’t be long, Miss Fletcher.” The soldier looked to the back of the hall where a series of metal shelving units had been set up. There was a forklift bringing in pallets from outside and a number of soldiers on mobile safety steps moving boxes around on the shelves. A huge man in khaki came into view carrying a large sturdy box, just a bit bigger than a supermarket’s banana case. He said nothing, but placed it down on the table with a thud and walked back in the direction he had come from.

  Emma’s eyebrows raised; she hadn’t even begun to think how she would get the supplies back home. The soldier smiled. “I’ve got some very strong strapping, miss. I could wrap it around the box and leave some extra so you could have the strap over your shoulder and carry it that way.”

  “Oh, thank you. Thank you, that would be great. The box never seems so big when my brother gets it.”

  *

  Mike was awoken from his sleep by small hands pushing at him. “Mike, Mike, we can’t find Emma.” The panicked voices of the two children urged him to wake up.

  Mike’s eyes flickered open. Was he still dreaming? It was light outside now, the TV was on and the clock on the wall said 8.30. He rose, still not fully awake and still trying to process what he was hearing. We can’t find Emma. We can’t find Emma. What the hell were they talking about? Emma had barely left the house in weeks. Where could she possibly go?

  “We can’t find Emma!”

  “Okay... okay... just give me a minute.” He rubbed his eyes and swallowed. His mouth tasted like three-day-old Chinese food. Mike stood up and went into the kitchen. He looked out at the enclosed back garden, nothing there. He walked back through the dining room, through the lounge and out into the hallway. He was just about to climb the stairs when he noticed a piece of paper stuck to the door.

  “Gone to get the rations, will be back soon. Love Em xxx”

  “I’m going to kill her,” he blurted, before realising the two children were within earshot. Sammy and Jake looked alarmed and Mike realised that was the worst thing he could have said, considering the events of the previous day. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I should have said that I’m going to have to have a long talk with Emma when she comes back.”

  “Where’s she gone?” Sammy asked.

  “Emma has gone to get our rations.” Even saying the words made the blood start pumping faster through his veins.

  *

  Emma trudged back through the car park, which was still a hive of activity. The box was heavy, but the strapping had made it much more manageable and she felt good that she was doing something to contribute.

  “Emma,” she heard a voice calling, but couldn’t quite place it. “Emma.” There it was again.

  She stopped and turned her whole body around, as just moving her neck would cause the strapping to cut into it. Emma scanned the car park. There were a lot more orange vests making their way into the gym now, and the blur of khaki continued as lorries were loaded and unloaded while other soldiers patrolled and guarded the grounds.

  “Emma.” The call came again, but this time she zeroed in on the voice. It was Samantha, the nurse who had visited the house the previous day. Emma smiled and made her way over.

  “Hi, Samantha, I didn’t expect to see you here.” In honesty, she hadn’t expected to see her again ever.

  “We got a very early call this morning, so we’ve just stopped off here to get some chow before the next one comes in.” Samantha had black circles under her eyes matching those of Mike and Emma. “How’s everyone at home?”

  “Well, it’s been a bit of a blur since yesterday morning. I don’t think everything has sunk in yet.”

  “I don’t think it does sink in. Some days I’m going through the motions and I honestly wonder if I’m in a coma and this is just some bizarre fiction that my mind has created. None of it makes sense. The best you can do is just get through each day.”

  “I know, it’s all a bit surreal.” Emma wasn’t in the mood for talking. All she wanted to do was get home with the rations before the weight of them dislocated her shoulder. “I’ll tell everyone you were asking about them, but I’m going to have to get back. Mike didn’t even know I was coming out for the rations. I left him a note.”

  Samantha laughed, “Oh, wow, I wish I could have seen his face when he read that note. That would be one for the album. Well, I’ll let you get off. Give him my best and say hello to Jake and Sammy for me.”

  “Will do,” Emma said, as she turned and began the walk home.

  As she retraced her steps, she noticed there was now a steady stream of people passing her with orange vests on, and she felt much safer. There was a heavy military presence back at the gym, the army and police were at all the intersections and there were a large number of civilians marching in unison. If something did happen, she was sure she would be safe.

  Despite the weight of the box, she was moving more quickly than before, the trepidation slowly eroding as she became more impressed by the organisation and the huge security presence. No wonder Britain had been more successful fighting this than any other country. The organisation and planning was awe-inspiring.

  The junction at the end of her street came into view and she could see the figures of the soldiers and the two policemen still sat in their car. She saw one of the soldiers raise his rifle. He was aiming towards the other side of the crossroads. There was a crack of fire and the other troop raised his weapon. Another crack. The milling bodies in the high visibility vests became welded to the road.

  One of the soldiers shouted. “RAMS. RAMS AT TWELVE O’CLOCK!”

  The words made no sense to Emma, and she just stood there with her mouth open. She was about fifty metres away from the junction. What should she do? The soldiers continued to fire.

  Then she saw one. A fast-moving figure heading towards the troops. It was one of the infected. She didn’t know how she could tell from this distance, but there was just something unnatural in its gait. Then another appeared, then another. They were running towards the soldiers. A bullet knocked one back off its feet, but within a few seconds it was up again charging at them. Then came a head shot, and this time the assailant didn’t get up. The death of one did little to deter the others, though, and they continued towards the two armed men. Four more infected appeared from the same street and one dived at the soldier closest to her. He fired his rifle and the bullet went through the creature’s shoulder, but its momentum carried it forward. The young troop lost his footing as the lunging figure grasped him and before he hit the ground, the teeth of his assailant tore into his cheek. Emma heard an inhuman cry; she didn’t know if it was the young soldier or the beast, but she turned to ice.

  The police car started its engine and began manoeuvring in an effort to block the other creatures that had emerged from the street. She could make out one of the policemen holding something up to his mouth, presumably a radio.

  The private still standing aimed his rifle indecisively at his partner’s attacker, then raised it again to fire at another of the infected who was approaching him. It was a clean head shot and the beast hit the floor before the shot stopped echoing. The other four were preoccupied with the police car for the time being, and the young rifleman pulled out a knife from his belt and ran to the aid of his comrade. The man on the floor had stopped struggling and screaming. When the other soldier dived on top of the attacker, Emma could see blood all over the face and neck of the downed man in uniform. The troop with the knife shouted a furious battle cry as he k
nelt astride the momentarily dazed creature. He raised the dagger and, with a huge effort, brought the knife down with the power of a jackhammer. The blade went straight through the roof of the creature’s head and all struggling ceased. The young private stayed there for a few seconds, probably as astounded as Emma at what he had just done.

  Emma realised this madness had unfolded in a matter of seconds, maybe a minute or so at the most. She was still frozen to the spot, physically and emotionally. Should she find cover? Should she just run back to the gym? Then she noticed movement behind the soldier and the slain figure. It was the troop who had been attacked. For a fraction of a second she felt a wave of relief, then reality exploded behind her eyes. If he was moving after being bitten, he was now one of the infected.

  “Behind you!” she yelled, but no words came out. Was that her brain’s way of telling her to shut up and not attract the attention of the other creatures? “Fuck it,” she said to herself. “If I’m going to die I’m not going to die a coward.”

  She took in a deep lung full of air, unhitched the strap from her shoulder and brought both her hands up to her mouth to amplify the shout. “BEHIND YOU. INFECTED. BEHIND YOU.”

  The soldier kneeling astride his victim looked towards Emma. Realising she couldn’t say any more than she had, she simply kept pointing, in the hope that he would look behind him. He turned his head and jumped round from his knees to his feet like an agile teenager in a break-dancing competition. The other soldier, blood still running down his face and neck, was now standing, looking around like a lost tourist trying to get his bearings. She could see from this distance that the colour had drained from his face, and soon he would have the sickening and frightening greyish hue of the other infected attackers. Finally his eyes looked towards his former partner and he began to move mechanically in his direction. The crouching soldier instinctively felt on his belt for his knife and realised it was still in the head of his last victim. He swirled round and tried to remove it before his old partner reached him, but the knife was stuck.