Safe Haven, page 17
A loud high pitched scrape sounded from the doorway again as Mike looked down at Shaw, who looked up at him like a child wanting forgiveness from his father. "Yeah, Jim, we'll be even mate, don't worry about that."
Mike swivelled his legs back round and stood up breathing in the warm fresh air as the growls of the RAMs rose from below. Tears appeared in his eyes again and he gritted his teeth, aggressively running his fingers through his hair like a comb.
"Fuck!!!" he growled as frustration and rage took over. He crouched down, covering his face with his hands, blocking out the daylight, trying desperately to block out what was happening below. He removed his hands, the tears were gone and the look had returned. The look that said no, I don't accept this. Mike stood up. "No."
The bushes didn't give Mike the softest of landings as he lowered himself from the roof, but their springiness was better than him hitting hard ground. He stood up, dusted himself off and began running back around to the entrance of the school. It wouldn't be that long before the creatures broke through the door and Mike was certain that Shaw would save a bullet for himself, so he had to act quickly. He reached the school entrance where he had been just a few minutes before, although it seemed like a lifetime ago now. As he entered, he could hear the deathly dirge from the dining room. He hadn't noticed the stench before, but he did now. How he hated that smell. He reached the food hall entrance and looked inside. All the RAMs had their backs to him. They were fixated by the trapped prey in the kitchen. Mike didn't do a head count, but he guessed there were maybe seventy or eighty.
He saw small explosions of red bursting into the air as Shaw began to take out the beasts thrusting their heads through the widening gap. Mike put his rucksack on the ground, pulled out the shotgun and reloaded it. Such was the noise of the RAMs and the firing from within the kitchen, that he went unnoticed. He took out the hand grenade he had taken from the raiders, and the two machetes he loved so dearly. He placed the rucksack back on his shoulders and criss-crossed the machetes inside ready for action.
Mike looked down at the grenade. He had no idea what a L109A1 was, but he hoped it was not just a flash bang otherwise he was in serious trouble.
"Here goes nothing," he said pulling the pin out and throwing it into the crowd gathered at the far end of the dining room trying to make their way into the kitchen.
He ducked back behind the wall and covered his ears with little effect as the sound of the explosion filled the hall and the corridor beyond. He waited for just a moment before marching into the freshly created battle zone. It looked like a scene from hell. Pulpy red residue painted walls. A hand had somehow glued itself to the ceiling like some weird outtake from the Addams Family. There were black and red body parts scattered everywhere. All the windows to the dining hall had shattered. Glass was still clinking as it fell to the floor. There was a lake of mashed red bodies and broken chairs and tables. The doors to the kitchen had moved even further and now the few remaining RAMs still standing were more determined than ever to squeeze through the widening gap.
Mike headed straight towards the kitchen. Some of the beasts not finished off by the blast dragged themselves along the floor to try and reach him. Their arms outstretched, their fingers hopelessly dancing in the air desperate to grab him. Mike pulled one of the machetes out of his rucksack and gave each of the would-be attackers a decisive swipe, finishing them off one by one. His sounds not enough to attract the attention of the twenty odd surviving RAMs hammering at the kitchen doors.
More shots sounded from within the kitchen and fountains of red erupted from the back of three RAMs heads. Mike could still feel the heat from the grenade as he advanced further into the hall. The machete whooshed through the warm air before striking down another pathetic creature reaching out to him like an orphan from a Dickens novel pleading for food. The skull cracked and this time, the sound caught the attention of a handful of RAMs at the back of the crowd. Five of them turned and began to head towards him. Three walked straight into the serving bar and began to climb and shuffle across while the two to the left retraced their steps around and out into the ghoulish landscape of limbs, bones and blood created by the grenade. Mike swung the machete again, chopping through the skull of another battered body, before replacing it in his rucksack. He raised the shotgun and fired at the first RAM as it came charging at him from around the serving area. Its face disintegrated, and it flew back knocking the other off its feet. Mike took advantage of the collision and ran, skidding to a stop at the serving counter. Keeping the shotgun ready in his left hand and whipping the machete from his rucksack once again, he slashed and smashed through the skulls of the stretching, struggling beasts, reaching towards him over the stainless steel surface. With each strike, the bodies withdrew and collapsed. More creatures from the back of the crowd were aware of him now as the echo from the shotgun blast had ricocheted around the walls.
Torn between a trapped meal in the kitchen and a sitting duck in the open air, another six of the RAMs advanced towards him. Four lunged frantically struggling over their fallen brethren and the worktop.
Mike spiked through the head of the first before replacing his machete to raise the shotgun towards the second RAM who had now gathered itself once again and was running towards him. Another expansive explosion of red as the shell blew half the beasts’ head clean off. Mike fired again at two more advancing creatures, the shot took the first one out, but that was it for the shotgun now. He dropped it to the floor, and as the second beast leapt at him, he struck at it in mid-air, cutting through its eye and the bridge of its nose, chopping into the brain and putting it out of its eternal misery.
Shots continued to fire from within the kitchen and more RAMs dropped. Mike swivelled, took out his second machete and hacked at the remaining creatures trying to reach him over the counter. One at the far end flopped over onto his side and began to rise while he had blades caught in the heads of two creatures. He kicked out at it hard as it advanced on him and it fell back, he tried to remove the machetes, but they were lodged, so he released the handles and let the creatures slide to the ground. He quickly pulled the rucksack from his shoulders and delved in it, retrieving his hatchet and a long screwdriver.
He replaced the rucksack on his shoulders, got into his battle stance and waited for the beast to charge at him again. More shots fired from the kitchen and Mike suddenly realised there were only five RAMs left standing. Two at the door, one hopelessly reaching over the counter and one following the creature that was now running towards him across the blood covered floor. Mike swiped the beast's arms away and plunged the screwdriver straight through its temple. It instantly dropped to the ground, and Mike didn't bother retrieving the weapon, but ran to meet the other RAM. He leapt into the air and brought the hatchet down like Thor's hammer, splitting the monster's head in two as it collapsed to its knees and onto its face. As two more shots brought down the remaining creatures at the door, all that was left was one struggling beast with its arms outstretched over the counter; the guttural growl gurgling at the back of its throat. The grey eyes punctuated by malevolent jagged pupils flared, and for a split second, Mike thought he saw recognition of its own impending demise as he lifted the heavy serving dish and brought it down over and over again on the beasts head until it was nothing more than a reddish pulp of black hair, brain and bone. Where once overflowing baked beans or spaghetti hoops would have dripped down the side, now gory morsels clung to the stainless steel tray like glue.
Mike staggered back and dropped the dish to the ground with a ringing smash. Sweat poured from him onto the ground, washing thin salty trails into the congealed blood.
"Mike?"
"Yeah!"
Mike collected his weapons, wiping them off on a wad of paper napkins left behind. He replaced them in his rucksack then headed toward the kitchen, pulling bodies out of the way when there was no clear path.
"You do realise, if an army of RAMs couldn't shift the doors enough to get in here, there's no way you're going to?" said Shaw as Mike stood in front of the kitchen entrance.
Mike reloaded the shotgun and fired two shots at the hinges on the right hand door, making them and the joints around them disintegrate. He booted it above the half way point and the door swung out, pivoting over the table behind it. Mike side stepped to avoid getting hit by the heavy wood as it clattered to the floor. Not missing a step, he climbed over the table to see Shaw still sitting where he had left him.
"You couldn't even let me go out like a hero?" asked Shaw smiling.
"That'd be okay for you. Can you imagine the fucking grief I'd get for letting the only gay in the village die?" They both laughed at the reference to the popular character from TV's Little Britain.
"You're a prick," said Shaw with a smile on his face.
"Yeah... I hear that a lot."
"Thanks, Mike."
"For what?" They both laughed again.
Mike walked over to where Shaw sat and crouched down by his side. He took his arm and placed it around his shoulder before the pair carefully rose, making sure Shaw's shattered ankle didn't touch the floor. It took them ten minutes to get out to the van. At one point the floor was so littered with decimated corpses that Mike had to carry Shaw over them.
When Shaw was safely back in the passenger seat of the van and as comfortable as he could be, Mike headed back to the dining room. He put on a pair of elbow length protective gloves, a face mask, some goggles, and dragged six of the most complete corpses out into the hallway. Mike proceeded to remove four rubble sacks from his back pocket, slice open the stomachs of the RAMs, and fill each sack about two thirds of the way up with soft, fleshy, bloody innards, before pulling the draw strings tight and returning to the van with them.
He placed the sacks in the back of the van, stripped off the gloves, the mask and the goggles and wrapped a tarpaulin over them to make sure they wouldn't move around.
Mike climbed into the driver's seat, reached underneath and pulled out a bottle of vodka. He poured some over his hands, wiped them dry, took two big gulps, and handed the bottle to Shaw.
"You okay?" asked Shaw.
Mike burst out laughing. "Oh yeah! I'm just peachy," he said grabbing the vodka for another swig. He handed it back to Shaw and turned the key in the ignition. "Right then, let's get this show on the road," he said as the wheels began to turn.
***
Hughes raised the binoculars to survey the valley. "Well, it's just a waiting game now," he said, sweeping the lenses up the long winding road.
"We did pretty good today," said Lucy. "All of us. From the kids to the old folks. Everybody pulled their weight. Everybody did what was needed of them. The fishing boats brought back a good haul. We've got weaponry...mediaeval weaponry, but hell, it's better than nothing."
"I wonder how the lads are getting on?" asked Hughes.
"They'll be fine. They know how to handle themselves," replied Jules.
Lucy smiled. Behind the smile there was worry though. She had gone all day without seeing Mike. Darkness hadn't arrived yet, but the evening would start drawing in soon. She needed to think about something else. "So we've got the sentries posted. Everyone knows what they're doing?"
"Don't worry. I've got people I know I can rely on in place," replied Jules. "They've got flares. We've got people on the peaks ten miles from the blockades. The second they're in sight, we'll know and then it's battle stations. Andy and Jon are stopping up here for now. I've organised rotating shifts."
The group stood in silence taking in the picturesque landscape when the radio crackled to life. "This is East Ridge...I can see the van...they're back...heading to you now...over."
Without realising it, the moment the broadcast had started, all of them had held their breath in anticipation, now, they all exhaled in unison and relieved smiles warmed their faces.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Fry was oblivious to the reek that stuck in the air, coating everything in foulness and decay. His madness had finally taken over. From birth it had only been a matter of time. A broken hourglass, sometimes a grain of sand would fall, sometimes more. It would all empty eventually, but there was no way of telling when until it had happened.
Fry’s day of complete and total madness had finally arrived.
"Mornin’ my love," he said as he leaned over to kiss Juliet's slowly rotting corpse. "Big day ahead of us today," he continued, climbing out of bed.
Fry walked to the window, naked. He stood there in the morning light; glass and a net curtain shielding him from the outside. He looked back towards the bed.
"Aye, a big day. These fucking people." A snarl appeared on his face, his unkempt ginger beard only partially hiding his yellow teeth and red, angry skin. His voice began to rise as he continued. "These fucking people. They think they can kill my men. They think they can take what belongs to me and then go scurrying back to their holes like little rats!" He spat onto the bedroom carpet. When he carried on his voice was booming, "Who the fuck do they think they are? Who the fuck do they think they are that they can piss over me? They think they can steal from me and just go back to their little hidey holes? Well they've got a wee surprise in store now." He stopped and looked back towards the bed.
"Yes," he continued almost whispering. "They've got a surprise in store. It's time for these people to understand who they're dealing with. I will make you so proud, mummy. I will give you the kingdom you longed for. And these snivelling little shits are going to pay for what they've done. I'm going to reap a new kind of vengeance that will make the whole world shiver when they hear my name. No one will ever cross me again. No one will ever dare." He looked back through the lace curtains. His eyes glazed with tears he could not feel. Then he stared back towards the bed. "Mark my words, sweetheart, when this day is over, no one will ever forget my name."
Three booms resonated from below. "The canons, mummy. The canons are firing for us."
Boom…boom…boom—there they were again.
"Fry!" shouted the familiar voice through the letterbox.
The towering Scotsman breathed in a lungful of rotting air and marched across to the window. Opening it, he called down, "Be there in a minute, my friend." Fry turned back towards Juliet. "All being well, my sweet, I will be back with you the day after next. I promise you some new trophies too...some new playthings."
Fry got dressed, tied his boots, checked his pistol and walked to the door. He threw one long loving glance back at his Juliet and left.
He stepped out into the morning air and inhaled deeply. He turned to TJ. "When this battle is over, everyone will fear our names. We will own this land. We will own every soul and everything in it. There will be no man and no army that will try to stop us." A toothy yellow grin appeared on Fry's red face and a chill trembled down TJ's spine. He suddenly realised. He was Faust, and the deal had been sealed long since.
***
Mike saw Emma, Lucy and Hughes as he turned the final bend before the barricade. The three of them had clambered over, too excited to wait any longer. Despite the pain Shaw was in, happiness fell over him like a cloak. Mike pulled on the handbrake and ran to where Emma and Lucy stood. The three of them melded together in a tight embrace. Hughes stood back for a moment and when he realised he wouldn't get to hug Mike any time soon, he walked to the van, puzzled as to why Shaw hadn't got out.
"Broke my ankle, didn't I?" he said as Hughes opened the passenger door. "And before you ask, no...it was an accident."
"Come on, then," said Hughes, putting Shaw's arm over his shoulder and swivelling him out of the seat. "Let's get you seen to."
It took several minutes to get Shaw over the barricade. Twice he nearly passed out from the pain as first Mike, then Hughes lost their grip on him and Shaw's broken ankle felt the brunt of his weight. Eventually, they made it, and Lucy and Hughes got Shaw into a car.
"I'll get him comfortable down at the infirmary, and then I'll meet you back home," Lucy said kissing Mike on the lips. She suddenly stopped and they looked at each other and smiled. ‘Home’…a small word with a big meaning. Mike kissed her again.
"See you soon."
Lucy climbed into the car, and they drove away. Mike waited until they were out of sight, and then climbed into the car Emma was driving.
"I need to see Sammy and Jake," said Mike as soon as they pulled away. "And then we all need to get a few hours rest."
***
Mike didn't wait for the car to stop before he opened the door and started towards the house. He reached the garden gate and Sammy was already running up the path towards him. She leapt into the air as she approached and Mike caught her, squeezing her with all his might. She giggled and cried and squeezed back with all her strength.
"How's my Sammy Bear?" he asked.
She didn't respond, she just held her brother tight. Mike continued into the house, carrying her as if she weighed no more than a bag of flour.
Ruth came out of the kitchen, followed by two of the younger deaf children from Sarah's school. Ruth's sign language was still patchy, but she was getting better and the children loved her. When she saw Mike, her mouth fell open and in an uncharacteristic show of emotion, she burst out crying as she took hold of him in a motherly grasp. Still clutching Sammy in his left arm, he threw his right arm around Ruth and kissed her on the head. The three of them stayed like that even after Emma had entered. Finally, they broke their clench, and Mike kissed Ruth on the forehead again before heading up the stairs, still without saying a word, still with Sammy holding on to him. He walked into the bedroom, set Sammy down on the floor and then sat himself, taking hold of Jake's hand.
