Snatchers: Volume Two (The Zombie Apocalypse Series Box Set--Books 4-6)

by Shaun Whittington

  She needed Pickle.

  Chapter Twenty Nine

  The four pairs off feet walked along the rail track with high trees on either side. They approached the black and white signal box. It was like an oversized shed, and Jack managed a smile when his mind was catapulted back to his childhood for the second time.

  Jack remembered the image of the large guy in the signal box, dressed in a grey uniform, running out of the small building. He could see himself, Ian Bolton and Jason Marsden running for their lives, but giggling at the same time from the irate man.

  "Another few hundred yards, and we can leave the track." Vince called out behind.

  "Then where?" asked Shaz.

  Jack managed to respond before Vince. "Over a fence near the Churchfields Primary School, into an alleyway, then that'll lead us to the Horsefair Road, in the town centre near the clinic. But we need to be vigilant; I ran into a bit of trouble there about a week ago."

  "The clinic?" Pickle screwed his face and looked at Vince. "Yer went to Stafford for medical stuff, but yer never thought to try the clinic only a few miles away?"

  Vince began to chortle and said, "We tried the clinic in the first week, but somebody had got there before us, so we had to rely on small shops to keep us going with basic stuff like painkillers, bandages—the kind of crap you can get in a first aid box. Not much good if you have a resident suffering from high blood pressure or you have someone with angina."

  "Pretty good of you to go to that trouble," added Shaz. "It was a hell of a risk going all the way to Stafford and back."

  "Would have been good for yer image, Vince," Pickle teased somewhat, his tongue firmly in his cheek. "Going back to the camp, victorious. The hero returns."

  "In hindsight," Vince began, ignoring Pickle's comment, "we should have stayed where we were, but what's done is done."

  "Not long now." Jack pointed slightly to his right, and he was the first to leave the track and walk through the grass towards the fence. It appeared that Jack was now leading the group, and he was also the first to climb the wiry fence, seeing that the alleyway was completely clear of any dangers.

  The other three soon followed, one at a time, and Jack continued to lead the group down the alleyway, his hammer now being clutched in his right hand.

  "This is the hard bit," Vince said with a touch of negativity in his voice. Pickle thought that he looked apprehensive. "As soon as we get to the end of this alleyway, we're on the town's main road, exposed and out in the open."

  The end of the alleyway was achieved with no fuss, and all four members walked along the main road near the large clinic. Jack looked down the road and knew that five hundred yards to his left was where Sandy Lane was blocked off. It was also the same area where he and Johnny Jefferson were being chased in the jeep by a gang.

  Jack thought about when he drove the jeep into the horde as they were being chased by the Mazda. The men in the Mazda were dragged out of their car and torn to pieces. Jack and Johnny then drove a further two miles to be greeted by a roadblock on the Armitage Road. They had reached the camp. This was Jack's first meeting with Vince. He'd never forget his first words: "Alright, mate? How's it going?"

  The group could see that a few bodies were scattered along the area, as well as a few crashed vehicles. Limbs were strewn across the road that were probably the result of the destruction in the first week. The smell of death in the air was repugnant, but it was something that all four had smelt before.

  Vince ushered them to follow his lead and walked under The Arches, a bridge that the trains went across, and he suddenly stopped in his tracks and saw Jack was standing still, lost in a world of his own.

  Jack could see the Globe Island and the Mazda still sitting where it had been forced to stop. Its interior was covered in crimson and a pile of bloody leftovers were sitting in two piles near the car, but not a single ghoul was there. Where did they go?

  "Come on, Jack." Vince's voice echoed as he stood under the bridge. He could see that Jack was lagging; the group had been walking and Jack was yards from them, standing alone. Jack Slade was brought back to reality, an unwanted reality, and jogged lazily towards the three of them and pointed up ahead. "There's our first sign of trouble."

  Two ghouls stumbled from around the corner of one of the streets, but their presence from fifty yards away didn't cause too much consternation. Vince looked at Pickle and Shaz, and said with sarcasm, "I believe the machete-wielding people of the group should sort these Rotters out."

  Vince bent over and decided to tighten his shoelace, but his shoulder was quickly tapped by Shaz who stated, "I think we're gonna need a lot more than two machetes."

  Vince lifted his head and saw more coming from around the corner, many more. The group remained standing, unsure of what to do next, waiting for someone to speak up and make a decision. The watching continued, and now there was at least forty of the hideous things coming towards them.

  "Where to now?" Pickle finally spoke up. "Back to the rail track?"

  "No chance." Vince was adamant. "There's another way to get to the camp than just along this main road."

  "We can go the canal way." Jack spoke up. "Through the town centre, and walk along to The Ash Tree pub, where the camp is."

  "Vince," Shaz said, unnerved that the group seemed to be dithering. "I think we need to go."

  "Well thanks for that, Captain Obvious." Vince urged the group to follow his lead. He pointed to the other side of the street.

  They ran across the main road with Jack looking both ways while doing this, forgetting that the road-safety routine was probably not necessary anymore. They approached a side road and spent two minutes running down it until they reached the back of the Morrison's supermarket, and could see a horde congregating on the car park. The group were only a hundred yards from the hump bridge where they would then veer left, down a small hill and onto the dirt path that ran alongside the canal on the left. The path was nearly two miles in length and would come to a pub called The Ash Tree pub, only a few hundred yards from the Plum Pudding pub and Spode Cottage, where the camp was.

  The horde on the car park were considerable in numbers, and the group guessed that the reason for their congregation was that a kill may have taken place.

  "It's the only way," Vince whispered to the group, and urged them to hurry.

  Four sets of feet pounded the pavement, bypassing the crowd of the dead to the left of them, and their presence was immediately noticed by two beasts who began to give chase the only way most of these things could, by stumbling and shuffling not so rapidly.

  Their interest in Pickle, Shaz, Vince and Jack had slowly caught the attention of the rest of the dead, and eventually the whole crowd were after the group. Jack looked over his shoulder and saw the one leading the horde was almost galloping after them, quite quickly. On rare occasions he found that some were quicker than the rest.

  His first experience of this was his return to Rugeley, when he had managed to acquire a BMW motorcycle. On his way to Hazelslade he went through Slitting Mill and was nearly pulled off the bike, and as he quickly turned around he could see some actually running after him. This scene had frightened him to death. Most had the same speed, but on this occasion some were quicker than others. He had no idea of the reason, whether it had anything to do with rigor mortis, or it was because of the age of the ghoul. The longer the thing had been dead, the more chance they'd be slower because of muscle wastage. Or was that bullshit? He could only guess.

  The group approached the hump bridge that they couldn't yet see over. Jack remembered when he lived in Rugeley, when he was still with Kerry before he fucked things up, that when approaching this bridge in the car, the driver would have to sound their horn while approaching, to let other potential drivers on the other side know that someone was coming. The hump bridge was only wide enough for one vehicle at a time.

  Vince turned, noticing that Jack was looking behind him, at the gang from the car park. "Quickly now."r />
  Vince was the first to go over the hump bridge, and the rest quickly followed. "Oh fuck!"

  Eleven creatures were on the other side, and quickly went for them. Pickle looked behind him, knowing that the horde from the supermarket's car park were seconds from approaching from the other side of the hump.

  "Bollocks," Pickle snapped, and took out his machete and began striking immediately at the eleven in front of him. Shaz did the same, hacking at anything that came their way.

  Three fell immediately and Vince finally waded in with the claw hammer, smashing the head of one and kicking out in a desperate, but effective, way of pushing the rest back. Pickle also adopted this method and ran and front-kicked a heavy-looking ghoul that flew backwards, knocking over another two. Jack came forward and smashed his hammer into the head of a Snatcher, but the tool was embedded into the top of the cranium and the creature fell to the floor, taking the hammer with it.

  After ghoul number eight fell, Jack turned around and announced, "We gotta get the fuck out of here."

  Vince and Shaz were first to barge past the three remaining ghouls in front as the first few of the dead, from behind, slowly emerged over the brow of the hill, their atrophy making the task harder than it would be for a human.

  Vince and Shaz turned left off the road and went down the short decline and under the bridge. They were now on the dirt path that led to the camp, with the canal to their right, anxiously waiting for the other two to hurry the hell up.

  Jack ran at the three remaining beasts, but fell to the floor. He screamed out as the three encircled around him, and Vince reappeared from under the bridge and back on the road. Shaz was the next to emerge to help, but Pickle told them to get back and went over to help Jack up himself.

  Pickle struck one of the ghouls with his machete, but it was a poor attempt, and all the strike did was bury the machete into the creature's shoulder. Shaz and Vince screamed at them to hurry up as the dozens from the car park were now over the hill, and a matter of yards from Jack and Pickle. Pickle released the machete handle, leaving it in the ghoul's shoulder and grabbed Jack and pushed him away into Vince's direction before he was grabbed and taken down.

  All three turned on their heels, but Pickle had ran into some trouble. Vince, Shaz and Jack turned around and saw two of the ghouls take a hold of Pickle. The former inmate grabbed one of the dead by the hair and forced it into a head lock. Using his sheer strength, he slowly removed the head from its neck and immediately dropped its gnashing head to the floor.

  And then they saw it.

  While Pickle was busy with the first one, the second grabbed Pickle's shoulders. Pickle brought his elbow back into its face, but was grabbed again and the creature reacted quickly and took a hold of Harry Branston's left arm and went to sink its teeth in the forearm area.

  "No!" Shaz screamed out. Vince physically pushed Shaz back and grabbed Jack and threw him down the decline. "What's wrong with you fuckers, keep moving."

  Vince turned around and took another quick look and saw the teeth of the creature sink into Pickle's arm. Harry Branston struggled and looked behind him to see the rest of them were only seconds away. He glared at Vince demonically and growled in a voice they could all hear, "Run, you fool!"

  Pickle was pulled to the floor by the horde and Vince looked away and ran back down the decline, under the bridge, and met up with Shaz and Jack, pushing them back. "Come on! They're coming!"

  "What about Pickle?" Shaz was in tears.

  Vince ignored her and yelled, "Let's fucking go, people!"

  "We need to go back."

  "Move it."

  "You can't just leave him there."

  "He's gone."

  Shaz tried to barge past Vince, but was grabbed by both Vince and Jack. Jack held Shaz and pointed at the declining path. They were coming. The creatures from the car park were shambling down the dirt path to the canal and were heading towards what was left of the group.

  Pickle had been devoured, but they wanted more.

  Chapter Thirty

  "I've got a bad feeling about this trip to the camp."

  Karen was given a cup of orange diluting juice by Wolf and took a sip, but it tasted unusual. She had no idea if it was her, or if the water from the sink was decidedly dodgy.

  "Stop fretting." Wolf sat down next to her, and patted her thigh. "Those...things don't stand a chance against those four, especially Pickle. It is Pickle you're worried about, isn't it?"

  Karen lowered her head and half-shrugged awkwardly. "And Shaz, of course."

  "He's as tough as nails." Wolf spoke confidently and began to run his fingers through his grey beard, and kept on repeating this action.

  For some reason, Wolf stroking his beard was beginning to irk Karen, and she didn't know why. The more he did it, the more she became angry. She bit her bottom lip, trying to stifle herself from saying anything, but to no avail. She said at last, "Do you have to do that?"

  "Do what?"

  "Stroke that stupid beard, like it's a friggin' cat or something."

  Wolf's eyes widened and was taken aback by Karen's vicious outburst. "Well, I'm sorry—"

  "No," she interrupted, and dropped her head in her hands, ashamed of herself for speaking to him like that. "I'm a cow. I shouldn't speak to you like that."

  "It's probably your hormones and the worry of Pickle being out there."

  "Probably." Karen then laughed and placed her hand over her mouth, thinking about the recent past.

  "What is it?" Wolf was intrigued.

  It took a while for Karen to compose her hilarity, but when she did, she said, "I snapped at Pickle the other day, and he jokingly told me that if I spoke to him like that again, he was going to kick me in the growler."

  Wolf raised a smile, then lost it and screwed his face with perplexity. "I have no idea what that means."

  "Doesn't matter," Karen groaned, overwhelmed with nerves. "I just wish they'd hurry up."

  "If they've managed to get a vehicle they'll probably be there by now, feet up, having refreshments, before coming back up here."

  "And if they're on foot?"

  Wolf couldn't give Karen an answer. "Erm..."

  "It's okay." She smiled at his feeble attempt on trying to make her feel better. "I just hope they're safe, that's all."

  "They should be okay." Wolf slowly got to his feet, his knees cracking as he stood up straight, like they did sometimes. "Pickle told me that those things were more of a danger when there're groups of them." He adjusted his straw hat and headed for the inside of his cabin. "I'm gonna have a chocolate bar, if you and Shaz haven't ate them all. Want one?"

  Karen pulled a face to suggest that the last thing she needed was a bar of chocolate. "I would rather eat shit, thanks."

  "A simple no would suffice," Wolf laughed, and added with his tongue in cheek as he went inside. "You didn't need to release a profanity."

  "Oh, shut up," she whispered.

  *

  Tommy's appetite was naturally low for most of the day, but his stomach finally began to growl for food, and he decided to open up a can of chilli beans to temporarily halt the protests from his tummy.

  After his modest meal, followed by a generous drink of water, he lay down on the bed and stared at the ceiling, thinking about his former life and what the future held for him now. He thought about the only person he cared for, his mother, and was pleased that she died of natural causes and wasn't around to continue seeing the world turning into shit.

  He tried to think back only a day ago, and the story Hooper had told him, followed by the story Megan had revealed. It seemed that a lot of people had their own horrific story to tell, and what unnerved Tommy a little was that the last two people he had conversed with, Hooper and Megan, appeared to be psychologically damaged from what was happening.

  How many more individuals were so fucked up that they were a danger to themselves and, more importantly, a danger to other survivors? Being subjected to that kind of violence
was going to unstable the average person, but it was worrying that some people, who used to be normal before, could now be a danger that Tommy could do without.

  He thought about the stress, depression, and the fear and anger that people of young and old would have to live with, and was concerned how that was going to affect rebuilding societies.

  Tommy lay back and held his handgun in front of him. He pressed the small button by the trigger and released the magazine to see how many rounds he had left. He reached in his bag and pulled out a fresh magazine and placed it on the bed. He pulled the slide back and took out the round in the chamber and put the bullet into the magazine he had just released. The old magazine was tossed in the bag with the other four full ones, and he slotted in the new one. There was no round in the chamber, and this is what Tommy wanted from a safety point of view. Tommy was paranoid that he could wake up in the middle of the night, maybe a little disorientated, and end up having an accident with the gun that lay by his side.

  He was just being over-precautious.

  He placed the weapon by his left side and closed his eyes. The small part of the window had been pushed open to allow air into the room, just like the other bedrooms on the first floor, and Tommy could hear no sound whatsoever. He imagined what sounds would have greeted him if this was a normal day.

  On a normal day he would probably hear the sound of Buddy, barking and playing at the front, the man or the woman of the house hoovering the rooms, and the odd vehicle moaning past the house, probably driving too fast, as most of them did on roads and country lanes in Staffordshire. This was why the area used to be a hotbed for car accidents.

  A lot of drivers, especially male drivers under the age of twenty-five, had a notorious reputation of speeding along these roads. In the old world, it wouldn't be unusual for at least one fatality every fortnight. The individuals involved in these accidents usually had taken a bend too quickly, resulting in hitting an oncoming vehicle, crashing into a tree, or going completely off the road and landing in a deep ditch.