Shaz continued with her feet-scrunching and allowed there to be silence between the pair of them before speaking again. "You sounded sad when you mentioned Claire's name." Shaz leaned back and closed her eyes. "A girlfriend, was she?"
"No." Jack lowered his head, and paused before speaking again. "Maybe she could have been if she hadn't have died."
"Is it really wise, getting close to someone in this world? Only to lose them some weeks later?" Shaz sounded cold, but she had only lost her son and husband in the space of a month.
"Probably not," snickered Jack. He knew where Shaz was coming from, and Jack himself felt the way Shaz felt not so long back. "Still..."
"Still?"
Jack shrugged his shoulders and looked coy.
Shaz decided to guess what he was thinking. "You're a man. You have needs, apocalypse or no apocalypse."
"Pathetic, isn't it?"
"It's the way men are made." Shaz sat up straight and looked at Jack. "But yes, it is." She began to giggle. "Women have needs too, you know."
Jack stared at Shaz and looked into those extraordinary blue eyes of hers. She kind of reminded him of a girl he used to date at school. Shaz was good-looking, maybe not quite as good-looking as Karen, but Shaz wasn't scary and was easy to talk to. He looked down at her wrist and saw a bracelet. He opened his mouth, about to ask her the relevance of the bracelet, but she jumped in before he had the chance. "Don't."
He slowly leaned in for a kiss, and was taken by surprise when Shaz responded. Their passionate embrace was only seconds old when the pair of them began to pull each other's clothes off.
Jack pulled off Shaz's grey T-shirt, revealing a bra that had seen better days, and she began pulling down his green combats. Once his trousers were down to his ankles, she immediately pulled on his briefs and dragged them down. Jack stood up and kicked off his trousers and briefs. He turned to Shaz and they kissed once again, with Jack now on top of Shaz, his hand under her bra and stroking her right breast.
Shaz's eyes opened and she immediately began pushing Jack off.
"What is it? What have I done?" Jack stood up from the settee and wondered why Shaz was putting on her T-shirt so quickly. Jack still remained naked and turned to see Vince standing inside the cabin with a wide smile on his face, the main door wide open.
"What the fuck do you want?" snapped Jack. "You've only been away five minutes."
Vince looked at Jack's manhood and giggled, "Cold, are we?"
Jack immediately covered his genitalia and then reached for a tea towel that was sitting on the nearby table and covered himself properly. "Didn't you fucking knock?"
"Yes, I did." Vince nodded. "Obviously not loud enough."
Shaz stood up and stormed by Vince to get to one of the bedrooms, her face was lowered and she was clearly embarrassed.
"How long has your husband been dead?" Vince called after her. "Three weeks?"
Jack took a step forward threateningly towards Vince, but Vince couldn't take him seriously. "That's not fair, leave her alone."
"I came to tell you that we're going up there with guns, just in case we run into any carjackers like the last time. Any objections?"
Jack shook his head, hoping Vince's stay would be a short one.
"I'll show you what's what." Vince giggled and nodded to Jack's crotch, "So that'll be two loaded guns you'll be walking around with."
Jack sighed at Vince's pathetic attempt at humour, and snarled, "Anything else, before you fuck off?"
"Yes." Vince folded his arms, and this time his face took on a more stern look. "I've just told Paul's wife the news."
"Oh." Jack still stood with the tea towel covering his private bits, and had temporarily forgot how ridiculous he looked. "How did she take it?"
"She didn't seem that bothered."
"Really?"
"Of course not, shagwit. She's devastated, of course. But at least the rest of the residents seem sympathetic to our disastrous run."
Jack asked Vince something that had been bothering him. "Were you really prepared to leave Karen and your dad behind after what happened to Pickle?"
"I said before, I just wanted to know your opinion." Vince looked embarrassed for Jack bringing up the subject. "What are we actually going back for? A pregnant woman who hates my guts and a coffin dodger."
"It's your dad." Jack was baffled at Vince's attitude. "Doesn't your own flesh and blood mean anything, even if he wasn't the greatest father?"
"You mean my drunk-of-a-father? The one that used to beat mum and kick the crap out of me if I so much as looked at him wrong?"
"He seems like a nice old man." Jack tried to stick up for an individual he didn't even know, and knew himself that people deserved another chance with what was happening. "I wasn't a great dad myself, but I'm glad my son's last days were spent with me."
"Don't compare yourself to my father, Jack. You're nothing like him."
"All I'm saying—"
"My dad came in drunk one night and I was up watching TV with my mum. He told me to go to bed, and for whatever reason I cheeked him back and said no. He fucking exploded and grabbed an empty bottle and began hitting me with it. The bottle broke." Vince then pointed at his scarred face. "But he continued to hit me, and gave me this."
"Look—"
"The guy's an old cunt," Vince said sharply, with venom in his tone. "You're a good man, Jack, so don't compare yourself with that piece of crap again."
Jack was shocked by the story and asked, "What happened after?"
"Oh, it was covered up. They told people that I had fallen through the window, playing about. My mother and father spent months giving me everything I wanted, just to keep me quiet."
Jack sat down, stunned, and didn't know what else to say.
"Anyway," Vince clapped his hands together and tried to lift the sombre atmosphere that he had created with his confession from the past. "I'm gonna crack one off and be back later."
"You're a disgrace." Jack almost raised a smile, and had forgiven Vince for his intrusion. Shaz had emerged from the bedroom and went past Vince and straight outside.
Vince turned to leave as well, but suddenly stopped and clicked his fingers as if he had remembered something. "Oh, and Jack?"
"Now what is it?"
"I was impressed with your foreplay technique there. Very good."
"What the hell do you know about foreplay?"
"I know it's like having a KFC. I always start with the thigh and breast, then all you have left is a greasy box to put your bone in."
"You're a disgusting letch, Vince."
"A letch?" Vince laughed, "I'm not the one with a tea towel covering Gonorrhoea Greg and his two hairy companions." Vince pointed at Jack's briefs that were lying on the floor. "You need to put those boys back in the barracks." Vince turned on his heels and headed for the door. "Oh, and one more thing."
"Now what?"
"You've got a boil on your arse."
Chapter Thirty Four
It was a nap Jim Ferguson's body needed, and as soon as the man from Paisley stepped out of the cabin and stretched his arms, he yawned and began to adjust his woolly hat.
He looked around the woods and thought that, despite knowing the world had gone to hell, the area he was in was beautiful. His wife would love this, he thought.
She really would have appreciated the greenery, but he still was convinced that killing his family while they slept was the best thing for them. The lodger also had to be killed because he knew that he wouldn't have understood. If the lodger had woke to find the family, he had grown close to, killed, there was no doubt that Jim Ferguson would have been attacked himself and would have some serious questions to answer.
The lodger was the last one to die, and after killing his wife and his own children, killing the lodger was so easy. Straight through the heart.
There were no tears for the destruction of his family. He knew what the alternative would have been. It was just a shame that Jim Ferguson
lost his valour when he sat down on the couch in his living room and turned the bloody knife around, ready to stab himself through the heart. But he couldn't do it. And he was angry that by the time he had killed his lodger, his bravery had diminished and hesitation had begun to creep in.
After accepting that he didn't have it in him to commit suicide, he peered out of his living room window and saw that his street was mobbed with the dead. He then made an immediate decision to fill his bags, leave his home, and leave the street in his car.
During his frantic escape, he saw a woman and a child run out into the street when he reversed out of his drive. Once he saw three of those freaks take down the child, leaving the woman to run off, he was convinced right there that he had done the right thing by killing his family.
Once Jim Ferguson had managed four miles in the car, he was on the country roads and planned on going to a place in the country where it was less populated. He had no idea where he was going, but Cannock was definitely a no-go area. He thought about Hednesford, but decided on a village instead.
After a ten-minute drive he hit a ghoul that stumbled out onto the country road, forcing Jim to crash. Jim then fled the car once he saw that the ghoul he had hit was one of many coming out of the woods. He killed a few with a tyre iron, but was eventually forced to grab his bags and take flight in the woods. It took him most of the day to come across the cabin, and he had stayed there ever since.
Only twice had he come across a ghoul, which harmlessly shambled by the cabin and disappeared, eventually being swallowed up by the greenery. The second time was during the day while he was down by the stream. The creature had come from nowhere, and not even the sound of rustling plantation could be heard leading up to its appearance.
While Jim was washing his feet and his face, the creature appeared from the other side of the stream and stumbled into the water after him. The thought of its diseased legs walking into the stream where Jim had washed and reluctantly drank from, turned his stomach. He picked up a heavy rock, easily swiped its legs, and then caved its face in with eight blows.
Since then, everything had been rather peaceful.
Until now.
His ears twitched when he first heard the rustle, and his heart began to gallop at a frenetic pace. He went back inside.
Was it one of...them?
What should he do? Go out and confront what was out there? Or, hide in the cabin and wait for it to pass?
Sounds like it's just one of them. Jim cocked his head to get a better listen. Aye, definitely just the one.
He wondered how his friends were coping back in Foxbar, Paisley. He mentally joked that if they could walk through Ferguslie Park and come away with not a scratch on them, this outbreak should be a breeze.
He had made a decision. The first time this had happened, he allowed the thing to walk past. But what if it hung around the cabin, attracting more of the things? Could they smell him? He didn't know, but this time he wasn't going to take the risk. It was one-on-one and Jim knew that he could take one of these dumb fucks with one had behind his back.
He pulled out his knife and stepped outside. He stood up straight and his eyes narrowed as he glared into the woods. He could hear the noises more clearly now, but there was still no sign of the thing that was causing it.
His clammy hand was wiped on his trousers and he gripped the knife handle once again. A smile emerged when he finally saw someone stumble towards him. A human.
"Ye fuckin' dancer," he muttered under his breath.
The last guy that he had come across was wise to him, and had put a handgun in his face. This individual looked exhausted, and walked through the woods as if he was drunk.
When he looked more closely, Jim Ferguson's excitement was short-lived. "Shit."
His heart sank when he could see that the man stumbling in the woods had nothing on him. No backpack, or nothing! Why the hell would you enter the woods in this new world with not so much as a water bottle?
It didn't make much sense to Jim. Unless the individual was being chased by someone...or something.
"Aw naw." Jim stroked his dark beard and scratched his head through his woolly hat. "Ye got tae be fuckin' kiddin' me."
He could clearly see the man now, but behind him was a few ghouls, and the man from Paisley was sure there were more, many more, that he couldn't see.
The man approaching, dressed in black, was yards away from Jim and looked completely exhausted. The woolly hat-wearing Jim was furious at what he could see, gripped his knife, ran up to the individual and grabbed the man that was dressed in black.
He began yelling, "Wit the fuck are ye daeing bringin' them here, ye cunt?"
The dishevelled man was clearly tired and couldn't give him an answer. Not many knew about the cabin, and Jim was sure this was some kind of unlucky coincidence, but it didn't stop his temper from exploding. He had a good thing going before this stranger turned up, but now he brought with him six...seven...eight ghouls, he counted.
"Quick," the man dressed in black finally spoke with what little breath he had left, "we need to get into your cabin."
"Nae fuckin' chance," Jim Ferguson snapped. "It's my cabin, and this," he pointed to the creatures behind, "is your fuckin' problem, pal."
The Paisley man punched the man in black in the stomach, drew back his knife to cripple him, but his legs were taken from him by the man's quick swipe of his right leg.
Both men rolled about on the floor while the dead progressed towards them, twenty yards away. Jim took two punches to the face, a punch to the jaw, and his wrist was bent back which caused him to scream out and drop the knife.
The man in black looked in the direction of the ghouls and knew that outrunning these things, in his condition, could turn disastrous. Any energy he had left had just been used to contain the fiery Scot.
"Sorry it had to end like this." The man dressed in black was now sitting on the Paisley man's stomach and had took the knife off of him. "All I wanted was somewhere to hide for a bit."
"It's every man fae himself," the Paisley man growled, blood running down his face from the broken nose that was given to him. "I'm no' helpin' nae cunt."
The man in black took a look to the side and could see the ghouls gaining. He looked to the cabin and knew now that it wouldn't be any kind of sanctuary. If he went in there now, they'd surround the place and it would end badly for him.
The man in black looked at the Paisley man. "I'm sorry."
Jim Ferguson looked confused. "Sorry fae what?"
"It's either you or me."
He drove the knife into Jim's left thigh; he screamed out and yelled. "Ye bastard! Ye fuckin' bastard!"
The man in black hobbled away from the Scotsman and ran ahead while Jim continued to shriek. The stranger passed the run-down cabin, and left an injured Jim to fend off the eight ghouls all by himself.
They quickly encircled the injured Paisley man lying on the floor, and knelt down to attack him, ignoring the punches that he threw in their direction.
The first set of rotten teeth that sank into his face produced an immediate scream, and the squeal wasn't just for the pain of his cheek being pulled away, but for the fact that he knew with the first bite he was as good as dead.
He was about to experience the most excruciating pain he ever had, and now he wished he had killed himself after killing his family and lodger, but it was too late.
Fingers gouged out his eyes, and he could now feel the dirty fingers in his mouth, trying to rip it open to get to the meaty tongue. Bite after bite went into his stomach until his shirt was ripped open, and the agonising pain of slowly being opened up was too much to bear.
He was still alive when the rotting hands dipped into his gaping stomach, and as bloody entrails were pulled out of him and were being stuffed in their filthy mouths, his trousers were torn open and his testicles were ripped away by another set of dirty teeth.
He finally died once a bite opened his neck, his carotid artery rel
easing as much blood as it could. The vile beasts continued to munch on the corpse, and limb after limb was eventually pulled away from the rapidly devoured carcass, the bloody meat dropping into their defunct stomachs, serving no purpose to them whatsoever.
Chapter Thirty Five
The red pick-up truck groaned its way around the country bends. Jack was driving, whilst Shaz and Vince were in the passenger seat, Vince was nearest the window. He stared out and watched hypnotically as the trees and bushes whizzed by his eyes and thought about his sister in Ireland.
The journey from the camp to where they were now had been silent and it was Vince that had finally broken the silence between the trio.
"I can't believe I'm doing this for a father I hate, and a chick that thinks I'm a dick." Vince looked at his watch. 6pm.
"Don't forget the supplies. And Karen's okay once you get to know her," was Shaz's defensive response. She never made eye contact with Vince; she remained glaring out the windscreen, still embarrassed that he had walked in on her and Jack. "But you are hard to like, you have to admit that, with your sexist shit. Obviously you think it's funny."
"Have you listened to this, Jack?" guffawed Vince. "Hard to like? I've just given you refuge, for Christ's sake."
"Yeah," Shaz said, and I suppose you want something in return, knowing you." She finally stared at Vince, but it was with contempt. "A blowjob, maybe."
Jokingly, Vince cleared his throat and added, "Well, I wouldn't say no. I mean, it's not gonna suck itself, is it?"
Jack smiled at Vince's comment. That was a joke he used to use on Kerry when they were together. It was something he would say after he had stepped out of the shower and walked naked to whatever room Kerry was in. It was a nice memory, and surprisingly it never made him feel sad.
"You know where you're going?" Vince asked Jack.
Jack nodded confidently. "Turn left at the Stile Cop Road, go to Draycott Park, then turn left into the Pear Tree Estate. This journey is going to bring back some serious memories from the last few weeks."
Snatchers: Volume Two (The Zombie Apocalypse Series Box Set--Books 4-6) Page 16
