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

by Shaun Whittington

  "I stupidly shot one earlier," Tommy said. "That didn't help. So what do we do?"

  "Ride it out. Maybe they'll go away."

  "Don't have much of a choice, I suppose." Tommy continued to look out, his heart was in his mouth. "Unless I use the gun, there's no way we can get out. I suppose I can only use it if we need to escape and plan on not coming back." Tommy laughed at himself for getting so worked up, and said in a positive tone. "Fuck. It'll probably be clear in the morning."

  "I hope so." It seemed that the stranger didn't have Tommy's confidence. It was highly likely that he had more experience of the things, but Tommy never questioned the exhausted-looking man. He had plenty of time to ask him about his experiences.

  Tommy's eyes narrowed as he glared at his new guest, and his face was showing that he was thinking about something.

  "What is it?" asked the man in black.

  "Wait a minute. I know your face." Tommy leaned against the wall and a smile stretched over his features. "You're..." Tommy screwed his face as he tried to remember the man's name, but he had forgotten.

  The stranger began to study Tommy's face and he also finally recognised Tommy from their very brief encounter. He screwed his face in thought and finally asked, "Are you the guy from the estate?"

  Tommy clicked his fingers and pointed at his guest. The penny had finally dropped. "And you're the guy at the hill. You're Harry."

  "That's right." The stranger laughed and nodded. "But you can call me Pickle."

  Chapter Forty One

  The truck had left the estate, and the vehicle turned left onto The Stile Cop Road. The red pick-up truck then climbed its way up the long steep lane, passing the beauty spot on the left.

  Wolf and Jack were in the back, holding on, while Vince was still driving with the girls beside him. After Karen's remark to Vince, not a word had been spoken since.

  The truck turned left at the crossroads and went on its long descent, down a hill that would eventually lead to the small town of Brereton, Rugeley's neighbouring town. Two more miles and they'd be back at the camp.

  Karen was by the passenger door, checking the handle of her machete as the material appeared frayed at the bottom. Shaz's machete was placed by Karen's feet as it wasn't comfortable with one of those things tucked into her belt while sitting.

  Shaz could see that Vince was smirking, and she couldn't help herself and asked, "What's up with your daft face?"

  He laughed and refused to tell her. "Oh, I can't really say."

  This only fuelled her intrigue. "Come on." She hated it when people did this: Tell half a story, and then refuse to say anything more, even though technically Vince hadn't started any kind of story.

  "Okay." Vince cleared his throat, and gave Shaz another look. He was desperate to get into her pants. "When I stayed at the cabin for the night, I had a dream about you."

  "Oh?" Shaz smiled and turned to Karen, but she was staring out of the passenger window, either unaware of the conversation, or ignoring the man she didn't like.

  Vince feigned embarrassment that Shaz fell for, and said to her, "Forget it."

  "You can't come out with something like that and refuse to say anything more."

  "Okay." Vince giggled while he was explaining his dream. "In my dream, you was in my caravan. You were standing at the bottom of my bed, completely naked. I got up, took out a tub of peanut butter from the kitchen cupboard, returned to the bedroom, then I covered your body with the peanut butter. Then, I put a black bin liner over your head and began to lick bits off while I was masturbating."

  Shaz lost her smile, and stared at Vince to see if he was joking or not, but his face remained devoid of any mischief. She shook her head. "You need help."

  "Possibly."

  Shaz turned to face forward, still feeling Vince's leer. The truck was now heading near the town of Brereton and she could see the first set of houses in the distance.

  Out of a side road from the left, a vehicle appeared and Shaz suddenly blurted out, "Watch out!"

  Vince jumped and turned the wheel to the left, hitting the car. The vehicle that had flew out of the side road was a red Alpha Romeo, and had now crashed into one of the trees at the side of the road, its horn endlessly blaring.

  Vince jumped out of the vehicle and the first thing he did was check out the damage to the front of the truck. There didn't seem to be any engine damage and it still looked driveable.

  Karen and Shaz had now exited the vehicle, both rubbing their necks, and headed towards the crashed car. The car was so badly damaged and crumpled at the front that getting the driver out was an impossibility. Shaz could see that there was only one person in the vehicle and that the driver had his head on the steering wheel, causing the obvious noise of the horn.

  Karen tried the door, but it wouldn't budge. She then pulled out her machete and began smashing the driver's window. "We need to shut that horn off." Once the window smashed, Karen reached inside and pulled the man's head back, off the horn. She turned to Shaz. "He's dead. I think his neck's broke. Let's go."

  "Wait." Vince called out over to the girls. "Where's Jack and the old man?"

  Karen and Shaz looked at one another. Karen ran over to the truck and could see Jack lying flat in the back, groaning. She guessed that he had flew forwards and hit his head against the cab. But where was Wolf?

  "Over here," Shaz called out.

  Karen could see Vince and Shaz walking over to the old man. He had been thrown from the truck, and was at the right hand side of the road, at the edge of the woods. His body was motionless and he was curled in a ball, like a slug that had been doused in salt.

  Shaz bent down and saw to Wolf, with Vince standing over him.

  "Make sure you don't move him," Karen called over.

  Feeling useless, Vince walked over to the truck that was twenty yards away and checked on Jack while Karen went over and stood next to Shaz, checking for a pulse and to see if Wolf was still breathing.

  Shaz enquired, "Well?"

  Karen began feeling around Wolf's body and said, "He's alive, but I'm not sure of the damage to his body as far as broken bones are concerned." She looked at his face and saw that it was in a bloody mess and had probably taken a pounding when it hit and scraped along the tarmac. Karen knew that they couldn't just leave him there, but there was a high possibility that he could be brain damaged.

  Shaz asked, "What's that noise?"

  Karen ignored Shaz's question at first, as she hadn't finished her examination on Wolf. Once she had finished, she stood up and looked over to Vince. He was now in the back of the truck, trying to wake Jack up.

  "He might have a neck injury!" she called over to Vince. "Let me check Jack!"

  "Karen." Shaz tapped her friend on the shoulder.

  "What is it?"

  "Can you hear that?"

  Karen cocked her head to the side and then looked up to see the woods to her right began spilling out Snatchers. The first three that came out of the woods stumbled onto the road inbetween the red pick-up truck and where the girls were standing.

  Shaz pulled out the machete, but Karen held her back.

  Shaz glared at Karen and asked, "What're you doing?"

  "We don't have time to fight. We need to get back to the truck," Karen said coldly.

  "We can't leave Wolf." Shaz nodded down to the body.

  Another two came out from behind them, and ten yards in front of the truck, six appeared. Karen snapped, "These cocksuckers are everywhere." She pointed into the woods with her machete and both girls could see ten, eleven, twelve...twenty of the dead. And that was just the ones that were to their left and in front of them. God knows how many were all around.

  Another four came from the right and now there was a horde inbetween the truck and the girls.

  Vince snapped out of his disbelieving gaze on how quick and how many had appeared. He stood upright at the back and leaned over the cab of the truck and yelled, "I'll try and ram them!"

  "
Don't bother!" Karen yelled over the groans off the dead, most of them heading her way. "You'll get stuck. We'll meet you back at the camp."

  Vince then called out, "What about the old man?"

  Karen shook her head, slowly.

  Vince sighed and jumped out of the back of the truck, leaving Jack there unconscious, and went into the front. The truck quickly reversed, hitting two that had appeared from behind, did a sloppy turn-in-the-road, then drove off onto another route that would take him back to the camp.

  "Let's go." Karen grabbed Shaz's shoulder and was quickly shrugged off.

  "We can't leave him here," protested Shaz, pointing at the body of Wolfgang Kindl.

  Karen grabbed Shaz by her grey T-shirt and screamed, "Look around!"

  Shaz could see at least twenty...thirty of the things stumbling towards them on the road, the two behind them were gaining on them, and many more were making their way from both sides of the woods.

  "We can't possibly carry him out of here." Karen urged Shaz to hurry, but there was still no response from the thirty-year-old Sharon Bailey. "We'll die."

  "I...I...can't."

  "Fine," Karen snapped. "I'm off. I hope it's quick for you, but I've got a baby to think of now."

  "Okay, I'm coming," Shaz spoke begrudgingly.

  Karen pulled out her machete and struck out at the two from behind. Both fell to the floor after receiving heavy blows, and she could hear Shaz running behind.

  "Let's hurry," Shaz said with tears in her eyes. "I don't want to hear him screaming when they get to him."

  "You're right. Why didn't I think of that?"

  "Think of what?"

  Karen stopped in her tracks, and took a peek behind her. The things were just a matter of yards away from Wolf's body. Some appeared to be interested in his motionless state, but the rest were more interested in the girls. "He shouldn't die like this."

  Karen ran back and Shaz called out after her, wondering what the hell she was doing. Shaz could see that Karen was touching distance from the ghouls and saw her friend drive her machete into the chest of the old man. Wolf had given her safe refugee, had fed them, and had armed them with the same weapon that he had now been killed by. He didn't deserve to be ripped to pieces by these diseased fiends. He deserved better than that.

  Trying to flee, Karen felt hands grab around her and could see Shaz running back to help. Karen threw her elbows back and desperately tried to hack her way out of her predicament. Shaz also hacked away and took one out that was about to take a bite into Karen's shoulder.

  Shaz grabbed Karen and pulled her forwards and both girls ran while the forty-strong crowd tried to follow them as quickly as they could.

  "I thought you said you had a baby to think of?" Shaz snarled, furious that her friend had done such a reckless act.

  "I know." Karen panted as their legs had now hit a steep road. "I couldn't just leave him there to be torn to pieces; that's not fair."

  Although Shaz agreed with Karen, she was unsure if she could ever do such a thing herself. To kill such a gentle soul like Wolf, no matter the situation, would be too hard for Shaz to do. She knew that Karen was going by the cruel to be kind method, but it was something that she would struggle to do if ever Karen needed the same favour.

  Shaz took a look at Karen as they both panted up the hill.

  Feeling her look, Karen asked, "What is it?"

  "You're some piece of work, Karen."

  Karen shook her head. She didn't agree. "It would have been crueller to have left him there. Besides, you'd do the same for me, wouldn't you?"

  Shaz never answered.

  Chapter Forty Two

  "As soon as I managed to fight ma way out, I headed back to the town centre. It seemed to be safer than tryin' to run after ma friends, yer see."

  Harry Branston had began explaining, in his usual slurred manner, to Tommy Burns about his story and how he had ended up in the woods. He started from the beginning and Tommy was in awe of the man, considering what he had gone through, and especially compared to what Tommy had been doing over the last three weeks or so.

  Harry continued, "I could feel fingers all over me and I just told them to run. I knew I was screwed, or at least I thought I was screwed, especially when one o' them bit into ma arm."

  Tommy's eyes widened with horror, but Pickle began to laugh and held his hand up. "It's okay. I'm fine." He lifted his left arm in the air and showed Tommy the teeth marks, but the skin hadn't been broken.

  Tommy smiled and made a phew sound. "You have got to be the luckiest man ever."

  "Tell me about it. I had a run-in with a family few days ago...or was it yesterday?" Pickle was confused and seemed to have lost his train of thought. He shook his head. "Anyway, I had a run-in with a family where I was staying, and the little fucker-of-a-son decided to attack me with a knife and slashed me." Pickle swivelled his now exposed left forearm round so Tommy could see the cut. "After the melee had finished I put a thick bandage made from a T-shirt and that was exactly where one o' them bit me, right on the bandage."

  "So no bandage, no Pickle?"

  Harry Branston laughed, "In the grand scheme o' things, that little twat saved ma life, to a certain degree."

  Tommy reached for a mug that was sitting on the floor, wetted his lips with the warm tea and asked Pickle, "Do you think we're here because of luck? You and me, I mean."

  "I dunno. Well, I personally think that this in act of God." He pointed at his arm.

  "Really?"

  Pickle nodded and his eyes suggested that he needed more sleep, and was looking forward to lying down for a few more hours. "I think God has had a part to play in all this, but if Karen was here..."

  "She'd say it was a bunch of bullshit."

  Pickle smiled and then his face turned to sadness. "She probably thinks I'm dead. I need to get to the camp as soon as possible. Don't want her going through that, especially with her condition."

  "Something wrong with her?"

  "Pregnant."

  "Wow."

  Changing the subject, Pickle shifted his bum to get comfortable and spoke, "So Karen told me what yer did to help her and Shaz—yer know, after yer both had tha' chat on the hill?"

  "It's nothing."

  "Yer saved their lives with...what was it? A sniper rifle? How..?"

  "I used to be a bad man? I did things to people for money, for a dealer. Now I'm just left with this." He patted his Glock that sat on the side-table.

  Pickle now remembered that Tommy had mentioned something about being involved in illegal activities when they were at Cardboard Hill. Pickle was intrigued. After all that had happened he had managed to come across someone who used to be in the same business he was in. "Who was the dealer?"

  "Freddy Johnson." Tommy grinned and said, "I suppose it doesn't matter now if I tell. The fucker's probably dead anyway."

  Pickle laughed, "I know him well, or should I say, I knew him well."

  "Really?"

  "I take it he had a limp on his right leg."

  "Er...yeah."

  "I used to be involved in the same kind o' business." Pickle released a smirk that stretched over his stubbly face and reminisced. "When we were just...starting out, shall I say, we were rivals. I took his legs from under him with a 12-gauge at his flat. He was trying to steal my pushers. We were friends after that."

  Tommy looked astonished; a silence fell over the two men, and Pickle reached for his mug of tea and slurped the remaining contents of the tepid liquid that was ten minutes old.

  "So how do you think this is all gonna pan out?" Tommy queried.

  Pickle giggled and shrugged his shoulders. "Yer know, if I had a pound for every time someone asked me that question—"

  "You'd be a millionaire?"

  "Nope, I'd have eleven pounds in ma pocket. Not tha' money matters these days." He scratched at the side of his head and sighed, "I don't know. Just because I've been out there practically since the day it's officially started, doesn
't mean I know what's going on. All I've been doing for three and a half weeks is killing, hiding, and more killing. You've probably listened to the same radio stations I have. Our knowledge o' this thing is limited."

  "It doesn't look good though, does it?"

  Pickle stared at Tommy for a while, and slowly shook his head from side-to-side. "No it doesn't. Not so long back we were in a sports centre, and a friend o' ours, Paul Parker, came across a battery radio and listened in. It was announced there that it was a global catastrophe."

  "So there'll be no help?"

  "Doesn't look that way."

  Pickle got up from the bed and stretched his legs. His knees cracked once he straightened up and snickered to himself when Karen had labelled him an 'old fart' the last time he stretched his legs, before they visited the cabin for the first time. It pained him that she thought that he might be dead. He just hoped that Jack, Vince and Shaz had managed to go back for her and Wolf, and they had returned to the camp with no further hullabaloo.

  Pickle looked out of the window and could see the sky turning into a deeper shade of blue. The night was drawing in.

  Now gazing at the floor, his mood in a decline, Tommy Burns asked, "How's it looking out there?"

  "We're gonna have to leave at first light." Pickle stared down to see that the horde had grown in numbers. "If that's possible."

  Tommy looked up and rubbed his eyes. "Okay. So we better get our heads down about now to get a decent sleep before going to this camp you mentioned earlier."

  "That's probably a good idea."

  "Not that much sleep is gonna happen."

  "Any kind o' sleep will do. Trust me, I stayed in the woods where the paranoia was strong. The first night or so was hard goin', but when yer exhausted..."

  Tommy peered out of the window and knew the scene was going to be a horrific one. "Do you think they'll be more by the morning."

  "I know there will be. I've seen it before."

  "For fuck's sake."

  "I'm sorry, this is ma fault. I was being followed by a horde before a...distraction appeared. Looks like they never gave up on me." Pickle then turned to Tommy and playfully punched him on the arm. "But if we can get to this camp near Armitage, yer will be thanking me."