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

by Shaun Whittington

  Shaz swung her weapon and took half of the skull away, her first victim of the morning fell with a slump, the brains spilling out onto the road. Simultaneously, Karen stabbed her weapon forward at number two, penetrating the skull enough to damage its brain. Its eyes rolled back, moaned, then dropped to its knees and hit the floor face down, causing the two young girls to scream out.

  "You're gonna have to knock that shit off!" Karen reprimanded them. "Keep your mouths closed."

  Shaz bolted ahead of Karen and headed to the remaining nine and rammed her blade into a female ghoul, blood spitting out as she pulled it, and front-kicked another, making it fall into two others, knocking all three over. This had given the women some respite, and Karen swung her own, like a baseball bat, at a beast that was still in primary school a month ago. She sliced away the head diagonally, from the left side of the head to the right side of its neck.

  They both looked around and could see that the ones from behind were gaining on them. Shaz and Karen then looked ahead at the remaining ones. Shaz called out, "We could run through them. We could make it, but I don't think the girls will."

  Karen sighed, "So much for taking a step back."

  Another approached, and this one looked to have already been involved in some kind of battle. Its stomach was sliced open, intestines still hung from it, and its left hand was missing. It was taken down with one strike by Shaz, but by this time the ones behind were becoming more of a problem than the ones in front.

  "What's that noise?" Shaz called over the groans of the dead.

  Karen was unsure and twisted her face. "Sounds like a car."

  Shaz looked ahead and saw a truck coming over the brow of the hill from a distance. "It's Vince! It must be."

  Ignoring her, Karen took another peep behind her and now could see about twenty of the things, and they were only a matter of yards away. She grabbed the eldest girl by the hand, and Shaz did the same with the youngest, knowing that they had no choice now, and ran at the remaining ghouls in front, despite the dangers.

  Shaz and Karen kicked them down, one-by-one. Karen front-kicked one over and the final one was also front-kicked by Shaz, but her foot went straight through its middle, into its stomach. Both creature and Shaz fell to the floor. The little girl screamed, and had let go of Shaz's hand and was immediately covered by dozens of grubby hands belonging to the dead. Her eldest sister screamed as she could see eight-year-old Heather having her throat torn out by many of them, the skin on her face being peeled away, then the head was finally removed.

  Karen told the sister to stay where she was and went back for Shaz. Putting the machete back into her belt, Karen grabbed Shaz under the arms and pulled her, removing the foot from inside the ghoul's stomach as the large horde were just a few feet away.

  Both women were on the floor, and suddenly guns blasted from behind them and heads exploded, while Karen and Shaz struggled to get to their feet. Four ghouls fell and Karen could hear the unmistakeable sound of Vince's voice. "Let's move it, girlies."

  Karen grabbed the young, distraught girl, and put her in the back of the truck, she soon followed while Vince and Jack reloaded their old shotguns with two more shells each.

  Vince and Jack were standing outside the truck and both fired the rounds quickly, putting down two more and taking half the face of another that continued to move. Shaz was on her feet and was quickly grabbed by a teenage-Snatcher wearing a Nirvana T-shirt. Shaz was pulled to the ground and Jack dropped the gun and went after her while dozens began quickly encircling them. Vince and Karen looked on helplessly, knowing that if they went to help, they'd be finished. Miraculously, just as they were giving up hope, Jack and Shaz burst through the crowd.

  "Go, go, go!" Jack screamed.

  After picking up the gun off the floor, Jack and Shaz jumped in the back with Karen and the young girl, while Vince reversed the truck and did a one-eighty turn.

  The truck travelled along the main road, and eventually went over the brow of the hill. Karen peered out from the back and saw that the HGV trucks were blocking the road, and the selection of caravans were to the right. The only thing that would have improved its destination was if it was on a hill, rather than at the bottom of the hill. Karen thought that being at the bottom of the hill made the camp a little vulnerable, but had a cheek to begin complaining.

  At least the place had a bit of muscle. It wasn't enough to scare off a gang of well-trained individuals, but it was better than nothing. Pickle would have made a difference to this place. She raised a sad smile.

  Vince stopped the truck by the barrier and went round the back of it and said to Shaz and Karen, "From now on we're gonna have a man on the brow of the hill, just in case more turn up. Should have done it sooner. Any Rotters that we see in the distance, we'll now get rid of, rather than waiting for them to come to the blockade."

  He then told the two men standing on top of the HGV to help the people into the camp. "Put them in Jack's caravan. It should be clean now." He looked at the distraught girl. "Take her to Margaret; she's good with grief and shit like that."

  Karen refrained from going to the caravan and decided that she needed some air. She sat on the grass and threw her head back. She lost herself for a minute, but her daydreaming came to an end once Vince returned with two men. Vince then began discussing a topic with the two men in private, and they nodded in unison. Vince went back into the truck with the men in the passenger seat, and Karen yelled over, "Where the hell are you going?"

  "I'm gonna run the rest of them down, finish them off before they get to the barrier." He then giggled, "Fuck knows what state this truck's gonna be in when we get back. So long, sugar muffin."

  "I'll come with you."

  "No chance, not in your condition." He cackled, "You go indoors and put your feet up. Those ankles are looking a little swollen."

  She gave him the finger as he waited for the HGV to reverse back to allow them out. Once it did, he drove away, heading for the peak of the road.

  Karen could hear the words of Shaz swirling around her head like cigar smoke. Take a step back.

  *

  Vince drove so fast over the brow of the hill that the wheels left the tarmac. As the vehicle began to pick up speed the remaining ghouls could be seen up ahead. Vince laughed and pressed his foot harder on the gas pedal, the truck seconds away from causing carnage. "Put your seatbelts on, lads."

  They did as they were instructed and the truck ploughed into the remaining dead. All three men jolted forward as the windscreen was decorated in dark gunk and rotten brains. Vince panicked once the windscreen was impossible to see through and he shouted out, "Shit!" before slowing the vehicle down. He hit the windscreen wipers, but all they did was smear the blood. "Okay," he laughed falsely. "I didn't think this through properly."

  He pulled his window down and slipped the gear stick into reverse. He peered out the driver's window, seeing that there was two of them still on their feet, and pressed down the gas pedal. Once the truck smacked the two beings, Vince brought the truck to a stop. "Out!"

  Vince and his men exited the vehicle and could see blood and limbs everywhere. They counted that four were still moving, the others were probably crushed from the wheels. Vince pointed over to two already on the floor.

  His men took out their blades to take care of them, while Vince walked over to a Rotter that had lost its legs. It dragged itself across the tarmac through the blood and guts from the dead that had been destroyed, and snarled at Vince, still desperate to take a chunk from his warm body.

  Vince casually walked over to the being and rammed his knife into the top of its cranium. He looked over to see his men had finished stabbing at the skulls of the other two, and Vince Kindl went over to a fourth beast that he had noticed. This one had been cut in half by the impact of the truck. It was easy to tell which ones they had just killed, and the ones that had been destroyed earlier on. All the ones with head wounds, big or small, were done by Shaz, Karen, Vince and Jack ea
rlier on. The ones that had heads crushed and had missing limbs, had been hit by the truck.

  He walked over to the creature that had lost its body from the breast bone, and as he looked at its milky eyes, its gnashing yellow teeth, and catching a whiff of the awful smell, he began to pity it. He put his knife away and crouched down, just yards away from the thing.

  "What the fuck is happening in this world?" He stood back up and brought the heel of his boot down on its skull. Three blows it took before the boot went straight through the head and its teeth stopped gnashing.

  Vince looked over to the two men. The witnessing of the last Rotter had affected him, but he tried to laugh it off. "Well, that was fun."

  Chapter Fifty One

  Vince was walking past one of the chicken coops, when he bumped into a distressed-looking Shaz. "Jack wants a word with us," Shaz announced, then shrugged her shoulders to state that she had no idea what it was about and that she was just as much in the dark as everybody else.

  Fresh from returning from killing the remaining Rotters from the main road near The Ash Tree pub, Vince sighed. "Can't it wait until I have a wash? Fuck me, I've only been back five minutes."

  "Don't shoot the messenger." Shaz turned around and headed back to Jack's caravan, and added, "It's up to you. Do what you want."

  Vince sighed, "What is it?"

  "He doesn't look good."

  "Of course he doesn't." Vince threw his head back and cackled. "He's still suffering from last night. Maybe he feels queasy again after seeing all that death when we picked you and Karen up half an hour ago."

  Shaz stopped walking and swivelled round. "What happened last night?"

  "He was drunk."

  "Oh right." She beckoned Vince over to follow her. "Just come and see him. He asked for you."

  They both stared in silence for a few seconds, until Vince said, "Fine. I'll see what he wants."

  Vince followed Shaz to caravan number seven, stepped into the humble place and saw that Karen was already there, giving Jack a glass of water. Jack was lying on the settee and looked pale. Vince turned to Shaz for an explanation.

  She said, "I asked Karen to see him first. Well, she is a nurse."

  "What does a nurse actually do?" Vince stepped into the kitchen area and helped himself to an apple that had been picked from the local orchid, a rare luxury. "All they do is wipe arses and change sheets."

  "Careful," Karen growled, and placed the glass of water next to the TV that hadn't been used in weeks. "Just because you're in charge here, doesn't mean you won't get a slap."

  Vince strolled in the open caravan, near the living room, and sat down on one of the chairs in the tiny dining area. "So what's this all about, Jack?" asked Vince.

  Jack tried to sit up.

  Seeing that he was struggling, Shaz and Karen rushed over to him and helped him up.

  Jack's face was ashen, the sweat glistened on his forehead with its army of pearls, and his lips looked to be tinged with a hint of blue.

  Now that he had a better look at him, Vince was stunned by Jack's appearance. "Jesus, you look like shit."

  "Feel like it," Jack mumbled, and manage to produce a thin smile.

  "What was in that Jack Daniels?" Vince tried to make a joke about Jack's appearance, but his friend wasn't in the mood.

  "It has nothing to do with the Jack Daniels." Jack licked his cracked lips and stared at Vince as if he had something else to say, but instead, he lifted his right arm up and showed them all the bite mark on his tricep. It was bleeding, but not as much as it could have been.

  Jack explained to his shocked audience, "They didn't manage to completely rip it open, but it's enough." He looked at the group with sad eyes. "Enough to get me infected."

  Shaz lowered her head, knowing that Jack had been bit when he went back for her. She cried, "Maybe you could ride it out, may it's not that deep—"

  "Look at the state of me." Jack fought back the tears and added, "It happened half an hour ago and I've turned into a mess. Coincidence? I don't think so."

  "So what are we gonna do?" asked Vince, coldly. Karen was sure he was putting a brave face on to make him look like he was in control of the situation.

  Jack opened his mouth to speak, but began coughing instead. His coughing became so severe that Karen went over to him and slapped him on the back. He spat out some blood, which hit the floor.

  Jack slowly looked up, and took a look at Shaz. "For what it's worth. I'm glad I went back for you."

  Tears fell from Shaz's eyes, but she never wiped them away and allowed them to drip off her chin.

  Jack pointed at Vince. "When I go. End it for me. Don't let me turn into one of those freaks."

  Vince nodded the once.

  Jack then gawped in Karen's direction and asked her, "Could you get me a bucket? I think I'm going to be sick."

  Karen quickly went in the cupboard, under the sink, and brought a yellow one out. As soon as Jack's fingers touched it, he violently vomited blood into it. Vince turned away from the scene. Jack looked in agony and he looked frightened.

  Once the vomiting had ceased, Jack broke down and apologised again and again inbetween his crying.

  "What're you apologising for?" Karen touched his face with the palm of her right hand. "You put your life on the line for Shaz. You're a hero."

  "I'm a coward," Jack cried. "I know I'm going to die, and it's frightening the life out of me."

  "That's understandable."

  "Is it?" He looked at Karen and said, "Pickle never screamed out once when they took him down. He was valiant to the end."

  Karen was touched by Jack's words, and felt a sense of pride. The mention of her friend had tightened her throat. "But Pickle's...death was probably quick. He probably never had time to reflect the way you can. Does that make sense? Unless you're insane, everybody's scared of dying."

  Jack cried, "Even you?"

  "Even me." Karen placed her hand on her tummy. "Especially now."

  Jack's eyes began to roll, and Vince called out in a broken voice, "You okay, buddy?"

  "I think he's passing out." Karen helped Jack to lie down and his eyes opened for a second before closing again. Karen asked if he was okay.

  "I need to rest," Jack said, but no one budged. The three of them remained in the caravan.

  From out of nowhere, Vince admitted, "It's my fault. Jack was in no condition to go out. He was still rough from the night before."

  Karen rubbed her face and began to massage her temples. She was getting a migraine. "There's no point in going over the what ifs. It's hard, but look at the world at the moment. Death is everywhere. Pickle, now Jack. Who's next?"

  Karen's realistic speech touched a nerve in both Vince and Shaz. It appeared that nowhere was safe. Even if the area was cleared of the dead, the supplies to the camp were also a long-term concern.

  Vince had to think ahead, even in the first week, and had already introduced areas for vegetable patches, and fenced off areas for animals that the farmers had brought with them.

  The runs came in handy in the first week, then the farmers set up a water supply and got the animals settled in. Obviously the vegetable patches were going to take time, but they had hundreds of packets of seeds that had been stolen from the garden centre.

  In the first week the allotment in Brereton was raided by Vince, Claire and a few others. When they came back with a pick-up truck full of food, Vince was treated like a hero and was on a high that he was being worshipped by these people. It was a buzz, a feeling of power, and he never wanted it to end.

  Vince put his head back and closed his eyes. Although it was the morning, he was tired and had very little sleep the night before. Four hours. And now it was catching up with him.

  *

  "Vince!"

  He had nodded off and sat up, drenched in panic, scanning the room frantically. "What? What is it?" He then realised that he was still in Jack's caravan.

  He looked at the two girls with his blur
ry eyes and rubbed them to improve his focus.

  Karen stood straight with her arms folded, but Shaz was sitting next to Jack and appeared to be upset, close to tears.

  "Jack's stopped breathing." Karen announced, and handed Vince a steak knife from the cutlery drawer. "You know what to do."

  Chapter Fifty Two

  Pickle had decided to cut across the field in order to shave off a few minutes on his journey time. His legs ached, his head was pounding, and his whole body was drenched with sweat. He had never done so much cardio exercise on a morning before, and knew that his muscles were going to feel it the next day—if he made it. Cardio had never been his strong point when he was in his prime. He was more of a lifter.

  He had spent many years going to the gym. In his prime he could deadlift 140kg for five to eight repetitions. His squatting was a little weaker, with his maximum achievement being 120kg for five reps, but his benching was impressive, and he had managed a 140kg lift for six reps. Once he was jailed, he lost a lot of strength. On the outside he used whey protein shakes, creatine, and glutamine, but jail-time had put a stop to that.

  Now, as he stumbled along the field, he felt that he was due some luck after what he had gone through, but as soon as a beast walked out of the long line of bushes to his right, he felt like screaming. It came at Pickle from only twenty yards away and frustratingly it seemed faster than what an exhausted Pickle could move at. He pulled out the knife, unsure whether he had the strength to kill it, and waited for it to gain on him.

  It's only one. It shouldn't be too much of a problem. Please don't let it be a problem.

  He glared at the thing with his weary eyes. When it was a human being, it used to be a young female, no older than twenty years old, blonde hair down to her back. Now, it was dead, and an absolute mess. Its left cheek had been ripped open.

  Pickle thought that maybe that that was the way she had become infected in the first place. Maybe a beast had taken a chunk out of her face. Also, the dirty green overalls she had on were ripped, and on her feet were a pair of green wellies. Remembering the farm over the hill, Pickle assumed that he was face-to-face with the daughter—or one of the daughters—of the farmer.