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

by Shaun Whittington

  She was trying to relax because the stress wasn't good for the baby, however, she was thinking about going out into the unknown to look for her friends. She was sure they could look after themselves, but there was a niggling in the back of her mind that refused to go away.

  Something was wrong. She was sure of it.

  She then looked down and rubbed her belly affectionately.

  Maybe I should wait a while.

  *

  "Boxers don't have sex before a fight," Vince was talking to Harry Beresford, who wasn't in the mood. "Do you know why?"

  Harry half-shrugged and sighed with little enthusiasm, "No."

  "Because they don't fancy each other."

  "Enough, Vince," said Pickle. "I've only been awake for a minute and yer already getting on ma nerves."

  "Lucky you, I've had no sleep since the hut." Vince sighed, "Anyway, I'm just trying to cheer the boy up. This could be our last day on this earth."

  "Vince!" scolded Shaz.

  "Please don't say that," cried the youngster.

  "Why are yer sayin' that?" Pickle glared at Vince with sceptic eyes and said, "Yer don't really think we're gonna be killed, do yer? Yer not being brave at all. Yer one hundred percent convinced that we're gonna be released. Yer just been using this young man," Pickle pointed at Harry Beresford, "for some sick kind o' fun."

  "Okay," Vince held his hands up in defeat. "You got me. Look," Vince's tone turned more serious, "these guys seemed reasonable enough. This Gavin fellow will turn up, and we'll tell them that we went out for supplies in the pick-up truck, the same one they've stolen, and got separated. Then we shake hands and tell them that we'll never come anywhere near the place again."

  "This mob killed that family, back at the house." Pickle was bemused by Vince's naivety.

  "That could have been anyone."

  "Do you always run into trouble when you go out?" Shaz asked Vince with suspicion. "It seems that every time you leave the camp you run into difficulty."

  "Look," Vince became awkward and defensive after Shaz had made her comment, "Me, Claire, and a few others used to do runs with no bother. Sure, there were always Rotters around, but we dealt with them. The Stafford Hospital incident was down to being attacked by other people, not the dead. And this situation is the same, but I can't really blame them. If this was my place, we would already be dead by now. These guys are quite reasonable. Trust me, as soon as this Gavin bloke turns up he'll set us free. Who knows? He might be someone you might know if he's from Rugeley."

  "I don't know anyone called Gavin," said Shaz.

  "Me neither," a young Harry Beresford muttered. "I used to go to school with a Gavin Richards, but he was killed in a car crash."

  "Okay." Vince clapped his hands together. "we're just gonna have to wait and see, but in the meantime you fuckers need to relax. If these guys were cruel bastards then why would they give us water for the night?"

  "True." Pickle nodded; at last Vince had made a valid point. "But the dead family in the shed is still a worry."

  "Maybe they put up a fight."

  "Still..."

  "I have to admit, I am starving and could eat my own cock, but apart from that we've been treated okay. And just think," Vince looked over to Pickle, "we were gonna sneak in here and take these guys out. These guys are probably just like us. They probably used to have families—maybe still have families, and are just trying to survive."

  "So where are they?" Pickle asked. "If they're using that house as some kind o' a base, where're their families? And if they're such nice guys, why was that family murdered and dumped in that shed in the back garden?"

  "For fuck's sake," Vince huffed and pushed out his bottom lip. "I'm sick of repeating myself. We don't know for sure it was them."

  "I need the toilet." Harry Beresford broke up the conversation and stood up. He stretched and yawned and went over to the corner of the room.

  "We've had to use the buckets in the corner if we needed to pee," Shaz explained to Pickle and Vince.

  "Great," puffed Pickle. "My bladder's burstin' and I could piss like a racehorse at the moment. If I go to the corner o' that room I'll flood the place. I don't think those buckets will be enough." Pickle then turned to look at Vince. "And yer reckon these are reasonable guys."

  Said Vince, "We invaded their patch. They were hardly gonna put us up in a hotel, were they?"

  "I suppose not."

  "I hope it's just a piss you need," Vince called over to young Harry who was making his way to the other end of the room. "I don't want you squatting and curling out a steamy one."

  Harry looked bashful and said, "Please...don't look."

  All three looked away, and when Vince took a sneaky peek he could see the teenager squatting over one of the buckets.

  Vince dropped his head in his hands. "Oh for fuck's sake. Fantastic." Vince pointed over at young Harry and said, "He's over there squeezing out the butt mustard. I hope this Gavin hurries up."

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  After spending hours fretting about the Murphy family because Daisy had been spotted by a family member, Paul and Daisy had words and he rebuffed her idea of moving into her house. She told Paul that they should hide in her attic in case they came to his house. She said that having her reanimated husband, Robert, and Jody downstairs could provide a little protection and put the men off from going into her place as well.

  Paul wasn't convinced.

  He knew the family, and a couple of ghouls were only going to excite them, because it meant they needed to use violence to remove them. He had finally persuaded her to stay.

  Paul Dickson walked around the ground floor of the house and took an empty cup from the sink. He walked to his bathroom and took half a cup of water, wincing with disgust when he took a swig and caught a stray hair in the back of his throat. He began to think about that horrendous family.

  Even though Little Haywood was a small town with a population of over four thousand, he was sure that the Murphy family had now gone elsewhere—probably up Bower Lane where the middle-class people lived, if they hadn't already been there. Or maybe they had gone to Rugeley, which was the nearest town and was only two miles away.

  Paul looked at his watch and went downstairs to see what he could prepare for lunch. It looked like it was going to be a cup of water, a tin of cold beans, and maybe one of the cereal bars he had taken from the gym's vending machines.

  He returned to the first floor, went into his bedroom and could see his son playing on the bed. Paul walked past the full-length mirror. He clocked himself and could see by appearances alone that he had lost weight, maybe even a stone. He opened his bedside drawer and could see sitting in the drawer was his Acer laptop, his pyjama bottoms, and a 1982 Dracula's Spinechillers annual that he had bought.

  For nostalgic reasons he ordered the annual off Amazon UK a couple of months ago as he had lost his original. It cost him ten pounds, but he was pleased to receive another copy and read the sixty-four page book that he used to read all the time when he was eight and nine years old. He smiled when he flicked through it and saw the comics of Castle Dracula and Twins of Evil inside it, amongst other macabre stories.

  Also, at the bottom of the drawer, was a tray of scattered condoms. Although Paul had had the snip after Bell was born, he and Julie still used protection so the physical part of their relationship was less messy after intercourse had taken place.

  He opened the bottom drawer and found what he was looking for: a cardigan. He felt a chill, despite it being summer, and fancied a lazy day anyway. After he put the cardigan on, he gave it a sniff and pulled a face. He took it off and threw it to the side of the bed. He looked at his bed and could see Kyle playing with Dino and Monkey. He was in a world of his own.

  Paul watched him for a minute, and finally asked, "Are you okay, son?"

  "Daddy, I think I need a stinky."

  "Okay." Paul got off the bed and began scratching at his itchy hair. "I'll check if the bathroom'
s free and get a bucket or a bag."

  A sudden pounding noise could be heard from downstairs, and both Kyle and Paul gawped at each other in fright.

  "Paul!" Daisy screamed. "Someone's trying to get in the house."

  Paul told Kyle to stay where he was, and ushered Daisy and Lisa into the room as well. "Stay there. It might be nothing."

  Paul galloped down his stairs and entered his reception area. He could see a man behind the frosted glass of his front door. He opened his mouth to say something, but was unsure whether that was the right thing to do or not. He had made a decision and asked, "Who is it?"

  The man struggled to find words at first, as if he was thinking about what he should say. The alarm bells were ringing straight away in Paul's head, and as soon as he asked the man what he wanted, his reply was also suspicious.

  The man answered, "I live at the end of the street. I was just going round, seeing if everyone was okay."

  It was a terrible answer, and Paul didn't believe the man, in fact, he was pretty sure, from what he could make out through the frosted glass, that the young man standing outside his front door was Lance Murphy, the youngest of the Murphy family.

  "Well, I'm fine. Leave me alone." Paul waited for his response, but was hoping that there wasn't going to be one, and that the man was going to turn on his heels and walk off his premises.

  I hope they haven't touched the car.

  He then heard and saw the man try the door.

  "Look, just fuck off!" Paul exclaimed. "Don't you dare come in."

  "Or what?" he laughed.

  Yeah, Paul. Or what?

  Paul couldn't find any more words to back-up his false bravado.

  The youngster tried the door again and this time he began to shoulder barge it, trying to force it open, which made Paul shake with nerves. A voice came from outside. Paul couldn't hear what had been said to the young man, but the young man had stopped trying the door and responded angrily to a voice that was behind him. "Look, I can do this myself," the young man said to another individual. "I don't need babysitting all the time."

  Paul then heard a man say, "But you're our baby brother." This comment was then followed by laughter by a few men. This was when Paul realised that the Murphy mob had returned to the street, and it appeared that they were goading the youngest to get into his house.

  Lance, Paul assumed, then turned around and said to one of his brothers, "Get me a knife while you lot are going next door. I've got a stubborn fucker in here."

  Paul suddenly removed himself from the reception area and ran back up the stairs. He burst into the bedroom and said to Daisy, "Get the kids in the attic and hide. I'll then close the hatch."

  "What?"

  "They're coming in. And some are going into your house as well, so don't even think about going on the roof and going back."

  "What about you?"

  "The younger brother already knows I'm in here. It'll look suspicious if the house is empty. I'll just pretend I'm on my own. The water from the gym's well-hidden, but he could take the food."

  They then heard the front door crashing open, forcing Daisy to release a frightened shriek. She quickly covered her mouth, even though it was too late. Paul glared at her. "Hurry."

  Chapter Twenty Nine

  Pickle was quick to shush Vince once he heard a new set of voices echo through the hangar. Vince opened his mouth to speak up, but Pickle rudely stuck his forefinger in the air to tell Vince to be silent. He did as he was instructed.

  Harry Branston stood to his feet and walked towards the locked door. He placed his ear against it and tried to hopelessly listen to what was being said. The voices were now more hushed, as if someone had told them to quieten down, and Pickle moved away with frustration knowing that whatever they were talking about was now impossible to hear.

  "Hear anything?" Shaz was the first to ask.

  Pickle shook his head, walked back over to the group and sat back down. "Not a great deal."

  "Did they say anything about what was going to happen to us?"

  "I couldn't hear a word, okay?" Pickle sighed and placed his hand on Shaz's shoulder. "I'm sorry for snapping, Shaz. I heard nothin'."

  "I'm a little worried," she admitted.

  "Me too." Pickle then peeped over to Vince, who was now lying on the floor with his hands clasped behind his head. "I wish I had his confidence about this situation, but I have a weird feeling about this."

  Shaz queried, "Weird, or bad?"

  "Weird...and bad," Pickle smiled thinly. "I can't explain it."

  The sudden noise of boots could be heard heading towards the stationery room they were in, and both Pickle, Shaz and young Harry took a worried look at one another, waiting for them to open the door.

  Relaxed, Vince slowly sat up and got to his feet and began brushing himself down, preparing to meet their captors. "At last," he said. "The smell of shit in here is making me feel sick."

  *

  Karen approached the barrier area and noticed a man called Lee Johnson. He was Vince's buddy, and had got to know Karen over a few days. Lee was pouring petrol into one of the cars that sat on the Spode Cottage car park near the main road, the two HGVs were at either end.

  He stopped pouring, and the young dark-haired man approached Karen with a wide beam over his features. "Hey, Karen. How's it going?"

  She looked to either side of her to see the guards that had mocked her earlier, mainly the white-haired man, now had their backs to her. She said, "I'm a bit worried about the team that went out yesterday."

  "I know." Lee began scratching his head. "It's not like Vince to stay out all night. It's never happened before. I remember one time he and Claire went to raid a pub and were away for fourteen hours because they were trapped by a few Rotters."

  "Well, that's comforting."

  "I know you're not Vince's biggest fan—"

  "Obvious, is it?" snickered Karen.

  Lee cackled and added, "But going out there to get supplies for us folk makes him some kind of a hero back here. He's a decent guy."

  "Calm down." Karen laughed, "A hero? Five weeks ago he was just a forklift truck driver."

  "And you were just a nurse." Lee didn't mean to upset Karen, but she was ridiculing a man that he loved and respected. "And look what you've done over the last month or so."

  Karen brushed her hair behind her ears and glared at Lee with suspicion. He was reasonably handsome, or so she thought, but she was never a sucker for men with large sideburns.

  "Oh yeah." He cracked her a smile, and added, "Vince has told me all about you and Pickle's journey. It's quite a story."

  "I'm sure it's no more exciting that any other survivor's tale."

  "I've been hiding in here for over a month. Trust me, it's a hell of a tale."

  Karen nodded over to her left, in the direction of the white-haired guard. "Well, obviously he hasn't heard it. Those two were taking the piss out of me earlier."

  "What for?"

  "Because I wanted to go out looking for Pickle and Shaz."

  Lee puffed out his cheeks slowly, then began to shake his head. "Nah, you can't do that."

  "Why not? I'm not a prisoner here."

  "Of course you're not, but you can't just go out off the camp when you feel like it."

  "They could be in trouble." Karen gazed at Lee with wide eyes, almost as if she was trying to hypnotise him.

  Once he stared into those eyes he began to shake his head. "No way," he said adamantly. He could tell by the expression on her face what she wanted to do. "No chance. If I help you leave the camp, to go looking for them, they won't be happy."

  "All you need to do is reverse the truck back a little, and I'll do the rest."

  Lee placed his hands behind his head and groaned. "No way. I heard you were pregnant, and Vince—"

  "Forget what Vince said. It could be Vince that's in trouble. They could be on foot. It might just be a small matter of picking them up and bringing them back."

 
"I don't know."

  "Fine," Karen snorted. "But if anything happens to Pickle and Shaz, I'm gonna make your life a fucking misery."

  Lee looked blankly and began to think. He snapped out of his gaze and grumbled, "Oh, for fuck's sake. Okay! But you better come back alive so you can explain yourself."

  "You're such a gent." She leaned in and pecked him on the cheek.

  "No I'm not. I'm just a sucker for a pretty face." He ran his fingers through his greasy hair and announced, "Right, so after I've moved the HGV back, you take a car and wait on the other side of the barrier and give me time to get in with you. There'll be a guard about a half or a quarter of a mile up the Armitage Road, but he won't give chase when we pass them. Vince has given them clear instruction that whatever—"

  "Wait, wait, wait." Karen held her hand up to pause Lee. She was perplexed, and it took a while for her to understand what he was babbling about. "You're not coming with me."

  "Er...yes I am." Lee took a step forward, almost threateningly.

  "I'm going on my own. I'm not going to be responsible for anyone's death."

  "But—"

  "Look," this time it was Karen's turn to take a small step forwards, their noses now just inches away from one another, "Just me. No more questions. You just reverse the truck, and that's it. I'll do the rest."

  Lee's face was covered with nervousness. There was no point arguing with this young woman. "When?" His tone was soft and drenched in defeat.

  "Soon." Karen then added, "How are you gonna distract the guard? I assume you're not planning on reversing back the HGV while he's still standing on the cab." She began to laugh. "He'd fall off and you'd break his legs."

  Lee pointed up at the guard who was sitting down, cross-legged, on top off the HGV. "I'll call him down and tell him his wife wants a word. I'll offer to stand in for him while he's away...and that's it."

  "You might get a slap for this," joked Karen.

  "Oh, I can handle myself."

  Karen then looked to the black Vauxhall that Lee had earlier been pouring petrol in. "I'll take that."