"We'll try and get out o' this," Pickle said to her comfortingly.
"It's too late." Shaz spoke with realism, and cried, "It's gonna hurt, but eventually I'm gonna be with Spencer again."
"This is cruel." Pickle snarled at Gavin, who was walking by the side of them. "Why don't yer put a bullet in our heads and be done with it?"
Gavin never answered; he just wore a thin smile on his face as they reached outside.
Pickle felt his eyeballs watering and his throat tightening. He took another look at Shaz. You brave, brave girl.
The routine was the same as before when Harry Beresford had met his fate. Shaz was separated from the men, and Pickle and Vince were made to get on their knees this time. One of the guards was round the back of the shed, enticing the dead to the end of the hut, and Gavin's sister was crouched, staring through the spy-hole of the hut, seeing what was happening.
Gavin stood in front of the standing Sharon Bailey and said, "Just like before, I'm going to ask this just the once. Where-is-your-camp?"
Shaz stared through Gavin, and not only did he admire Shaz's resistance, he admired the two men for not speaking up and saving their friend, despite knowing the end result for not giving an answer.
Gavin smiled. "Fine. Take her in."
Two guards, on either side of her, hooked their arm underneath Shaz's and pulled her towards the hut. As they dragged her she twisted her neck to see both Vince and Pickle with wide eyes. "Don't worry about me," she said to them. "Spencer's waiting for me."
Gavin shook his head at the scene, and couldn't help feeling impressed with Shaz's attitude. His sister stood to her feet and grabbed the padlock. "It's clear."
"Good." Gavin nodded just the once, then he lowered his head and was lost in thought. "Wait!" The guards carrying Shaz had stopped.
"What's wrong?" his sister spoke with annoyance.
"Let's give them another day to think about it."
"No chance," his sister began to remonstrate. "I think we should—"
"Just remember who's in charge." Gavin looked at his watch. There was half a day left. He then turned to the bearded guard and said, "Get them back inside and put them back in the stationery room. Feed them, give them water. They're not gonna talk...not yet."
"Shit," his sister began to laugh. "You're going to torture them, aren't you?"
Gavin never answered.
Chapter Thirty Six
The vehicle slowed down after just four minutes on the road, and a petrified David Watkins sighed, "What is it now?"
As soon as the car came to a stop Karen pulled up the parking brake. She pointed up ahead. "Look. There's a house up ahead, on the right hand side."
David could just about see part of the building. "Maybe they stayed there the night, for whatever reason. The hangar isn't far from here, so they could have checked the place out themselves."
"That's what I was thinking."
She pulled the car forwards and parked in a lay-by. She grabbed her bag and machete and slowly exited the vehicle.
"Where're you going?" David was now frantically chewing on his nails.
"We walk the rest." Karen put the bag on her back and shut the door. She stood outside her means of transport. She waited for David to be out of the vehicle himself before adding, "We'll go over the field and through the back way."
David didn't say anything. He followed behind the machete-wielding twenty-three-year-old, and never asked another question until they reached the back garden of the place. Peering over for a few minutes, Karen announced that it seemed clear in the garden, and she had seen no movement through the windows of the house either.
They both entered the back garden and Karen could see a toilet window open. She assumed it was a toilet window because of the frosted glass. She had climbed through one of these before when she was at Heath Hayes with Pickle, but she didn't fancy her chances with this one. She looked David up and down and told him to go in.
"But what if those things are in there?" he cried.
"I didn't see any movement inside." Karen's patience was wearing thin with the youngster and couldn't hold her tongue. "What was the point in sneaking in the back of the car, and then you finally come here and act like a pussy?"
David Watkins lowered his head shamefully and seemed to have take an eternity to give Karen a response. "I...I kind of like you. That's one of the reasons why I wanted to come."
"For God's sake." She dropped her head in her hands, and once she looked up she almost felt sorry for the youngster. "Look, even if you were in your twenties and extremely attractive, nothing would happen. Just get it out of your head right now. Or you could go back to the car, toss off, then meet me back here. The days of holding hands and skipping through a field of daffodils are long gone. We're surrounded by death. Everywhere...there's death. Besides, I'm pregnant. My fiancé has only been dead for over a month. I smell. I'm hairy, and I haven't plucked by chin in weeks."
"I'm an idiot." David blushed and looked upset.
Karen had sympathy for the hormonal teenager and slapped him on the back. "Come on." She pointed at the bathroom window. "Get in, and see if there's a key to unlock the main door."
He did as he was told and got his skinny frame in with ease. It took a while before he managed to open the door, and Karen guessed correctly that he was probably peering around every corner to make sure there was no sign of the dead.
"The door was already open," snapped David.
"Oops."
Once they were both inside, she checked the ground floor and motioned David to follow her. As soon as they both reached the landing they began to check the back room and saw masses of tins and other products. They were all wrapped in cellophane and in cardboard trays.
"Wow." David hadn't seen so much food for a month. "Awesome."
"Keep your voice down, " Karen scorned. "If there's this much food, then people stay here. I saw wooden pallets stacked up at the side of the house. They must be emptying the hangar and moving as much food as they can into the house."
"Why's that?"
"Would you wanna stay in a hangar during the night?"
David added, "So really they're doing what Vince wanted to do. In fairness, they beat us to it."
"I agree," Karen nodded and scratched at her itchy scalp, "but where's Pickle and Shaz? Do these people have them?"
She grabbed his sleeve and dragged him along to the next room. She half-gasped when she went in and saw a man lying on a bed, fast asleep and fully clothed. His hands were wrapped around a shotgun, and she had no intention of prising it out of his grasp. They both then heard a vehicle pulling up and the slamming of doors.
She crept into the back room once again and took a peep. She recognised the faces straight away. It was a man and a woman, and her nose still looked damaged from when Karen had rammed a shotgun butt in her face a few days ago.
"Fuck," she said.
"What is it?" asked David in a panic.
She quickly looked around and went over to the bathroom. She saw a cupboard to the side and grabbed David. "Quick. Get in."
They crawled into the cupboard and Karen pulled it towards her, to close it, as the front door of the house was being opened.
"What is it?" David asked again in a whisper.
"These are people I've had a run-in with before." Karen then shushed him, and they both were silent as the two pairs of feet stomped their way to the first floor.
They heard voices in the nearest bedroom, and it sounded like they had woken the sleeping man. The door shut and all that could be heard were muffled voices, to Karen's frustration. The door then opened and they heard a man's voice tell someone, "Get your arse over to the hangar, and we'll be over in a while."
"What are you gonna do with the rest of them?" another male voice spoke, which Karen had guessed that it was the guard that had been sleeping.
"What do you think we're gonna do?" a female voice yelled, her tone was threatening. "We're gonna let that Vince an
d the rest of them sweat until tomorrow, and then get whatever information we can out of them, even if we have to beat them. If they cooperate, we'll give them a quick death. And if they don't, we'll throw them into the shed and let them get torn to pieces like that teenager that was with them."
David Watkins gasped and began to quietly sob after hearing about the demise of his friend, Harry Beresford. Karen gave David a gentle nudge, hinting to him to shut up. He tried his best, but the sniffling continued. Karen felt for the youngster, but they needed to remain quiet as she knew that these people were not to be crossed.
As the three individuals went downstairs, Karen then overheard the woman asking someone if the door had been fixed, and then the voices became quiet and muffled as they went to the ground floor. Two minutes later they had left.
"I can't believe Harry's dead," sobbed David.
"Shit. They've got 'em." Karen clambered out of the cupboard, her bag still attached to her back. She helped David out and went into the back bedroom again to check out the main road. Another truck pulled up and Karen shook her head. "Give me a break." She saw three men get out, all carrying guns, and she turned and saw a hatch above her with a cord hanging down. "Quickly," she snapped at David. "Into the attic."
David pulled on the cord and stepladders slowly lowered down. They both went up quickly and pulled the ladders up, which automatically closed the hatch.
"Now what?" asked David.
"You shut the fuck up."
"We're losing daylight."
"We're gonna have to stay here until the house is empty." She turned to David in the dusky area and said, "I suggest you try and get some rest."
Karen then sniffed and could smell an awful tang. She cupped her hand over her nose. "Was that you?"
"I'm sorry. I farted and must have followed through a little."
"For fuck's sake."
For hours the two of them sat patiently in the attic, waiting for the place to be human-free, but it never came. It wasn't planned, and it wasn't something that Karen had wanted, but exhaustion finally got the better of them and the pair of them eventually fell asleep.
Chapter Thirty Seven
July 10th
Paul and Kyle had slept well in the cabin, despite Bentley's snoring in the next room. The image of Daisy had plagued him at first, but he finally dropped off. Paul had enjoyed the sleep with no interruptions, and was finally awakened by the wildlife from the woods, mainly the birds tweeting in the trees.
Because they had gone to sleep earlier, Paul and Kyle had opened their eyes before their hosts. Paul and Kyle sneaked out of the cabin, not wanting to wake up Bentley or Laura, and took in some fresh air.
Despite the place being reasonably secure, having the area surrounded by barbed wire and being in the middle of nowhere, Paul stayed close to his son, and they walked over to a tree stump and sat on it to take in the morning sunshine that could be just about felt through the trees.
Paul could see that the barbed wire had been wrapped around the area four times, meaning that there were four strips. The only way these things could get in was if they dropped to the floor and crawled underneath, but they lacked the intelligence for that—or so he hoped.
A few minutes later Bentley strolled out of the cabin, wearing all black—jogging bottoms and a T-shirt. He approached the father and son who were both sitting and sharing the stump, and Bentley rustled Kyle's hair and patted Paul on the shoulder. He asked, "Sleep okay?"
"Brilliant. Thank you so much." Paul cleared his throat and announced, "We'll move on once we get some breakfast—"
"You don't have to go anywhere. I've already discussed this with Laura when you two were asleep last night—"
"But—"
"No buts," Bentley snapped. "You're staying for as long as you want. This little man," he pointed to Kyle, "needs a break."
At this point Kyle walked over to the home-made barbed wire fence and began losing himself in his own world, making airplane and gunfire noises while the adults continued to talk.
"You seem really well set-up." Paul looked around the camp. "You got plenty of food and water?"
Bentley nodded with a smile. "Also have a water filter, two replacements, detergent, plenty of toilet roll, a battery-powered radio and lamp, purification tablets, a cistern for collecting rainwater, plenty of gas, torch, some spare clothes, amongst other shit."
Paul looked aghast. "Generator?"
Bentley smiled. "Gas, but we only use it in emergencies."
Paul laughed, "You really are a prepper. I didn't know whether to believe you in the car."
Bentley smiled, his soft eyes were warm, but said in a serious tone, "I don't bullshit, Paul. Not unless it's necessary."
Paul released a sigh, leaned over and whispered to Bentley, making sure his son couldn't hear, "My wife and daughter are missing. She went to a supermarket on the day it was announced, a couple of miles away, and they never came back. I was going to ask if you could look after the boy while I went out to look for them at this place. The not-knowing is fucking killing me."
"I could imagine." Bentley's response seemed heartfelt, and added, "Me and Laura were wondering last night whether you had a wife or not. I suppose that's the mystery solved."
"Would it be okay if I left Kyle for a while?" Paul's eyes were pleading. "If I can't see Julie's car there, I'll come straight back."
"And if you get yourself killed, we're stuck with the boy."
"I won't..." Paul began to think, shook his head, and lowered it sadly. "It's selfish, I know. I wasn't thinking."
Bentley pointed at the barbed wire around the area of the cabin. "This place is reasonably safe, and Laura knows how to take care of herself."
Paul looked at Bentley, not knowing where he was going with his speech.
Bentley added, "Leave Kyle here, and I'll come with you. Straight to the supermarket and back, regardless whether we find them or not."
Paul's tears flowed and couldn't help himself. He hugged a clearly-embarrassed Bentley, and the muscular man gently pushed Paul away. "Get breakfast and we'll leave later."
Bentley stood up and took a look at the place around them. Noticing this, Paul asked, "How long have you been up here?"
Bentley smiled. "In short, I have always known there was something wrong. Like I told you before, I've been preparing for this for years. Guns, batteries, a well, gas canisters—I've got the lot. I built the cabin myself. I'll tell you all about it in detail one day, maybe. Just not now."
"What about making fires?"
"Steel and flint is all you need. But I have matches and firelighters at the moment."
Bentley walked away, headed back to the cabin and began whistling a tune that Paul didn't recognise.
Kyle walked back over to his dad, once the strange man had left to go back inside the cabin, and gave him a big hug. They broke away, and Kyle turned his back and stood to the side of his daddy.
"It's a lovely morning." Paul breathed in and could smell the greenery around him. He looked to the side and saw Kyle with his head lowered. All Paul could see was the back of his head and his strawberry blonde hair. Paul bit his lower lip and stroked the back of his boy's head. "What's the matter, big chap?"
Kyle turned around and slowly raised his head. Paul could see the tear stains on his plump cheeks, and his red eyes that were heartbreaking to see.
Kyle finally answered. "I hate this," he cried. "I want things to be normal. I want to go out on my scooter, play with Ryan, go back to my football practice on Tuesday, I..." Kyle stopped producing words and placed his little warm hand on top of Paul's. He could see that his father was also struggling, emotionally.
"It's okay, son. It's okay."
Kyle cried, "I do love you, daddy. But I want mummy to come back."
"So do I, son." Paul stood straight and pulled Kyle into him, and both father and son embraced and released their tears of sorrow and frustration. Paul kissed his boy on his hair and took a sniff. He smelt the sa
me as he did when he was a baby.
Paul broke away from the embrace, but Kyle continued to sob, saltwater streamed down, his bottom lip puffed out, and his beautiful green eyes were soaked.
"My poor boy." Paul wiped the tears away gently with his thumbs. "My poor, sweet little boy."
Chapter Thirty Eight
Pickle was the first to wake up in the stationery room. It had been an uncomfortable night, and some of that had been spent comforting Sharon Bailey who was still mourning the loss of her family. Vince thought that it may also have had something to do with Sharon being very close to an unimaginable death.
The group had been fed, watered, and had been untied. Vince thought it was a strange thing to do, considering that they were threatening to kill them all if no information was given to them. Pickle thought that it was a softly-softly approach, bearing in mind that the scare tactics of throwing Harry in the shed and then threatening to put Shaz in there as well didn't work.
All three were in a perilous situation, and once they all finally wakened, Pickle said to them, "So how are we goin' to get out o' this mess?"
"Even if we spill our guts, they're still going to kill us." Shaz spoke up.
Shaz's comment wasn't the positive remark Pickle was hoping for, but could understand the negativity. He knew that there was a good chance that this could be his last day.
"We could always ask to join them." Vince stood to his feet and could feel the glare from Shaz and Pickle. He tried to explain further, "And if they agree to this, we could turn on them when we get a chance—"
"They'll never fall for that shit. Not after what happened to his sister." Pickle snickered falsely, "We're as good as dead."
"So what do you suggest?"
Pickle shrugged. He was unsure himself. "The only thing I can think of is to just go mad."
Vince was uncertain whether to laugh or not. "Er...what?"
"When they arrive and tie us back up, we should go mad and grab their guns, or punch them or...anything!"
Snatchers: Volume Two (The Zombie Apocalypse Series Box Set--Books 4-6) Page 43
