"They'll fill us full of lead."
"Possibly." Pickle nodded. "But that's the way I'm going. I'm not gonna be thrown into a shed and pulled apart by those dead fuckers. Even if I manage to take an eye out before I'm shot, it'll be worth it."
Shaz turned to Vince and remarked, "I thought maybe one of your friends would come to our aid. We've been missing for a while. They should be concerned."
"Nah," Vince shook his head, "they'd never leave their posts. That would leave the camp vulnerable and unprotected."
Pickle smiled and his eyes began to well up. "God, I bet Karen is worried sick."
*
"What time is it?" asked Karen, suddenly sitting up and forgetting where she was for a second. She could hear David yawn and could see the outline of his body in the dark attic. He looked at his watch and could see the glowing handles stating that it was nearly 7am. "Seven."
"Shit, shit, shit." Karen carefully got to her feet and could hear banging noises below her. She placed her ear to the hatch and could hear people walking in and out and plonking heavy goods on the floor.
"What is it?" asked David.
Karen shushed him and continued to listen for a further five minutes, while David impatiently sat up, puffing and sighing like a petulant child. She then began to glare through the small crack in the latch, desperate to get a glimpse.
After more minutes had passed, Karen announced, "I think they were filling the house with more food from the hangar. They've left one guard here, and the rest have gone back. It sounded like a wagon, like the ones Vince has back at the camp. From what I could hear there're six or seven of them, including that greasy fuck and his sister. The guard mentioned going outside to take a stroll." Karen shook her head. "I can't believe we slept so long."
"Our bodies must have needed it."
"We can't waste any more time." Karen grabbed the hatch, but was grabbed by a frightened David.
"What are you doing?" His words were soaked in fright. "What about the guard?"
"I'm gonna have to take him out."
"Kill him?"
"Knock him out or...something."
She opened the hatch and slowly descended to the first floor. She had no plan. She was going to creep downstairs in hope that the man was unarmed and small in stature. She took out her machete and decided to use the handle to knock him out.
She peered into the living room as she reached the bottom of the stairs. She could see through the window and saw the man in the back garden, holding his shotgun loosely in his right hand. He was of average build, and looked like he hadn't been washed in days. He was heading for the door, returning to the house.
Karen stood at the frame of the kitchen door, out of view. As soon as the man opened the door, she stepped into the kitchen and struck him with the handle of the machete. The man stumbled and dropped the gun. Karen tried to strike again, but he caught her with a swinging arm, catching her in the face. Before she could smack him a second time, he pushed her to the floor and grabbed his shotgun. Out of desperation she threw her machete at his face. It made a cut at the side of his head and he cried out, thinking the injury was a lot worse. Before he could pick up the gun that was lying on the floor, Karen stood on the barrel and kneed the man in the face.
He went for the machete, but Karen had grabbed the gun and, holding the barrel with both hands, she brought the gun down, smacking the handle on the top of his head. He managed to stagger to his feet and threw a left hook at her face. Karen stumbled and then young David ran into the room and opened up a kitchen drawer behind Karen.
The guard then ran at Karen, dazed and confused, and Karen brought her leg up and thrust her hips, pushing the man against the wall, smacking the back of his head and knocking himself out.
As soon as the man slumped to the floor, Karen turned around to see the comical scene of fifteen-year-old David Watkins standing with a butter knife being held in his shaking hand.
It took a while before Karen got her breath back, but when she did, she queried in bemusement, "What are you doing?"
David stood in shock, still holding the butter knife. "I was going to..."
"What?"
"I was going to attack him once you was out of the way."
"With that?" she pointed at his right hand.
He took a peek at the butter knife he was holding and blushed. "It was the first thing I took out the drawer."
"No shit." Karen nodded to the knife in his hand. "What was you going to do? Spread him to death?"
"Okay," David sighed. "So I panicked!"
"Don't worry about it." Karen sniggered at the young man. He meant well, but he was as much use as a chocolate fireguard—as her dad used to say.
"What now?"
"Get some food and drink from my bag. Then we check out the hangar."
David pointed to the unconscious man and asked, "What about him?"
Karen raised the shotgun and pointed it at the man's torso.
"Wait!" David yelled. "You can't shoot a man in cold blood."
"And what do you think he would have done to us? What do you think is gonna happen to Pickle, Shaz and Vince?"
"Can't you tie him up?"
"I suppose I could." Karen looked in the drawers for anything that would be sufficient to use to tie the man up. She eventually came across some washing line and used it to bind the man's feet and arms behind his back. Once this was done she ordered, "Let's pick him up," then nodded towards outside. "Put him in that shed in the back garden. At least then he's out of the way if any other persons comes back."
The back door was opened and they struggled to drag the man to the shed, but once they did a smell assaulted their noses, forcing David to be sick on the long grass. Once he had finished releasing what was left in his stomach, he asked, "What's that smell?"
"Death."
Karen opened the shed door and was shocked to see the massacred family: mother, father, and two daughters. All had been shot.
David cried, "Did they do this?"
"This family probably lived here before these lot came along." Karen flapped at the few flies that went towards her face. She then turned and stared at David with devilish eyes. "And you want me to spare this piece of shit?"
They picked the man up and threw him on top of the deceased family. Flies buzzed manically as the man's frame disturbed them.
Karen then walked away from the shed and headed back to the house and returned to the garden, holding the shotgun. As soon as she reached the shed, Karen pointed the gun at the man's chest and pulled the trigger. The man's chest exploded into a bloody mess and David jumped in fright.
Karen threw the shotgun into the shed and closed the door. She glared at a shocked David Watkins and said, "Come on."
His ears were ringing from the noise of the weapon, and he began to follow Karen off of the premises with quivering legs. He stammered, "What if somebody heard that?"
Karen never answered him.
"What about the shotgun?"
"Too loud."
Chapter Thirty Nine
After much deliberation, Paul and Bentley had decided that the trip to the supermarket, just on the outskirts of town, could benefit both men: Paul could see if his wife and daughter were held up there, while Bentley could get more supplies—although he had a few more weeks before he needed anything. Bentley also decided to take the opportunity to see if they had anymore gas canisters in the camping department, providing it was safe to do so. The petrol station besides the supermarket would probably be a waste of time, he thought. With the power down the pumps wouldn't run, and even if the power was up, he had a feeling they'd be dry by now.
Kyle was outside by the barbed wire fence that encircled the area they were in, and he seemed to be caught up in his own little world, holding a twig in each hand and playing on the dirt. Paul didn't really want to tell him off for dirtying his clothes, as it seemed trivial, and he didn't want to disturb his little fantasy. Paul smiled and looked over to the outside
of the cabin where Bentley and Laura were having a heated discussion.
Paul guessed that the passionate talk had something to do with the supermarket trip. He walked over to the couple, and raised his hands in a I come in peace gesture. He took a peep at Laura and said, "I know you're not happy with Bentley coming with me, but I did insist on going alone. I just wanted Kyle to be looked after while I was away."
"No offence, Paul." Laura began, "but we hardly know you and..." She never finished her sentence, but Paul could understand where she was coming from.
She had kindly taken in a man and his son overnight after her partner had helped them out, and now both men were going back to the small town, almost, and her partner was risking his life for people he didn't know for a second time.
"I understand," Paul said, and nodded in defeat.
"But he's going anyway," Laura sniffed.
Paul looked at the couple in surprise, and his eyes were thankful.
Added Laura, "My conscience wouldn't allow you to go on your own. I don't like the idea of Bentley going, but, no offence to you, he can handle himself. And we can't have you going alone and having that," she pointed over to Kyle, "little boy losing his father, can we?"
Paul felt like hugging the woman, but refrained from doing so. "Thanks."
Laura asked, "And what if you do find your wife and daughter? What happens then?"
Paul knew exactly where Laura was coming from. She wasn't a heartless person, but her partner bringing back two extra mouths to feed probably wasn't in their plans. And if Paul found the rest of his family, does that mean they'd be six mouths to feed in all?
"If I find them, then I plan on going to my mum's a few miles away. Don't worry, I wouldn't stay any longer and burden you with my family. That wouldn't be fair."
Bentley released a puff of air, and added, "We'll be back before you know it." He leaned over and kissed Laura on the cheek as a way of saying cheerio.
Laura nodded, unconvincingly, and her head shook the once. Paul knew something else was bothering her and before he asked her what was wrong, she said to him, "Why now?"
Paul didn't understand the question. "I'm sorry?"
Laura decided to be clearer on her query. "Bentley told me that you lost your wife and your daughter in the first week, so why do you want to look for your wife now? Why didn't you go before?"
Paul turned around to gape at Kyle, and already the penny had dropped with Laura and Bentley, but Paul explained anyway. "I didn't want to put Kyle at risk. Outside of my street, I had no idea what was going to greet me. Not only that, leaving Kyle on his own was something I couldn't do either."
Bentley asked, "Would he freak?"
"Yes," added Paul. "If I did go out on my own, if I did run into...trouble, and was killed, then Kyle would be left all on his own. His last days or weeks would be of starvation, total fear, and confusion on where his dad was. That thought alone stopped me from leaving the house altogether. We only left when there was absolutely no choice at all."
"Bentley told me about your neighbours. I'm sorry." Laura gave off a thin smile and asked, "Do you really think your wife and daughter could still be at this supermarket?"
Paul lowered his head sadly and seemed to have taken an age to answer Laura's question. He said, "It's the only hope I've got. If her car is there, lying empty, there's a good chance that her and some other survivors are cooped up inside. But if it's not there, she could be anywhere."
"What about your mum's?"
"Nah." Paul shook his head. "I was in contact with my mum for the first few days and they had never heard from her."
"You two better go then. The quicker you go; the quicker you'll be back." Laura took a look at Bentley, and they both hugged. Once their embrace was broken she told him not to be a hero. Paul thanked Laura for her understanding. He told the two of them that he was going to explain to Kyle that he was going out, and that he'd be back very soon.
Paul walked over towards his child that was lost in his own little world. He approached with caution, and although Kyle knew the presence of his dad was a few yards away from him, he continued with his fantasy.
A minute later Paul cleared his throat. Kyle turned around, almost annoyed that his playtime had been interrupted. "What is it?"
"I'm going out for a couple of hours now, big chap."
Kyle stared at his daddy with his large, wonderful green eyes. His eyes narrowed, but he was lost for words.
"I'm going out with that kind man, Bentley, who helped us out. We're going to get some food and stuff."
"I thought he had loads of food."
This remark stumped Paul, and finally said, "We're going to get some more." It was the only comment he could think of. He didn't want to tell Kyle the truth, because he didn't want to raise his hopes. Paul could only imagine what it would do to his child if he told him he was going to look for his mummy and sister, to then come back empty-handed.
"Daddy?"
"Yes, son."
"Is a tree bigger than a shark?"
Paul smiled; he had no idea what was going on in that head of his. "I don't know." Paul leant over and kissed Kyle on the top of his head. "Laura will look after you while we're out. Be a good boy. And stay away from the barbed wire."
Paul could then hear heavy footsteps behind him and then felt a hand slap him on the shoulder. "Ready when you are," Bentley growled.
Once both men had said their goodbyes, they left the area and reached the car. Bentley was sitting in the passenger seat of the Mazda while Paul pulled away into the country road.
*
They had been on the road for a few minutes and both men seemed on edge, especially Paul, and the silent drive was too much for Bentley Drummle. "Okay, here's a question to lighten the mood," Bentley began. "Would you rather go down on your granddad, or your grandma go down on you?"
Paul looked at his passenger and said, with bemusement in his voice, "I'm sorry. Is this a serious question?"
Bentley laughed, "Just curious."
"You don't talk like this when Laura's around."
Bentley winked at his driver and answered, "Of course not. She'd have my balls in a jar. But you're a guy. It's been a while since I've had man-company. That's what we do, us men; we talk shite. Leave the serious shit to the women. So what do you think?"
"About the question?"
"Yep."
Paul was too nervous to be amused by Bentley's attempt at humour. "I'd rather do neither. Let's talk about something else."
"Okay," Bentley said, with a smirk. "Would you rather sleep with a man with a vagina, or get banged by a woman with a penis."
"I'm serious, Bentley. I'm nervous as hell going to this supermarket."
"Okay. Just trying to relax you a little." Paul's passenger raised his hands apologetically, then immediately changed the subject. "First thing I'm gonna do is steal me a decent motor after my other was nicked."
"When was your vehicle stolen?"
"About two weeks ago," Bentley sniffed. "Don't get me wrong; there was nothing of value inside it, and I had no plan on using it as we've got everything we need, but you don't know when you need a quick escape."
"Absolutely," began Paul. "It must have been frustrating to have it pinched."
"That's the only trouble with being situated in the woods; there's not much of a hiding place for a car. I covered it in branches and stuff, but it was still exposed. Fuckers must have taken it during the night."
They drove in silence for a minute after Bentley had finished his mild rant, and Paul decided to go the long route to the supermarket, the country way, rather than heading back into town where potential dangers lurked.
It wasn't just the dead that were a threat; some of the living were beginning to show desperate acts of violence for survival and pleasure.
Paul felt safe alongside Bentley, and the Glock 17 stuck in the front of Bentley's trousers was also something that made Paul feel relaxed. He didn't ask where he'd got the gun, or
about his past. Paul was taking Bentley and Laura how they were now, and they seemed like good, kind people, but at the same time, he guessed that they were individuals that were no pushovers if ever they were crossed. Maybe the handgun was a part of his prepping, thought Paul.
"Here we are." Bentley pointed up ahead at the supermarket that was situated in the countryside, on the outskirts of the small town of Little Haywood. The only other thing that was situated near it was an empty McDonald's restaurant. Paul had only been to this supermarket twice; it was a place that Julie went for the shopping.
It had everything under one roof, not just food, but garden utensils, toys, sports accessories, a medical centre, amongst many others. It was built ten years ago, and it was perfect for such a small town that had to wait decades for a Pizza Hut, but not so good for local businesses that relied on the tiny population of Little Haywood to give themselves an adequate income. Businesses soon folded once the supermarket was opened, and were replaced with charity shops.
As soon as Paul steered the Mazda left, and they entered the huge car park, they saw that there was about thirty cars in the three hundred places that were available. Paul pulled the car right outside the entrance of the supermarket's doors. There was no sign of carnage, and it was quiet; too quiet. Both men took a look at each other and didn't know what to do next.
They nodded at one another and stepped out of the vehicle. Paul couldn't see Julie's car from where he was standing, but frantically craned his neck to see if he could even see a vehicle that was the same colour as his wife's. Seeing the concern on his face, Bentley said, "Look, if they're here, they're going to be inside anyway. That's where the supplies are."
Paul nodded his head in agreement. Bentley was thinking more rationally and made sense. Noticing for the first time that Paul wasn't carrying a weapon of some sort, Bentley added, "First thing we're gonna do is go to the hardware section and get you a crowbar."
"I thought I had a crowbar somewhere in the car." Paul scratched his head in confusion.
Snatchers: Volume Two (The Zombie Apocalypse Series Box Set--Books 4-6) Page 44
