"Have you killed many of these things before?"
Paul nodded. "A few, but I'd rather not."
"Me too," Bentley sniggered. "I don't enjoy doing this, you know. Well...maybe a little."
From the back of his jeans, Bentley pulled out a hunters knife and noticed that Paul was glaring at him in confusion. "Something the matter?"
"You've got a gun."
"I know." Bentley tapped the front of his jeans where his Glock was tucked in. "But I'm not gonna use Glen unless I have to."
"Glen?"
"These things are attracted to sound, and with this supermarket you have over twenty aisles. We don't know what's around every corner, but if there's so much as a gunshot, then we'll get the whole dead population inside making their way to us."
"You used that thing before?" Paul pointed at the bulge of the Glock that was hidden under Bentley's T-shirt.
"Absolutely. I love my shotgun, but this is my baby." Bentley pulled it out of his jeans to show Paul, and added, "The Glock has three built-in safety catches, and the gun can be kept fully-loaded with a round in the chamber."
Paul nodded satirically. "I have no idea what that means. Does it work?"
Bentley snickered, "Don't worry, Glen works just fine."
Both men began to walk to the already-opened entrance doors to the place, and Paul said, "You never know; there might not be any of these things in here."
"True." Bentley nodded, then pointed over to the health aisle to their left where a body lay on the floor. Blood pooled around the corpse and it appeared that it had been eaten by a group of the dead. There wasn't much left for it to reanimate and the head had almost been pulled away from its body. "I doubt it, though."
Paul stopped walking on the ground floor, and looked up to see a balcony that consisted of offices and a staff room. Was Julie and Bell in there?
Seeing that he was anxious, Bentley suggested that they should check the first floor first, then get supplies. "At least if we go upstairs first, we can see the view of the ground floor and see how many of those fuckers are hanging about."
Both men began walking up the defunct escalator to the clothes section that seemed clear. They bypassed the section and headed straight for the balcony that overlooked the ground floor. It appeared to be clear, unbelievably, and the two men now peered into the offices through the glass windows. There was the expected mess in the place, as if people had left in a hurry, but no signs of blood or bodies.
Bentley approached the wooden door beside the offices. It was the last thing to check before heading for whatever supplies were left on the ground floor. The door had a metal sign screwed on it. It read: Staff Room. Bentley told Paul to stay back while he tried it. It was locked. He then placed his ear against the wood. He could hear some movement behind it, and took a look at Paul.
"What is it?" Paul whispered, his body was vibrating with fear.
"There's something inside."
"People?"
Bentley never answered Paul straight away, and knocked on the door. He jumped once he heard hands slam against it, as well as the unmistakeable groaning sound that the dead produced. Bentley then turned to Paul. "Definitely not people."
With tears in his eyes, and expecting the worst case scenario, Paul told Bentley, "Open it."
"There might be a fair few in there."
"I don't care. I need to know if my family are in there, dead or not."
Bentley nodded and put his knife back. "Seem as though the ground floor is empty, I'll just use Glen. Be safer that way anyway."
Bentley sighed in defeat, ready to kick the door in. He pulled the slide back, chambering a round, and prepared the Glock for a massacre.
Chapter Forty
It had taken fifteen minutes to get there, but Karen Bradley and David Watkins were now at the side of the hangar, in the field. They had climbed over the farmer's fence and sneaked the few hundreds yards to get where they were. Crouched in the long grass, they watched the place for twenty minutes and could see that there was just the one guard, lazily walking around the grounds as if he had the most mundane job ever.
While the bored guard continued with his duties, Karen could see another individual coming out of an opened-shutter at the back of the hangar. He was on a diesel truck, and the machine was driving out backwards with two pallets on its forks. It made the short journey to the wagon and the man, who was dressed in a boiler suit and a baseball cap, carefully placed the two pallets onto the side of the heavy-goods vehicle, as its curtains were open, and went back inside.
"Let's get closer." Karen nudged David, and began to crawl through the grass. David reluctantly followed.
Karen stopped moving, and as she did this her nose twitched. She then gazed at the large shed that was now to the side of her. She turned to David, and he lowered his head sadly.
He knew.
He knew that this was the shed that they were talking about. This was the shed that was full of the dead. The same shed that Harry Beresford had been thrown in by these cruel people.
"How're we going to do this?" David Watkins asked, staring at the hangar. He looked at this tough young woman—the same woman that, in the old world, had cared for his dad before the MRSA took him. She couldn't give him an answer.
"I really don't know," Karen admitted. "I don't know how many are in there. I'm not sure if my presence will put the rest of them in danger...I don't know." She looked frustrated with herself, and David ceased asking more questions.
"If it was just that one guard," Karen said in a whisper, "I could just run over and hack him to death."
Karen's cold comment made David shudder. How did a young woman go from a nurse to what she had become in such a short space of time?
A couple of minutes had passed and they could see the forklift driver come out of the hangar again with another two pallets of supplies. Karen stared at his black baseball cap and his boiler suit. She then scowled in thought. She could also see the guard walking away to the end of the grounds with his back to them.
Karen stood up and ran for the fence, leaving David baffled and frozen with fear. What the fuck was she doing?
She ran for the truck, and once she reached it she jogged behind the two pallets. She was out of sight. The driver was looking backwards anyway to see where he was going. As soon as the driver paused, about to turn the truck around and load the wagon, Karen ran around the side of the forklift truck and drew her machete. She pointed it, pressed it against the man's side and said, "Move, and I'll skewer you."
The man raised his arms in defeat, and took his feet off the truck's pedals.
"Get off the truck...slowly."
He did as he was instructed, and no begging or threatening words left the man's lips. Without Karen saying a word, the man placed his hands on his head.
"I'm just their skivvy," the man finally spoke. "I'm not a guard, or a soldier of some kind. Just somebody who's trying to stay alive and does what he's told."
Not reacting to what he had just told her, Karen said, "Take off your overalls and give me your cap."
Surprisingly, he did as he was instructed without uttering a word of defiance. He handed the clothes to Karen, leaving him standing in his underpants, and Karen Bradley asked him to turn around.
"Please. Not too hard." It was as if the man knew what was coming next.
"It won't be." Karen then turned her machete around and brought the handle down at the back of his head, knocking him out immediately. She then began to put on the overalls over her clothes, followed by the cap.
She jumped onto the forklift, dressed in her new attire, and began messing with the controls. She tried raising the forks, then tilting the forks, and she could see that there was only two pedals on the floor. The right pedal was the accelerator, and the left pedal was the brake. After two minutes of toying with the machine, she drove the truck around the grounds and saw David to the right of her, in the field. She gave him the thumbs up and headed for the hangar.
To the
right of her, she could see the man and his sister leaving the hangar and was now hanging around the shed. She turned the truck, pulled the cap down to hide her features even more, and went the long way around and entered the hangar at the other end.
*
Vince had his ear against the door. For many minutes there had been a discussion between four voices. Including Gavin and his sister, Vince had guessed that there was seven people in this group.
The sets of shoes headed towards the stationery door. Vince turned to Shaz and Pickle. "Here we go."
Pickle had one last look round the bare room that used to hold stationery for the workers of the now defunct food business, and was frustrated that there was nothing he could use as a weapon, not even a biro. The place had been completely cleared out.
Said Pickle, "As soon as I loudly clear my throat, go for it. Grab hold o' the guns first, if yer can. There's no point giving someone a left hook if they're pointin' a shotgun at yer chest."
The sound of the key rattling in the lock seemed louder than before, and the group took in a deep breath. "There's still a chance they could release us," said Shaz.
No one responded.
As the door opened, two armed guards stood and told the three to face the far side of the wall. They had no idea where Gavin and his sister were.
Their curiosity was quashed immediately when the bearded man announced that Gavin and his sibling were waiting for them outside. They all guessed correctly that they were by the shed where the dead were imprisoned. He also informed them that if anyone made a sudden move then he'd be emptying both barrels.
The bearded guard stood at the frame of the door; his two barrels pointing at the group. The other guard went over to the three prisoners who were facing the wall. He tucked the shotgun under his left arm, and took out three bits of rope from out of his right pocket. He nudged Shaz in the back and said, "You first, on your knees."
Shaz did as she was told and placed her hands behind her back. She took a sneaky look at Pickle who was standing next to her, and gave him a wide stare. She felt the hands of the man on her wrists, fumbling about and trying to tie her up.
Pickle cleared his throat.
Shaz pulled her right leg back slowly, and quickly kicked back, hitting the man's shin. As he screamed out, Pickle already had him in a lock. He stood behind the man and had both of his arms under the guard's armpits and his hands were on the back of the man's head, pushing him down.
Drenched in panic, the bearded guard began screaming at the group not to move, and inbetween these yells he called out for Gavin. In the eight seconds that this had happened Shaz was behind Pickle, Pickle was behind the other guard, being used as a human shield, and Vince had a hold of the guard's gun.
A rush of blood went to Vince's head and he opened fired at the bearded man. He fell to the floor screaming, his scream echoing through the hangar, and the group could see that Vince had unloaded the weapon into the man's thighs. Blood quickly poured out of him and Shaz approached him immediately, kicked his gun away, and dragged him into the stationery room fully so that his screams couldn't be heard through the building.
"We have no time to lose," announced Shaz.
Pickle nodded in agreement and released the man he had in a lock, then grabbed him by the skull and gave it a quick twist, breaking his neck. The body fell in a heap.
"You can be brutal for a religious man." Vince grinned.
"Sometimes you don't have a choice." Pickle picked up the gun belonging to the bearded guard, checked the dead guard's pockets, then checked the pockets of the bleeding man. "No shells. Nothing."
Pickle headed for the door and peered out to find that the yells and screams from the guard didn't appear loud enough to draw people back inside.
"That Gavin and his sister are gonna be waiting outside for us, by that shed." Pickle then nodded to the gun that Vince was holding. "It only as one cartridge left. Only shoot if yer have to."
Shaz and Vince went for the door, but Pickle stopped in his tracks, "What about him?" He pointed at the bearded guard; he was bleeding profusely and moaning in pain.
No one answered, so he came up with his own decision.
Pickle waved the key, to the room, in the air. "I'll lock him in. He can bleed out and die in peace."
The three of them left, and while Pickle was locking up the door Vince and Shaz hung about.
"The shed's that end," Shaz nodded to the left, "where they're waiting for us. What are we gonna do?"
Vince was the first to react. "We could leave and escape at the other end of the hangar, but there's still a guard outside, somewhere."
Pickle smacked his lips in agreement and also stated, "And there's another back at the house, and a forklift driver that comes in and out o' here to take out the pallets and load the wagon." Pickle turned to Vince. "If yer still want the food, we're gonna have to take out the rest. It's a bit risky."
"I'm sure getting rid of Gavin would be beneficial to the remaining survivors in this area anyway."
"True. But there're many more people like Gavin out there, and some are going to become a lot worse as time goes on."
"Don't move." The man's voice made all three freeze for a second. Despite being told not to move, they slowly turned their heads towards the blonde man. He looked like he was confident enough to use the weapon if he really had to. The blonde man was the guard from outside, and had heard the skirmish as he passed the opened entrance at the back of the hangar.
The sound of a forklift truck could be heard entering the hangar, a hundred yards behind the man that was pointing his weapon, and Vince, Shaz, and Pickle all could see the driver in his dark overalls and lowered baseball cap.
"Terry!" the gunman quickly peeked over his shoulder, yelling at the driver of the forklift truck, before returning his focus on the trio. "Get to the other side of the hangar, outside, and tell Gavin that we have a problem!"
The truck was travelling towards the four individuals, and to Pickle it looked like it was going to pass them on the right and head for outside. But something confused him.
The driver of the forklift truck then began steering the thing with just the one hand as the right hand reached at the side. The driver then opened the side door and pulled out a machete, confusing all three.
With the confident gunman fixing his gaze on Pickle, Vince and Shaz, and still pointing his weapon with his back to the oncoming forklift truck, he roared, "You're all in trouble now!"
The gunman could obviously hear the truck advancing and getting louder, but never turned to see why it was so near because he didn't want to break his gaze with the group. As the truck passed the gunman, the machete was swung by the driver and buried itself into the back of his head.
The truck came to a sudden stop and the shocked group saw the guard stagger, the machete still embedded into his head, then took one step forward before collapsing to the floor.
The driver of the forklift then took off the cap and forced smiles on the faces of all three.
"Bradley." Pickle began to laugh and hugged her as soon as she got off the truck. Shaz was next and, although very grateful for her intervention, Vince refrained from any kind of hugging.
Karen walked over to the deceased man, pulled out her machete, wiped the crimson on his shirt and put it back into her belt after she quickly took off the overalls. She went to the back of the truck and carried something towards the group, as if she was carrying a dead animal. "Found at the back of the hangar. Next to a load of empty pallets." She lowered her arms and it was now apparent that she had three machetes in her arms that were taken off of them when they were first caught.
"Man, this just gets better," said Vince.
"Right." She waved her hands to get full attention from the shocked group that were trying to digest what had just happened. "I knocked out a guard outside—that's how I got the truck. Gavin and his sister are also outside."
"They're waiting for us," Vince was the first to speak. "We did
two in that room," he pointed at the stationery room, "but I think there's one back at the house."
Karen smiled. "I took care of that."
"Wow." Vince looked Karen up and down. "You are getting me so hard right now."
Ignoring Vincent Kindl's rude remark, Karen questioned, "While I was back in the house I overheard about Harry Beresford. Is it true?"
Shaz said sadly, "They threw him in the shed...where the dead are. They wanted info on the camp, but the brave little man never said a word. I was supposed to be next."
Karen then bent down, took the shotgun from the dead man and handed it to Shaz. It had two cartridges. It was better than nothing.
"Okay." Karen paused for a few seconds, saddened by the news.
"Wait a minute." Vince changed the subject and pointed at Karen, then pointed at the deceased body as the blood continued to pool around him from his head injury. "That guy had a gun pointing at us."
"So what's yer point?" queried Pickle.
"Well...what if he had shot us when Karen had smacked him with that blade?"
Karen felt the eyes of the group fall on her, and she had to admit that Vince had a very good point. What had just happened could have gone horribly wrong. Karen snickered a little and said, "But he didn't."
Chapter Forty One
"Ready?"
Bentley was waiting on an answer from Paul.
Paul shook his head. "Not really, but it needs to be done."
Bentley smiled, and chuckled, "Just take a few yards back and watch them fall like sacks of shit."
Convinced that there was now no one by the door, Bentley pushed down the handle of the staff room door; Paul walked backwards and was now a good ten yards from Bentley and the place he was about to open. Both men were expecting to have a small group spilling out of the room and onto the balcony of the supermarket, but as soon as Bentley rammed open the door and took a few quick steps backwards, nothing came out.
Both men looked at one another.
They were expecting a completely different outcome altogether.
Snatchers: Volume Two (The Zombie Apocalypse Series Box Set--Books 4-6) Page 45
