There was also the time that Shaz was seconds from being thrown into a shed of over seventy of the dead by Gavin and his sister, but she somehow managed to avoid that death, so it seemed unjust and unfair that when Sharon Bailey did finally become a victim of the dead, it was when her back was turned, peering into a caravan.
"It's not fucking fair," Karen cried, and began wiping away the falling water from her eyes. "Not fair."
She quickly sat up when she heard the caravan door open, wiped her eyes, and was pleased when she heard the voice, "It's only me," call out.
It was Pickle.
Chapter Fifty
Vince was sitting cross-legged on the top of the HGV's cab, and was still thinking about the unnecessary death of Stuart. Vince was suffocated by sadness. This had been the lowest he had been so far. They had lost people from the camp before, especially in the first days when some had turned and other residents thought that their best way out of the mess was suicide, but it had calmed down after that.
The only fatalities from the camp, since the first day or so, were when they went out on runs. There wasn't many. The worst was when he, Jack, Claire and Paul went to Stafford Hospital and were shot at on the way back. Paul and Claire had been killed, but by humans, not the dead.
Then it was Jack's turn.
Harry Beresford had also been killed, by being thrown into a shed with over seventy Rotters, but his death wasn't something that the people mourned. He was just a young man, but he had only been on the camp for a short time, and not many people knew him, apart from Jasmine Kelly who spoke to him once in a while. Then there was the demise of Lee Johnson.
What happened on the previous morning was the worst of the lot. Not only did ten people die, almost a quarter of the population of the site, but it happened on the camp, where they all lived. It wasn't just residents that Vince was now short of, it was also guards. Trevor Barkley, Henry Bowes, David Chatting, Robin Barton, Gareth Mason and Sharon Bailey were all involved with barrier watch, runs and other safety aspects that benefited the campsite, and they were all dead. Six guards.
From the top of the cab, he clocked the pile of bodies in the distance, no longer smouldering. Vince shook his head sadly. "Damn shame."
Some people protested that burning their dead with the Rotters was disrespectful, but Pickle had appeased the minority—most were still refusing to leave their caravans—that their bodies were just shells, and that he strongly believed that they were in a much better and safer place.
Vince could hear noises behind him and looked to see that it was Pickle that had climbed up. He sat on top of the cab, next to Vince, and said immediately, "Just checked on Karen."
"Is she okay?" Vince almost whispered.
"Aye, she's fine." Pickle looked behind him and saw that the other HGV had no one on it. "Yer got no one on the other truck?"
Vince laughed mockingly, "Most of the guards are dead. I don't have anyone. We're gonna get so desperate that I'll be putting Paul Dickson and John Waite on barrier-duty, that's if the old bugger can make the climb."
"Yer gonna have to accept anyone that comes to the barrier from now on. No more daft initiation tests. Yer can't be picky these days."
"I don't do that anymore. Besides, I'm thinking about jacking it all in anyway."
"What do yer mean?"
"Well, I was thinking about travelling to see Lee James at the Sandy Lane Camp. Make him an offer."
"What kind o' offer?"
"Either, we pack up and take our people and supplies to them, or they can come here and stay with us, but not under my leadership. I'm happy to follow whoever is running that place. I'm sick of doing it. Despite the weeks of paranoia, it appears that they're good people, just normal people trying to survive."
"Are yer sure about this?"
Vince nodded. "You saw what happened yesterday. They had twenty guys get out of those cars, and hacked those fucks to pieces. I don't even have any watchmen on today and I've got one person, me, on the barrier. Hardly something that's going to rebuild the confidence of these people."
"I still don't know why they did it, and what they were doing around that area anyway."
"Just helping us out. Being nice, I suppose." Vince shrugged, unsure whether that was the real reason why they helped them out.
"Just proves not all people are a threat."
"I know. What you have to remember is that those people that helped us out were probably walking among us in the town centre a couple of months ago, with their wives, getting the shopping."
"Walking with you, maybe," Pickle snickered. "I was in prison."
Changing the topic, Vince puffed, "I can't shake the image of Robin with that chainsaw."
"It was horrific," agreed Pickle. "He saved lives yesterday."
"He certainly did."
A few seconds of silence enveloped the two men and Pickle gazed at Vince. He looked a beaten man. Pickle said, "I was talking to some guy on ma way here. I think his name was Simon. He told me about a store in Rugeley Town Centre that sold solar panels. He was telling me that if the sun hits a panel, some o' the light energy is absorbed, creating a current and can be used to power up the caravans. Even if it's for the Spode Cottage, it might come in handy."
"I don't know."
"How much diesel are yer usin' to keep that freezer powered in there?"
"Too much," sighed Vince. "Anyway, that place has probably been raided by now. The Sandy Lane Camp is right next to the Globe Island, where the town centre starts. They've practically got the town centre on their doorstep. I think their camp is in a more dangerous place, being in the heart of the town, but they have more choice and access to supplies."
"So what yer saying? The Sandy Lane Camp have already beaten us to this?"
"Possibly. More reason why we should ask to join them."
"Maybe."
After a few seconds of silence, Vince decided to change the morose subject and opened his mouth to ask Pickle something. "So...when did you know?"
"Know what?"
Vince shifted uncomfortably on the cab. He looked to see that the roof had been damaged from weeks of heavy men sitting on it. "You know, being gay."
"I don't know." Pickle screwed his face in thought. It was such a random question that he wasn't expecting. "I suppose I've always known." Pickle decided to have a little fun with Vince and smirked. "What about you? Have yer ever had the urge—"
"Absolutely not!" exclaimed Vince. "I like women too much." Vince then tilted his chin and began to snigger to himself.
Pickle could see he was reminiscing about something. His intrigue got the better of him and asked, "What is it?"
"Just remembering an ex of mine. Man, she was a horny fucker. When I first met her, we were pissed outside a pub. We got a lamb kebab together, then fucked like demons back at her place."
"Wow," Pickle sarcastically responded. "That story is like somethin' out o' a fairy tale."
"She had this tattoo. She had these cute little antlers just above her arse."
Pickle cackled, "She sounds classy."
"Every time I took her from behind it was like getting a blowjob from Bambi."
"I'm not sure I'm comfortable talking about this."
"It's true. She was a mental cock-hungry—"
"Enough! Shaz was right." Pickle tried to look disgusted at Vince's comment, but he couldn't help a huge smile. "You do really need help."
"Ah Shaz," groaned Vince. "I miss her already."
"So do I. God rest her soul."
Noises of dragging feet could be heard from behind the men, and both turned around. "What are you doing here?" Vince and Pickle both asked collectively, seeing Karen hanging around the barrier.
"Pregnant women are banned from this area," Vince tried to joke, but it was too early for jokes for Karen.
"I had a bad dream," Karen said whilst yawning simultaneously. "I needed some air." She then began to climb up to see the two men. Neither one protested. There didn't s
eem to be any point trying to tell the headstrong female what to do.
She sat next to them. All three were high up, feet from the floor, and all sat staring at the peak of the hill in front of them. Karen at last spoke. "I would say that the only negative of your camp is the fact that we can't see over both hills on either side. The camp sits in the dip of both hills."
"That's why I have...used to have a guard half a mile in each direction." Vince reacted while furiously poking his itchy ear with his little finger. "But this place has always been vulnerable. Whenever we had torrential rain the place would suffer from floods, especially if the canal rose and spilled out down the grass bank and onto the road. The Spode Cottage sometimes would be shut for weeks, due to flooding."
"Must 'ave been a nightmare for the owners." Pickle spoke up. Then he suddenly realised something. "By the way, wha' happened to the owners?"
Pickle's question wasn't answered as a low humming could be heard by all three. It was definitely the sound of an engine and it was growing louder, meaning it was getting closer. But were these people friendly? Or were they just passing through? It had been a while since Vince had people trying to pass through. It was selfish what he did, blocking off the road, especially for people from Rugeley and Brereton trying to escape via Armitage, but he did it for the benefit of the residents on the campsite.
Vince chuckled to himself, but it wasn't as if he had found something humorous. There appeared to be anger behind his sniggering. He looked to the side of him, as if he had lost something, and shook his head. "I forgot to bring my gun with me."
"Don't yer worry about it." Pickle straightened his back, waiting for the vehicle to appear from behind the hill. "We don't want to be unnecessarily scaring people away. It might be people seeking refuge."
Vince nodded. "I suppose that's true."
Pickle took a glance at Vince's worried face. "Let's wait and see. I'm sure it's just normal people, either wanting to get by or looking for a place to stay."
"Or it might be a gang of killers," Karen spoke with some teasing in her tone, "armed to the teeth, and we and the rest of the people could be minutes away from being massacred so they can take the camp for themselves."
"Yer not helping, Karen," sighed Pickle. "And considering what happened yesterday..."
One Vauxhall Meriva appeared over the hill and was making its way down towards the barrier. All three could now see that there was two individuals in the vehicle, and the man that was driving it was an old friend of Vince's.
"It's okay." Vince released a relieved breath out and put his arm up as a friendly gesture to the oncoming vehicle. "It's Lee."
Vince quickly explained to Karen that Lee was from the camp by the Globe Island, and that they had all met when they were at the garden centre.
The car pulled up ten yards from the HGV that was stretched across the road, and only Lee stepped out of the vehicle, leaving the other individual inside. The man was in his early forties, of average build with dark features. He had a dark beard on his face, but apart from the facial hair he looked well, fed and hydrated.
"I've come to see how you are," said Lee. "I wanted to clear up any confusion from yesterday."
Vince climbed down so he could talk to his old friend eye-to-eye. "And I want to thank you for helping us out."
"We were just coming back from a run in Lichfield."
"Lichfield? What's it like there?"
Lee puffed out his cheeks and shook his head. "It's awful. It's the worst I've seen."
"That bad?" Pickle asked from the top of the HGV's cab, and began to climb down himself. Karen followed suit, carefully.
Lee explained, "We got as far as The Hedgehog pub and restaurant. We emptied the place and had to flee. There were only four Wasters in that pub, but one of our guys still got bit."
"That's only the outskirts of Lichfield," said Vince.
"Well," Lee had a look of defeat on his face, "our area may be clearing up a little, but there're fucking hundreds of the things there, and going any further than the golf course and you're asking for trouble."
"How come you helped us out?" asked Pickle.
"One of our guys saw the smoke, so we made a small detour to see where it was coming from and saw the horde by the Ash Tree. We saw you lot standing at the top of the road. So we took care of them."
"We were in serious trouble yesterday morning," announced Vince with sadness.
"Really? Everything okay? What was the smoke from?"
"We lost some people. Dozens of Rotters stormed the camp. It was hours after you'd taken care of that horde for us."
"Shit. Sorry."
"You should have stopped and said hello after putting those things down. We owe you a big thanks."
"At the time we had a bitten man in the back of the car," Lee tried to explain. "The clock was ticking and he had to say goodbye to his wife and daughter before we had to put him to rest."
Lee looked at Karen and Pickle and gave them both a warm smile. He remembered Pickle from the garden centre and liked him immediately for his no-nonsense comment. He was a guy that seemed to say what he thought, and Lee liked that.
"Look..." Vince seemed embarrassed at what he was about to say next, but continued, "Strangely enough we were just talking about you. I was actually thinking about coming to your place for a chat. I needed to talk to the person in charge."
"There're a few of us in charge," Lee said with a smile. "And I'm one of them. We work as a team, and important decisions are made with a voting system."
The passenger door suddenly flew open, making Lee and the rest turn around. The bulky man stepped out of the vehicle and yelled, "Shit! I thought I recognised that ugly face!"
Pickle clapped his hands together and bellowed, "Well, bugger me with a hedgehog! Bentley Drummle!"
"Fuck's sake," Karen huffed. "This is like Surprise, Surprise."
Pickle and Bentley hugged for, what seemed like, an eternity, and asked each other how they were doing and how they had survived so far. Bentley had told Pickle that despite being right that a disaster was around the corner, his plan and small camp had barely lasted a month as they were set upon by the dead, killing his Laura. Pickle told him a shortened version of being let out of prison and KP dying, and about Karen's heroics.
"Anyway, I knew yer were still kicking about," Pickle informed his former inmate, his hands on both of his shoulders, still flabbergasted that he was right in front of him.
"Yeah?" Bentley scratched at his dark hair. "And how did you know that?"
"We were talking about yer a couple o' days ago."
"We?"
"Me and Paul Dickson."
Bentley stood aghast. He squinted his eyes, looked to the side of him to think for a couple of seconds, then turned to face a smiling Harry Branston. "The guy and the little boy are here?"
Pickle nodded and gave off his famous left-eye wink. "They told me what you did for them. We found them at a crossroad, their car all smashed up."
"I thought they were going to see his mum."
"Right!" Lee exclaimed, interrupting their chat, and added sarcastically, "Are we all done?"
Both Pickle and Bentley nodded their heads sheepishly.
"I wanted to make a proposal." Vince spoke before Pickle and Bentley decided to rekindle their banal chatter.
"Sounds interesting." Lee folded his arms and looked to the ground. His eyes scowled and suddenly pointed to his right hand side, losing himself for a few seconds. "You know, it was around here when we found that bitten man. Remember?"
Vince sighed, "Lee, I'm trying to talk to you. This is important."
"Sorry." Lee held his hands up apologetically. "Continue."
"Like I said, I need to have a chat. Why don't you and your guy come in. Bring your car in, and we'll talk. I think this will benefit both sets of people from our camps."
"Well in that case," said Lee. "Lead the way, my old friend. And don't worry about the motor. I'll just leave it there. Nobody
's gonna steal it."
The car was left outside the barrier and all five went through the cab doors to get to the front of the campsite. Vince was the last to go through, and stood with the rest of the group.
"You got a caravan to discuss this proposal?" asked Lee.
"I can't leave the barrier unguarded," protested Vince. "Especially after what happened."
"It'll be fine, " Lee laughed. Lee beckoned everyone and said, "This will only take five minutes, and I could do with a drink. Come on, let's go."
Vince turned around and made sure the area was clear, as it was going to be left unattended for a few minutes. This had been the first time that he had done this, and it made him nervous. He then clocked Jasmine Kelly. She was walking around in a daze, and although she had recently lost her mother, Vince called over to her and asked her to stand at the barrier and watch out for anything untoward, and that he'd be in his caravan. She agreed to do this.
Vince guided the way, with the other four behind. "We'll discuss my problem in my caravan."
"You do what you want," Bentley scoffed, then turned to Pickle. "I have people to see. Which caravan do the Dicksons stay in?"
Pickle pointed ahead. "They're a bit fragile after yesterday morning."
"I won't be long."
Chapter Fifty One
Paul and Kyle Dickson both jumped when they heard a rap at the door.
"It's okay, big chap." Paul kissed his son on his head and said, "It might be Vince to see how we're doing."
Paul approached the door and could see through the frosted glass a huge figure standing behind it. He opened the door with zero reluctance and stood and stared at the man for a few seconds, his brain trying to register who was in front of him. He burst into laugher once he realised it was Bentley Drummle. Both men hugged and Bentley stepped inside without asking permission.
Paul asked, smothered in puzzlement, "How..?"
"It's a long story." Bentley waved him away. "Later. What about you? How did you get here? I thought you were going to your mum's."
Snatchers: Volume Two (The Zombie Apocalypse Series Box Set--Books 4-6) Page 74
