Ophelia and Stephanie were now out of the vehicle, Ophelia was holding her baseball bat, and stood next to an unarmed Elza. All three females were staring at the hangar that was situated in the middle of the countryside, miles from the nearest town.
“Just a simple matter of going in and taking the stuff, right?” Elza turned to Stephanie for a response.
Stephanie elevated her shoulders and said, “Hopefully.”
“Look, there’s a large shutter to the side.” Elza pointed at the wide metal door that was used in the past for deliveries arriving at the place. “If we can get inside, we can open that shutter and reverse the RV in.”
“Let’s see if we can get inside first,” Stephanie moaned, with a tone that was less excited than Elza’s previous comment.
All three headed to a green door that was the same size as a main door to somebody’s house, and tried it. It was locked, solid, and the girls didn’t have a crowbar to try and prise the thing open.
“What now?” Stephanie huffed.
Elza placed both hands on her hips and looked over at the large shutter. “Those things aren’t really thick, are they?”
Stephanie scratched her head, unsure what Elza had in mind.
Elza headed back to the RV, playfully shaking the keys in her hand, and went back inside. As soon as she fired the engine, Stephanie knew what the impatient thirty-one-year-old was going to do.
The vehicle pulled forwards, then stopped. The reverse lights came on, and then the vehicle slowly went backwards, heading towards the shutter. Stephanie wasn’t sure if the vehicle could damage the shutter; she wasn’t sure how thick the metal was, and what kind of damage it would do to the motorhome itself.
Elza reversed the vehicle slowly, and Stephanie smiled when the shutter bent and made an awful clanging sound. She then lost her smile when a thought skated over her mind. What if there were dozens of dead inside, and here was Elza Crowe creating a gateway for them to escape? Maybe the workers from this place never left, never went home and had all turned.
Elza stopped the vehicle and pulled the RV out a metre or so. She popped her head out of the window, asking Stephanie to check if she had damaged the vehicle much. Stephanie could see a few scratches and a few dents, but nothing substantial.
“It’s okay,” Stephanie said, and was pleased that Elza’s erratic behaviour had actually been beneficial. “It’ll be worth it anyway, whatever the damage.”
Elza smiled and selected reverse once more, and this time pressed harder on the accelerator pedal, the vehicle going through the shutter with ease. The back half of the RV was now inside the warehouse and Elza pulled the vehicle forwards until it was fully out. She jumped out with her bat in hand and all three made cautious steps to the entrance that had been created. From what they could see the place looked empty, but Elza took a few more steps forwards, as Stephanie went into the RV to get her bag and bow, and she peered inside.
Steel racking was to Elza’s right, the metal reaching twenty feet at least. Abandoned forklift trucks, reach trucks and pallet riders were scattered across the large area, and she raised a smile when she saw four pallets of tins. The tins could be visibly seen and were wrapped heavily in cellophane. The wooden pallet was the base and the stack was obviously designed so that a set of forks could go under and be loaded onto a truck.
Elza, with Ophelia following, could see that the tins were mainly beans, ravioli and spaghetti. Not only did this food have a long best before date; it was also supplies that could be eaten hot or cold.
Elza walked over to the Komatsu made battery-powered forklift trucks and tried all three that could be seen on the shop floor, but every truck had a flat battery.
“We’ll leave the RV where it is. I was gonna reverse it inside,” she said to Ophelia and could now see Stephanie finally entering the place, holding her bow. “I’ll cut the cellophane away from the pallet.”
Once Stephanie was inside, Elza wasted no time and began to cut the cellophane and watched as the tins collapsed onto the floor.
“I’ll get the bags from the RV,” Stephanie said.
“Don’t bother,” Elza called over and pointed at the already made cardboard boxes stacked up in the corner. There were dozens of them already made up. “Fill them and pile them up in the back. Pile them up in the motorhome until we can hardly move, right up to the front seats.”
For twenty minutes the girls filled and carried heavy boxes until the vehicle was rammed full of supplies. Stephanie worried about the weight in the vehicle, but it wasn’t something that was mentioned by Elza. Stephanie went inside the hangar to fill up the last box and could see there was still some supplies left over.
“This is gonna take two runs,” Stephanie said with a smile on her face. She left the premises, carrying a large box, and could already see Elza and Ophelia sitting in the front seats, ready to go.
Stephanie went into the vehicle at the side and struggled to get by the boxes. She dropped the last box and climbed a few of them to get to the seats at the front. She sat in the middle and could see Ophelia to her left, narrowing her eyes and leaning forwards, staring at the wing mirror. Elza had now noticed this and asked her what was wrong. Obviously, Ophelia never verbally answered, but she did stare at her friend and nodded behind her, in the direction of the warehouse.
“Did you see something?” Elza asked.
Ophelia nodded and rubbed her face, her fingers going over the two-inch scar on her left cheek.
“Look, let’s just go.” Stephanie shifted in her seat uncomfortably.
“Wait.” Elza held her hand up and asked Ophelia further, “Was it a person that you saw?”
Ophelia scratched her short blonde hair and shrugged her shoulders. She wasn’t sure.
Elza looked at Stephanie. “Best to check it out. After all, Pickle wants us to bolster the numbers at Colwyn Place. If there’re people in there ... we could probably squeeze a couple in.”
“Okay,” Stephanie sighed, itching to get back to Colwyn Place.
“You wait here,” Elza said. “Me and Ophelia will check it out.”
The two adults left the vehicle with their bats, and an exhausted Stephanie lay her head back on the head restraint. She closed her eyes and released a moan.
Elza and Ophelia crept through the opened warehouse and could see a hallway that began where the doors of the toilets were. Because of no electricity, the place was dusky and no doubt the hallway would be worse.
“Shall I call out?” Elza asked her dumb partner.
Ophelia rubbed her face in thought, and then shook her head. She slapped Elza on the shoulder and pointed ahead of her.
Three Snatchers stumbled out of the dark hallway and staggered onto the shop floor. Elza couldn’t understand why they hadn’t turned up earlier, when they were transporting the tins to the motorhome, or even when she had reversed the RV into the shutter. The three females were hardly quiet when they arrived here.
“Let’s just go.” Elza’s eyes gazed at a set of double doors by the toilets and was convinced it was a store cupboard. It had a bolt slid across it, but no other lock could be seen. “But then again.”
She raised her bat and stormed over to the three dead and put down two before Ophelia reached her. Ophelia White struck the final being three times, and as Elza scanned the floor, looking at the three dead with their polluted brains bashed in, she said, “Let’s check out the cupboard.”
Ophelia shook her head at her friend, but Elza was determined to find out what was inside.
“I know the RV is full, but I wanna makes sure if it’s gonna be worth a second run.” She pointed to her right where tins were scattered on the floor. “I’m not coming back here just for them. It’s not worth the petrol.”
The two women walked over with cautious steps. Elza slid back the bolt with no hesitation and asked Ophelia if she was ready. Ophelia nodded and waited for Elza to open the doors. Once she did, the two women were greeted with nothing but darkness. The fact th
at the warehouse was dusky itself didn’t help matters, but she was sure that in the past the place was used for some kind of storage.
Elza could just about see the defunct light switch on the right hand side of the wall. There were shelves on either side, and Ophelia unknowingly brushed by a dusty blanket that fell off the shelf and onto the floor, creating a cloud of dust that couldn’t be seen. They walked further in, but with no light Elza had decided that they shouldn’t investigate any further and that they should all be happy with the tins that they had found on the shop floor.
Elza could just about see the outline of her friend and patted her on the shoulder, telling her that they should go back. Ophelia nodded in agreement and sneezed once her nose picked up the dust particles.
Movement could be heard from Elza, and two seconds later a mass of arms reached out from the darkness and pulled both females to the ground.
Chapter Eleven
Karen had been in the house for the last ten minutes. When she returned, she placed the machete against the wall, and left the two Stephens in the street. She went into the kitchen for a glass of water, and then returned to the living room and slumped onto the couch, head leaning back.
She inspected her plain, but creased, yellow T-shirt, and was pleased that there were no bloodstains from the ghouls she had put down. She thought that maybe she was a bit harsh with the two Stephens. Maybe they were right. Waiting for the dead to come to the wall, to have that protection, would have been a safer option.
She couldn’t help it.
She was aware that survivors had different levels of experience and bravery, but some of the behaviour and hesitancy from the members of Colwyn Place, past and present, annoyed her somewhat.
Maybe they were the ones that had the common sense, and she was too gung-ho.
Her mind cast back to over two months ago. She thought of Sharon Bailey, simply known as Shaz. Her eyes welled when she thought of the now deceased thirty-year-old. She had striking blue eyes, dark hair, and what Karen would never forget about Shaz was the attire she wore, the green combats especially. She became real close to Shaz, even told her that she loved her, and Shaz responded by telling Karen that she thought of her as a sister.
Then the invasion of the dead happened on Vince’s caravan park.
People were lost, including Shaz, and Karen still remembered it as if it was yesterday. It was stupid the way she went. Sharon Bailey had become such a warrior in such a short space of time, and yet she was bitten on the shoulder when she stood outside a caravan. This happened whilst Karen was trying to persuade an elderly man called John Waite to come out of his toilet.
She could still see the rotten face of the Snatcher that had tore out the flesh from her friend’s deltoid. After it had happened, all Shaz seemed to be concerned about was the bracelet that her deceased son Spencer had made her. Karen couldn’t put Shaz to rest once she slipped away, so Pickle had to do it by placing a tea towel over her face and driving a knife into her left eye.
Since then, apart from Pickle, Karen hadn’t got close to anyone else until Paul Dickson came along. And she ended up losing him as well.
She then thought about losing her child, and then Gary.
And then Karen Bradley broke down.
Chapter Twelve
Pickle slapped Vince, snapping him out of his daydreaming, once a glum-looking Roger and Peter turned up. Pickle asked the pair of them about their neighbour, and Peter told the former inmate that Harriett and the child were gone. They went into detail and both Pickle and Vince looked genuinely upset by the story, especially when they mentioned the one-year-old that had perished so cruelly, and explained what had happened.
“Shit.” Pickle shook his head. “That’s a real tragedy. And yer reckon the wee one starved to death?”
Roger and Peter nodded their heads in unison.
“And yer mum?”
Peter shrugged his shoulders. “She could be anywhere, but I think we’re gonna stay here, just in case she comes back.”
Vince and Pickle didn’t share Peter’s confidence, and Roger remained quiet with his head lowered. Maybe he was unsure about staying, Pickle thought. He wasn’t saying much. It was Peter that was doing all the talking.
Pickle decided not to voice his opinion on Peter’s remark, but Vince had other ideas. He said, “I think you have to face facts that mommy dearest has become Snatcher meat. I think, my deluded little men, that you should just come back to Colwyn with us.”
Peter’s features filled with anger and took a step forwards and went face to face with the scarred Vince Kindl, but Vince never flinched.
“Right, ladies,” Pickle snickered, trying to defuse the situation. “Let’s calm down, shall we?” But he was ignored by both Peter and Vince.
“You’re walking a thin line, Scarface,” Peter snarled.
“Charming,” Vince began to cackle. “We help these guys out and this is the way we get treated.”
“Cool it.” Pickle walked over to the two gentlemen and gently parted them and stepped in between them.
Both Vince and Peter slowly retreated whilst Roger continued to gaze at the floor, still shocked from what he had just witnessed.
“Vince and I are going to check out that pub now.” Pickle pointed over the road and added, “It looks untouched, unbelievably.”
“There’s no way that that place hasn’t been broken into,” Roger spoke at last. “After three months. No way.”
“Well, can yer see a broken window or has the door been forced open?” Pickle asked both men, who both shook their heads seconds later.
“Neither can I,” said Branston. “We should check it out. Whatever we take from there, we half it, and then go our separate ways.”
“Okay.” Roger nodded.
“But yer two can come back with us, if yer want.”
Roger and Peter took a quick gape at one another and both Vince and Pickle could see that the men, Peter at least, were determined to stay.
“Fine,” Pickle sighed. “But even when we’re gone, the offer still stands. If things get too bad here, come and see us.”
“Thanks, Pickle,” Peter said with a smile and stroked his beard.
“Right.” Pickle pulled out the machete from his belt and added, “Let’s go and check out the pub.”
“What shall I do?” a young voice called out. It was David MacDonald, and he remained sitting in the back of the pickup. Pickle had almost forgot that the teenager was present.
“Stay where yer are,” Pickle instructed. “And if yer hear any engines, lie down flat, yer hear me?”
David nodded. “Okay.”
*
Pickle was the first to approach the main doors of the establishment and took a look around. There was a large beer garden to walk through before getting to the front of the pub, and it had a small play park in the corner of the beer garden, and twelve wooden tables and benches were spaced out in the now long grass. Behind the pub was a car park for visitors. It was completely empty.
Pickle took a step back and inspected the solid doors. He rested his chin on his palm and made a mmm noise, as if he was thinking really hard.
Vince smirked and took a sneaky look at Pickle. He said, “You don’t know how to get in, do you?”
Pickle shushed Vince. “I’m thinking.”
“Well?”
Pickle sighed in defeat. “Not a fuckin’ clue.”
“There’s a back door, where the car park is,” Roger said from behind the two men.
“That’s right,” Peter had now got involved. “And it’s a glass door, so even if it’s locked...” He left his sentence trailing and Pickle finished it off for him.
“We can smash our way through,” said Pickle with a smile.
Vince led the way and went round to the side of the pub. He walked down the narrow road that led to the modest car park. He could see the glass door and walked up a set of concrete steps, with the other three following behind. He stopped and faced the do
ors and released a long groan once he could see what was behind the glass.
“I’ve got a feeling that there might be some stuff in here, Pickle,” Vince spoke up.
Pickle was still climbing the steps, with Roger and Peter behind him. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.” Vince nodded. “And I think I know why the place hasn’t been touched.”
“And why’s that?” Branston asked, slightly out of puff, and nearly at the top of the steps.
“Because there’s been no one stupid enough to try and get in.”
Pickle stood next to Vince, wondering what the hell he was talking about, and took a look through the glass doors.
“Well fuck me with a cactus dildo,” Branston moaned.
“That’s what I was thinking,” giggled Vince. “Well … kind of.”
“What’s up?” Roger asked. Now he and Peter had climbed the steps and glared through the glass.
“Take a look for yerselves,” said Pickle.
Roger and Peter gazed with wide eyes and could see three of the dead against the glass, but seconds later there were dozens of them pressing up against the door. They were clawing at the glass, now that humans had been spotted, and all four survivors knew that the glass wasn’t going to hold for very long.
“Oh shit.” Peter took a step back and gazed at the sea of faces of the dead. “I think we better head back.”
“Agreed.” Roger spoke with a single nod.
“Nah,” Pickle snickered. “Fuck it.”
Now that the four men had been spotted, the dead that had been wandering in the open bar and lounge area were now heading towards the small crowd that were already pressed up against the door, creating even more pressure against the glass.
The four men continued to look, unsure what to do next, and watched with panic as the crowd grew rather quickly. Then a crack appeared at the centre of the door. The glass wasn’t far from giving way.
“Oh.” Peter scratched his head and shook his head. “That’s not good.”
Vince said, “No shit, Columbo.”
“Looks like we don’t need to break in after all,” said Pickle. “They’re breaking out. Down to the bottom o’ the steps, gents. Them tumbling down will make it easier for us.”
The Dead Don't Yell Page 5
