The Dead Don't Yell

by Shaun Whittington

  He pulled the jeep up and said to the youngster, “We don’t really have time for this, but it’s an opportunity for you. Kill the thing. It won’t take long, and then we can go and get the girls. Another two minutes isn’t going to harm them. They’re tough girls.”

  “Um…” David looked hesitant.

  “What are you waiting for, shagwit?”

  David paused and looked down on his lap, down at the machete. He then looked up and through the windscreen and could see the thing approaching. It was around four car lengths away.

  “Better hurry up,” Vince said.

  David was now shaking and took a quick gape at Vince. Vince was convinced that the teenager wasn’t going to do it, and his eyes widened with surprise when David opened his passenger door and jumped out of the vehicle with the machete in his hand.

  “Shit.” Vince didn’t want David to get too far ahead of him, just in case he froze and ended up getting bitten, but the youngster was yards away from the front of the vehicle before Vince had managed to get out.

  As Vince exited the vehicle and stood to his feet, he could already see David MacDonald putting down the beast with four strikes to its head.

  Vince walked over to the teenager and placed his arm around his shoulder; both males looked down at the defunct being. David was panting, but the smile on his face suggested that the youngster was pleased with himself. The stained blade was being held by his shaking right hand, hanging by the side of his leg.

  “So, how did that feel?” Vince asked the teenager.

  “Nerve wracking, to tell you the truth.”

  Vince looked down to the left at David’s crotch area. “At least you didn’t piss yourself this time.”

  David turned to the side and threw up. He stood up and wiped his mouth, his face white as a sheet.

  Vince asked the youngster, “Is that it all up?”

  David nodded. “I think so.”

  “Are you sure? I don’t want to get in that jeep and have you throwing up inside it.”

  “I’m fine.” David held his hand up and pointed over at the vehicle. “Let’s go back to the jeep.”

  “So, you wouldn’t say no to a nice runny egg served on a hot, fresh steaming dog turd?”

  David doubled over and threw up on the grassy bank once more.

  “That’s what I thought,” said Vince. “Get it all up, son.”

  Once David was finished, he stood up straight and wiped the sweat off of his forehead.

  Vince laughed and said, “Right, killer. Back to the vehicle. We’ve got some wenches to pick up.”

  *

  Two more minutes on the road, and the guys had passed a farm to their right, wondering if anybody lived there. The road then suddenly straightened up and Vince released a profanity before slowing the vehicle down.

  The black jeep was eventually brought to a halt, and Vince pulled up the parking brake and gazed out of the windscreen in astonishment. David did the same.

  No words were spoken between the two males. Both could see the top half of the RV, but around the vehicle was a swarm of Snatchers, all with their arms outstretched. The ones by the vehicle were clawing to get in, whereas the dead that were behind were clawing at thin air.

  The jeep was parked around thirty yards from the RV, and Vince decided to switch the engine off whilst trying to think what to do next.

  “We need to get rid of those dead bastards,” Vince moaned.

  “And how are we supposed to do that?” David asked nervously.

  “Not sure.”

  “We don’t even know if anyone is inside.”

  Vince looked at David strangely after making his comment, and Vince then asked, “Then how did the RV get there?”

  Both males looked ahead, staring at the crowd of the dead around the large vehicle, and Vince thought that maybe David could have a point. The RV was on the grassy bank and looked stuck. Maybe the girls had decided to ditch the vehicle, whether it had supplies or not, and went back to Colwyn on foot and the dead turned up afterwards. Maybe he hadn’t seen them because they had decided to avoid the main roads and cut through the fields. But they would have been at Colwyn by now. It wasn’t that much of a walk.

  “How are we going to remove all of those things?” David asked.

  “I think you had a good point earlier, so I’m not removing any until I know someone is inside,” said Vince. “No point going to all that effort if the RV is empty.”

  “But what do we do if we find out that the girls are in there?”

  Vince shook his head and ran the palm of his hand over his mouth as he tried to think. “Sounding the horn and allowing the dead to follow us is the only thing I can think of. There’s too many to kill. Even if I used this jeep to plough into them, I’d be lucky to kill six or seven, and then we’d be surrounded.”

  “So what now?”

  “Don’t know. Wait till we see a glimpse of life.”

  Thankfully, not one single creature had spotted the vehicle and decided to shamble over and investigate, and Vince was certain that if the pair of them left the jeep for a short time it’d be okay.

  “You know what?” said Vince. “Fuck it. Let’s just remove those fuckers anyway. Of course the girls are inside. Where else could they be?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “I’ve got an idea,” said Vince. Before young David had a chance to ask Vince about the idea, Vincent Kindl added, “We’ll go to the farm and see if there’s anything there that can help us. If not, we come back and use my horn idea. It’s desperate, but what else can we do? Unless...”

  David shifted in his seat uncomfortably and had a bad feeling about the other idea Vince had. He asked, “Unless what?”

  “Unless you get your arse over that field, over there, distract them by waving your arms like a loony, and let them follow you. After that, you run off and I’ll meet you at the end of the road once we’ve freed the girls inside the motorhome.”

  David gulped and shook his head. “I’m sorry. I’m not doing that.”

  “I thought you’d say that,” sighed Vince. “The farm it is.”

  “And you think there’s someone in the RV to save?”

  The two males could see somebody in the front and could now see the individual frantically waving with both arms.

  Vince smiled. “I do now.”

  Vince and David exited the vehicle and both turned around, now heading to the farm.

  *

  Stephanie had miraculously managed to squeeze in a few hours of sleep. She had woken up but had no idea what the time was. For a minute she had forgot about the predicament she was in, but once her ears picked up the groaning from outside, it soon brought her back to reality.

  She clambered over the boxes of tins, and decided to get to the front of the vehicle and check out what was happening. She could see that the dead were still there, and some of them became a little excited when a few at the front had seen her. But the dead didn’t concern her.

  She produced a wide smile when she could see a familiar black jeep up ahead. She had no idea who was in it, but she was convinced it was from the camp.

  An excited Stephanie began to wave her arms. The doors to the jeep opened and her smile widened as she could see Vince Kindl and David MacDonald step out of the vehicle. She waved her arms at the two men again, but they weren’t heading to the RV; they were going in the opposite direction.

  She had no idea what they were doing and what they had planned, and was in two minds whether just to sound the horn to let them know that somebody was definitely inside the RV. Maybe they had a plan, she thought. After all, they had left on their feet, but the jeep was still there. So they had planned to come back at some time or another.

  Her smile slowly evaporated and she muttered, “Where are you guys going?”

  Chapter Twenty Six

  Pickle was walking along the road of Colwyn Place, looked at his Omega Speedmaster watch to check the time, and looked up and could see Dann
y Gosling sitting on his doorstep. Pickle whistled over at Danny and gestured with his head for him to come over.

  Danny did what he was told and Pickle said, “How are yer feeling? Yer look a bit better.”

  “Not a hundred percent, but I’m bored out of my nut, to be honest with you. At least I managed to get a few hours.”

  “Fancy a quick run outdoors?”

  “Always.” Danny smiled.

  “Promise that yer won’t throw up on me.”

  “It’s okay,” Danny laughed. “I just had a little nap and the first thing to eat in a while.”

  “So yer good to go?”

  “Absolutely.” Danny smiled and asked Pickle, “Where’re we going?”

  “Didn’t I mention this earlier?”

  Danny hunched his shoulders and screwed his face in confusion.

  “Remember where we went to about two weeks ago?” Pickle stroked his chin, awaiting an answer.

  “The place where I thought you were being attacked and I ran away?”

  Pickle shook his head. “The one after that. The one with the guy and two kids. Was going to ask him if he wanted to join us.”

  Danny’s eyes moved away from Pickle’s, and he suddenly became distant and looked around the street and gazed over at number 3 Colwyn Place.

  “Something the matter?” Pickle asked him.

  “Yeah.” Danny grumbled, “I miss John.”

  “I understand.” Pickle smiled thinly, rattled the keys that were in his hand, and pointed over to the pickup, urging Danny to get inside. “Let’s go. It’s only a short trip, so it’ll hardly touch the petrol.”

  Once the two males were comfortable in the pickup, Pickle pulled the vehicle away and exited the street once the gate was pulled back.

  The two men remained silent as the pickup crept through the windy lanes at a steady twenty to twenty-five mph, and both looked to the left and raised a smile when they passed the first cafe. It was the same cafe that Danny ran away from when he thought Pickle was being attacked.

  Pickle looked to the side at Danny, revealing a smirk.

  Feeling Pickle’s eyes on him, Danny said, “Don’t say a word. I’m not like that anymore.”

  “I know,” Branston chuckled. “Yer have definitely improved since then.”

  “I have.”

  “Here we are.” Pickle pointed up ahead.

  He slowed the vehicle down and pulled in at the cafe where they had been two weeks ago. Pickle had gone round the back, when checking the place out a while back. He came across a man who was reluctant to come out and also claimed that he was with his two kids.

  They both stepped out of the pickup and inspected the front of the place. It hadn’t changed since the last time they were here. It was a tired-looking wooden building, and Pickle was certain that there were people inside.

  Pickle looked down to his left to make sure that Danny was carrying his weapon, and said to the young man, “We’ll check round the back first. Then we’ll go inside.”

  “What if there’s no one there?” Danny asked.

  Pickle hunched his shoulders. “Then we go home. Just want to give the guy the opportunity to change his mind, if he’s still here. Things could have turned a lot bleaker for him and his kids after two weeks.”

  The two men made careful steps on the noisy gravel and reached the back of the place. Pickle was almost standing in the same spot where he had his short conversation with the man two weeks ago.

  He picked up a handful of gravel and threw the pebbles at the top window—a bedroom, Pickle presumed. After a few seconds had passed, he threw more gravel, but there was no appearance from the man he had spoken to a fortnight ago.

  “We can either go through that back door,” he said to Danny. “Or we can go through the front door to the cafe area.”

  “I’m not fussed,” was Danny’s verbal reaction.

  “Okay.” Pickle approached the back door and managed to break down the door with one front kick. He turned and looked at Danny. “Well, that was too easy.”

  “What now?”

  Pickle took a look up the dusky stairs and said to Danny, “Wait out here. I’ll go on my own.”

  Danny never said a word. He simply watched as Pickle disappeared upstairs and waited for three long minutes before he came back. Once Harry Branston returned, empty-handed, Danny knew that the place was bare.

  “Nothing?” Danny queried.

  Pickle shook his head. “The place is completely empty. No idea why or how he left.”

  “So...” Danny paused and continued, “Back home then?”

  Pickle nodded. “Looks like it.”

  The beleaguered men traipsed around the back, walked by the side of the establishment, and both stopped when they saw two men walking around the pickup, inspecting it.

  Danny gulped and began to shiver with fear, but Pickle remained calm and cleared his throat to get the two individual’s attention.

  The two men were by the front of the pickup and ten yards from Pickle and Danny. They both looked up when Pickle had cleared his throat, and then looked at each other.

  The man on the left was tall, thin, had a thick moustache. He reminded Pickle of the character Basil Fawlty from the Fawlty Towers sitcom. The man on the right was heavy and bald. He was muscular, but had a large belly.

  Despite the arrival of the apocalypse, it seemed that these men kept well and looked clean. Pickle didn’t like the look of them straightaway, and guessed that these men looked reasonably healthy because they had spent their days taking off others by any means necessary.

  “Alright, boys?” The heavy man spoke up. He seemed to be the dominant of the two and pointed at the pickup. “Is this yours?”

  “Sure is.” Pickle rattled the keys and smiled at the two guys. “Where are yer based?”

  “Around,” the heavy man replied, not giving much away. “Yourselves?”

  “Same.” Pickle nodded at the pickup and moved closer to the driver’s door with Danny behind him. “Now, gentlemen. If yer will excuse us.”

  The tall man with the moustache stood against the driver’s door, not allowing Pickle to get in. The heavy guy took a few steps forwards and gave Pickle a push.

  “No need for this kind o’ behaviour, gentlemen,” Pickle said with calm. “Just tryin’ to get back into ma vehicle, if that’s okay with yer.”

  The heavy man looked both Pickle and Danny up and down and said, “You have somewhere to stay? You look like it. You look clean and well fed.”

  “Yer don’t look too shabby yerselves,” Pickle guffawed.

  The bald heavy man reached into his pocket and pulled out a knife. He then folded his arms and said, “I’ve got an idea. You give us the vehicle and we’ll let you walk away from here with not a single stab wound to your bodies.”

  Pickle took a quick gape over at Danny, who was out of the way, and gave the young man a wink. Danny couldn’t believe how cool Pickle was in such a situation, and could feel his own heart galloping at a frightening pace.

  “Well, that’s quite a generous offer.” Pickle stroked his chin in thought and contemplated on what to say next. He then smiled and clicked his fingers. “I’ve got a better idea. Yer two clowns leave right now, and I’ll let yer both live.”

  Danny Gosling was now physically shaking with nerves. In his head, a frightened Danny Gosling was telling Pickle to shut the fuck up. Please, Pickle. Just give them the pickup and let’s just fuck off. Please, don’t do anything stupid.

  The two men were now both by the driver’s door; Pickle was a couple of yards away from them, wanting to get in, and Danny was behind Pickle. Pickle and Danny’s machetes were still in their belts. The thin and heavy man were standing with a knife each in their right hands, and Pickle thought they were either brave or really stupid.

  A machete against a knife? There could be only one winner, surely.

  It was a stand off. Both the thin and heavy man continued to glare at Pickle, but was unconcerned about Da
nny. It was as if they knew that the young man was hopeless in these kinds of situations.

  Pickle placed his hands together and placed them by his crotch. “So what happens now?”

  Simultaneously, both the heavy and thin man lunged at Harry Branston with their knives, but the Basil Fawlty look-alike was put down straightaway with a sidekick to his right knee. As soon as he collapsed to the floor, Pickle jumped backwards a yard, as the heavy man lunged at him again, and then threw a jab at the man. But it wasn’t a normal jab.

  Pickle had the car keys in his left hand and the ignition key was exposed, sticking out between his fingers. The bald man cried out as the ignition key punctured his left eye, dropped his knife, and ran away onto the country road, heading in the direction of Colwyn Place.

  Pickle was in two minds whether to chase the man and finish him off, but looked down to see Basil Fawlty trying to get to his feet. Pickle kicked the man’s knife away and then picked up the one that the bald man had dropped. He put the blade in his pocket and bent over and grabbed the thin man’s head, twisting it hard to the right, breaking his neck and killing him instantly.

  Pickle stood up straight, panting, and looked down on the damage he had caused.

  “Right,” Pickle stretched his back and looked at a shocked Danny. “Get in the vehicle.”

  Danny did what he was told, and Pickle wiped the bloody ignition key on his trousers before getting into the driver’s side.

  Pickle fired the engine and turned to Danny. “Don’t be shocked. This happens now and again when yer go out. It was either them or us.”

  The pickup started to move and turned right onto the country lane. Pickle went through the gears quickly, and once the road straightened they could both see the injured heavy man. He had his back to them, still clutching his eyes and staggering along the road, trying to escape.

  Pickle pressed harder on the gas pedal and told Danny to prepare himself for a couple of bumps. Danny watched in aghast as the pickup struck the man, and both males jumped as the wheels went over the bald heavy guy.