The Dead Don't Yell

by Shaun Whittington

  “Oh?”

  “He tells me he’s on some kind of recruiting mission. But I think I have a solution to all your problems. I’ve already discussed it with Craig here.”

  Craig was smiling and the thirty-one-year-old said to his four comrades, “You wanna see Drake’s place. It’s incredible.”

  “Um,” Pickle scratched his head and said, “I’m not sure what’s going on.”

  Vince smiled. “I think I know.”

  “Let’s go to your place and discuss what I have to offer,” Drake said to Pickle. “Just you.”

  Pickle looked unsure and gazed at Vince, Terry and Stephen. All three nodded at Harry Branston and he asked Drake to follow him to 10 Colwyn Place.

  The two men strolled to Pickle and Karen’s place. Pickle opened the door for Drake and told him to sit at the dining table in the living room. Pickle asked Drake if he wanted a drink. He politely refused and Pickle sat on a chair at the opposite side of the table.

  “There are two more people upstairs,” Pickle said to Drake. “My friend and a little girl.”

  “Is that right?”

  “We had a bit of a tragedy yesterday,” Pickle began to explain. “There was a family living in the street and the father went off the rails. He killed some o’ them and then himself. The little girl is all that is left.”

  Drake sighed, “That’s a damn shame. It seems that people in your street are diminishing by the week. I know my men didn’t help matters in the beginning.”

  “No point going o’er old ground. What’s done is done.”

  “What happened to that family you just mentioned is kind of related to what I’m about to bring up.”

  Pickle said, “Well, if it’s a trade deal for our food for your gas, then that’s not gonna work, now that we have zero vehicles.”

  “Listen, let’s not beat around the cunty bush.” Drake leaned back and placed his hands on his lap. “I have an offer for you. And with your vehicle dilemma and the family thing, it looks like I’ve come just at the right time.”

  Pickle also leaned back and placed his hands on the dining table. His facial look gave off the impression that he was confused. He admitted to Drake, “I have no idea where yer goin’ with this.”

  Drake smiled and said, “Come and join us. You and the whole street, or what’s left of it.”

  There was a pause by Pickle before he attempted to respond. “Er ... look, I...” Drake’s proposal had taken Pickle by surprise and he struggled to respond.

  “Ask Craig about where we stay,” Drake said. “We’ve built something quite special. He seems impressed anyway.”

  “It’s a kind offer...”

  “But?”

  Pickle took a while before responding. He rubbed his chin as he pondered the offer. “I’ve been in charge for about a week. Before me, a guy was in charge for months...”

  “I get it.” Drake began to chuckle and wagged his finger at Pickle. “This is about pride, right? You want this street to work under your leadership.”

  “Aye, I do want it to work, but it’s not about ma pride, yer know.”

  “I think it is.” Drake chewed his bottom lip in thought. He added, “Bend your pride over and fuck it in the arse. What I’m offering you is perfect.”

  “Some people in here are still nervous about yer, about what happened last week.”

  “If you go, they’ll follow. Forget about yourself and think about what would be best for the people here.”

  A silence fell on the two men as Pickle contemplated Drake’s offer. Both men remained sitting opposite each other with their heads lowered.

  Pickle raised his head and asked Drake, “I hear yer have got dozens and dozens o’ people staying there, so why would you want us there?”

  “The more people we have, the stronger we become. And...”

  Drake’s pause was too long for an impatient Harry Branston. “And?”

  “And ... I like you, Pickle. I think if you move, it’ll be the best decision you’ve made since this shit began to happen.”

  “I don’t know,” Pickle sighed. “Some o’ the guys won’t go for it, even if I wanted to go.”

  “And what would be the alternative for these ... guys? Staying behind on their own? No vehicles, no muscle. While the rest of the people from this street have moved to Stafford, to a place where’s there’s solar power, working lights, showers, vehicles, vegetable patches, greenhouses, water, hundreds of tinned foods and plenty of beds?”

  “Sounds too good to be true,” came a female voice from behind.

  Both Pickle and Drake turned in the direction of the voice to see Karen walking in.

  She sat on the couch and crossed her legs. “I heard voices, so I came down,” she explained. She then turned to Pickle and said, “Kelly’s still fast asleep.”

  “You’re Karen, right?” Drake pointed. “I remember you from my first visit. Craig talked about you last night.”

  To save confusion, Pickle explained to Karen that Craig had stayed at Drake’s place and Drake had brought him back. Pickle then explained in short that Drake had made him an offer for everybody in Colwyn Place to move to his digs.

  “And where’s this place you’re talking about?” Karen asked Drake.

  “It used to be Stafford Hospital,” Drake said with a smile.

  Karen widened her eyes and said, “Wow. Things seemed to be getting weirder by the week.”

  Drake thinned his eyes with perplexity, and Pickle explained to the guy that Stafford Hospital used to be Karen’s place of work when the world was normal, before Saturday June 9th.

  “The last time I was there was on June 9th, when I left on the Saturday morning,” Karen said to Drake. “It had been a weird night, but I could never imagine that it would turn into something that it did.”

  “Come and see it anyway,” said Drake, looking at Harry Branston. “The change of scenery will do you good. And before we go, we’ll get those vehicles towed away and get them dumped in a field.”

  “Does that invite include me?” Karen asked.

  “Sure.” Drake nodded. “The pair of you.”

  Karen looked over at Pickle and said, “If anything, it’ll be good to get out of this place. I could always go on my own.”

  Pickle ran his fingers through his hair and groaned, “Okay. I’ll go. I’ll tell Vince what’s happening.”

  “Sorted then.” Drake stood up and stepped away from the dining table and pointed at Pickle. “I’ll have that drink you offered earlier. Just gonna go out and tell my guys to get rid of those vehicles for you. Be back in a sec.”

  Chapter Forty Two

  The pickup left Colwyn Place, and the vehicle was being driven by a man simply known as Dave, with Drake, Pickle and Karen in the passenger seats. They turned right onto the Wolseley Road. The bikes followed behind. No words were spoken until the vehicle reached the pub, and it was Drake that was the first to break the ice.

  He said, “When we get there, I’ll get someone to give you a guided tour of the place, show you what’s what.”

  “I worked there,” Karen huffed. “I probably know the place better than you.”

  “True.” Drake nodded. “We only live in the A and E part of the building, where the reception and main area is. The rest of the building is out of bounds.”

  “So you’ve cleared the main building of the dead, but haven’t bothered with the rest, is that it? Isn’t that a bit dangerous?” Karen looked to the side at Drake, impatiently waiting for an answer.

  “No,” Drake shook his head. “The hospital is clear. We made sure of that.”

  “Oh.” Karen flushed a rose colour.

  “When we first got there, over two months ago, we cleared the whole hospital, removed the dead cunts, and lost a few people along the way. As time went by we got more people. We only started off with a few of us, and then it grew as the days went by. Some people came to us, others were found on supply runs.”

  Drake looked into the rear view
mirror to see if his four bikers were still following.

  “And what about these bikers who have these jackets with WOE. Anything to do with you?”

  “The Wrath of Evil gang was something I was involved with for years. When this thing kicked off, there were eighteen of us. The rest of the guys at the base are just regular guys, but some wanted to wear the WOE jackets and ride the bikes, so we raided a bike store and managed to get another twelve bikes, Vespas and Lambrettas.”

  “How did yer start out?” Pickle asked.

  Drake turned and looked at Pickle. “Well, I suppose if we’re gonna be civil to one another, regardless of whether you stay at my place, then I’m quite happy to open up, if you do the same.”

  “O’ course.”

  “What’s there to tell,” Drake began. “When the shit hit the fan, me and my guys got together, eighteen of us. We took our families with us, stayed in a pub for a while before the DCs broke in and attacked us, and then we had to move. I’m sure you’ve been there.”

  “Certainly have,” Pickle said with a chuckle. “I think our first two months was a cycle of finding a place, getting attacked, and then having to move. Getting attacked by a group of humans, your guys, was a surprise, I can tell yer.”

  “Well,” Drake cleared his throat and looked a little embarrassed. “Let’s not go over that again. If I could turn back time...”

  “It’s okay,” said Pickle. “I won’t mention it again.”

  “Anyway,” Drake continued. “We lost a few people that night, and then we met a bunch of guys from the prison. Apparently some officers let them out.”

  “I might know some o’ them.”

  Drake gazed at Pickle with confusion.

  “I was one o’ the inmates in that very same prison. Only one houseblock was opened, over three hundred o’ us. The others were left to die.”

  “Wow.” Drake elevated his eyebrows and shook his head. “I wasn’t expecting that, Pickle. What were you in for?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “I’m very choosy of the company I keep, and I’m usually a good choice of character.” Drake gazed at Pickle with wide eyes and added, “As long as you weren’t in for rape or anything to do with kids—”

  “I sold drugs.”

  “Good. That’s acceptable.” Drake nodded and continued to finish his story. “Anyway, eight weeks ago we came across the hospital and decided to clear the place out. We had the numbers to do it, and I think some of the cunts from the prison enjoyed it, to be perfectly honest. I know I did. We now have around ninety people staying there. We’ve really built something, but I want us to get bigger and stronger.”

  “I think Vince went to that hospital for medical supplies when he was at Spode Cottage, before we arrived there,” Karen said to Pickle. “That was about nine weeks ago. I remember him telling me that he went with Jack, a girl called Clare, and some guy called Paul.”

  “Four of them?” Drake snickered. “Four people for a big hospital? Has that guy got a death wish or something?”

  “I think they did okay,” she said. “They managed to get some supplies. It wasn’t until someone shot at their truck that things went tits up and they crashed. That’s how we met Jack and Vince. They went through the woods and ended up at Wolf’s cabin. Clare and Paul never made it.”

  “Yer mentioned yer guys and families,” Pickle began, and rubbed his nose with his hand whilst contemplating whether to ask Drake the query he had planned to ask. “What about yours?”

  Drake sighed and paused for thought. A second later he took an intake of breath and began, “They’re dead. End of story.”

  Pickle lowered his head. “I’m sorry. I don’t really have anyone left either. My partner was killed in the first week. Karen had her mum; her dad and her stepsister in Glasgow, and her partner was attacked and had turned in the beginning.”

  Drake leaned forwards, smiling at Karen, and reached over and squeezed her shoulder. This confused Karen. A week ago he was the enemy of Colwyn Place, and now he was offering them a place to stay and showing empathy for two people he hardly knew. She was warming to the man. Or was it some kind of trick?

  Drake turned to the driver and said, “Okay, Dave. Your turn?”

  “What?” The bearded guy called Dave flashed Drake a couple of looks and said, “My turn for what?”

  “We’re all opening our hearts out here,” Drake said with a smile and a hint of sarcasm. “Now it’s your turn.”

  “Really?” Dave the driver shook his head.

  “Yes,” Drake said, losing his smile. “Really?”

  “Nah, not me. Leave me out of it. I ain’t telling a couple of strangers my business, besides you tell us not to dwell on the past, remember?”

  “I’m asking you to tell them about your past, not to dwell on it.” Drake turned to Karen and Pickle and flashed them a quick smile, but they could see Drake was angry and embarrassed.

  “Look.” Pickle decided to step in and cleared his throat before adding. “It doesn’t matter, Drake. If Dave doesn’t want to…”

  Pickle stopped speaking once Drake held his hand up and instructed Pickle to be quiet. He wasn’t finished with Dave yet.

  Drake gazed at Dave and moaned, “I think it’s important to get to know our allies and—”

  “Fuck that,” Dave huffed.

  “Okay,” Drake said in a soft tone. “Dave, stop the vehicle.”

  “What?”

  Drake glared at the man and snarled, “Don’t make me ask you twice.”

  Dave slowed the vehicle, finally bringing it to a stop, and pulled up the handbrake. He switched the engine off and said to Drake, “Now what?”

  “Get out.”

  “But … Drake …” Dave’s bottom lip drooped and now he looked like an upset child that had just been reprimanded.

  “Don’t make me tell you again, you cheeky cunty cunt fucker.” Drake snarled and his eyes widened with rage. “Get the fuck out of this bastard vehicle!”

  “Okay.” Dave held his hands in the air, as if someone was pointing a gun at him, and then opened the driver’s door. He stepped out of the vehicle slowly. Drake then shuffled over to the driver’s seat and reached over to shut the door and told Dave to walk the rest of the journey.

  Drake started the engine and pulled away, watching Dave trudge along the grassy side as the pickup moved further away from the guy.

  “Forgive me for asking,” Pickle said to the new driver, looking behind him as a bewildered Dave began to get smaller as the vehicle progressed. “But didn’t you say that yer wanted to increase yer numbers? Yer have just kicked out a man who could possibly bump into danger on the way back to the hospital.”

  “He shouldn’t have disrespected me, Pickle. Or you and Karen, for that matter. One thing I cannot stand, apart from being interrupted, is the act of cuntishness, especially in front of guests.”

  Pickle looked at Karen for a reaction, but she shrugged her shoulders.

  Drake went through the gears and Dave had now disappeared from view as they went round a bend. “Another ten minutes or so,” Drake said. “And we’ll be there. Don’t worry about Dave. That cunt was a waste of sperm. His mother should have swallowed him.”

  Drake turned a corner and was now passing Milford. He checked his rear view to make sure his bikers were obediently following him. A couple of more miles and they’d be at Stafford.

  Chapter Forty Three

  “Erm ... and where do you think you’re going, Miss Hammett and Mr Rowley?” Vince jokingly asked.

  Both Joanne and Stephen Rowley were heading for the gate, with a rucksack each on their backs. “Washing clothes, chap,” Rowley called over. “Off to the Trent.”

  “So you’re not sneaking off for a bit of the old in-out then?” Vince laughed.

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” Joanne flashed Vince a hard stare and pointed at Stephen Rowley. “I wouldn’t shag him.” She then put her hand over her mouth, shocked at what had just slipped out and
said, “No offence, Stephen.”

  Vince asked, “So you’re going on foot?”

  “Well we can’t go by car anymore,” Rowley nodded over to the area when the vehicles used to sit. All that was left was blackness on the road, now that Drake had had them towed away and dumped in a field, the same field where young Jez was brutally killed.

  Vince looked around the street. Terry and Bonser were on guard, David MacDonald and Stephanie Perkins were chatting and sitting on the doorstep of 2 Colwyn Place. Brenda Hatchet was nowhere to be seen as usual. There was no Danny, Old Tom or Craig around either, and Paul and Gail Smith were looking after young Kelly whilst Karen was out with Pickle.

  Vince felt to his left to find his machete was still there and said, “Wait up. I’m coming with you.”

  “You got any clothes to wash?” Joanne asked him. “I have my own to wash and some bed sheets that Karen wants me to clean. And Stephen has his and Danny’s clothes to rinse.”

  “No.” Vince shook his head. “I don’t really have any to wash, not really. Besides, when you say wash, you mean dunking clothes in a dirty river with a bar of soap.”

  Stephen hunched his shoulders. “Better than nothing, chap.”

  Vince walked alongside Joanne and Stephen and asked a dazed Terry to open the gate. Terry Braithwaite looked sleep deprived and Vince was sure that the man was still affected by his daughter’s demise, despite the fact that she had spent most of her time in the basement as a reanimated corpse.

  Infected or not, she was all he had left until one of Drake’s boys had killed her.

  Despite the truce, Terry hated Drake and his men.

  The three individuals stepped out of the street once Terry, whose shift was about to finish, had slid the gate back. They told the man that they’d be no longer than an hour, and back before Pickle and Karen returned.

  They strolled in the middle of the road and Vince offered to take Joanne’s bag off of her, but she replied, “Despite not having a dick, I’m sure I’ll manage.”

  “Jesus,” Vince laughed at Joanne. “You’ve been hanging around that Bradley for too long.”

  “I’ll let you carry it on the way back,” she said with a smirk.