Snatchers (Book 13): The Dead Don't Fear

by Whittington, Shaun

  The ditch was around six feet in depth. Not impossible to climb out of, but the amount of dead that fell in after Craig and Stephen must have been too much to cope with.

  She fell on her backside and released tears for two men she hardly knew. She quickly composed herself and got to her feet. She took one last look into the ditch and could feel herself retch at the bloody mess.

  She blew out a breath and wondered if she was cursed. A week or so back she had met a guy called Paul, but the two of them were separated after just one day when the dead attacked them whilst they slept in the woods. The sleep-deprived woman should have been awake, but she had nodded off and the dead had almost killed the pair of them. She ran one way, and Paul ran the other. She never saw him again.

  She went back to the small bridge and collected the bags, throwing one over each shoulder, and headed along the country lane. She reached a junction and there were two signs. The one pointing to the left told her that Stafford was three miles away. The one pointing to the right told her that Rugeley was five miles away.

  She turned left and headed for the place that Craig had mentioned.

  She was heading to Stafford.

  She was going to the hospital.

  Chapter Forty-One

  David MacDonald had visited the nursery and was asked by Beverley if he wanted to read to the youngsters. There were only a handful of books to choose from and the teenager decided to read one that used to be a personal favourite of his when he was an infant: The Very Hungry Caterpillar.

  He was there for half an hour and then made his excuses to leave as he was due to start and paint the shed and give it another coat. He knew that the shed being painted was hardly a necessity, and the job was to keep him occupied, but he didn’t mind.

  For the small amount of teenagers on the grounds, there was frustration. The individuals were at the height of puberty, there was nothing to do, and, apart from Stephanie, the youngsters never went out on runs. Pickle had mentioned taking David out when they were at the prison, but David wasn’t so sure it would happen.

  The youngster strolled through the corridor, heading for the outside, and could see a bruised Ronnie entering the building, making David stop. Despite things being sorted, David was still in fear of the eighteen-year-old vicious bully.

  David continued to walk and was yards from Ronnie when he nodded his head at him as a silent salutation, trying to act cool.

  Ronnie stood in the way of the doorway and David gulped and had to stop.

  “I thought we were okay?” David spoke, but his voice was filled with fear. “Are we?”

  “Are we what?” Ronnie flashed David a devilish smile.

  “Are we okay?”

  “No.” Ronnie spoke softly, making sure his words didn’t echo down the corridor for other people to hear. People could be seen down the corridor going from one room to the next. “We’re pretty fucking far from okay.”

  “But ... Drake—”

  “Fuck that prick.” Ronnie took a step forwards, pressing his forehead against David’s, and added, “As soon as I get a chance, as soon as I get you alone, properly, I’m gonna put a blade into your throat and smile down on you as I twist it.”

  “You won’t get away with it.” David’s body rattled with consternation. “They’ll know it’s you. It’d be too obvious.”

  “True.” Ronnie nodded. “Very true.”

  “Pickle told me that if you’re going to do someone, you don’t tell them beforehand, you just do it.”

  Ronnie snarled, almost spitting in David’s face. “You’re fucked, you little cunt.” He walked away from David, down the corridor, and turned left into a ward where he and some others slept. “Right, I’m off for a lie down. See you soon, Davey.”

  David stood and was lost in thought. Enough was enough!

  The youngster bent over, took his shoe off, then his sock, and then placed his shoe back on. He put his sock into his pocket. He stood up and walked towards the door and went outside.

  Something had to be done.

  This couldn’t go on any longer.

  He stopped still and gazed at the two greenhouses. The hospital was a great set-up, but it was a shame that one individual was ruining the stay for young David MacDonald.

  He received a fright when he felt somebody touch his shoulder. He turned around and was relieved that it was Joanne Hammett, a woman he had hardly seen since they had all arrived at the hospital, and now twice in the same day.

  “Jesus,” she laughed. “I thought you were going to hit me there.”

  “I’m sorry.” David lowered his head. “I got a bit of a fright.”

  “No shit.”

  There was no further response from the young man and Joanne could see he was sad. He had no parents left, and the boy looked lost and lonely. Stephanie Perkins was of similar age and Joanne had noticed when the pair of them were together, he seemed perkier.

  Joanne Hammett put her arm around young David MacDonald and gave him a peck on his cheek.

  “How’re you doing?” she asked him.

  “Okay.” He nodded, unconvincingly.

  Joanne thought that the youngster looked nervous and never bothered to ask him about why he was acting strangely. “You sure?”

  David smiled and hunched his shoulders.

  “Anyway,” Joanne decided to leave the youngster alone. She felt that that was what he wanted anyway. “I better be off. I’ve got things to do.”

  “Okay.” David nodded sadly.

  “If there’s anything you need or want to talk about...”

  David looked up and smiled at Joanne. “Thanks. I’ll let you know.”

  Joanne walked away and with three of the guards by the wall, with their backs to the youngster, David walked over to the shed that was due a second coat and pulled out his sock from his pocket and placed his hand in the jaggy white pebbles that surrounded the patch of green, and began to fill the sock. It was a third full when he had finished; he stood up and squeezed the bulging sock into his pocket and kept his hand on it.

  He looked around, making sure he hadn’t been seen, and re-entered the building, making large strides down the corridor. David stopped and peered into the room that Ronnie had walked into. There were five beds in the room and Ronnie was alone. He was lying on one by the window, at the end of the room, lying on his side with his back to David.

  David took in a deep breath and circled his lips to quickly release it out. He took his sock out of his pocket and headed for the bed. He was feeling sick with the nerves, but it was something he needed to do.

  With no hesitation he swung the sock, catching Ronnie in his side, near his stomach. He gasped for breath and fell off the bed and onto the hard floor. He sat up, dazed and confused, and David ran to the other side of the bed and swung the sock full of pebbles at the side of Ronnie’s face, knocking the young man to the side.

  David swung the sock back once more, but a voice bellowed through the room, shouting “Stop!” making David jump in fright and dropping the sock on the floor.

  David turned around and could see Pickle marching towards him. The ex-inmate grabbed David’s shoulder and pulled him back, and then he looked at Ronnie who was in shock but nothing seemed broken.

  “Wha’ the fuck is goin’ on?” Pickle yelled. “I thought this was sorted between yer two.”

  Nobody could give him an answer. David was silent and Ronnie was concussed and unsure what was happening.

  Pickle took a few steps forwards and helped the injured Ronnie up and told him to put his hands on the bed for support or lie on it. Pickle could see the young man looked shaken and disorientated, and feared that he could have sustained a head injury.

  Ronnie chose to stand and placed his hands on the bed, shaking his head vigorously, trying to regain focus. He looked up and the room swayed, as if he was on a boat in rough seas, and he lowered his head once more as he was becoming nauseous.

  He shook his head and said to David, “You little
shit. You’re gonna pay for this.”

  “Nobody is going to pay for anything,” said Pickle. “We wipe the slate clean today and yer two can shake hands.”

  “No chance.”

  “It stops here!” Pickle yelled, making Ronnie wince from the loudness of his voice. “This can’t keep happening.”

  “He said he was going to stab me,” David cried and pointed at Pickle. “You said yourself ... get them before they get you.”

  “I did, didn’t I,” Branston sighed and looked at Ronnie. “Yer know, I could break yer neck with one hand, do yer know that?”

  “I know.” Ronnie gulped and half-nodded. “I’ve heard stories.”

  Pickle pointed at the side of Ronnie’s head and said, “Yer gonna get bruising in time on that side o’ yer face. I would have thought that the kicking yer got off Drake would have calmed yer down.”

  “Drake’s gonna ask questions.”

  “You fell down the steps. Yer hear me?” Pickle glared at the young man and never blinked until he got a response.

  Ronnie nodded.

  Pickle continued, “Drake doesn’t need to know about this, but if it happens again I’ll kick fuck out o’ the pair o’ yer, right?”

  “You won’t need to.”

  The voice made all three turn around. Drake was standing in the doorway and nodded over to Ronnie.

  All three gazed at the tall thin man in the doorway. “I want you out of here in an hour.”

  Ronnie looked perplexed and wasn’t entirely sure what Drake meant. He looked around the room he was in and then at Pickle. “Out of here?” He pointed to the floor.

  Drake shook his head. “I mean ... out of the hospital altogether.”

  Ronnie was in shock and could feel his eyes becoming damp.

  “Come on, Drake,” Pickle decided to jump in.

  Ronnie began to cry, shaking his head, and saying the word ‘no’ over and over. David almost felt sorry for him. “But Drake—” Ronnie tried to protest, but was cut short.

  “But Drake nothing!” Drake yelled. “How many warnings do you need? I want to see the back of you, you disrespectful little cunt.”

  “Let’s not be hasty, Drake,” said Pickle. “Give him another chance.”

  “He’s had enough chances.” He then snarled and looked Ronnie up and down. “Never liked the cunt anyway.”

  “I can calm him down,” Pickle spoke, with almost begging in his voice. “He’s a bit messed up, but we all are, aren’t we? After what we’ve all been through and what we’ve seen o’er the last three months?”

  “That’s no excuse, Pickle. It’s not good enough.”

  “Look,” Pickle began. “Yer kicked a man to death in ma old street.”

  Drake looked at Harry Branston and said, “And your point is...?”

  “Well. I’m guessing yer have done other things as well. Don’t yer think throwing Ronnie out is a bit hypocritical?”

  “No, I don’t,” was Drake’s response, with zero hesitation.

  “Come on, Drake.”

  “No.” Drake shook his head. He looked at Ronnie and looked him up and down. “He’s gone. End of discussion.”

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Mildred Huxtetter’s paranoia had dwindled once she was away from the woods that had been on either side of her. She was more relaxed, yet still alert, as her eyes clocked that there were fields to each side of her. A sign was up ahead, stating that she was two miles from Stafford. She could see Shugborough Hall to her right, a pub up ahead called The Barley Mow, and a large green field where youngsters used to park up and blast tunes on a Sunday afternoon. She used to be one of them.

  She passed the greenery on her left and stopped at the pub. There was a beer garden at the front of the pub, and she sat on one of the wooden benches and took her two bags off, one from each shoulder. She put her hand in one of them and pulled out a bottle of water. She drank half of the bottle and then searched in the bag for anything else.

  Giving up, she sat back and groaned, and began circling her ankles, trying to reduce the soreness. What she needed was to put her feet up and have a good night’s sleep.

  “Looks like rain,” a voice called out from behind.

  Mildred gasped and stood up straightaway, turning around with her bat raised. She could see an overweight man in his fifties. He was bald but had white hair at the sides, and had soft white bristles around his face. It looked like that the man hadn’t felt a razor in a while and was one of those individuals that couldn’t grow a proper beard, as it was patchy in places.

  Mildred nodded towards the pub. “You live in there?”

  The man laughed and nodded. “I came here and found the place empty. Been here for a while.”

  “How have you managed to last so long?” Mildred began to relax and sat back down on one of the beer garden tables, now facing the man.

  “It’s a pub, isn’t it?” He folded his arms and she could see in his right pocket that he was carrying a knife. “I lived off what was in the place. Struggling now, though, I can tell you.”

  Mildred nodded over to the houses that were situated at the side of the road. “What about them? Did you check them out?”

  “No point.” He shook his head. Some gang on mopeds turned up about a month ago and cleared them out. I watched the whole episode from the bedroom window.”

  Mildred looked bewildered and asked the man, “How come they didn’t try your pub?”

  “They did.” He smiled. “They came in and I hid in the cellar. That’s where I kept most of my supplies. They came in, had a look around, and then left.”

  Still thinking that his story was odd, she queried further, “And they didn’t try the cellar because...?”

  “Because it’s well hidden.” He unfolded his arms and went over to the table where Mildred was at. He sat down next to her, which she thought was a bit creepy and peculiar, and rested his arms on his thighs.

  “Where are you headed?” he asked her.

  “I’m going to Stafford.”

  “Why Stafford? What’s there?”

  She decided to lie. She had already made her mind up that she didn’t like him and the thought of him in the same camp, if she was accepted in, turned her stomach. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but there was something about him that made her feel uncomfortable.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “Just wanted to see if there was anything there.”

  “Come in for a drink,” he said. “You look exhausted. You should have a nap as well.”

  “I don’t know. I should be going before it gets dark.” In truth, Mildred was desperate to rest her tired legs, but the man didn’t sit right with her.

  “You’ve got about four hours before it gets dark.”

  “I know,” she sighed, and then rubbed her face.

  The man smiled and asked her, “When was the last time you had a coke and a packet of crisps?”

  “Jesus.” She became lost in thought and the idea of a packet of crisps made her salivate. She almost raised a smile when she said, “It’s been a while.”

  “You should have a refreshment break for a half an hour or so, and then be on your way, if you really want to get to Stafford tonight.”

  She became suspicious and asked why he was being so nice.

  “I haven’t spoken to another person for a while. I’d be glad of the company.” He placed his hand on his chest and said, “I’m Alex.”

  She opened her mouth to respond, but paused. Eventually she told Alex, “I’m Mildred.”

  “Unusual name for a young woman,” he remarked. He got to his feet and began to walk to the side of the pub. “Come in. Let’s get you some refreshments.”

  He walked to the main door and she slowly followed behind, looking from side to side, her body drenched in paranoia. She stepped inside and Alex locked the door once she was in.

  Mildred stepped into the dusky lounge and placed her bags and bat on one of the tables. She sat down and watched as Alex went b
ehind the bar and pulled out a bottle of coke from the fridge that hadn’t been on for months. It wasn’t going to be cold, but it still was going to be a welcomed one.

  “I have to go to the cellar to get the crisps.” Alex walked over and placed the bottle on the table. “I’ll just bring the box in. I bet you could eat a few packets. Hungry?”

  “Does a bear shit in the woods?” Mildred picked up the drink and took her first gulp.

  Alex laughed, “I’ll take that as a yes then.”

  Mildred put the bottle down and was about to stand up. “Look, I can get the crisps, if you want. Don’t want you waiting on me.”

  “No!” Alex snapped. His face was angry, but then suddenly forced a smile. “I’ll get them. You’re my guest.”

  “Okay.”

  His behaviour was unusual, and Mildred promised herself that she was leaving as soon as she had her snack. The man was just too bizarre, and his behaviour was making her a little uncomfortable.

  Mildred picked up the bottle again and finished it. It was such a welcome change from poorly filtered pond or stream water. She stood up and went over to the bar whilst Alex was away. She could see that there was only five bottles left, but still helped herself to another one. She went back over to the table and put the empty on the floor, hiding it, and began to sup on coke number two.

  Alex returned a minute later with a box of salt ‘n’ vinegar crisps and placed them on the table where Mildred was sitting.

  “There’s more where that came from,” he said. “Much more.”

  He then sat down in the opposite chair and asked Mildred to tell him her story.

  “What do you mean?” She wasn’t sure what he meant and added, “You mean, how I survived and who I lost?”

  Alex seemed excited with his new company and said, “I’ll tell you what. I’ll go first.”

  “If you want,” Mildred sighed, and was in no mood for going over the macabre past.

  “I was working the Stafford streets, around late Saturday afternoon, and then my phone started going mental.”

  “Working the streets?”

  “I was a Traffic Warden,” came Alex’s short explanation.