Snatchers (Book 8): The Dead Don't Pray

by Shaun Whittington

"Yer not going to say anything," Pickle interjected. "Because if yer do, we're gonna have a falling out. Understand?"

  Rick gulped and nodded, and put his head back inside the vehicle.

  Both Pickle and Bentley got into the vehicle and Pickle started the engine. Both men watched as the main door of Celia's house had shut, and they felt good about themselves that they had helped the three individuals.

  "After all the shit that's happened," said Pickle. "It's nice to see something positive for a change."

  "But how long will those three last?" Bentley queried.

  Pickle smiled. "The glass is always half-empty with yer, Drummle." Pickle took off the parking brake and drove away, heading back to Rugeley.

  Chapter Twenty One

  Karen Bradley made the lonely walk towards the Lea Hall building. She smiled at a guard she didn't know, who was standing outside the entrance, and walked by the structure and looked to the bowling green and the large hut to her left. She stopped once she was yards from the changing rooms. She saw that Kirk Sheen was standing outside the door, and he greeted the attractive woman who he knew from Vince's camp.

  Sheen remarked, "Terrible morning."

  "You could say that." Karen smiled thinly.

  "Still, compared to what happened at the Spode Cottage..." Kirk continued no further with his sentence.

  "I know I'm asking a lot," Karen began, "but I wanted to go inside and say goodbye."

  Kirk looked uncomfortable. Karen was someone he didn't want to refuse, but Daniel had given him orders to make sure nobody went inside.

  "Look, Karen." Kirk looked embarrassed for what he was about to say. "They want it closed off until they remove the body. Something do to with infections and stuff."

  "Okay." Karen respected Kirk, and didn't blame him for not allowing her to enter. Thinking about it, even though she had no intension of touching the body, it did make sense.

  "I'm sorry, Karen." Kirk spoke with a quiver in his words. "I feel really bad."

  "It's okay," Karen appeased the uncomfortable-looking man. "It's not as if I was going to pray or something. I just wanted to say a few words. Stupid, isn't it?"

  "No, it's not."

  "One more thing." Karen glared at Kirk and added, "If you hear that the body is going to be taken to the Market Hall car park, I want you to come and get me as soon as possible.

  "I was told he's getting buried."

  "Just in case. Not everybody is happy about it."

  "You mean Jimmy Mac?" Kirk smiled; the admiration he had for this young woman was plain to see. "Him and his ... allies, shall we say, will have to get past me first. I'm sure nothing will happen like that."

  Karen nodded. Maybe she was being paranoid. She looked over across the field and saw an individual, a guard, walking by the wiry fence. She nodded over towards the man and asked Kirk, "How many are doing the perimeter?"

  "About three or four now." Kirk seemed unsure. "All armed."

  Karen nodded. "Good. Just a shame that it takes a disaster before action is taken. "

  "Isn't that always the case?"

  "That's true."

  Karen smiled at Kirk and said cheerio, and headed over the field, passing the large area where the farmers kept their animals. She had a word with the guard that was on perimeter duty, telling him exactly what she had told Kirk Sheen about the possible removal of Kyle to the car park where the rest of the bodies had been dumped. After she finished chatting with the man, she began to walk back across the field and was stopped by one of the male farmers. "You alright, love?"

  Karen huffed, "I'm not your love." She looked at the young farmer, who obviously fancied himself, and although he was an attractive young man, she was in no mood to converse with the dark stranger.

  "You like pig meat?" he asked, as she was about to walk away.

  "Who can be fussy these days? Why ask?"

  "I'm about to kill a few of my pigs, and distribute the meat to the residents that want it. We're even gonna cook it here on these spits before dishing the produce out."

  "That's nice of you," she said with very little interest in her voice.

  "The pigs will be slaughtered with a knife, put in that wooden trough and we'll douse them with some of that hot water." He pointed over to a stove where a large pan of water was beginning to boil. "That should remove the hair. We'll probably shave it after, to make sure, then use more hot water. We don't have the luxury of electricity to stun them or shoot them with a .22 before cutting the throat, so we're gonna have to do it the inhumane way."

  "Why are you telling me this?" Karen looked baffled and began to laugh. "Is this supposed to impress me?"

  Ignoring the woman's rude remark, he added, "I'm about to cut them now. You wanna watch?"

  "No thanks."

  "I'll let you take out the intestines once I'm done. Then I'll need to carve it up—"

  "You really know how to sweet-talk a woman, don't you?" Karen walked away, cussing under her breath. What an arsehole.

  The man called after her. "What's the matter, Karen? Squeamish?"

  Karen shook her head, stopped walking, and turned to look at the annoying young man. "I've killed more of the dead than I care to remember. And I've even killed people. I'm pregnant, and I don't want to be fucking around trying to kill a pig. Just do what you're good at, and use better patter if you want to impress Jasmine Kelly or Sheryl Smith, because at the moment, it looks like you're gonna be wanking for a long time."

  The look on the farmer's face was of anger and embarrassment, then Karen walked away, wincing as the squeal of a pig could be heard. She didn't turn around; she just went back to her house.

  *

  Karen walked along Sandy Lane and could see Sheryl Smith, looking lost. Although she didn't like her, she did feel for her after hearing the story of her being attacked by two men at the industrial estate in Hednesford.

  Karen gave her a small smile before walking past the woman, and was soon stopped in her tracks when Sheryl said from behind, "For what it's worth, tell Paul that I'm sorry for his loss."

  Karen was touched by this, turned around, and said, "Thanks, Sheryl."

  Sheryl combed her black hair with her fingers and asked, "What are they going to do with the body?"

  Karen sighed and shrugged her shoulders. "If Jimmy Mac gets his way, the boy is gonna be dumped with the rest at the Market Hall car park. I'm hoping that people like yourself will vote against it."

  Sheryl screwed her face and looked confused. Then her confusion slowly turned to anger and she snarled, "It shouldn't even go to a vote. As far as I'm concerned the little boy's getting buried."

  "Thanks. That's what I hope will happen." Karen felt like bursting into tears. To hear positive words from a woman she supposedly couldn't stand felt good. "It'd crush Paul if Jimmy Mac gets his way."

  "Well, he won't. And I'm sure Lee will say the same, once he's back."

  Before Karen could continue the conversation with Sheryl, a voice came from behind her. "Karen! Karen!"

  Karen Bradley turned around and could see Rosemary heading towards her.

  Asked Karen, noticing the concern on her face, "What is it, Rosemary?"

  "It's Paul," Rosemary said.

  The short announcement made Karen's frame shudder. "What about him?"

  "I went round to see him and he..." Rosemary was close to tears. "He just ... lost it."

  "Where is he?"

  "He's left the camp. He went over the barrier and ran away, heading for the Pear Tree Estate. The guards tried to stop him, but..."

  Karen dropped her head in her hands. Could this day get any worse? "I need to go and get him. He's not in the right frame of mind."

  "You can't go," protested Rosemary. "You're pregnant—"

  "Pregnant, not crippled."

  "I won't allow it."

  "You won't allow it?" Karen took a step forward so she was only inches away from Rosemary's face. "I'll make my own decisions."

  "But—"
r />   "Paul is a friend of mine, and he needs me."

  "Fancy some company?" Sheryl asked from behind.

  Karen turned around and nodded. "That'd be great."

  Rosemary shook her head and yelled, "This is ridiculous! Anyway, the guards won't let you leave."

  "Yes they will." Sheryl laughed, and said with confidence, "None of those cunts will give me any trouble."

  "Before we go," Karen said to Sheryl. "I need to go and get something I haven't used in weeks."

  "Well, hurry up."

  Karen took a quick walk to her house. Once inside, she jogged up the stairs and went to her room. She took a hold of the handle of the machete that had been idle, and threw the blade on the bed. She then took a black belt out of the cupboard and put it around her waist, then picked up the machete and tucked it in the belt. It was time to go, but before she left she rubbed her tummy. "I'll look after you, my darling. Don't worry."

  She trotted down the stairs, and went out into the street and could see Rosemary, standing alone.

  "Where's Sheryl?" Karen asked.

  Rosemary said, "She said that she'll be back soon."

  "You're not happy about this, are you? With Sheryl watching my back, I'll be fine."

  Rosemary shook her head. "I'm gonna go back to Lisa." She walked away and said aloud, "Just be safe."

  *

  Sheryl knocked on the door of 19 Burnthill Lane. She could hear arguing between Jimmy Mac and his son. Because of the raised voices inside the house, it was no wonder they couldn't hear the door. She tried again.

  This time the door opened and Jimmy Mac was clearly flustered, and his tattered clothes looked like they had been worn for days. His face was red with anger, and he puffed out his chest and snapped at Sheryl, "What is it? You're the second woman to be bothering me. Unless you've come to give me a blow job, I'm not fucking interested."

  "It's about Kyle Dickson," Sheryl spoke with calm.

  "Oh not this again." Jimmy Mac punched the door. "What is it with you and that Karen. The little cunt's dead, boo-fucking-hoo. Shit happens. And now people want to give the lad preferential treatment—"

  James McDonald doubled over as soon as Sheryl punched him in the solar plexus. She grabbed him by the ears and threw him out of the house, making the man tumble to the ground. She then pulled out her knife and put the sharp part to his neck.

  "Leave me alone!" he screamed out, cowering on the floor.

  "Shut up!" Sheryl yelled. "I'm going away for a few hours. If Kyle Dickson is lying on the pile of bodies at Market Hall when I come back, I'll cut open your nut-sack. You hear me?"

  There was no verbal response from James McDonald. He simply nodded, whilst still cowering on the floor. Sheryl then heard a noise coming from behind her. She turned around and saw Jimmy Mac's son, David, and could see the kid sporting a red mark on the side of his face and was holding his stomach.

  Sheryl asked David McDonald, "Did your father do that to you?" She was shocked by his appearance and put the knife back into her pocket. She took a step forward to get a closer look.

  David McDonald stared at his father on the floor, then looked back at Sheryl and nodded. "It happens now and again."

  She turned around and took a run at Jimmy Mac, who was still lying on the ground, and booted him in the stomach. She walked away, out of the front garden, and could hear Jimmy Mac moaning and throwing up.

  Sheryl took a look back at the pathetic excuse-for-a-man, lying on the floor, before heading back over to Karen. "Stupid cunt."

  Chapter Twenty Two

  "How far to go now?" Pickle asked Rick.

  "Not far," was Rick's vague answer, and he continued to stare out of the passenger window, thinking about Celia. Bentley pointed up ahead and mentioned that the Powerhouse shop that had been spoken about before was a matter of yards away. All agreed to stop off before heading back.

  The truck pulled up in the empty street and they could see other businesses in this area, but nothing that could be of use to them or the camp. There were six in all, and the Powerhouse store was at the end. The other five businesses was a guitar shop, a jewellery store, a place that sold suits, a bakers and a bank.

  All three stepped out of the vehicle and looked around them. Where were the people? The dead? Lee told them that Lichfield was mobbed with the dead a few weeks ago, so where were they now?

  Pickle approached the entrance of the place and stood next to the glass door. He peered in and could see no one inside, but there was evidence that some kind of attack had taken place.

  All three now had their faces pressed up against the glass of the shop. Pickle was by the door, against the glass and peering in, and the other two were pressed up against the shop window. No bodies could be seen, but blood had been spilt on the floor, and smears were evident on some of the tubs of whey that still sat on the wooden shelves.

  "Well, inside looks clear," Rick announced.

  "Aye," Pickle laughed and turned to the side to spit on the floor. He then pointed at the end of the room; a door was wide open. "But that back door is wide open, and we don't know what's in there."

  "Think we need the shotguns from the back of the pickup?"

  Pickle shook his head. "Nah."

  Bentley took one more look around the street and huffed, "We've been hanging around here for long enough."

  Bentley tried the door and was surprised when it opened. He was even more surprised, and horrified, when a bell rang out. He looked up and could see the hanging door bell, then quickly took a gape at the opened door at the end. He took a step inside, and widened the shop door with his hand to allow Pickle and Rick to walk in with ease. He released the door, and winced once the small bell tinkled once more.

  They looked at the shelves. Rick didn't know what most of the stuff was, but Pickle and Bentley did. There was countless 2kg tubs of whey in different flavours: banana, vanilla and chocolate. There was also a wide selection of vitamins, amino acid pills, glutamine and MRPS.

  Bentley nodded towards the pack of carrier bags by the cash register, and said, "Let's fill our boots."

  "Wait." Pickle held his hand up and pointed at the opened door at the end of the shop. "Better check that out first."

  Pickle led the way and peered inside the large dark room that looked like a storeroom. There didn't seem to be much produce in the storeroom, and it appeared, from what light was available, that most of the stuff was in the shop area.

  "Just close the door." Bentley stood close behind Pickle and looked over his shoulder. "No point going in if most of the stock is in the actual shop."

  Pickle smiled. "I suppose."

  A rotten hand came out from behind the door and Pickle jumped in fright. Bentley never hesitated and pulled Pickle back into the shop to protect him. Both men stepped backwards, further into the shop, whilst Rick stood in shock, next to the protein bar section, yards from what was happening.

  Bentley front-kicked the beast in the midriff, and watched as it went flying back into the dark storeroom. Another beast appeared from the darkness, making Bentley and Pickle gasp in surprise, and it stumbled into the shop before Bentley had a chance to shut the door. This one was in a gross condition. From what they could make of the attire that they were both wearing, the two males seemed to be, or used to be, workers for Powerhouse. Now they were just dead.

  The creature that stumbled into the shop was severely mutilated. The left side of its neck had been bitten into so brutally that its head flopped to one side. It stumbled over to Bentley whilst he went for his blade, but because of the limited time he had, Bentley knew he could be grabbed, so he palmed the creature under its chin. He had done this before, on a person. When he did this to a cheeky upstart in the prison, the inmate bit his tongue, fell to the floor and was unconscious with a broken jaw. On this occasion, after palming the creature, its head almost came off before it hit the deck.

  Bentley brought the heel of his boot down onto the skull of the creature, smashing its diseased
brains all over the ground. He looked up to see the other creature—the one that he had front-kicked—coming out of the room, wearing the same attire. Before Bentley could do anything, Pickle stepped forward and rammed his blade upwards, into the beast's forehead, the tip of the blade poking out the top of the skull. Pickle allowed the creature to fall to the floor, and removed the blade.

  He wiped the dark blood on its tattered clothing, then placed it under his belt. He then closed the door to the storeroom and took a look at Rick Morgan, who stood motionless and wide-eyed.

  "Not quite used to this world, are yer?" Pickle called over to Rick.

  Rick shook his head, embarrassed that he was slow and hesitant to react to Bentley and Pickle's episode with the two dead.

  "Don't worry about it, " Pickle cackled, easing Rick's guilt. "The more yer do it, the stronger and braver it makes yer."

  "Okay." Rick gulped and blew out a breath. "So what now?"

  Pickle nodded over to the stash of carrier bags. "Time to go shopping."

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Sheryl was making her way over to Karen, after sorting out Jimmy Mac.

  Karen nodded. "Ready?"

  "Yeah."

  The two women made long strides towards the articulated lorry where three guards could be seen. Two of the men were sitting on the cab, the other was by the side, standing on the road, having a cigarette. Where did he get cigarettes from? Karen wondered.

  As the two females reached the lorry, Karen called up to a guard she didn't recognise—she didn't recognise any of them—and asked. "Did Paul Dickson definitely go onto the estate?"

  "Yeah," a young-looking guard confirmed. "I saw him turn left onto the Queensway road myself."

  "And you couldn't stop him?" Sheryl looked with a scowl on her face, waiting for an answer.

  All three of the guards looked shamefaced, and then the young-looking man responded once again. "He was too quick. By the time we knew it, he was by Queensway."

  "Really?" Sheryl was now smirking.