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

by Shaun Whittington

  "Er ... yeah, really."

  "And you never thought to go after him?"

  "We did shout after him, but..."

  Sheryl laughed mockingly, "But you didn't go after him because you were too scared. Just in case the dead were around. The dead haven't been seen in mass numbers around these parts for weeks."

  "Look..." Another guard decided to speak up, clearly irate at Sheryl's comments. The man was a large individual, bald, and looked like he was nearing retirement age. "We're not allowed to just leave our posts. Lee said that—"

  "Fuck Lee!" snapped Sheryl. "You shouldn't have let him leave. He's a grieving father!"

  Sheryl climbed up the step of the cab, opened the door to get inside the HGV and slid across the leather seats. She went across the seats to the other side. Karen followed suit.

  As soon as both women stepped out and climbed down onto the road, now on the other side of the barrier, they began walking away from the large vehicle and checked that they had what they needed: A weapon and a water bottle.

  Karen had her machete, whereas Sheryl had a large Eagle Handle Hunter Bowie Knife with a ten inch blade—a weapon she had taken from Hednesford's Industrial Estate, where the ill-fated run had cost Luke John his life.

  "And where the hell are you two going?" A male voice bellowed from behind the girls, as they were walking away from the camp.

  "Have a guess!" Sheryl called back. "Useless pricks!"

  Another male voice bellowed from behind them. "You've got a serious attitude problem, Sheryl. You know that?"

  "No I don't. I just don't have time for yellow-bellied wankers."

  "Wow." Karen was walking by Sheryl's side and began to laugh. She took a swig of water from the bottle in her pocket. "You really know how to make friends."

  "They're just a bunch of stupid, gutless men. Anyway, I don't bother making friends. They just end up dying."

  "I can understand that."

  "I bet you can."

  Karen looked at Sheryl and said, with a smile, "Thanks for this."

  "I'm doing it for myself," said Sheryl, her strides were longer than Karen's and was now getting further ahead. "John Lennon once said that boredom creates tension. He was right. Since Lee left me out of this run, I've been bored shitless."

  Karen didn't know how to respond to Sheryl's comment. Karen thought that she could be obnoxious and had a potty mouth, but Sheryl seemed to be at a higher level.

  Karen cleared her throat and said, "Well, thanks anyway."

  "No worries."

  The two women turned left and went on to the main road of the Pear Tree Estate, Queensway, and pulled out their blades. Karen had the machete, a weapon that she hadn't used in a while, and Sheryl pulled out her knife. They were both ready for whatever surprises that were about to come their way.

  Chapter Twenty Four

  Lee James took a quick peep at the fuel gauge and saw that the tank was three-quarters full. He had two miles to go before he reached Rugeley, and shook his head with a smile. This had been the easiest run he had been involved in. He then thought about Sheryl and how pissed off she was when he told her she wasn't needed for this particular trip.

  He liked Sheryl, but the incident in the woods had mortified him. His family had been killed, and under two months since their death he had engaged in sexual activity with Sheryl, albeit briefly. He had no idea what came over him—the pair of them. They were tired, in an apocalyptic world, sweaty, and yet they seemed to have found the urge to fuck.

  His mind wandered and he began to think about that macabre night; the night he lost his family.

  Lee, Denise and his little girls had fled to the woods, because staying at their home was untenable. They wondered what the hell to do. Although they stayed in the woods, they remained close to the country road, as they didn't want to go too deep.

  In the short time they had stayed in the wooded area, only three vehicles had passed by: Two cars and a prison van. The two cars never stopped for the family when they tried to flag the vehicles down, and they didn't bother with the prison van.

  On that fateful night, Lee was supposed to be keeping a watch out for his family, but had nodded off for a few minutes as they slept in the darkness, curled up next to a tree. Denise's screams had forced Lee out of his sleep, and he turned to see the woods moving. He had fumbled for his torch and put it on to see that the woods weren't actually moving; the whole area was awash with the dead and they were encircling the family.

  He quickly got to his feet, walked over and grabbed Denise. He remembered saying to Denise: "We've gotta go" over and over again. More screams came from the woman as she saw her two sleeping girls being eaten and ripped apart by six of the dead as they slept. Lee shone the torch to see his eldest girl was now awake while they pulled out her insides, and he briefly dropped to his knees in shock.

  Denise ran over to her girls, but Lee held her back and told her that it was too late. He grabbed her hand, shone the torch all around, and could see a sufficient gap for them to escape. Another few seconds and they'd be completely surrounded by these diseased fiends.

  Still holding onto her hand, he ran towards the country road, accidentally dropping his torch.

  Lee couldn't see where he was going; it was dark and there was tears in his eyes, but he knew the direction where the road was. They reached the road and Lee had to pull an hysterical Denise back as she made another attempt to go back for her little girls. Lee grabbed her by both shoulders and told her there was no point going back.

  They were dead.

  It took two years to conceive their first child, and within seconds both of them were gone.

  They ran in the darkness, along the road, and could see the silhouettes of a horde in front of them. They turned on their heels and had two choices: Back into the woods, on the other side of the road, or along the country lane in the opposite direction.

  Still grabbing a hold of his wife's hand, Lee decided to run along the country lane, the opposite way, and both grief-stricken parents ran, their feet slapping the tarmac.

  Two of the dead came out of the woods and one grabbed Denise by the hair. Lee released her hand and ran a few yards ahead, and she released a scream and begged him to help her. Lee stopped running and went back for his wife. By this time another five appeared from the side of the woods, and Lee thought that they were never going to escape from these persistent fuckers. He was convinced they were both going to die and panicked once he saw Denise take a bite to her arm. She fought her way out of the creature's grasps and staggered towards Lee.

  The beasts grew in numbers and he could see, standing on the country road, that the right side of the woods had dozens of those things coming out, and there were many more in front and behind them. The left side of the woods was the only place they could go, but even then they'd be followed.

  He took her hand and they headed for the woodland to their left, but Lee stopped running. He held his wife, looked her in the eyes, kissed her on the forehead and told her that he loved her. He then grabbed her shoulders as the horde gained, and pushed her over onto the road. They quickly, and predictably, swarmed around her, and Lee ran into the woods with his hands over his ears to drown out his wife's screams.

  He tried to convince himself that they'd both be dead if they tried to flee together—Denise was screwed anyway with the bite to her arm. He was snowed under with guilt because he had forced his wife to endure such an horrific end to her life.

  But it would be quick.

  He convinced himself it would be quick.

  In a matter of minutes he had lost his three girls. He didn't know if he wanted to continue living after what had just happened, but he needed to try.

  On that night, the tears streamed down his face, and his throat was so tight he felt like he was choking. He was the same now, whilst driving the tanker, thinking about that awful night and the guilt that he felt—that he was still feeling. He snapped out of his daydreaming once a small figure appeared on
the Hednesford Road from out of the bushes.

  A little girl.

  Before Lee had time to brake or swerve, the body went under the truck and Lee hit the brakes. Once the vehicle came to a stop, he threw his head back and tried to get his breathing back to normal. A minute passed and, with the engine on, he opened the door and jumped out of the truck, onto the empty road. He made hesitant steps towards the body of the little girl, but progressed no further and took a peep from a few yards away. The vehicle had messed her up, but he could tell by her face that she wasn't human when he hit her.

  He released a sigh, and wiped the remaining tears from his eyes from his daydreaming before. He got back into the truck, engine still running, shut the door and moved away once again.

  Another minute had passed as the tanker went along the road, doing forty, and Lee James stroked his dark beard, thinking about the next run. Where could they go next? Power Station Road, and finally get the barbed wire?

  Most runs were hunches, but some were information they had received from newer residents, like the individual that told them about the tanker.

  His eyes narrowed as the lorry progressed along the Hednesford Road, and he saw two females standing on the left hand side. As he passed them, he took a glance out of the driver's side window.

  One had short blonde hair, five-six in height, and the other was an attractive woman. She had dark hair, tied in a long ponytail. They glared at him as he drove past, and he would have stopped for the women, but with them carrying a baseball bat each, he decided not to. The day had been trouble-free, and he didn't want it to end on a bad note. The two women weren't too far from the camp, so if they turned up, he'd check them out then.

  He went by Slitting Mill, on his left, and eventually passed the road to Stile Cop on his right, then went by the 'Welcome to Rugeley' sign and entered Draycott Park. Another two dead stumbled out of a street, and this time he never flinched when he ran them both down. He added more gas and slipped the vehicle in a higher gear.

  He was a minute away from the camp.

  Chapter Twenty Five

  Daniel Badcock stormed towards the barrier, both fists clenched. Once he reached the HGV by the railway bridge, he yelled up at the young-looking guard. "Is it true?"

  "Is what true?" The young guy knew what Daniel was whingeing about, but decided to act dumb. He looked behind him to see if he had back-up from his other two colleagues, but they were facing the other way, pretending that they couldn't hear Daniel.

  "That you just allowed Karen and Sheryl to leave?" Daniel was fuming, and was in two minds whether to stay where he was, or go up to the top of the lorry and give the young man a slap. "And even before that, you let Paul Dickson leave here. What's the fucking point having three men on watch?"

  "We're here to stop those things getting in, not people going out."

  "Don't get fucking smart."

  One of the other guards decided to turn around and finally back the young man up, and said, with a vicious tongue, "Shut the fuck up! The Paul character was too quick. By the time we knew what was going on, he was near Queensway."

  "And what about the girls?" Daniel said with derision in his tone. "Were they too quick for the three of you as well?"

  The older guard laughed, "Have you ever tried reasoning with Sheryl Smith? She's a fucking loon, and if she wants to leave then she can."

  "You're here to do a job!"

  "You're just a fucking boy," the older guard snapped. "Don't make me come down there and kick fuck out of you."

  "As if." Daniel laughed off the threat, but could feel his face quiver with nervousness.

  "You wanna go into the Pear Tree Estate on your own and go look for them? Then off you go, sunshine."

  Daniel gulped and glared in thought for a few seconds. He turned around and went back to his house, his angry feet hitting the road as he went back to 11 Sandy Lane.

  As Daniel walked away, still fuming, the older guard yelled from behind, "Yeah, that's what I thought! Fucking pussy!"

  *

  James McDonald had been told to do perimeter duty during the night. He accepted that he had no choice in the matter and needed to do his bit. He was due to start at ten, and had five hours to kill. He was running short of booze, that he hid in the cupboard under the stairs, and was down to his last three bottles.

  In the old world he drank Stella or Guinness with a dash of blackcurrant, but in this world he took what he could get. He had a bottle of gin, that hadn't been opened yet, and two bottles of white wine. He hated white wine, he preferred red, but it was booze, and on this day he had drank both bottles before passing out on the sofa. It looked like he was going to be half-soused by the time he would wake up to do his night stint.

  Whilst his father was getting drunk on cheap wine, David McDonald had broken into an empty house with his friend, Charles Pilkingon, and they both sat and tried to make cigarettes with papers and the packet of tobacco that he had taken from his dad's bedroom. His father had been helping himself when he used to check stock, and had a decent supply of tobacco.

  Eventually, Charles Pilkington returned to his place of residence and David McDonald hesitantly went back to his. They were both still alive, but it had been another mundane and soul-destroying day for the pair of them.

  David touched his sore face and grinned whenever he thought about his dad getting a kicking from Sheryl Smith. A girl.

  "Hard man?" David mocked. "Hard man, my arse."

  Despite getting a beating from Sheryl, David still feared his dad. Now that Jimmy Mac had been humiliated by Sheryl Smith, he was going to be in an even angrier mood now that he had lost face. The whole camp was going to hear about this. No doubt.

  He was going to be a nightmare to live with, so David wanted to spend as little time at home as he could. He knew his dad was going to be doing the night shift pretty soon, so he headed for the house. He looked up to the evening sky; the stars were hanging like nails in the cloudless night and a grinning moon accompanied them. It was a sight to behold.

  David entered his house and shut the front door quietly. He was about to head upstairs to his room, but the loud snoring from the living room stopped him in his tracks.

  David peered into the area and saw his unconscious dad, lying on his back, and two empty bottles plonked on the carpet.

  "Drunken bastard."

  David crept into the room, glaring at his father with contempt, and went into the kitchen. He opened the top drawer slowly and could see a steak knife in the teaspoon section. He picked it up and went back into the living room, leaving the kitchen drawer open.

  He held the knife, and a small smile emerged on his face. Jesus! What the hell was he thinking? This was his dad, his old man. He couldn't harm his father, could he?

  He stood over his dad, and thought back to the days of when his mother used to be with them. Jimmy Mac talked to her and treated her like she was shit before the illness took her away, and now it was David's turn to feel his father's hatred.

  But what was he angry about?

  The world had gone to hell, but everybody was in the same boat. At least James McDonald was still alive. At least he didn't have to go through what Lee James had gone through, or Paul Dickson. Jasmine Kelly had to watch her mother being eaten by those rotting fucks, so why was his father so bitter? Compared to most folk, he had had it easy.

  David McDonald looked at his sleeping father, then looked at the knife in his right hand. He could kill his father right now, if he really wanted to. All it took was one quick stab with the steak knife that he held in his quivering right hand. A stab to the throat or the heart would end him. But did a young teenager like David McDonald have the balls to take a life, his own father's life?

  With tears in his eyes, David placed the cold tip of the blade against Jimmy Mac's throat. Did he have the guts to kill his own father? David, now crying, wobbled with fear and sighed.

  Go on. Just one thrust, and you'll never have to put up with that twat ever
again. A quick push and he'd be dead. He's drunk and asleep. He wouldn't have a clue what's going on. It would be practically painless for the man.

  David began to shake as the end of the knife was poking the skin of Jimmy Mac's neck.

  One push. That's all you need to do.

  "I can't do it," he cried softly.

  Yes, you can. Just one push.

  He lowered the knife.

  Pussy!

  Did he have the balls to kill his father? Not today.

  He didn't have the balls to kill him today, but maybe one day.

  Maybe.

  Chapter Twenty Six

  Karen Bradley and Sheryl Smith had walked ten yards onto the Queensway road, and could see the four abandoned shops to the right of them. To their left was Hardie Avenue, and the Queensway road, one of the longest roads on the estate, continued ahead of them. The huge Pear Tree Estate was built on a hill, and was originally built for the influx of Irish, Scots, and people from the north of England that travelled down in the fifties and sixties when Lea Hall Colliery opened, offering jobs for men wanting to work in the coal mining industry.

  Hardie Avenue went down slightly on a decline, curved round and led to the other side of Queensway. The other side of Queensway was where Pickle and Karen had met Shaz when they were in trouble.

  "Are we just gonna walk around the estate and go back?" Sheryl queried, unsure what the plan was. "We can't check every single house on the estate. There're thousands."

  "We just walk and hope that we see him, or he sees me and comes to his senses." Karen huffed, unsure what to do for the best. "It's the only thing I can think of."

  "Okay."

  "Where to first?" Karen asked Sheryl.

  Sheryl shrugged her shoulders and said, "I don't know. But I don't think we should split up."

  Laughed Karen, "That was the last thing on my mind." She brushed her dark hair behind her ears and had a quick peep at Sheryl. "Thanks again."

  Sheryl said, "This Paul fellow. A boyfriend?"