"They hung him at Stafford jail. He was a notorious gambler and was up to his eyes in debt. Killed some of his own family, his kids, because he couldn't afford to keep them. Do you know what his last words were?"
"Obviously not," she muttered, still walking behind the man.
"While standing on the gallows, on the trap door, he asked the executioner: Is it safe? Charles Dickens said that Palmer was the greatest villain that ever stood in the Old Bailey."
"Who's Charles Dickens?"
"Please tell me you're joking." Vince shook his head and turned around to see Stephanie smirking.
"Got you," she said.
They got to the bottom of the concrete steps—The Bloody Steps—and noticed a small bridge up ahead. They walked along the path, with the canal to the right of them, and crossed the bridge. Now walking on the other side of the canal, the two of them were slowly heading towards the road where St Augustine's Church was present. Noticing that there was a couple of barges up ahead, Vince turned around to Stephanie and raised his eyebrows. She knew exactly what he was thinking, and sighed, "I suppose it wouldn't do any harm to have a look inside."
On their side of the canal was a hedge that they could see through. Over the hedge was empty fields, and on the other side of the canal were back gardens to the houses that were now abandoned.
They came to the first barge that was tied up. It was painted blue and was called 'The Mayflower'. Vince held his hand up, telling Stephanie that he would go in and check first, and stepped aboard. He opened the door, peered his head inside and looked in. Holding the crowbar, he walked in and made slow steps to the end where the bedroom was situated. After passing the unblemished, open-planned kitchen and the living room area, he opened the bedroom door to find nothing but blood all over the bed sheets and floor.
His nose picked up a pong that he recognised, something he would never forget, and it became stronger once he stepped inside the tiny room. He could hear a rattle coming from the cupboard and knew one of them was inside it. He had no idea how that had come about.
Maybe the person had been bit and their loved one locked them in.
Maybe the dead individual was bit and asked to be locked in to protect the public.
Vince Kindl was tempted to open the cupboard to see who was inside, whether it was a child or an adult, but common sense prevailed, and he walked away and began to check the wooden cupboards above the sink.
He left the barren barge empty-handed. He stepped outside and could see Stephanie a few yards away, peering into a round window of the other barge.
She moved from the window and called over to Vince, "Anything?"
He shook his head and headed over to her. "You?"
She pointed at the window. "Take a look."
He walked over and peeped inside. With his back bent, he gawped through the window for a few seconds. He released a sigh at the sad sight, and could see three of the dead inside.
It looked like a family.
Two adults, and a child no older than nine, were in there, slapping at the window now that their presence had been noticed. The child was the one that slapped the hardest on the thick pane and spat out dark blood. Vince immediately thought of Brian.
"Let's go," sighed Vince. Sadness was beginning to stifle the middle-aged man. "I've seen enough."
Chapter Forty Nine
"What water are we using?" Lee James asked Austin Barlow. "The stuff we got from the wholesalers, or our own filtered stuff from the Hagley brook?"
Austin shrugged his shoulders. "A bit of both, I think. Why?"
"Mr and Mrs Tomlinson are suffering with diarrhoea. Just wondering how they got it. Maybe I'll get Karen to see to them."
Austin began to cackle, and before Lee had a chance to ask him what he was laughing at, Austin explained to Lee, "You can't send a pregnant woman to see an old couple if they have the shits."
"You're probably right. I'll ask Gillian to go." Lee smiled and shook his head at himself. He wasn't thinking straight. "Also, the vegetable patches are suffering from green fly and caterpillars. We had people picking them off the plants, but they seem to be everywhere."
Austin asked, "Didn't we get insecticides from the Wyevale Garden Centre weeks ago?"
"All gone."
"Right," Austin sighed. "First things first. Let's finally get this barbed wire. Are we ready to go?"
Lee nodded.
Lee James and Austin Barlow strolled down to Cross Road and got into a red pickup. Lee fired the engine, moved away and turned onto Burnthill Lane. He passed the high school and went down the road. Once he followed the bend, that descended slightly and curved to the right, the vehicle approached the barrier that was near the Globe Island. The HGV reversed back when the guards clocked the vehicle, and Lee, with his window wound down, waved at the guard in the HGV's driver's seat. The other two guards, Kirk Sheen and Charles Washington, were on top of the lorry.
Kirk yelled over to Lee, "Is that you two off to Power Station Road?"
Lee nodded. "There should be rolls of barbed wire in one of the units. Should have gone yesterday, but it was a mental day."
"Well, be careful."
"Ten minutes there and back," Lee laughed and added, "We'll be back before you know it."
*
"We're near the bridge," announced Vince. He pointed up at a red brick hump bridge that was over a hundred years old.
"Yeah, I can see," Stephanie said with sarcasm.
The dirt path that they were on ascended and led to a main road called Station Road. On Station Road was St Augustine's Church. It was a place that had archaic headstones on its grounds that included the headstone of Dr William Palmer and Christina Collins.
"Where to after this?" asked Stephanie, clutching her bow in one hand, arrow in the right. She was taking nothing for granted.
Vince was yards from the main road and said in a soft voice, "We'll pass the church, go straight on and pass Elmore Park to our right. The Market Hall bus station will be to our left. Then we'll be at the roundabout, The Globe Island, and that's where the camp is." He then teased, "You sure you don't want to walk alone, go our separate ways? You was adamant not so long ago that that was what you preferred."
"I've walked alone long enough," she responded with a smile, not falling for his attempt to wind her up. "If this camp is as good as you say, then I'd be mad to give it a miss."
"They're gonna piss themselves when they see me." Vince chuckled at the thought of it. His grin slowly disappeared and added, "I just hope the dopey bastards haven't spent time looking for me. That's why I was swept away in the first place—me and Pickle out looking for a colleague."
"Pickle," Stephanie scoffed. "Is that your dog?"
"A guy I know. You'll like him, most people do. I hope he got home alright." Vince then laughed and said, "I'm sure he did. Some of the guys back at the camp are almost like family to me."
"You never really mention your family."
"You're a dark horse yourself," ridiculed Vince, and gave Stephanie a playful slap on the back of her head. "Anyway, there ain't much to tell. If you look up my family tree, you'll probably find that I was the sap."
"I'm sure that's not true."
"I was hardly the golden boy when growing up," snickered Vince. "In the old days kids used to get a yo-yo for Christmas, I was lucky to get a yo. My dad used to play hide and seek with me but never bothered to look."
Stephanie smiled and said, "When I was younger, I always wondered if Santa had children."
Vince laughed and was about to say something, but he kept his mouth shut, almost forgetting that Stephanie was only fourteen. Her comment had reminded him of a joke, but to share it wouldn't have been right.
They reached the road and went up until they got to the flat part. They both stopped and stared. St Augustine's was to their left and an old decrepit place was to their right. They braced themselves for a scene of horror, but the bloody carnage that was scattered along the road was minimal�
��they had seen worse. They walked in the middle of the lane, with their eyes watching for anything troublesome. The dead weren't known for their ambushing or stealth, but they weren't taking any chances.
"I hear a vehicle coming," Stephanie announced, and she was right.
Vince could hear the groaning of the engine from behind them, and said to Stephanie, "Over there." They jumped over an archaic stone wall and were in the old graveyard of the church, crouching down behind the wall, waiting for the potential danger to pass.
"It's okay." Vince smiled at the youngster. "Don't be nervous."
She looked at him, wearing a blank expression on her features. "I'm not."
The noise of the engine grew louder and finally passed them. Vince couldn't help himself and peered over the wall once the vehicle passed. He saw a red pickup with rolls of barbed wire in the back. It got to the tiny roundabout and screeched down the road, heading into town.
"Shit," he cussed. He stood up straight and kicked at the ground.
"What is it?" asked Stephanie.
"That was people from the camp. Must have come from Power Station Road."
"How can you tell?"
"I just can."
They both climbed over the stone wall and were back on Station Road. "Twenty-minute walk," said Vince, "and we'll be there."
They were yards away from the roundabout and a horde from the right of it came from around the corner, from behind the wall that surrounded the Chancel Primary School.
"You've got to be shittin' me!" he snapped.
"Maybe they heard the truck," sighed Stephanie.
"Back to the canal," Vince grumbled, staring at the twenty-strong crowd.
The two of them jogged back down the road and turned down a path that led back to the canal. They went under the bridge and their jog turned into a quick stroll.
"We'll try and get out at the next hump bridge," said Vince, out of breath. "Hopefully that one will be clear."
"And if it isn't?"
"Then we'll have to hang around, I suppose." Vince shrugged his shoulders. "I can't think of what else to do."
"Where was this old camp of yours that you talked about?" Stephanie now had her bow back over her shoulder and was adjusting her blonde ponytail.
"Another mile away. I'm not going back there unless we have to stay the night."
*
It took another fifteen-minute walk, but they reached the second hump bridge and noticed the canal under this bridge veered quite sharply. Stephanie was told to stay where she was, and Vince went up a hill at the side to see if the main road was clear.
Vince returned from checking out the road, his face was not amused.
Stephanie didn't have to ask if there were any dead. She could tell by his face that there were. "How many?" she asked.
"Too many to count. Most are by the supermarket's car park. We can hang about for a bit, see if they move on." Vince lowered his head and began rubbing his temples with his fingers. He was getting a migraine. He looked up and saw a confusing image. Stephanie was in front of him; she was holding the bow with the string pulled back and an arrow ready to be released.
"What the fuck are you doing?" he asked.
"Turn around," she spoke softly.
Vince turned around and saw two dead shambling along the dirt path, from around the bend. They were both of similar height, and were both walking next to each other. It was a wonder they hadn't fallen into the canal, Vince thought. He stepped to the side, seeing that these dopey bastards were only ten yards away and gasped when Stephanie released the arrow. The arrow hit the first one, straight through the left eye, and she quickly took another pine arrow from her bag, aimed and released it. They both watched as it embedded itself into the right of the remaining ghoul's forehead, and she quickly walked over to retrieve both arrows once ghoul number two dropped to the floor.
"I could have got them," said Vince.
"Nah, I need the practice." She took out both arrows and dipped them into the canal to clean them, then wiped them on the grass and put them back into her bag. She then turned to Vince, tongue in her cheek, and said with a smirk, "Anyway, you're not getting any younger, are you?"
"Cheeky little madam." Vince rubbed his back and told the girl that he needed to sit down for a minute. He felt older than he actually was, but he had to remind himself what he had put his body through over the last few weeks.
"This is boring," moaned Stephanie, and sat down on her backside, next to Vince. Both persons were sitting under the bridge, waiting for the minutes to pass, hoping that the dead would eventually disperse from the supermarket.
"Of course it's boring." Vince looked at Stephanie to his left and grinned. "You're fourteen years old. You should be with your friends, talking about boys, listening to music and playing with your phone."
She never responded. She sat in silence and Vince did the same. Their silence lasted nearly three minutes.
Stephanie stared in thought and attempted to shatter the silence. "If you went to a desert island and could only take one thing with you, what would you take?"
Vince wasn't interested in daft questions, but entertained the youngster anyway. "If I could only take one thing to a desert island, I wouldn't go in the first place."
"It was good meeting those people from Little Haywood," Stephanie remarked, changing the subject and taking her bag off her back. "It's nice to know that there're some good people left. There are some right animals out there."
"I'm no shrinking violet," Vince sighed, casting his mind back at some of the things he had to do to keep the camp as safe as he could make it. "I suppose the way people behave now, especially the way I behaved in the early weeks, can drive a person to introspection."
"Introspection?" Stephanie began to pick her back teeth with her forefinger. "What does that mean?"
"My dear," Vince giggled, "If you don't know what introspection is, then you need to take a long hard look at yourself." Vince cleared his throat and explained, "What I mean is that I've become someone different, someone that has surprised even myself. I've killed people."
"You mentioned your parents before," Stephanie began. "I take it you didn't have a great childhood."
"Are you going all Oprah Winfrey on me now?"
"Who?"
Vince shook his head, forgetting she was only a young girl. "Let's put it this way: When I was a kid, my bath toys were a radio and a toaster."
"Your jokes are pretty lame," Stephanie teased.
"They are," Vince smiled and said, "Did I tell you that I have a cat back at the camp that has been suffering from a massive stroke?"
"Yes you did. Two days ago." She nodded. "And I never laughed the first time. You also told me, back at the pub, that if ever you fart, I'll be the second person to know."
"Most of my one liners are not for the ears of youngsters, my dear."
"I don't think there for the ears of most people, young or old. They're pretty lame."
"Alright, alright." Vince feigned hurt on his face. "I appreciate you saving my life, and all that, but don't nurse me back and then destroy my confidence." He then smiled at himself and said to young Stephanie, "What about this one? Roses are red, violets are blue, I've got dementia ... cheese on toast."
Stephanie shook her head. She didn't look happy. "My grandparents had that before they died. It's no laughing matter."
"I give up," Vince sighed, and adopted a more serious tone, and added, "Okay, I'll tell you a bit about myself."
"Go on then."
"My dad was a drunk and did this to my face when I was a youngster." Vince pointed at his scarred features. "My sister ran away to Ireland to get away from the prick, and I spent my whole life drinking and whoring. And then I lost my son, Brian..." Vince cleared his throat and held his hands up. "That's enough for now."
Vince told Stephanie that he was going to take another look at the situation by the supermarket, disappeared for a few minutes, then returned once more with dejection on
his face. "I think hanging about is gonna be a waste of time. They're not gonna shift."
"Okay. So where to now?" she asked. "Now that the only two ways to get to your camp is too dangerous?"
"I suppose my arrival will just have to wait another day."
"It will. So where to?" she tried again, this time with impatience in her voice. "I'm dying of boredom here."
"I know it's still the morning, but I think we should rest somewhere and see if it's clear tomorrow."
"And go where?"
Vince smiled. "I know where there's a little caravan, just a mile from here."
Chapter Fifty
After what had happened to Kyle Dickson, what his father was going through, the disappearance of Vince, and the shock that was surrounding the camp after Pickle had killed the intruder, the camp was under a black cloud. It was a shitty world, but did that mean every day was going to be so bleak?
Karen Bradley had known and lost people since the outbreak, whether it was at Stile Cop or Vince's camp. But after nearly two months, losing people was becoming the norm. It was the ones that she was close to that were obviously hard to take, but at this particular moment she felt strong. She had a life inside of her, and Paul Dickson had lost the only thing left in the world that he loved, so Karen knew, for her personally, things could be a lot worse.
In the first days she had been carjacked, beaten, and had to flee to the woods and spend time with a letch called Oliver Bellshaw—it was Oliver where she got the word 'Snatchers' from. Now, nearly two months later, she was in a camp, still breathing and had a son or a daughter growing inside of her. It mortified her at first, but now she was getting used to it and looking forward to being a mother, even in this world.
It was the only part of Gary she had left, and at least she was staying at a decent set-up, despite its security flaws. The thought of childbirth frightened her, especially if the baby was breeched, but she had six or seven months to worry about that.
She was taking a walk and breathing in some fresh air. She could see Daniel Badcock and Rick Morgan, who were by the Lea Hall building, and she could tell that they were unsure about the way Pickle had treated the intruder yesterday.
Snatchers (Book 8): The Dead Don't Pray Page 21
