Snatchers (A Zombie Novel)

by Shaun Whittington

  Host: "I'm sorry, these are just random questions. I don't actually have a list in front of me. Let's go back to the...Snatchers, I think you called them."

  Professor: "Bodysnatchers, that's right."

  Host: "Do they bite you or just eat you?"

  Professor: "Depends. If there are a couple of them, and they bite you and you manage to escape, you will reanimate. Could take an hour, maybe longer, maybe less. We don't know. Depends on the severity of the wound. A little infected nick may take longer to reanimate than a bite. Why do they bite? I'm guessing…instinct."

  Host: "So if they scratch you, would you be infected?"

  Professor: "Yes. If you're scratched or the bite is not so deep, it could take a while before the infection kicks in; we don't know why this is the case. If you run into a horde of them, and can't escape, they'll eat you alive, and you won't reanimate because they'll be nothing left of you. Their purpose is the same as yours. It's to survive. They don't care about creating other ghouls, they want to feed."

  Host: "What are they attracted to?"

  Professor: "They're attracted to noise...you! If you go hiding in a supermarket or in the woods—remote places where there's no people, don't be surprised to wake up surrounded by these things. Like wild animals, if the food supply starts to die, they'll go elsewhere to find it."

  Host: "So they can smell you?"

  Professor: "I don't have the answer to that. Probably! But if you live in the city, and the food supply is running short, they're going to explore other places like any normal animal would."

  Host: "So if their purpose is to eat, then is it safe to say that a lack of food would see these things die out eventually?"

  Professor: "Well, technically they're dead from the neck down, so we still don't understand why they feed anyway. If it's not instinct, then we're hoping that lack of food could be one of the reasons for their eventual demise, but we're assuming that general decomposition is our best hope. Only time will tell."

  Host: "Most people can't use their mobile phones anymore, why is that?"

  Professor: "There are simple reasons really. Ran out of money, battery dying. You might be an office worker trapped, and your charger might be at home. Also, if they're on an automated system, then they would shut off without payment being made. Also, think about who's going to power the towers? Who will give maintenance to these towers? You?"

  Host: "If a normal person is shot in the heart, could they rise as a Snatcher?"

  Professor: "No, the dead are not rising. This isn't something out of a Michael Jackson video. There are no corpses digging themselves out of graveyards. The only way you can become one of these, is if you are bit or scratched by an infected individual, or if their blood gets into your eye or an opened wound."

  Host: "Ever heard of nanobots?"

  Professor: "Of course. Scientists have already created a nano-cyborg by fusing a tiny silicone chip to a virus. Within a decade they reckon they'll have these things crawling inside our brain and setting up neural connections to replace the damaged ones. So they could end up re-wiring our thoughts. Some day they'll be in our heads and will be programmed to continue after we've died. They can form their own pathways, which means they can use your brain to keep operating your limbs after you've died right up until you rot to pieces."

  Host: "Is there a good chance that this is already happening?"

  Professor: "Absolutely. But that is completely different to what we're dealing with now. I'm still convinced this all started on the 2nd June, when a researcher from the NICR was attacked by a lab rat where it had been injected with a genetically engineered variant of the measles virus.

  *

  Gary switched the radio off; it sounded grim outside and he came to the conclusion that there was danger everywhere whatever option he chose. Being beaten to death was something he wouldn't wish for, but being eaten alive and ripped to pieces by a pack of cannibalistic infected humans, wasn't the best way to go either.

  He shook his head as what his next move was going to be. It was obvious. With the slider door open, he was going to have to make a move. Gary was indecisive at the best of times and knew one thing for certain. He needed to make the jump.

  Chapter Forty

  Jack Slade had spent an hour in the woods and apart from coming across two deers and a grass snake, there was no sign of life or any sign of the beings either, and more importantly, he hadn't found his son yet. The church that had been mentioned was empty, and he felt the old woman might have told him that story just to get rid of him.

  Jack had a feeling that Kerry wouldn't take his son alone in the woods unless there was a group of them, and he knew there was a village hall at the end of the small woods, and was going to investigate the area while he was there.

  After checking out the empty church, he re-entered the woods and continued walking through the clustered area and was feeling his legs growing heavier with every step he made. He was coming toward the end of the wooded area; he knew that, because he could see the main road through the trees. In ordinary circumstances he would have known earlier that he was coming to the end of the area, as he would usually be able to hear the sound of engines moaning past in the distance.

  As he came out of the other side of the woodland, he felt the cool air massage his build. The heat from inside the woods was intense, and he was pleased to be in the open air. He could feel soft trickles of sweat running down and tickling the middle of his back and he looked along the main road to try and get his bearings. Walking along to the right would lead to Cannock, a populated town that should be avoided. To his left, would take him to Brereton and back into Rugeley.

  He decided to go left, not because he wanted to go through Brereton and into Rugeley town centre, but because he knew that there was a village hall half a mile away. He didn't want to venture too far away from the bike, as he wanted to keep using the vehicle for as long as he could until a suitable car was available.

  He felt a little vulnerable and should have taken a knife when he was at Kerry's house, but his vulnerability would double if he lost his bike and ended up on foot for the foreseeable future. He had made his mind up that after searching the village hall, he would head back through the woods and back to the bike before the darkness snuck up on him.

  His pace began to slow as he finished walking around the bendy road, and he looked up into the white cloudy cotton sky and embraced the breeze that glided over his features. He wiped his clammy forehead with the sleeve of his shirt and headed toward the huge oak door of the village hall. He wanted to walk around to stare through the windows to make sure it was safe first, but the windows had been blacked out.

  He envisaged about knocking on the window, but two scenarios stopped him from doing so. If there was a creature in there, the last thing he wanted to do was arouse its senses. On the other hand, if there were people in there, knocking on the window may inject fear into the poor souls, as they would wonder who and what was out there. He decided to try the door. If it was locked, then there was a strong chance that someone may be inside.

  He placed his trembling hand on the steel handle of the huge, Victorian-like door. His disappointment increased when the door soundlessly opened. He peered his head around the door and saw the main hall was bare. There were chairs stacked up in the corner, a place probably used for town meetings, etc, and further along the main hall was a door. Jack assumed that the door led to other rooms such as offices and toilets. He allowed the door to close gently by itself and crept along the wooden floor, unsure whether one of the floorboards would cry out in pain with his heavy footsteps. As soon as he reached the end of the hall, he placed his ear to the door and listened out for anything untoward. Satisfied that behind the door the danger was low, he entered the door that led into a small corridor. An office was to the left and further down, as he had guessed, was a set of ladies and gentlemen bathrooms.

  Jack went to the office door and placed his hand on the doorknob. On the door was
a bronze plaque and it gave the name, Harold Balding. He was about to try it when he heard a ruffling sound. It sounded like a distressed animal. He went to twist the knob and could feel it was locked. It twisted, but the door wasn't budging.

  He placed his ear by the door once again and the disturbed sound was getting more audible as if it knew Jack was there. Jack hadn't checked the doors to the bathroom, and decided to check them out before attempting to speak out. He walked into the ladies bathroom and found that the area was small with only two cubicles; they were both empty. The next room was the gents; he didn't know why, but he was more cautious with this room, and almost never went in because he was petrified. He quickly took a look in, and again found the place lifeless.

  Once it was obvious that there was no sign of Thomas or Kerry, he strolled back down the corridor and his curiosity had now got the better of him. He tried the door to the office once again, and decided to lie on the dusty floor to see what was happening in the room he couldn't get in.

  He lay on his stomach and turned his head to his right; he peered under the rather large gap under the door. He could see what looked like the wheels of a wheelchair, with a body writhing around on the floor like an epileptic under a strobe light. Although he couldn't see too much, it appeared that this wriggling figure, which looked like a man who was wheelchair bound, had got the virus. He had either locked himself in the office for other peoples' protection, or someone had done it for him.

  Whatever his situation, it seemed he was beyond help, and Jack stood up and moved toward the main door and left the small village hall. He walked back out into the nippy air and his eyes were magnetically attracted to something in the left corner of his vision.

  He saw one of them, stumbling away from him.

  He crept across the road and decided that apart from finding his son, his number one priority was to find somewhere to stay before darkness fell, as it would make his adventure a lot more perilous. He contemplated getting to his bike and riding back to the village hall, but with knowing that some of those things were walking around the area as well as the noise from the thing inside the office, sleep would be virtually impossible.

  He jogged through the woods and occasionally looked to the ground, aware that the area was full of adders—the only poisonous snake Britain had—and found that as the day marched on and as the clouds fused together, it seemed darker in the woods than before.

  His running continued for a few more minutes before he stopped and saw another one of the things on its knees, eating something. He remained transfixed at the uncomfortable scene and screwed his face as if he had just sucked on a lemon. He was prepared to run, but the creature was fifty yards away at least, had its back to him and didn't know he was there, as its full attention was on its new feed. He felt it would be more advantageous to finish off his journey by walking. He would be less exhausted and create less noise on doing so.

  As Jack walked on, his paranoia made him look back several times as he walked away, but the ravenous beast continued feasting on what now looked like a fawn. His mind projected a brief image of the beast hearing Jack, and then getting to its feet and leaving the animal to pursue him in the quickest way it could. Jack's continuous looking back had eventually stopped once it disappeared from view, and he was glad. He rubbed the side of his neck and it felt he had minor whiplash from all the twisting and turning, but it was probably from where the tyres blew out in his silver Meriva on the M6.

  How did it catch such a quick animal? Was it just by chance he managed to snare it?

  He came to the edge of the woods and was greeted by the pond once more. The body remained lying to the side of the pond with its face caved in, and Jack made a decision to walk around the pond the other way, as he didn't want to be anywhere near the corpse. As soon as he jumped over the fence, he went over to the bike and stood it up. A thought had scurried across his mind thinking back to the scene of the fawn being devoured.

  Jack shook his head to shake off his daydreaming, and kick started the bike on its second attempt. He needed a place to stay. And as for Thomas, where was he going to look now? He was running out of ideas. He didn't have his phone since it shattered back in Glasgow, and he wasn't sure that Kerry had hers anyway.

  The situation was becoming melancholic. He sped off and knew that being allowed in by one of the residents was not going to happen. He didn't want to break into any of the houses either in case it resulted in him being attacked by those things inside, or by an overprotective family that hadn't reanimated. It was too risky.

  It was a warm night, so he decided to sleep on one of the garages that were attached to the houses of the street he was on. He thought that there was a miniscule chance of Kerry coming back to her mum's, so remained in the street, but refrained from actually breaking in, just in case they did come back. Although he had done it at Kerry's house in Crabtree Way, he thought that a broken window or lock was not a good idea while this was going on, but if the nights got any cooler, he may not have a choice.

  He was sure that the residents wouldn't mind his presence while they were boarded up, although the noise of the bike was a concern and he decided to travel slowly with little revs.

  He noticed the street was empty, switched the bike off and walked it to a house at the end of the street and noticed there was no car in the drive. Either they never possessed a car, or the owner had fled the scene and tried their luck elsewhere.

  He stood the bike up and peered into the living room. It was barricaded. There were people inside. He walked through to the back garden and was greeted by three of the beings in the garden, moping around looking for a way out, and there was more in the next garden. They hadn't noticed his presence and Jack decided that sleeping on the garage was the only option he had. He was deadbeat and couldn't possibly continue any further.

  The garage was eight foot in height and he was super confident that, unless they could smell him, they would be unaware of his presence if he remained quiet enough, and if they were aware he was there, they would be unable to climb the garage anyway. Whatever the outcome, he was preparing himself for a restless night, but sleep was necessary. It seemed insane to sleep on top of a garage where there was three man-eaters to the back of him in the garden, but this was the most exhausted he had ever felt.

  His ears picked up the shuffling from underneath and behind him, as he lay down with his arms behind his back, staring up at the empyrean. The roof was hard and bumpy, as he could feel the gravel digging into the back of his head. He lay on his side and curled up, already feeling a slight chill. His eyes were getting weighty, and his exhausted body finally succumbed to tiredness.

  Chapter Forty One

  Pickle stood guard with his Browning pistol tightly gripped as the Pointers, with the exception of David, washed their bodies in the cold brook and brushed their teeth.

  Pickle was aware that the paranoid father was eyeing him to make sure he wasn't lusting after his wife, and more importantly, his little girl. Pickle was on high alert despite the father's paranoia, and occasionally the inmate had to look over the direction of his wife and daughter, making sure that nothing was about to attack them from the condensed trees. The brook wasn't the cleanest of waters, and only drinkable if it came to desperate times. Pickle was hoping that that situation would never materialise.

  He looked around the wood and found that the darkness had fallen quite rapidly.

  "We're gonna have to hurry this up," Pickle politely announced to the family.

  His neck twisted from left to right constantly, as his eyes were straining to focus around the dusky area. Noticing Pickle's consternation, David ushered his wife and daughter away from the brook.

  Davina put the toiletries in a carrier bag and carried them, as David picked up his daughter and placed her on her shoulders. Isobel was complaining about the tree branches scraping her head, and David was trying to quicken his pace as the long walk felt longer with extra weight on his shoulders, and even more so with h
is stomach groaning to be fed. His thoughts dreamed about the barbecue that was going to be waiting for them. Chicken breasts, burgers, sausages and steaks! He was salivating just at those words alone, and he hadn't even smelt anything yet.

  Isobel turned around to Pickle who was walking behind the family; his Browning was held in the right hand, cocked and the safety catch on.

  "Mr. Pickle?" she said in a sweet voice.

  Pickle chortled and shook his head. "Just call me Harry, darling."

  "Harry, are you a police officer?" Isobel bit her lower lip.

  Pickle laughed again and probably thought it was the gun that gave her that impression; David and Davina joined in the hilarity, and laughed with their daughter.

  "God no. I'm the opposite."

  He could see her little face working overtime and she finally asked, "What do you mean?"

  "I used to be a bad man, who the police didn't like."

  "Why? What did you do?"

  The parents were wondering the same, and David was praying that it wasn't for a sex crime.

  "I used to sell bad substances to desperate people," Pickle said honestly. "But not anymore."