Snatchers (Book 3): The Dead Don't Cry

by Whittington, Shaun

  Suddenly, noises of engines could be heard, and Jack and Johnny immediately ran away and hid behind a large bush. Three vehicles pulled up in the street fifty yards from the two hiding-men, and six men and two women got out, all holding a sharp weapon or a bat each.

  Jack had a sneaky peek, and recognised two of the men from before. He couldn't see the woman or the other two males that had invaded Kerry's house, which suggested to Jack that this gang had a healthy number of people involved in their clan.

  There were two men in front of the rest of the group, having a heated conversation with one another. The one on the left was dressed in a skip cap and had an Aerosmith T-shirt on. The one on the right looked more slicker. He was wearing jeans, a nice, well-ironed shirt and was clean-shaven.

  The man in the skip cap spoke with Slick. "Let's just forget 'em. We got plenty of supplies."

  Slick shook his head; he was the one that seemed to be in charge of the mob. "No chance. They've got the keys to that jeep, and one of those pricks threw my sister down the fuckin' stairs."

  Crouching behind the bush, Johnny shook his head at Jack. "Sister?"

  "Oops." Jack reminded Johnny, "To be fair, you're the one that fucked up her leg."

  Slick then went round the back of one of the vehicles and opened the boot. The sounds of dogs barking had sent shivers down Jack and Johnny's frame, and Johnny looked at Jack. It was clear from his face he was fearing the worst.

  Said Johnny, "I hope that's Yorkshire Terriers that they've got." He then put his head in his hands. Could this day get any worse?

  Still looking, Jack could see that on two leashes, Slick had two Pit Bulls, each one with a grey coat. "Er...not quite."

  "Fuck this." Johnny ran from the bush, which alerted the dogs. Jack followed suit.

  Slick couldn't see that the men had fled from the bush, but knew by the dogs' reaction that something was up. "It must be them!"

  Trusting their instinct, he took each one off the leash and watched as they sprinted to the end of the street and turned left down an alleyway. Slick then ordered two guys to follow where they went, if that at all was possible.

  Meanwhile, Jack and Johnny ran through alleyway to alleyway, from street to street; but with the pace and the nose of a dog, it was like a fighter pilot trying to avoid a heat-seeking missile.

  Johnny was becoming exhausted, and carrying the heavy crowbar wasn't helping Jack's plight either. "We're just gonna have to kill 'em ourselves." Jack looked at the crowbar, then looked at Johnny's knife.

  "Fuck that." Johnny wasn't confident at all, and began running again. They both turned into a main street that descended a little and were greeted by nine Snatchers stumbling in the middle of the road.

  "We can dodge them!" Jack shouted at Johnny, but Johnny took a look behind him to see the Pit Bulls turning the corner of the street, onto the main road, and hurtling towards them with a vicious speed. Jack looked to his left. "Garage!" was all he bellowed, and they both headed for the nearby garage that was attached to a house.

  The dogs weaved and swerved by the dead as they had no intention of harming them, and concentrated on the two men that were now struggling to climb the garage.

  Jack threw the bar onto the roof and climbed up with ease on his second attempt, but Johnny was struggling. Jack gave Johnny his hand and tried desperately to pull him up.

  "Fuckin' hurry up," Jack shouted, seeing the two Pit Bulls gaining and gaining. "You've got three seconds before they take you down."

  Johnny released a cry of anguish, and Jack pulled him up just as the dogs had jumped and gnashed at the man's legs. The canines remained where they were and snarled and barked at the two relieved men who were standing on top of the garage, catching their breath.

  With the melee of the escape and the arrival of the dogs, who were still barking furiously at Jack and Johnny, all nine ghouls slowly shambled their way over to the garage. At this point, Johnny nudged Jack. "If we jump off the back of this garage, we should land in the back of that garden, away from those things and those dogs."

  "Wait a minute." Jack held out his hand to his friend, trying to catch his breath. "This might be interesting."

  Jack looked down from the garage as the dogs gnashed and tried to jump up at the man, desperate to tear his face off. The dogs were still oblivious of the dead that were gaining on them from behind, but the dead were strongly attracted to the noisy animals.

  The nine continued to walk towards the dogs and eventually circled around them. At this stage, Jack looked away as the cries and wails from both animals pierced and assaulted his ears, as the nine Snatchers ripped the dogs to bloody shreds.

  Johnny looked down and saw that there wasn't much left of the dogs already. Jack then saw two men, belonging to Slick, turn the corner of the street onto the main road. Jack pulled Johnny onto his front on the garage roof, away from view of their eyes.

  "Holy fuck!" one of Slick's men yelled.

  "Fuckin' shame," the other one laughed.

  "But where are the dogs?"

  Jack then looked at Johnny with confusion. "What are they talking about?"

  It took him a while to realise that the two men, who could see the nine ghouls from afar munching on bloody pieces of meat, thought that they were eating the remains of Jack and Johnny.

  "Fuckin' dogs have just bolted," Jack heard one of the men say. "Gavin ain't gonna be pleased."

  "I know," the other one spoke. "Let's go back and tell him the news."

  Jack assumed that the 'Gavin' that they were talking about was Slick. Nevertheless, they seemed to have got away with it, thanks to a huge slice of luck.

  "Let's hope we never see these men again," Johnny snorted.

  "Amen to that," was Jack's response, but Jack was unsure whether groups like this were isolated incidents.

  If such a brutal gang like this could exist in this part of a small town, how many more could there be? What was it like in cities across the UK? Was this now becoming a normal thing? People getting stabbed in the street in front of their family? Men having dogs set upon them because of retribution and a set of car keys? Seriously?

  "Week three," Jack said, and shook his head, wearing a fictitious smile.

  "What?" Johnny was now getting to his feet, ready to jump off the garage, into the back garden.

  "Week three, and some people are resorting to this already."

  "I know." Johnny lowered his head sadly, stood his skinny frame up and ran his fingers over his hairless head. "What's this place gonna be like after three months, let alone three weeks?"

  "I dread to think, my friend." Jack also got to his feet. "I dread to think."

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  As soon as they entered the first street of the estate, Karen and Pickle walked and looked from side-to-side at the houses on either side of them. There were sixteen houses in all, eight on either side, and the first one to the right looked all burnt out. The rest looked to be in decent condition, and some had a few doors that had been left ajar from possible fleeing residents.

  The houses that weren't open seemed to be barricaded; living room windows had curtains and blinds closed; some front doors could be seen through the frosted glass and cupboards, and other furniture, had been stacked up against them.

  "The few houses with the doors left open," Pickle began, "are the ones we're gonna search."

  Karen responded with a single nod and brushed her dark hair behind her ears. She followed Pickle into the front garden of one of the places in the street and both went into the house, machetes drawn. The living room was dark from the drawn curtains, which Karen opened, and once it was established that the living room and kitchen was devoid of life, it was time to check upstairs.

  "Where're you going?" Karen snapped, seeing her partner heading for the stairs. "Just see what they've got and go."

  "I want to make sure the house is empty before we ransack the place. We'll need sheets as well."

  They both crept up the stairs to
the dim area of the landing. Pickle tried the bedroom on the left, checked it, then returned a minute later, then tried the other two, only to find all three vacant. Judging by the state of the quilts in all bedrooms, it appeared that the family had left in a rush.

  Karen clapped her hands together and said, "Now it's safe, we can see if this lot have left anything for us."

  "What about the attic?" asked Pickle, looking up to the hatch that was above him.

  "What about it?" Karen asked, bewildered.

  "There may be people up there."

  "So what? We're here for supplies, not people."

  Karen ran down the stairs, leaving Pickle on the first floor, and took the bag off of her shoulder. She went into the kitchen and opened the fridge. There wasn't much left, and what was in it, some ham and cheese, had become mouldy since the fridge had stopped working.

  She crouched down and opened one of the cupboards that had a food carousel with two levels. On the first level was a packet of croissants and some bread rolls, still in their packet. On the second level was a jar of crunchy peanut butter, ketchup, two tins of tuna, a jar of bolognese sauce, four tins of baked beans and bottle of maple syrup.

  She put the lot in her bag.

  She opened the cupboard above and took the bleach. She even took the toilet cleaner, some sponges and a bottle of cream to clean baths—she had no idea why. In the glass cupboard, next to the one full of cleansing products, there was a biscuit tin. She opened the tin and saw an assortment of chocolate bars that produced a huge smile across her face. There was Crunchies, Caramels, Snickers, Fudges, and chunky Kit Kats—mint flavour.

  "I think I'm gonna have an orgasm," she giggled to herself, and put the tin into her now full bag.

  Pickle returned from upstairs and asked, "Anything?"

  "Plenty," Karen answered with a smile.

  Pickle then clicked his fingers. "Batteries. We need batteries."

  He began to check through the cupboards; Karen told him which ones she had already checked. He searched the last two and pulled out a tin that looked like it used to hold an assortment of expensive biscuits, something a person would get for a Christmas present. He shook it and then looked on the shelf above where the tin had sat and produced a beam. There was a torch sitting there.

  He reached for the torch, put it into his bag, then opened the tin to confirm that it was now a tin that held batteries of many sizes.

  "Perfect." Once they were in his bag, he lifted it back up. "Christ, this is heavy already."

  "Tell me about it." Karen nodded to her own bag that was bursting. She then looked in the cupboard, under the sink, and pulled out two bottles of Merlot. "Put them in your bag. We deserve them."

  "We'll take these back up to Wolf and come back, or we can return tomorrow."

  "What's that noise?" asked Karen.

  "I can't hear anything."

  Karen walked towards the kitchen window and opened the blinds and beckoned Pickle over. He plonked his bag on the floor and took a gawp out into the back garden. There were two Snatchers lumbering around an oak tree that was at the back, and Pickle could now see why the two creatures weren't moving from the tree.

  Up at twelve feet high, sitting on a thick branch, was a young girl, no older than fourteen. Her dark hair was tied back, and she looked exhausted, as if she had been there for hours, days even.

  "I've got it," Pickle said.

  He walked from the kitchen and headed for the back door that led out into the garden. He was greeted with the blistering sun burning down on his features, and closed his eyes for a few seconds to take in the wonderful heat. He then took a few steps closer towards the creatures that had their backs to him, and produced a whistle that someone would use to beckon their dog.

  "Thank God," was all the exhausted girl could muster, as she saw this huge, rough-looking man, standing in the middle of the garden with a stained machete, proving that this man was not scared of using the thing.

  The two creatures, a male and a female, turned and stumbled towards him. Pickle had done this many times before now, and the two things were more of a nuisance than a scene of terror. He sighed hard, as if someone had spilt his drink, and pulled the machete back and took a swipe at the female. The blade nestled into the right side of the cranium, and once pulled out, a small amount of dark blood spat out, followed by the body collapsing in a heap.

  The male ghoul, who was initially behind the female, made things a whole lot easier when it tripped over its fallen comrade and hit the floor. Pickle drove the blade into the back of its head, and withdrew it. He wiped both sides of the blade on the long grass, and placed it back into his belt.

  He then looked up at the girl and held out his hand to beckon her out of the tree. "It's safe now."

  She hesitated for a few seconds, and looked around her garden and tried her best to fight back the tears.

  Gestured Pickle, "Come down. I'm not gonna hurt yer."

  She finally did, with Pickle's help, and she was in two minds whether to hug the man or not.

  "How long yer been up there?" he enquired.

  The girl answered, "For a few hours. I ran into the garden, but I was trapped."

  "Are yer alone? Is it just you?"

  She nodded. "Yes."

  "Where're your parents?"

  "Erm..." She cleared her throat and nodded to the creatures that Pickle had just attacked. "You've just killed them."

  "Oh."

  Karen had emerged out from the house and asked Pickle what was taking so long.

  Pickle walked up to Karen and whispered, out of earshot from the fourteen-year-old, "This house belongs to this girl and we've just emptied the place."

  Karen made a loud noise as she exhaled, and looked over to the girl. "What would you prefer: To stay in the house alone, or stay with other people?"

  "Other people," the girl spoke with little hesitation.

  "Sorted." Karen then walked out of the garden and disappeared. Pickle looked at the frightened girl and shrugged his shoulders as he had no idea what Karen was planning on doing.

  Five minutes later, Karen had returned, and said, "The family from two-doors down are gonna put you up. I'll walk you round."

  "That's great," the girl cried and gave Karen a hug; she then hugged Pickle and kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you for..."

  Pickle laughed, "Killing yer parents? No worries."

  Karen walked with the girl and Pickle gave off a smile. Karen was full of surprises, sometimes even nice ones. One day he wanted to strangle her; the next, he wanted to hug her.

  Harry Branston decided to walk around the garden while waiting for Karen to return, and peered over the fence to look at the others. Two gardens down he could see a greenhouse and his face almost lit up.

  A greenhouse?

  A greenhouse usually meant fresh vegetables. If there was no family there, he thought, then great. If there was, but they were too scared to come out of the house, then Pickle thought about raiding the garden and splitting the produce with the family. He had no idea about what could be available. It was nearing the end of June, so he didn't know what was in bloom and what wasn't. Did there need to be a special time of the year to pick the tomatoes? Would everything be edible? Had the products in the greenhouse shrivelled up because they had been neglected and were now overripe, if that was possible, or had the family already cleaned out the greenhouse anyway when the apocalypse was in full swing?

  Karen returned to the back garden with a swagger. Pickle pointed out the greenhouse to Karen. "Excellent. We can check it out tomorrow," was her response.

  "Good work with persuading that family to take in that poor wee thing."

  "No problem," Karen smirked. "They were reluctant at first. Probably have got their own family to think about."

  "But yer twisted their arm." Pickle winked and nudged Karen, proudly. "What was it? A bit o' emotional blackmail?"

  "I just told them that the girl needed to be with people. And if they did
n't take her in, she'd die."

  "Good job. I suppose seeing that machete may have persuaded them."

  "And the fact that I told them that if they didn't take her in, I'd torch their house."

  Pickle looked at Karen with wide, disappointing eyes. "Yer shouldn't be threatening people like that, Karen. They're just frightened, that's all."

  "Relax. I'm just kidding." Karen chuckled and slapped Pickle on the shoulder. "They were pleased to take her in. Apparently they've known her all her life."

  Pickle stretched his back, ready for the arduous walk back up to Cardboard Hill, back to the cabin. With a heavy bag, he knew he was going to be exhausted once he had left the street, walked the length of the football field, and then hit the incline of the hill.

  He confessed, "I'm never going to make another trip down here, not today."

  "We can come back in the morning," said Karen. "We've got all the time in the world."

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  Jack and Johnny had walked nonchalantly through a street, and had no idea what was around every corner they approached. The dead either seemed to be everywhere or nowhere.

  Curtains twitched as they walked through the lane, and one individual bellowed out of his bedroom window and asked the two men if they knew if there was anywhere safer. Jack thought that it was a bizarre question. If he knew that there was anywhere safer, he wouldn't be walking down this particular road in the open air.

  There were potential hazards everywhere, and although walking down a street left the two men exposed, being in the open made it easier to see any dangers.

  "I need to sit down." Johnny stopped walking and sat on someone's front garden.

  Jack knew exactly where Johnny was coming from; he was also exhausted. Jack placed the crowbar onto the grass and sat next to the weapon that was lying inbetween the pair of them.