Snatchers (Book 7): The Dead Don't Yield

by Shaun Whittington

  Pickle looked over at the bushes. "What are yer going o'er there for?"

  "So I can drain the weasel, go for a slash, release the golden water, have a—"

  "Okay, okay." Pickle held his hand up. He had heard enough. "I'll wait for yer near that silver birch."

  "It's a two-handed job, so it may take a while."

  Pickle tried not to smile. "Just make sure yer give it a shake before yer put the beast back in the cage."

  "A shake? I usually have to give it a kick."

  "Just hurry up." Pickle began to laugh. "Yer a bloody psycho, Kindl."

  Vince took one step forward, then stopped and gaped at Pickle. He had a flashback to when he walked in on Karen, in the bathroom, seeing her with the blood on her hands, and running down her thigh. Should he tell him? He promised himself he wouldn't.

  "What's the matter?" asked Pickle. "Yer go' somethin' to say?"

  Vince slowly strolled to the bushes. "Doesn't matter."

  Chapter Forty

  "Now what?"

  Karen went over to the living room window and peered out after hearing the raised voices coming from outside. Despite his apology earlier, it appeared that Jimmy Mac hadn't had a change of personality. He was still fighting with the locals.

  Karen watched as James McDonald swung a punch at Daniel Badcock, which Daniel seemed to avoid rather easily. A left hook was then thrown by the angry McDonald, which was another punch that Daniel easily swerved. James McDonald may have been a cantankerous individual, but he certainly was no fighter. Daniel retaliated and threw a punch into Jimmy Mac's midriff, and the man bent over immediately, coughing and gasping for breath.

  Daniel went over to apologise as soon as the punch was thrown, which told Karen that he didn't want to hit McDonald, but he had no choice in the matter. Karen wasn't surprised by this. Daniel seemed like a decent individual.

  As soon as Daniel was near James, McDonald placed his arms in the air to acknowledge that he'd given up. Daniel went to shake his hand, but was given a swift kick in the groin by McDonald. Daniel collapsed to the floor by this unfair strike, and before James McDonald—or Jimmy Mac—could add further damage, Rick Morgan and Paul Dickson turned up to help out Daniel.

  Paul received a punch to his nose for his troubles. Finally, Jimmy Mac had been restrained by the burly Morgan and was escorted away from Daniel to calm down. Karen left the house and went out to see what it was all about.

  James McDonald took one look at Karen as he was being escorted and looked shamefaced. Rick then released him and told the man to cool down. James lowered his head and was allowed to walk away from Daniel and Rick on his own accord.

  "What the fuck was that all about?" Karen asked Daniel.

  Daniel looked exasperated, and said with panting breath, "I found out that James had been skimming the supplies in the Lea Hall building."

  "Skimming?" Karen shook her head. "What does that mean?"

  "It means he's been taking more than he should be. Over the last few days the stock hasn't been adding up right, and now we know why. Obviously, he's blaming the new people. He's been saying that certain people have been allowed to enter the building whenever they wanted."

  Karen was taken aback by Daniel's comment. "I hope he doesn't mean me. Jesus, he only apologised to me an hour ago."

  "He just means everybody in general from Vince's camp."

  "I need to get back to the barrier," Rick Morgan announced, was thanked by Daniel for intervening with the melee, and walked away.

  Karen then turned her attention to Paul Dickson. He stood, head slightly bent with his hand over his nose. She could see it was bleeding, but it wasn't too bad. It definitely wasn't broken.

  She walked over. "You okay?"

  "I think it's broken." Paul Dickson kept on removing his hand from his nose and checking how much blood was on it.

  "It's not broken. Have you seen how wonky Pickle's nose is?"

  He nodded.

  "Now that's broken. And that was three weeks ago."

  "Really?"

  "Some guy did it. The same guy that took his finger off as well."

  "Shit." He checked the blood on his hand once more and said, "If Kyle sees me like this..."

  "Where is he?"

  "He and Lisa are at Rosemary's."

  "He won't see you like this." Karen could see that Daniel was now walking away, and felt bad for not saying cheerio to him. "You're coming to my house. No arguments."

  Karen and Paul went down the front garden and stepped into the living room. She told him to sit down, grabbed a tea towel, and told him to cover his nose with the material.

  He did what he was told, and despite the minor injury he had received during the fracas, it felt good to be looked after by the young woman. It reminded him of how Julie used to be with him.

  "That McDonald's a fucking arsehole." Paul snapped. "He's always hated us lot. I reckon he's trying to stir up some shit to get us all kicked out. Well, he's been caught now."

  "I don't know." Karen left to go into the kitchen and said from the room, "I saw a human side to him about an hour ago. I don't think he's all bad."

  "Human?" Paul said, and released a false laugh.

  Karen returned, holding two glasses of water. "He apologised to me about the way he was behaving."

  "That's because he's scared you'll kick his arse. He's heard about you now."

  "I think Rosemary told him some stories."

  "I heard he had a run-in with Vince as well." Paul Dickson removed the tea towel to check on how much blood had been soaked up, then placed it back. "I heard he shat himself."

  "Who, Vince?"

  "No. Jimmy Mac."

  "I wouldn't worry about him. He's all bark and no bite." Karen placed both glasses on the floor and sat down. "I don't think people take him seriously. They know he didn't want us here. He was the one that voted no."

  "I'm just worried he might do something."

  "Like what?"

  "I dunno."

  "He won't. I don't think he's got the balls to do anything that daft." Karen then began to laugh and said inbetween her titters, "Don't worry, I've got bigger balls than him."

  "You've got bigger balls than most men in here, Karen," Paul snickered and looked at the twenty-three-year-old, maybe for too long.

  She blushed and said, "Thanks for the hug, you know, before."

  "My pleasure. To be honest I kind of needed it myself."

  Karen cleared her throat and hesitated to ask her next question. She had no idea how he was going to react to the query she had lined up. How would he react? With anger? Would he break down?

  Paul could see, with her mouth open, that she was going to ask him something. "Go on," he urged with a thin smile under his nose.

  "Go on?"

  "You was going to ask me something."

  "It doesn't matter."

  Paul raised his hands and said jokingly, "I won't be offended, whatever it is. I'd like to think that we're now friends."

  Karen smiled. "We are."

  "So ask away."

  Karen lowered her head. "I was just wondering how much you thought about your wife and daughter."

  "Every minute of every day." Paul spoke with no hesitation.

  "I still think about Gary...constantly. I know it's not as bad for me, I mean, you've lost a child as well—"

  Paul placed his hand on Karen's lap and said, "Karen, it's not a competition. You still lost somebody, like most people, to this disaster. You've probably lost your mother and father as well. Yes, I lost Julie and Bell, but I've still got Kyle."

  "My parents are dead. I know it."

  "I think if I lost Kyle I'd give up."

  "You think that, but some people do carry on."

  "And some people don't."

  Karen sighed and brushed her brown hair over her ears. "I bet there are a lot of families that decided to die together."

  "Didn't you and Pickle go to Heath Hayes, after Stile Cop, and came across a wh
ole family, dead in the attic?"

  "Yes," Karen said with suspicion. "Who's been talking? I don't remember—"

  "I think Vincent has said a few things."

  "He's a bloody gobshite." She began to shake her head.

  "Well, he loves the shit out of you and Pickle."

  Karen laughed. "Vince does? How do you know that?"

  "I just do." Paul removed the towel from his nose and left it on the arm of the chair. "It seems better now."

  A silence fell over the pair of them and both had nothing left to say, but were unable to move away from one another.

  Karen finally said, "I'd love another hug, tomorrow maybe, if you're up for it. I think it's good therapy for me. It's better than getting drunk," she tried to joke.

  "That'd be nice." Paul smiled and added, "The kids will either be at Rosemary's or playing, which is what they're doing now."

  "Doesn't it bother you with them out there, playing?"

  "It's a secure place." Paul shrugged. "I feel more safe here than I ever did at Vince's. A lot of the times I wouldn't let Kyle out of my sight, but he needs his freedom, and he's only allowed out half an hour at a time. If ever he's late, I go looking for him. He and Lisa never go far."

  "That's very brave."

  "Right." Paul stood up and clapped his hands together. He touched his nose and checked his finger to make sure that the bleeding had definitely stopped, and said, "I'm going now."

  Karen also stood to her feet and leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. She stared at him for a while and her face seemed to be engulfed in sadness. No tears had fallen, but her eyes were becoming glassy.

  Asked Paul, "What's wrong, Karen?"

  "I didn't want to gain another friend, after what happened to Shaz, but you're a good person to be around."

  "I'll take that as a compliment."

  "Please do."

  Paul smiled and placed his hand on Karen's shoulder. "I'll see you soon, Bradley."

  "Yes you will, Dickson," she joked.

  He then gave her a wink and headed for the exit. "Why don't you come with me? We can stand outside and get some air, while I'm waiting for Kyle and Lisa to show up."

  Karen nodded and left her house with Paul in tow.

  Chapter Forty One

  The jeep arrived at a car park that used to belong to a Wetherspoons pub, but this establishment, like others, had been out of action since June 9th. They were at the edge of the town centre and wanted to see if there were more supplies to take before nothing was left.

  They were into week seven of the disaster, so it was a long shot.

  The town centre didn't offer much in the old world. It had a lot of charity shops, pubs, barbers, but there was a Greggs, some other food establishments, including Indian takeaway restaurants. There was also a Morrisons. There were other shops that were bare and had been closed down, which was due to the recession.

  Bear had only one thing on his mind: food and liquids. There was a Guns and Tackle shop deeper into the town; but it was mainly a place that sold fishing gear and air-guns.

  If he wanted any of the hard stuff he knew that the closest place was Hednesford, at the industrial estate. But he had managed so far with just a blade and his strength, so why use something that makes a loud bang and would attract the attention of the dead and the living?

  The three men had a bag each that were emptied earlier in The Spode Cottage, and went to the back entrance of the Wetherspoons establishment. Bear nodded at Frederick to smash the window through. Frederick did what he was told and brought the bat down and hit the glass many times, only causing cracks.

  Bear shook his head and grabbed Frederick by the shirt and dragged him back. "Step aside," he snarled.

  Bear front-kicked the glass and watched it fall. Without saying anything, Frederick and Willie went in, Bear followed after them.

  "Check the canteens for food." Bear pointed at Willie. "And you," he pointed at Frederick, "check behind the bar to see if they have, crisps, nuts, soft drinks even."

  "What about you?" Willie bit his lip as soon as he asked Bear the query. He didn't mean for it to sound cheeky, but it was taken that way.

  Bear slapped him across the head, almost taking him off of his feet. "Don't be a cheeky cunt! I'm gonna try and find the cellar."

  Theodore Davidson walked off whilst leaving Willie rubbing his head, and scanned the floor. It was a large building and he was surprised, they all were, that nobody had tried to get in.

  "Here!" Frederick called over.

  Bear walked over to the bar and could see Frederick pointing at a hatch that was on the floor. Bear smiled and saw a hook attached to the end of it. He put his finger into the metal hook and lifted it with zero hesitation. The place below was obviously dark, but could see that a steep set of steps were provided to go down.

  "I can hear noises," announced Frederick.

  "So can I." Bear pulled out a lighter from his pocket and asked Frederick to get him a towel from the bar. Frederick handed Bear the towel and he lit it and watched it burn for a few seconds. Once half of it was in flames he dropped it down the cellar and watch it hit the floor, lighting the place up temporarily. With his widened eyes he could see six creatures stumbling around down there. Who knows how many more?

  "Fuck." A shiver ran down Frederick's spine.

  "Well that's pissed all over that." The Bear slammed the hatch shut and nodded for Frederick to put every packet of crisps and nuts from behind the bar into his bag.

  "I'll go and check on Willie," said Bear. "Then we can see if there's anything else we can take from the town. There's a kebab shop round the corner. I'm not going until that vehicle's full."

  Bear strolled over the huge carpeted floor and walked around the tables and chairs that had been set out. He made a three-sixty turn to see that there had been no sign of a struggle, and was also wondering how the scenario of the beasts in the cellar had occurred. He entered the canteen and saw Willie with a mouthful of something.

  "Never mind yourself; fill the bag," growled Bear. "Anyway, what is there?"

  Bear took his own empty bag off his shoulder and could see fruit and meat that had seen better days. But there was potatoes that could be cooked with a bonfire, and there was also boxes of crisps, nuts and pork scratchings.

  "Not the healthiest," Willie said, still chewing, "but beggars can't be choosers."

  "Get the boxes in the back of the jeep," Bear snapped. "And try not to eat anything else. Greedy cunt!"

  Once Willie had filled the jeep, he came back for his bag and helped Frederick behind the bar, whilst Bear was still filling his in the kitchens. He came out with a full bag and marched outside with his other two colleagues. They put the three bags in the back, near the cardboard boxes, and slammed the back door shut.

  "That's not bad." Bear looked at the three full bags. "Maybe we won't need to go into town after all."

  "What's that over there?" Willie pointed.

  Frederick looked in the direction Willie was pointing, and answered, "A building of some sort. Why?"

  Willie laughed at himself and shook his head. "I thought I saw something."

  "Me too," Bear spoke up. "Let's check it out."

  They followed the burly figure and crossed the Horsefair road. There was signs of carnage present everywhere: blood, limbs and smashed cars littered the street. Bear placed his hand up and crouched down. "Stay there," he said to the other two. He ran across the road and went by the clinic and went down an alleyway. He came across a wiry fence and was opposite the Churchfields school and could see the Lea Hall building. There was a man on top of it, doing something to the roof. He saw the guy pick up a large dark square-shape and placed it by his feet.

  "That's interesting." Bear got closer.

  A camp maybe. And what was the man doing to the roof? Fitting solar panels, perhaps? What was in the building? People? Supplies?

  It was supplies. It must be.

  Bear could see a pick-up truck being loa
ded with stuff. He could see people walking along a street and two individuals had left a house.

  The building is being used as a warehouse for supplies. He smiled to himself. And the people are living in those homes, which means the area surely must be blocked off.

  "Well, well, well. I think I've spotted something quite interesting," Bear began to snigger.

  Chapter Forty Two

  They had been in the woods for ten minutes since they had left the war cemetery, and Vince and Pickle's shirts were now saturated in sweat. Pickle made long strides through the bracken, whilst Vince Kindl was yards behind, struggling after his night of no sleep. The tiredness was now crippling him.

  "How long now, do you think?" Vince moaned.

  "Might be a mile or so before we hit the main Hednesford Road," Pickle replied.

  "But what direction are we going? North? South?"

  "No idea. I don't have a compass on me," responded Pickle with sarcasm, and added, "and it's not as if we can be guided by the sun."

  Both men looked up to the heavens to see the whole sky carpeted with grey clouds. It had been like this for days, yet no rain had fallen. It was warm, muggy, especially in the suffocating greenery, and the sun hadn't been seen for a while.

  Pickle stopped in his tracks, and an exhausted Vince did the same a few seconds later, almost bumping into his friend.

  "Please tell me you can see a stream." Vince gasped. "I'm sweating my balls off here. I need to lie in a cold stream."

  Pickle gazed. "There's no stream."

  "Fuck." Vince wiped his arm across his forehead and groaned, "Every item of my clothing is covered in sweat."

  "Stop yer moaning."

  "My balls feel like they're sitting on a wet flannel."

  "Well," Pickle nodded forward, "we 'ave other problems to take care o' now."

  Vince tried to look with his stinging eyes and could see blurry shapes, too many to count. He rubbed them and tried to refocus. "What is it?"