Inside his head, a voice was telling him: If they live in a remote or sufficiently defensible area, they may be safer than you are. Don't get yourself killed by rushing to them assuming they need your help.
Jack knew that the greater distance between him and his son, the more difficult it would be to reach him and there could be a good chance that he wouldn't be there when he arrived.
He thought about the loudness of her landline phone and if it would attract any of the things if they happened to be lurking outside while Kerry and his son, Thomas, was hiding away somewhere.
He contemplated hanging up, but then the phone was picked up.
Kerry whispered hello down the phone.
"It's me," Jack said.
"What are you doing? Why didn't you ring me on my mobile, e-mail me or chat to me on the network."
"My mobile's fucked, and I wanted to hear your voice, I wanted to hear Thomas' voice."
"Well, don't call again."
"What have you told him?"
"I had to tell him the truth; he saw someone get attacked in my street, and asked me what was going on. But I still don't think he really understands. He's only six. He was hysterical for ages, but he's okay now. I'll put him on."
There was a silence on the other end of the phone, and a minute later Jack heard the familiar voice of his six-year-old son.
"Hi daddy."
As soon as those two words were spoken, Jack Slade's lower lip trembled with emotion. He sniffed in and cleared his throat. He didn't want his voice to be coated with fright; he already had a six-year-old boy who was probably scared to death at what was happening, and didn't want to concern him any further.
"Hi, son, what's happening?"
"Me and mummy are playing upstairs."
"Oh, that sounds good."
There was a long pause and his son spoke once more. "Daddy?"
"Yes, son, what is it?"
"There're monsters outside."
Jack could hear the emotion in his son's voice and tried to reassure his son that things were going to be okay, but Kerry had returned back onto the phone.
She snapped, "He's upset, don't call again, I'm unplugging the phone now. Stay safe, Jack."
"Kerry, I'm coming down."
She never heard the last sentence as she hung up the phone. Jack could understand why. Her priority was to keep her son safe, and he was the only thing that she was concerned about.
Jack didn't know the real situation that was occurring where Kerry was staying. For all he knew, there could have been dozens of them banging on Kerry's window, aching to get in, but he wasn't sure. Despite Kerry threatening to unplug the phone anyway, he promised himself that he wouldn't try and call again, no matter how much he wanted to hear his son's voice. If his phone hadn't have smashed in the city centre when he was with Robbie, he could have pre-warned her that he was coming down by text.
Jack carefully opened his front door and could see at least seven of the things moping around the street, and he saw the body of Robbie lying in front of him as he got into his car. He threw his bag in the back and started the engine and reversed quickly out of his drive. He slipped the car into first and stamped his foot down on the accelerator, and he swerved to his left to avoid hitting two of the beings that were in the middle of the street. He turned left at the roundabout and headed for the shopping mall, which also had a petrol station.
He finally pulled up at the petrol station, hoping that not all the pumps had been drained and that the electricity was still working, as that was what controlled the pumps.
Jack was aware that most cities had standby diesel generators that automatically kicked in if the power grid stopped performing, but he had no intention of staying in a city like Glasgow; he wanted to go back to his hometown. Would there be any electricity there?
Jack knew that if there was nobody to check the electricity transmissions, and nobody left to use the electricity in the lines and the nuclear plants kept churning out power, the lines would overload and the grid would die. So even if the pumps were full, without electricity they were useless, and this was the reason why Jack wanted to get some jerry cans.
The forecourt was empty as he pulled up; he tried the opened door of the kiosk and went behind the counter to flick the authorisation switch, then went back out and filled his car. He looked around at the huge mall car park to find that there were a handful of cars there, probably workers who had decided it was too dangerous to go back home. Although he felt for the people that may be inside, his main goal was to stay alive for his son, and after he filled up, he headed towards the kiosk for the second time.
He headed towards the pre-packed sandwiches and ate two. One was a chicken mayo, the white bread seemed a little stale, and the other was a BLT. He wasn't hungry, but he didn't know when he would have the chance to stop and have something further to eat.
He took a small carton of milk from the fridge and washed the stubborn bread down with the white stuff. He drained three quarters of the milk and dropped it to the floor like a thug.
He walked around the small area, and had a look round to see if there was anything that could come in handy. He couldn't see any jerry cans on display, and thought they would have been perfect to top up with petrol. He was disturbed by a thud coming from the door that read: Private - Staff Only.
He heard the thud again and stepped towards it. It was a wooden door, but had a rectangle window about a foot long in the middle of it. He tried the door but it was locked. He peered into the window but he couldn't see anything, it was too dark. So he stepped closer, and gulped hard as his curiosity overcame his cowardice. His face pressed up against the glass, but like before, the darkness tried to persuade him that there was nothing to see.
He took a step backward away from the door and saw to his right a light switch. Convinced that the switch was for the room he couldn't see in, he reached for it and flicked it.
The bright light rapidly filled and drenched the room with its yellow glow, and Jack could see one of the things on its knees eating what was left of a human. The thing looked up at the bulb and covered its eyes and made an awful cry; it seemed to despise the light, like a human would if they were drenched in darkness for a while.
Jack pressed his face against the glass and could see that the thing on its knees was wearing a uniform, probably someone who worked in the forecourt. It was unaware of Jack's presence, and continued to feast. All Jack could see was a huge dark pool on the floor, entrails strewn around like spaghetti, the legs were intact and hadn't been touched, but the head lay separate in the corner of the room. A uniform of some sort was also seen on what was left of the person that had been devoured. Jack thought that it might have been a work colleague.
Jack turned the light off, leaving the creature to eat his meal in peace. He had seen enough and was proud of himself that he never threw up his pre-packed sandwiches, although his stomach was performing cartwheels.
He couldn't understand how the two individuals were in that situation; the only conclusion he could fathom, was that the two workers were working nightshift and a creature attacked one of the workers. Maybe they then hid in the staff room, not knowing that one was infected.
With his cleaver in hand, he decided to leave the kiosk and headed back outside. He looked out to the car park once more and could see two of the things that weren't there previously; they were about five hundred yards away. He saw the revolving doors to the mall, and decided to check the place out.
The place had only been built five years ago, and was just what the community needed—not just for the shops, but for the jobs it created as well. It had over eighty shops and restaurants and attracted people from afar to visit the place.
He was going to need more clothes eventually as the weeks went by, and thought of a few stores that he could walk into and take a bag full of jeans, shirts and underwear to stick into the back of the car. The extra clothes didn't cross his mind back home, it didn't seem important, but
he was here now, and if the place was empty then he was going to take the opportunity.
It was an idea that was quickly quashed as he trotted towards one of the entrances of the mall. There were three entrances in all, and his heart galloped as he saw a grisly sight.
The mall was packed; there were hundreds of the things moping around inside and some noticed Jack, standing, watching aghast. Some of them stumbled towards the glass and clawed at the windows, sometimes vomiting dark blood onto the pane. Also, the revolving doors, thankfully, appeared locked, and some of them were trying to get out via the revolving doors, but they weren't budging. It was like a prison for the dead.
Like the kiosk incident, Jack tried to guess what had happened in there. He assumed that either security had locked the place down to contain the incident, or it had been locked down by accident by the things entering the security office.
The place closed at 7pm, which was roughly around the time the breakout was being broadcasted on the Saturday, and Jack's theory was that the place, under instruction, had been locked down to stop other potential attackers from coming in. But unbeknown to them, a massacre was taking place on their own shop floor as people inside already had the virus, and may have already began attacking unsuspected shoppers that hadn't been affected.
Jack thought that all it took was one shopper to be bitten or scratched and then to walk into the mall, be taken to a room by security, if they were not feeling well, and then for the thing to attack security and cause a biting epidemic to rapidly spread among the confused shoppers. According to the BBC, the bitten ones took between anything between an hour or longer to change, depending on the severity of the bite, as the virus from the mouth of one of the creatures would infect the bloodstream.
Jack was sure that it was all guesswork. No one knew a damn thing! Each theory contradicted another and he certainly didn't believe it was God's work. Had the big man finally tired of our selfish and greedy ways?
He shook his head like a parent's disapproval of a naughty child. The clothes would have to wait. He was then surprised to hear a female voice coming from above him.
He looked up to see two young girls, no older than twenty, looking out of one of the windows about four floors up. There was a series of windows across the building quite high up, and Jack guessed that they were staff rooms, canteens and storage rooms.
"I can't stop," Jack informed the two frightened girls, apologetically.
"Please!" the blonde girl begged. "A woman collapsed, then got up and started attacking people. I only live up the road; just take me to see my parents. They're okay, I've been speaking to them by phone."
"I can't get up!" Jack protested. "There're hundreds of them inside, it's impossible."
She placed her hand over her mouth and began to cry. She looked behind her to the room she was in, and announced to someone, "He said there're hundreds of them downstairs."
The other girl also broke down and pleaded to Jack to help her. He knew why they were still there. They couldn't possibly escape by jumping, as the height from the window wouldn't necessarily kill them, but it could at least sprain an ankle or break a leg. And an individual with a broken leg would be an eventual limping meal for the determined man-eaters.
"Look." Jack was being suffocated by emotional blackmail, but his son was his top priority. "Just sit tight, and someone will come and rescue you."
"Who?"
"I'm sorry. I've gotta go."
Jack Slade jogged away from the complex and tried to hum in his head to drown out the desperate pleading and screams that were coming from the window. He turned around to see another three people hanging out of the window. The further he went away from them, the more the begging turned to vociferous verbal slandering. It went from: Please help us! We're begging you! to You fucking pig! You're going to hell for this!
Jack shook his head. There seemed to be dozens of people trapped, but he couldn't help them. He took a look behind him to see the two beings in the car park following him.
He never panicked, as they were too far away. He took hold of the cleaver and thought of striking them for a second, but changed his mind.
They were now ten yards away and he quickly opened his driver's side, threw the cleaver onto the passenger seat and drove out of the forecourt. One of them slapped the rear of his car as he sped off, and that was the nearest they got.
He drove the car out of the car park, and once he got on the main barren road, he pulled up at a bus stop once he was clear of danger and took another look behind him and then broke down.
Once he got himself together, he reprimanded himself for being so weak and shook his head at himself.
You shagwit, Slade!
Chapter Twenty Three
"Just stop here," came Pickle's instruction once they reached Little Haywood.
Jamie adhered to the inmate and pulled on the handbrake of the van. The street had only one of the things moping about, but the main road they had turned off to get into was swarming with at least thirty of them shuffling around not knowing where to go, and clumsily bumping into one another.
Pickle jumped out of his van, confident that they wouldn't drive off without him, as he had the guns, and kicked his own front door in. He called out to see if his cousin was in, but there was no answer back. The fact that the door was easily kicked in, suggested that the lack of barricading meant that his cousin who was staying there had fled to go elsewhere once the news filtered through. Most probably to his mum's, Pickle thought.
He ran upstairs and went into the main bedroom. His cupboard had been ransacked, making him aware that his cousin had hurriedly packed a bag before leaving.
He got to the bottom of the bed and squatted with his hands underneath it. He lifted the bed and forced it to stand upright against the wall. Certain that the bed wasn't about to topple over him, he pulled out a piece of cut carpet and easily lifted three of the floorboards, where a small, yet, heavy bag hid.
He pulled out the sports bag, and tossed it round his shoulder. The space in the floorboard area was almost empty, apart from one object. He pulled out his prized possession, a weapon he had only used for practice. It wasn't something that had been used against another human being, the handguns dealt with that.
He pulled out his Browning B725 sporting shotgun, and blew the little dust that sat on the black barrel. In the bag, over his shoulder, were Browning hi-powered semi automatic pistols, nine millimetres, with cartridges for his shotgun and eighteen magazines for the pistols, excluding the ones already in the guns. Pickle was now ready to leave. He heard the hooting of a horn coming from outside; it came from the van and he knew something wasn't quite right.
He looked out of his bedroom window and saw eight beings surrounding the van; there were more pouring into the street. The hooting of the horn didn't help matters, but Pickle was sure that Jamie only did it out of anguish.
Pickle quickly took off his prison jumper and T-shirt and picked out a plain black V-neck, he then doused himself with deodorant and ran down the stairs to the front door. He opened the door to be greeted by a street full of the things, at least thirty of them, and half of them scampered towards the front door, aching for a piece of his flesh. As he shut the door, they began to smack the palms of their hands against the glass. Pickle ran back upstairs into his bedroom. He opened his window and made a circular motion with his finger, ordering Jamie to turn the van around and back it up so he could jump onto the roof, as there was no way in hell he was going to get in it leaving through the front door.
Jamie knew exactly what Pickle meant, gave him the thumbs up and reversed the van around, crushing some of the hapless things underneath its seven and a half ton weight. None of them showed any facial expressions of pain, as their legs and chests were crushed. Those that had damaged limbs continued to move and dragged themselves towards the house. Pickle opened the window once the van gained nearer, and once it had reversed onto the front garden, he crouched onto the window ledge in preparat
ion for his jump.
He was only going to have one chance at this, and knew if he messed it up, it could cost him his life. Holding his shotgun and with the bag around his shoulder, he jumped onto the roof of the van and was thankful he never slipped or rolled off onto the hard pavement. He banged the top of the cab to inform Jamie it was safe to go. Pickle lay on his front and held on in case there were any sudden movements or jerking.
He had a vision of the van jolting forward, and throwing him off into the crowd of the hungry scavengers. He knew that that kind of death had happened to many a people, but he couldn't think of a worse way to go than being eaten alive.
The van slowly drove off; Jamie, being aware that Pickle's position was rather dangerous, never slipped the van into anything higher than second. The things grabbed desperately at the van, the windows were clawed by the walking corpses, a wiper was almost ripped off as one desperately tried to climb onto the front.
The van shook from side to side as it slowly ran over some of the resolute barbarians. Bones continued to be crushed and on three occasions, heads popped like crushed grapes from the weight of the hefty vehicle's wheels, temporarily decorating the van's wheels with their mashed infected brains.
As soon as they exited the street onto the main road, which was now more congested than the street they had just left, Jamie increased the gas and put the gear into third to finally rid himself from the monsters. He frowned in his right wing mirror to see the last of them, slowly fading into the distance once they got onto the country road. They were now only a mile away from the town of Rugeley.
As they approached the Wolseley Arms public house, Pickle, who still clung onto the roof like Colt Seavers, banged on the roof of the van. The van turned right at the roundabout and pulled up on the country road.
Pleased that there wasn't a soul in sight and with the bag around his shoulder and the shotgun in his right hand, Pickle slid down the front of the van and jumped onto the road. He gave Jamie and Janine the thumbs up, and both officers exited the vehicle. The van was parked up in the pub's car park that was yards away from the River Trent.
Snatchers: Volume One (The Zombie Apocalypse Series Box Set--Books 1-3) Page 13
