I wish I had a gun.
He then thought that having a gun in his possession could end up resulting in an accident, and the gunfire itself would probably attracted others towards his presence.
He changed his mind about a gun the more he thought about it.
Maybe not.
He joked to himself that maybe a crossbow would be more beneficial, as at least it was quiet. But where was he going to get one of them? In most city or town centres probably, but the last thing he wanted to do was to drive into a populated area, to see if there was a gun shop.
The only populated area he had planned on going was the town where his son lived.
He was now in Stoke, and he was an hour away from his town; he was still trembling from his near-death experience. He suddenly heard a pop coming from outside, his steering became heavy and his car veered to the left down a bank.
Not now.
He had a flat, and could feel himself losing control of the vehicle. He prepared himself for impact.
Chapter Twenty Seven
Pickle had managed to find a beam from the pub's roof that would take his weight. He jumped up and grabbed the beam and began his pull-ups. Now being out of the prison and having no gym to attend, he was going to try and exercise whenever he could. He knew that the lack of exercise would make him feel agitated eventually, and that was something that only affected him, and wasn't something the rest of the group was going to lose sleep over.
After finishing his five sets of fifteen reps, he urged Grass to go outside with him and join KP and Laz, who were sitting outside drinking almost their body weight in lemonade. Pickle had issued an alcohol ban until 7pm until the establishment was locked up. It was going to be their lodgings for the night.
Grass followed behind him and they entered outside into the warm, inviting sunshine, although the temperature had dropped somewhat. The sweat glistened on Pickle's forehead like a small army of pearly drops that refused to run down, and he welcomed the cool air that decreased his body temperature, and also welcomed that all around they could see for miles and there wasn't a single being in sight in the fields.
"Any signs?" Pickle walked over to Laz and KP who were sitting on the bank, staring into the River Trent.
"We just came back," Laz stated. "Checked the main roads, nothing."
"What about the wee garden centre over the road?"
KP sniggered, and looked up at Pickle. "What about it? We're not going inside a building that could be populated with those things, not until you give us the guns."
Pickle nodded and patted KP on the shoulder; he understood his concern, and wouldn't have entered the area himself if he had no sort of weapon on him. As he and KP found out by the garage, they were not easy things to kill, despite their lumbering ways. A head injury was the only way to put them down permanently, and a head injury with bare hands was a hard task to execute, as well as an exhausting one.
"I have a shotgun and four pistols," Pickle declared. "The shotgun's mine. I can't give that away."
"Don't worry about me," Laz expressed. "I don't want any gun, don't trust myself for a start. Besides, best thing about not having a gun is that I can just stay behind you whenever we enter buildings. I'm a coward, guys, always have been."
Pickle admired Laz's honesty. There was no point giving someone a gun if they didn't want one.
"What about you, Grass?" KP had a long blade of grass sitting in the corner of his mouth.
"Er…I dunno." He shifted uncomfortably and looked a bag of nerves.
"That's settled then." Pickle nodded. "KP, myself and the two officers get the pistols."
"Do I get the shotgun as well?" KP asked mischievously.
"No chance," Pickle snapped back, not picking up on KP's ribbing.
"Right then." KP got to his feet and began to brush himself down with the palm of his hands. "So you gonna show me how to use one?"
"Probably best if we wait till the officers wake up," Laz spoke, his wiry frame had sat down and begun sucking on a cigarette.
Laz was referring to Jamie and Janine, who had found a welcoming bed when searching through the property. Jamie trusted Pickle, and it was the ex-inmate who suggested that the two officers, who had been on nightshift, should get a few hours in the afternoon because they looked dead on their feet.
"No need," Pickle said, and he nodded towards the entrance of the pub.
Jamie stumbled out, still wearing his work attire, but now with his creased white shirt hanging out of his black trousers. He covered his eyes with his hand, as the sun greeted him.
"Where's the other one?" KP grilled gently.
Jamie answered, "Still sleeping, I guess. How should I know?"
"Oh…I thought you two…"
"No." Jamie smiled. "We're just work colleagues."
Jamie never thought about Janine in that way; he was never short of female company and was in no way strongly attracted to the young woman. He hadn't been in a relationship in years, but always kept himself 'busy' with a female here and there, thanks to the dating websites he visited.
Janine was reasonably attractive, Jamie thought. She had short blonde hair and blue eyes, but Jamie was more of a brunette man and wasn't overly keen on short hair on women. Also, she was a little heavy for his liking. She was hardly obese, but her extra pounds were evident on her behind, and he also liked the fitness type.
Jamie knew it was down to taste, as Janine detested too much muscle on a man as she said it looked unnatural. Jamie was one of those men.
"Ready for yer first lesson?" Pickle waved the gun in his right hand. "I'll show Janine later tonight."
Jamie shrugged his shoulders, still tired.
Pickle took out one of the guns from the back of his trousers. "This is what the army used to use before we started using Glock 17s." He looked over to Jamie to make sure he was paying attention. "The slide-lock back, means it out of ammo. This gun is empty, but in times of apprehension, cock it, so it's ready."
Jamie pointed. "Does that hammer ever pinch anybody's hand? It looks awfully close."
Pickle shook his head. "I've shot it before. Never had any bother with it. This is one of the most accurate and smoothest recoiling guns ever made; it also has an amazing trigger. I know you're all novices, but if you can't hit something from ten feet with a hi-power, I don't know what gun would possibly help you."
Pickle handed it to Jamie to have a feel. Then Jamie handed it to KP.
He handed it back to Pickle, who put a magazine in, and said to them, "The down side to this gun is the magazine disconnect. Bad enough that it's even there, but it rubs against the face of the magazine every time the trigger is pulled. The finish of every magazine you have can alter your trigger pull, as can how the magazine locks up or is wiggled around by your hand."
The group all stared at one another; they had no idea what he was rambling about and Jamie decided to speak up. "All I want you to do," Jamie began, "is to show me how to reload, and show me where the safety catch is."
"Feeling pretty confident then?" KP giggled, stroking his thin dark beard.
"The only shooting I'll be doing is close-range shooting. Besides, if we start shooting practice, what's the betting that those things start making their way over here? I don't know about you guys, but I'm looking forward to locking myself inside of that place tonight, drinking too much beer, playing cards, eating whatever I can get my hands on, and drinking even more beer after that for just one night. Because I don't know how long I've got left, and I don't know if I'll ever have another night like that. And I don't want it to be spoilt by being surrounded by those things banging on the windows to get in. Don't get me wrong, the windows are solid thick, but how are we supposed to escape if there's three hundred surrounding the pub?"
"Fuck," Pickle began to chortle. "That was some kind o' speech."
"Just show me the basics, and I'll show Janine myself once she wakes up."
"I'm already awake," she yawned and stepped out int
o the daylight. "How am I supposed to sleep with you lot making a racket?"
*
Time dragged on and the moment came at last, and by Jamie's watch it was 7:07pm. KP had rustled up a fine banquet from what was available in the kitchen and the only negative of the night so far, was when Janine wanted a decent bottle of red to go with her steak.
Pickle showed her where the cellar was and a scream later, he realised he had forgot to tell the group about his experience with one of the people who used to work at the fine establishment.
After finishing the bottle in just under an hour, Janine had almost forgot about the corpse she had witnessed with the head opened. If she was told about it beforehand, it wouldn't have bothered her, but because she wasn't given any warning, it came as a shock.
The men played poker for hours, and a bored Janine decided to go upstairs and watch an old DVD while finishing the second bottle before passing out on the bed. She noticed the bedroom had no lock, and never even asked about sleeping arrangements. She assumed that she would have the room that she used for her nap, and went there without telling any of the guys.
She placed the dressing table chair against the knob of the bedroom door. She trusted Jamie, but the other four individuals were prisoners, and they were prisoners who hadn't been with a woman for a while.
She kind of feared that if she got drunk within the company of the other five, sexual tension might be increased within the room. She knew she wasn't supermodel material, but was pretty certain that most men were animals and would sleep with anything with a pulse.
Once satisfied nobody could get in, she cried for ten minutes to release some pent up stress, before watching the DVD. Hours later, with a little help from the alcohol she had consumed, sleep had beaten her once again and the rowdiness of the men from the ground floor faded away.
Chapter Twenty Eight
Oliver Bellshaw and Karen Bradley had been in the woods for hours, and had reached an amicable agreement. Still exhausted from her nightshift and after a run-in with one of the creatures, she had decided to grab another hour in exchange so Oliver could also go for a nap. The thirty-four-year-old divorcee had a decent night's sleep the night before, but the whole event seemed to have exhausted him.
His story wasn't as exciting, as far as the other survivors were concerned, but he was alive, which he was sure that thousands upon thousands of individuals no longer had that pleasure anymore.
As Karen slept, he revisited his surreal morning.
As soon as Oliver was attacked outside the newsagents, he grabbed his phone, packed his bag, took his car, and drove the short journey from his house in Hednesford through the countryside, heading towards the outskirts of Rugeley in order to get to his mother's.
As soon as he went by a tiny village called Slitting Mill, where he used to regularly go for meals at a public house called The Horns, he saw the presence of a dozen of the things wandering aimlessly around the streets. He reversed harshly to turn the car around and head the opposite direction, but his right back tyre slipped into a ditch.
Naturally engulfed in a cloud of hysteria, he opened the door unhesitatingly, took his bag that was sitting on the passengers seat, and began to run along the country road that headed back towards the main road that would lead into Rugeley if he turned left, or back to Hednesford if he turned right.
He decided on left, as he knew the state of the place back in his small town. He saw a couple of, what he called, Snatchers, roaming around on the outskirts of the part of Rugeley he wanted to enter, and knew that this was also a no-go area.
He cut across a fence and ran across a farmers field, as he was hoping that he wouldn't be seen and be followed. He was still unsure about what and who they were, and only knew what the TV had informed him on.
After spending five minutes running through the long grass, he decided to chance his luck back on the main road. He went over to the fence on his left and jumped over, and was now on the main road that led to Stile Cop and was facing almost opposite the cemetery. He ran by the cemetery and headed to a beauty spot, where a lot of people used to park up and use the place as a picnic area, or as a base to park the car and go for a long walk.
Stile Cop was the largest beauty spot and was at the highest point. The one where Oliver arrived at was small, secluded, and lower down, near the bottom of the main road. On the main road, the vast amount of the woods were to the left, whereas to the right, was the farmers fields.
He wanted to head for Stile Cop but not the main road route, as he was paranoid that he may be seen from a distance by one of those things, resulting in him being tracked down by an army of the slow moving cannibals. When he arrived at the secluded area, he had made a decision to get to his destination through the woods. It was the hardest way, but he felt it was the safest, as on the road he felt exposed. He was certain that they would have trouble following him through a condensed wooded area that was on a slight hill.
Snapping out of his daydreaming, Oliver looked at his watch, it was nearly 5pm. Time had little relevance at the moment, but what it could still do was tell Oliver how near or far it was away from becoming dark. He had allowed Karen to sleep longer and now that his brain was active again, he now felt that his short sleep wasn't needed anymore.
He planned on eventually getting to the top of the hill at Stile Cop beauty spot. Then, he and Karen could make a camp temporarily until he decided what to do and where to go next. He was dreading the darkness that was only a matter of hours away, and knew that they both could easily get to the beauty spot within half an hour on foot, but other things needed to be considered. Oliver dreamed that not only a camp would have to be built, which could take hours, but some sort or perimeter fence or tripwire would have to be incorporated to let them know through the night if they had company. All of this could take up to half a day to complete.
It would be a tense night taking turns sleeping in the woods for the one night, but both exhausted individuals agreed that rest was imperative before making their way up to the beauty spot. The macabre hours would drag and the pair of them would be fortunate if any type of sleeping would take place. He thought that, despite this, their predicament was a lot safer than other situations he could think of, and staying in a populated area was definitely something he wouldn't consider again.
He still felt troubled that one of them that Karen had dealt with had attempted to make its way through the woods. If one of them had now tried that, maybe others would attempt again in the near future once food in the town began to run out.
The options were few and far between for the two of them, but he had camped before, many years ago, with a girlfriend at one of the beauty spots, and with the season being in summer, and with a full or even a half moon out, the area wouldn't be as dark as it could be. Oliver suddenly heard a car go by and smiled to himself. Any sign of life brought small joy, because it meant there was some hope.
He remained sitting up; his head constantly swinging to the left and to the right. He felt more relaxed than he did when he first entered the woods, but the paranoia was still there, although not as strong as before. He stared at a sleeping Karen and for the first time, realised that she was an attractive woman.
Her dark hair was tied back with an elastic band, her face was facing away from Oliver to the left, and he glared at her exposed neck, as a few drops of pearly perspiration sat on her neck, threatening to escape.
Despite the few droplets of sweat, Oliver thought about what it would be like to kiss that neck. He hadn't been with a woman in months, and thought to himself that despite what was happening in the world, a man was a man: pathetic, weak, and controlled by an organ that—for most women—was never enough to be satisfied with.
He held out his fingertips, and they shook with fear and excitement. The fear was in case she woke up and wondered what the fuck he was doing. And as for the excitement, that was plainly obvious. He was doing something he shouldn't.
He told himself that if she su
ddenly woke up, he would inform her that he was trying to remove a bug off of her. His fingers eventually reached their destination, as they gently slid down her neck and stopped near her collarbone.
The black T-shirt she was wearing was a little soaked with perspiration at the front, but it didn't stop his fingers running over the T-shirt and following the outline of her perked breasts. The more forbidden the area, the more he shook with excitement and trepidation. He contemplated on removing his fingers, but he couldn't help himself.
He gave Karen's nearest breast a gentle squeeze through her T-shirt, and she responded with a moan. He began to touch himself.
Oliver undid his zip; he was so aroused he couldn't stop himself. He looked around as if there could be somebody watching him, and began stroking the shaft with his right hand as Karen lay to his left, oblivious to what he was doing. He was dying to moan as he rubbed the palm of his hand along the shaft up and down rapidly, but he knew her waking up would ruin the moment altogether.
He was getting close; he lay back next to the sleeping Karen Bradley, and always felt the orgasm was better when the penis was pointing upwards. Whenever he masturbated, he always lay on his back as he felt the intensity was better, and when he used to have sex with women, he always preferred and encouraged his partner to go on top whenever he was getting nearer.
He was seconds away from ejaculating, and now he was fantasising that Karen was giving him oral pleasure. As the feeling grew stronger, the more adventurous he became, as his left hand wandered towards Karen's breasts. He knew he'd be in serious shit if ever she woke up, but the danger and the fact he was caressing the breasts of an attractive woman he could never get in the real world, was heightening his pleasure.
Snatchers: Volume One (The Zombie Apocalypse Series Box Set--Books 1-3) Page 16
