Snatchers: Volume One (The Zombie Apocalypse Series Box Set--Books 1-3)

by Shaun Whittington

  When Davina went to her friend's mother's funeral, she felt the tidal wave of emotion in the church procession, and although she never really knew her mother that well, she cried all the same, as if she was a family member herself.

  Isobel was feeling the same, feeding off her mother's foreboding.

  David walked around to the boot of the car and watched his girls hugging one another; they both broke their embrace and stared at David. He smiled weakly, and approached the girls and crouched down to Isobel's level. They all embraced as a family.

  "It's gonna be okay. I promise," David spoke softly, and kissed both of the tearstained cheeks of his girls.

  "How do you know that?" There was anger in Davina's voice. She stood to her feet. "You keep saying that! We should have stayed in the house; there's no going back now!"

  David stood up himself so he could speak to his wife at eye level. "We couldn't stay in there, it was too dangerous. You knew that!"

  David halted his rant and looked down to his daughter; she looked frightened, her face shook and her tears fell freely. She knew there was something wrong, but had no clue what it was. She was four years old, but she wasn't stupid.

  "Could you stop arguing, please," the little thing spoke delicately. "I'm feeling sad."

  Chapter Thirty Four

  The lime green 1300cc BMW roared its way along the Stafford Road. It passed the Wolseley Arms pub and now continued to growl audibly along the Rugeley Road. He looked around, and was still feeling queasy about a fly he had accidentally swallowed as he rode past the Darlaston Inn, back in Stoke.

  He was enjoying the newfound freedom on his new toy, but the downside of not riding without a helmet was the suicidal insects that hit him in the face the faster he went through the country roads. There was two occasions where his eyes were nearly damaged from the kamikaze blue bottles, but a third paid the price by flying right into Jack Slade's mouth.

  The journey was uneventful, apart from the odd sighting of the beings, but Jack put this quiet episode down to the fact that he had remained on the country roads, and stayed away from the populated areas by going the long way around. He knew being on the bike was plain stupidity, but it was only temporary. He knew that if there were groups of them, he would probably have to turn the vehicle around for fear of being pulled off.

  When he reached Rugeley, he rode the bike into a street called Crabtree Road; it was adjacent to a Primary school called John Bamford, which his son, Thomas, had started attending.

  The bike was parked up by seven Crabtree Road, and Jack looked at the old house. He hadn't been back for a while. It had been too long. He had been a crappy father, and it was typical that the week that he promised himself that it was all going to change before it was too late, disaster had struck.

  He looked around the barren street; curtains were drawn, and people were obviously inside but probably scared out of their wits. He walked towards the house and peered around to check the back garden, it was all clear.

  He knocked the window, but there was no answer. Were they hiding inside? He couldn't tell if Kerry was in by looking for her car, as there was no drive and the street was full of parked cars. Jack was unsure if Kerry possessed a car or could even drive at all!

  He looked and could see there was no sign of barricading, which told him that they were out. To be certain, he picked up a rock from the garden's rockery and gently tapped the glass of the living room window. He thought that breaking in would make them vulnerable, but promised to board the broken pane up if Kerry and Thomas were in the house.

  The glass gave way gently, and Jack slipped his arm in and opened the side window. The side window of the living room was just enough for him to squeeze through, and he jumped onto the burgundy carpet of the living room. He scanned the room and, even though he had only checked one room, he was certain that the house was barren. The disappointment on his face was self-evident knowing there was nobody home, and weighed down with frustration, a surge of anger ran through his frame.

  He didn't even call out for Kerry; he jogged his way upstairs and checked the remaining rooms nevertheless. The last room he checked was the bathroom, and as soon as he saw the toilet, his bowels reminded him that they were due to be emptied. Aware that he was in the middle of some kind of apocalypse where flesh eating beings roamed, he felt reasonably relaxed spending time on the toilet, and took it a stage further when he had a quick cold shower for two minutes, before putting his clothes back on.

  He went down to the ground floor and took a look in the fridge. There was no bread or milk. He made do with a huge slice of Wensleydale cheese, a packet of crisps, and a packet of jaffa cakes. To add some health to the equation, he devoured the almost black banana and drank the remains of the OJ that sat under the sink.

  He couldn't comprehend where she could have gone, so he decided to pick up her landline phone. He thought about calling her mum's to see if she was there with Thomas, but he didn't know her number, and even if he did, he remembered the verbal he was given by Kerry when he phoned her back in Glasgow. He didn't know what the situation was at her mum's; it could have been reasonably peaceful, or the house could be surrounded. He was going to ride there instead. It was only two miles away; it was the only place he could think of where they could be.

  She had to be at her mum's!

  He left the house with a full stomach and started up the bike. It squealed its way away from the empty Crabtree Road, heading towards Fair Oak. He turned left and headed out of Rugeley through a place called Slitting Mill, which sat on the outskirts of Cannock Chase. That was when he saw his first group of beings sauntering along the main road, just outside the Horns Pub.

  The noise of his cycle made their heads turn and all eleven that were there, including one that looked no older than eight, outstretched their arms and desperately tried to grab Jack as he weaved around them. The last one he had passed almost ended in an unhappy ending, as he felt the tight grip of the thing grabbing the sleeve of his T-shirt, forcing Jack's arm to lash back at the fiend, forcing him to drive the bike for a couple of seconds one-handed.

  The short incident had made him temporarily lose control of the bike, it wobbled slightly and it headed towards the crash barrier.

  Only quick thinking from Jack had prevented the episode in ending in a bloody result. He slowed the bike down and turned it to the left, missing the barrier by three yards. He was almost stationary before the bike increased its speed once again. The slowing down of the vehicle had given the creatures false hope. They turned and made an awful groaning sound; their decaying mouths open at the thought of warm flesh. Jack sped off, and took a quick look behind him, as the bike growled and taunted them.

  Jesus Christ, they're almost running!

  Jack was pretty confident that outrunning those things would be a task that could be achievable, providing there was obstacles that could prevent them from attacking him. If he ran up a jagged hill or a set of steps, that would halt their progress, as they seemed clumsy and unbalanced. Running away on a flat stretch of road, however, could be a different story altogether.

  They weren't going to win any races, but what they did have was a will never to stop. Jack thought that as a human, eventually you would have to stop to get your breath back, they, on the other hand, would not, and probably had no breath to get back anyway.

  He was sure that they didn't feel the burning sensation people got in their lungs, or pains in the chest, or even tiredness. They would probably continue, robotic like, until something or someone stopped them from achieving their feeding goal.

  He had experienced his first encounter with a large group of them and nearly paid the price. He knew the bike had to go eventually.

  Chapter Thirty Five

  They were reasonably stocked up with supplies that they had in the van, but Pickle told KP to head for the nearest supermarket to stock up even more, as if they left it any longer, most of the food would be off or gone, taken by other desperate looters. There
wasn't much room in the back as it was, but with six mouths to feed the supplies weren't going to last long.

  The group had tried to convince Pickle to stop and check if there were any vacant houses that had been fled, but he was adamant that Stile Cop was their safest bet. It was in the open so they couldn't get trapped, unlike being in a house, and it was high up and in the middle of nowhere, away from populated areas.

  With Pickle opting to go in the back for a change, KP was driving the van and turned to his right to see that passengers, Jamie and Janine, were daydreaming, their eyes staring into nothingness. The trees and shrubs whizzed past their eyes as the van reached forty, and the streetlights, with their long necks, look to be giving them and their vehicle the guard of honour as they progressed along the road.

  As they ventured into Rugeley, they saw a few beings and realised that Pickle's theory was correct, and that staying anywhere residential so early was a recipe for disaster. The people who were trapped in their houses had no choice and had to stay where they were, but the group did have a choice, and the middle of nowhere seemed an appropriate destination.

  KP decided to go the quickest way out of the town and went through Slitting Mill, rather than through Draycott. The van turned left and travelled along the Hednesford Road as if it was re-entering Rugeley the Draycott Park way. All three could see a few of the beings deep into the estate, and small gatherings of the dead were in their dozens around the town. They were roaming together, but why? Were they herding together out of instinct?

  The van turned right onto Stile Cop Road and it was a road KP knew well. It was a road he and his friend used to cycle up on a weekend, when he was a child. When they were children the feeling of relief once they had cycled to get to top of the hill was immense, and once they were at the top, they had three options as they came to a crossroad.

  Option one was to turn left and head into Brereton—Rugeley's neighbouring town. Option two was to go straight on and ride into a village called Upper Longdon. The third option would be to turn right, cycle for another mile and enter another small town called Hazelslade. Very rarely, a fourth option would be introduced. That fourth option would be to turn around and head back down Stile Cop Road. Any cyclist going down that hill could pick up a speed of twenty, easily.

  As they bypassed the garden of death and its headstones—Stile Cop Cemetery—they looked to their left to see the condensed woods. KP looked at the digital clock fitted into the van's dashboard. It was nearly 11am.

  KP's daydream of yesteryear came to an abrupt end when he heard a scream.

  "Watch out!" Janine shrieked.

  KP saw a figure for no more than a second that stumbled out into the middle of the road. The face was covered in blood, and its left hand was holding onto its left knee. KP's right foot applied more pressure on the gas pedal and the figure in the middle of the road was hit instantly. The van and the people inside it jumped up as the wheels of the heavy vehicle went over the body.

  "Was that one of them?" Jamie said, his voice raised and filled with concern.

  "Absolutely," KP answered, but he was unsure.

  They turned left as they drove by the beauty spot where they were going to park up after their visit to the supermarket, and Jamie saw that there was a family there already. KP then made the short drive to the supermarket and almost collided with a green BMW motorbike on the way. The supermarket was situated on Power Station Road, and they had taken the long way around, but KP was under instruction by Pickle that they should drive the circumference of the town, rather than through it, in case they attracted unwanted attention from afar.

  The drive lasted another seven minutes, when at last, they reached their destination.

  "Well, here we are," KP announced. "Let's get as much food as we can, providing the place hasn't been looted already."

  Jamie jumped out of the van into the car park of the twenty-four hour supermarket, and saw that the place had a few cars in it. He scratched his short brown hair and sighed hard. How did it come to this?

  "Do you think there's anyone inside?" Janine probed.

  "Dunno." Jamie shrugged his shoulders. "There're cars here. Why would people leave without their cars?"

  Janine tried to quickly scan the car park as Jamie opened up the back to let out Pickle, Laz and Grass. She estimated that at least twenty cars were in the car park, and she was hoping they all belonged to staff that were hiding in the offices.

  "Right, guys," Pickle announced. "Guns ready. Remember what I showed yer."

  He then pointed at Grass and Laz. "You two grab a trolley. We're all going."

  In a loose four-two formation, the four being the gunmen and the two being Laz and Grass with their trolleys in front, they entered the place through the main entrance of the automatic slider doors.

  On the first floor was the food section; there were thirty aisles where customers paid for their items. To the right, was an escalator, where a huge range of clothes were normally sold. Four of them held Browning pistols, and Pickle's shotgun was strapped loosely on his back with a homemade strap that was made from a belt that he borrowed off Janine when they were in the Wolseley Arms pub.

  "Once we get some food, I'm going up there," Jamie snorted, and pointed towards the escalator leading to the first floor clothes section. "Can't wait to get out of this uniform."

  "First things first," Pickle cackled.

  "Get plenty of fruit." Janine turned to Laz, who now had a smouldering cigarette hanging out from the corner of his mouth. Laz looked at Janine; he could see her physically shaking, holding the pistol. She'll be no good to anyone, he thought.

  "Not too much fruit," KP snapped. "Be lucky if the fruit lasts a day, look at those bananas, they're almost black."

  Janine felt that KP had a good point; the aisles of the place were reasonably well-stocked, and only looked half-empty. The advantage that they had was that the supermarket was a mile away from civilization, so it was hardly walking distance for the average human, and even less so because of what was happening.

  The place was built purposely near an industrial estate to attract, not just the residents of Rugeley, but people from afar like Armitage, Brereton and other small towns.

  They shuffled together in a loose oval shape and KP turned to Pickle and looked at the way the group was slowly moving, and said, "Do you think this is absolutely necessary?"

  Pickle smirked thinly and shook his head. "Probably not. We'll probably get things done a lot quicker if we split up."

  "Why don't you guys take a look around?" Jamie suggested to KP and Pickle. "Janine and I will stay with Laz and Grass."

  "Good idea." KP winked at Jamie and didn't need to be persuaded to stay. He walked off on his own and disappeared behind an aisle.

  Pickle took a bottle of apple juice and opened the bottle, and turned to the group. "KP has left the back o' the van open, so once yer loaded the van, meet us at the bottom of the escalator for those of yer who want fresh clothes. For those who don't, yer can stay by the van. Who wants fresh clothes?"

  All four put their hands up. Pickle grinned. "Okay, see yer all in about half an hour then." Pickle walked on and left the four to their own devices.

  "What next?" Jamie announced, and looked over to Laz.

  "Erm...some of those already cooked chickens!" Laz said with excitement. "They smell nice."

  After finishing their shopping trip, they then loaded the already-opened van. The four returned back to the barren supermarket, headed for the escalator and saw KP appear at the top, his Browning tucked into the front of his trousers. He was now wearing blue chinos and a black dressy shirt with a collar. Pickle appeared dressed in camouflage gear. He wore combat trousers and a round-neck-shirt to match.

  Jamie sniggered to himself, and made a joke with Grass and Laz that Pickle thought he was Rambo.

  "It's all clear," Pickle shouted down.

  The rest of the group responded by running up the defunct escalator, excited about their new ch
ange of clothes. The place was half the size of the supermarket's ground floor; the other half appeared to be offices, staff rooms and canteens.

  The clothes section was like a maze and the clothes racks were at six feet in height, so most of the group couldn't see over. The group had excitedly split up and were spread out among the first floor. Janine had already a handful of clothes and was heading towards the changing area.

  Laz walked away from the group and walked along the balcony that looked onto the ground floor. He walked by the toilets and staff room, and headed towards the offices.

  "Where're you going?" Grass shouted after Laz.

  "Gonna see if any of these phones are working in these offices."

  Grass immediately followed Laz, and didn't want to waste the opportunity to phone his mum and dad.

  Laz tried the door and was pleased to find it was open. He stepped into the offices and began checking the phones. Grass had decided to take a different route and went into the toilet to drain his bladder.

  Once the twenty-year-old had finished, he washed his hands and exited out of the area. He was now on the balcony looking over the ground floor, and to his right he could see the clothes section from afar. To his left, he could see through the windows of the offices, and saw Laz frantically checking the phones. From what he could see of Laz's body language, it didn't look good.

  Grass walked on and could smell the unmistakable aroma of ground coffee coming from the staff room, but there was something else he could smell mixed in with the aroma of coffee: The smell of rotten meat.

  Maybe I've got time to make a fresh pot.

  With zero hesitancy, he tried the door, and as it opened he was suddenly engulfed by an accumulation of bodies and the awful odour of death and groaning.

  The momentum of their strength forced Grass to scream out and he almost went over the balcony. The dozen or so creatures spilled out of the room and grabbed and tore at him as he desperately tried to flee. He felt the first bite sink into his neck and he let out a terrifying, blood-curdling scream that attracted the attention of the rest of his group, including a horrified Laz.