Jack dropped the dripping rock onto the ground, and gaped at the body and the black oily hole where a face use to be. His sickness had only increased once the ordeal was over, and he walked over to the pond to splash his face and wash his hands.
He looked at his hand where it was scraped by bone fragments, and was pleased that the attack hadn't broken his skin, he used some of the pond water to drench his shirt. He wanted to get rid of the oily stuff off his shirt, and cool himself down from the humidity as well.
He sat down and his thoughts raced through his mind of the insane weekend that he had endured thus far, and how close he had come to being killed. He thought about Robbie and having to execute him in his own drive with a cleaver. Even that thought alone, was surreal. He reminisced about the dead bodies outside the police station, being attacked at the service station, the abandoned car, and being grabbed at Slitting Mill, and now being practically ambushed by one of them—although he admitted to himself that if he had been paying attention, he would have spotted the thing through the tall grass a lot earlier.
He looked at the pond and understood that going into water would be a futile and suicidal thing to do if ever a gang of the beings were chasing him. If these things were already dead, then it was impossible for them to drown.
Was nowhere safe?
He understood that in the major cities, the carnage would be even more distressing, and would be swarming with the things. In his small experience so far, he had witnessed hordes of them in some areas, and other areas were relatively quiet. He shook his head. He had to find his son and go somewhere safe soon, as the more he travelled, the more he was likely to be attacked.
Still feeling sick, Jack placed his weary head into his lap and waited for the feeling to pass. The food that he consumed at Kerry's home had managed to stay down, and the only thing Jack released was tears.
The unreal disaster to mankind had begun to hit him hard. He cried for his son, as he didn't know whether he was alive or dead. He was unsure about his other relatives who he had hardly gave a second thought about so far, and for the first time, he wondered about his friends, his work colleagues and even his neighbours.
There was so much going on in the last few days, and with survival being the only goal, his brain never had the time to think about anything else or other people.
He wiped his eyes and made a start to get to his feet; he felt thirsty and could taste in his mouth that his breath wasn't the best. Shit. Smells like a monkey's arse. He had more things to worry about than bad breath.
He headed for the woods, and it was a task he wasn't looking forward to as he mentally prepared himself for the worse case scenario, but he needed to find his son, whatever it took.
Chapter Thirty Eight
The van turned into the beauty spot of Stile Cop; it was the highest point of the area. The men and Janine got out of the van, still shocked from Grass's death, and waved at the Pointer family. The Pointer family waved back, although unsure of their new guests. Pickle walked the short twenty-yard journey towards the Renault Clio and held out his hand.
"Harry Branston," he greeted warmly with a smile. "But people call me, Pickle."
"David." David Pointer shook Pickle's hand. "But most people call me, David."
"At least yer still have yer sense of humour; that's what got our forefathers through the Second World War."
David introduced his family to Pickle, and he returned the favour by introducing the Pointers to his own crew, although Laz remained in the back of the van, as he was feeling unwell.
KP walked over to the edge of the beauty spot. It had a steep decline of bracken and grass and it overlooked the town of Brereton. Further on, he could see Rugeley's power station, and as he turned around to the back of him, he could see the woods.
"Where do they lead?" KP asked David Pointer, referring to the woods. David was taken aback by KP's presence, and stared at the individual for a few seconds making David glare back. "I'm trying to be friendly."
David answered, "The woods lead nowhere really; a farmers field, the cemetery. If you continue by the woods and turn right, you come to the town of Rugeley, and there's a little place called Draycott Park."
KP said, "I know some of the area, but I only lived here for the first ten years of my life."
The two men stood in a bubble of unsettling silence, but both men refused to turn their back on the view, and remained transfixed hypnotically at the miles of land their eyes could register.
David cleared his throat and with KP, he continued to stare out at the view from the edge of the beauty spot, and spoke up. "It's beautiful, isn't it?"
KP nodded the once, and his unimpressed remark was, "It's okay, I suppose. Is that your wife and daughter?" KP nodded over to Davina's direction, she was sitting in the Clio, helping her daughter get fed.
David nodded. "We couldn't think of anywhere else to go. Wanna meet them?"
"And why would I want to do that?" KP felt a little agitated that there was already a family at the beauty spot; the last thing he wanted was more mouths to feed and people who were incapable of defending themselves, but it was a troubling subject he wasn't prepared to bring up, not when there was a little girl involved.
Pickle and Jamie watched KP and David talking to one another and he winked at Janine. "I think this will do for a while."
"We could have stayed in the pub for a few more nights," Janine snorted.
"There was only enough food in that kitchen for another day. And what happens if we were trapped? Where would yer run to?" Pickle looked around the spacious Stile Cop area and took a large breath in. "Up here, we stand a better chance of survival and there's more options to escape, if we really have to."
Pickle walked over to the driver's side of the Renault Clio that was already open, and peered into the car and gave Davina and Isobel a friendly smile. Davina looked at Pickle nervously as he spoke. "I suppose yer wondering why we've turned up in that big ole van?"
Davina never looked at Pickle and made the remark, "You escaped from prison?"
Pickle smacked his lips together and nodded once. "Yes, but we mean no one any harm. We just want to survive like everyone else."
Davina gave her daughter the last spoonful of cold macaroni and cheese; Isobel winced every time she swallowed the cold substance. Davina sighed, "We'll probably be leaving soon, so we won't be in your way."
"There's no need for that." Pickle glared at Davina's short brown hair; she was very attractive, despite that she donned no make-up. It looked like she suffered from sleep deprivation, and her breath was malodorous, probably from the lack of hydration or not cleaning her teeth for a while.
"Everything okay?" David Pointer walked over and Pickle stood up and turned to face the lucky man that was married to Davina.
Pickle looked at the slight man of average height, his dark hair needed a wash. Pickle said, "Listen…David."
David raised his eyebrows.
Continued Pickle, "There's no need for you and yer family to leave. It's bad out there, and it's only gonna get worse. We have plenty o' food, water, we have toilet roll, soap, toothbrushes."
"I could rustle you up a cooked chicken salad right now," Janine interjected with a warm smile. She felt empathy for the frightened family.
David looked over to Davina and they both smiled.
"We were just going to stay here a little while," David tried to explain.
"Well," Pickle said. "I think this place is perfect. We have a van full o' fuel, food and water, and we're at the highest point of the area. We couldn't be any safer."
"We could be in a secure house." David smiled thinly.
"Being in a house, means being in a populated area. And being in a populated area—"
"And we have guns." Jamie pulled out the Browning out from his trouser belt.
Pickle smiled at the family. "But we're not very good with 'em."
Jamie stood next to Pickle and said softly, "We're gonna have to think about ge
tting an itinerary made up; someone needs to keep watch round the clock."
"Good idea." Pickle nodded. "As harsh as it may sound, I think we'll use the van to temporarily block the entrance off. It's not just for those crazies out there; it's also for any more travellers that may want to use this place as a base." Pickle turned to David Pointer. "No offence to you and yer family, David, but I think we have enough mouths to feed now."
David looked over to where KP was standing and looked back at Pickle.
"Don't worry about him," Pickle spoke with assurance. "He's not good with new company, plus, we lost someone only minutes ago and it was horrific to see. But yer probably have seen worse than us. There's one more of us in the back o' the van, but he's a little ill. Stress…probably."
"What do we do when the stuff runs out?" David asked, referring to the supplies Pickle had been speaking about.
Pickle shrugged his shoulders; he didn't have an answer to the question, as he wasn't looking that far forward. He was living his life, from now on, day by day. He could understand why David was so concerned though. He had a daughter; he wanted to see her grow up and live a normal life—whatever normal would mean from now on. Pickle looked over to Jamie for support.
Jamie responded, "We get some more, until the supermarket is cleared."
David asked, "And once it's cleared?"
"We go to another, and another," Jamie smiled with confidence, but was becoming a little agitated with David's realistic concern.
"And when the fuel dries up? And the shops are empty?"
Pickle laughed and patted David on his back due to his lack of optimism. "Then we get ourselves some crossbows or make some bow and arrows and start hunting deer, like we used to when we were young boys. Don't worry about tomorrow, live for today. Take each day as it comes if yer can. Today we're still alive and have food, there're others out there who are in a worse situation than we're in right now."
"Anyway." It was Jamie's turn to speak. "It'll probably be over by then."
"Probably," was the negative response from David Pointer. He didn't have the optimism that the new people shared, but was glad of the extra food and felt even better when he saw them carrying weapons. Not only did his family have food now, but there was security as well.
Half of Pickle's body went into the Clio, and as he reached over to the opened glove compartment, he pulled out a mobile that he had spotted.
Davina was affronted by Pickle's cheek, but this was a man who had a crew carrying guns with a van full of food. He wasn't somebody she should upset; she needed to keep Pickle sweet for the sake of her daughter.
Pickle looked at the phone. "Could yer get a signal up here?"
"Sometimes," Davina answered. "Trouble is, it drains the battery."
"Tell me about it. It's flat." He placed it back into the glove compartment, and then he joked to Jamie. "I take it, Stile Cop doesn't have WiFi."
"Excuse me, Harry," Davina spoke from the back of the car.
"Yes, treacle."
"Do you think me and my daughter could use some shampoo, a toothbrush and some toothpaste if you have any? Don't worry about water, we won't need good drinking water to wash. There's a brook in the woods not far from here."
"Of course yer can."
"Thank you, mister," Isobel spoke at last. "My teeth are beginning to hurt."
Pickle looked perplexed, and Davina explained to him that if ever Isobel forgot to brush her teeth, her teeth would start to ache.
Pickle stared at the little girl; her hair was golden and had the biggest beautiful eyes, like saucers.
"I'll get what you need," Janine spoke, and walked to the back of the van, and then put some products under her arm. She came back and leaned over to Davina. "I have other things available if you need them." Janine winked. Davina shook her head, as she didn't know what Janine was getting at.
Janine sighed comically, "Woman stuff."
"Oh, right." Davina snickered a little. "I'm okay for now, I think I have another two weeks before I need to worry about that."
"Where is this brook?" Pickle quizzed and took out his Browning. "You two are not going in there alone."
"I'll go with them," David insisted. "They're my family."
Pickle laughed and shook his head. "Don't worry, Mr Pointer. I wasn't inside for rape if that's what yer were thinking. I tell you what; all four of us should go. Janine, Jamie and KP can get the barbecue started."
David looked at Pickle with surprise.
Said Pickle, "Oh yeah, we have a barbecue as well." He bent over and playfully squeezed the cheek of Isobel. "We'll get this little one a proper meal, not cold beans or macaroni out o' a can."
Isobel’s face beamed with excitement, even though she had just eaten. "Can I have a beefburger?"
"Yer can have whatever yer want, darling?"
The group of four, being David's family and Pickle, began their small journey into the woods, and Pickle informed KP that they would be fifteen minutes at the most. They walked away from the sandy area where the van and car was parked.
David Pointer turned around before entering the woods and could see KP staring at him. KP wasn't happy that there were more mouths to feed, and David Pointer knew it.
Chapter Thirty Nine
An anxious Gary Jenson crept from his new cell back to his old cell, and began to pig out on a couple of sandwiches. He grabbed a plastic bottle of coke and walked back to his H sixty-seven cell; his eyes were staring at the slider, making sure he wasn't being watched by the two thugs.
It took a while before the mastication process could be finished, as he had put too much bread into his mouth. He tried to speed it up by taking a swig of the coke, which moistened the ball of food, which he then managed to swallow with ease.
He was in two minds again whether to stay or jump the fence. It seemed far more dangerous outside, but at least if his life was in danger, he would have somewhere to run, but now that the entrance slider was open, he didn't seem to have a choice.
He sat down on his bed and flicked the kettle for another drink of coffee. Realising he had left his mug on the ground floor of the wing, he got to his feet and pulled out another cup from his shelf and put the generous spoonful of coffee into the mug with a splash of milk. He turned on the radio and found that the original station where the information had come from, the one that caused the mass panic on the wings, was no longer working.
He fiddled with his radio and managed to find a station, but the language was in French. He turned the dial very slowly and managed to get another reception; this time it sounded like an American station, either that or it was an American host on a British station.
For the first minute, Gary couldn't make out what was being said. Gary didn't know whether it was live or a recording on a loop. The crackle infuriated him a little, but considering where he was, it was a miracle he could get a signal in the first place. He thought about going outside, but the sound of the individual on the radio would only be drowned out by the screams and wails of the prisoners from house block one, demanding and begging to be let out.
He stuck his ear to the speaker of the small radio and realised he had missed the beginning of the programme, and it sounded like the host was interviewing a so-called expert on why the pandemic was happening.
He couldn't make out the remains of the answer, to whatever the last question was, and listened out for the host's next question. The person being grilled was a Professor of Sciences from Edinburgh University.
By listening to the next question, it appeared to Gary that the interview was in its early stages.
Host: "So do we know what caused the virus?"
Professor: "They don't know. The same answer to the question: How was the universe created? Why do we yawn? Does the G spot exist? They don't really know, but are sometimes too arrogant to admit they don't know themselves. But we understand that the first recording of an attack, as such, was the first week in June in the Northern Institute for Cancer Research
, in Newcastle."
Host: "Which countries are affected?"
Professor: "They're guessing that the virus is mainly in the UK, although pockets of the virus has been reported in other countries thanks to aviation, such as France, Germany and New York, as well as Dubai. Everyone from Russia, China, or India are in a state of sheer panic and paranoia. There are reports that China, Russia, Belarus and Poland have already put up borders, but we'll see what happens."
Host: "What about our army?"
Professor: (laughs) "Our army is not even the top ten biggest in the world, which is not great. We have nearly two hundred thousand personnel. Even the army of Thailand, Vietnam, Turkey, Egypt and Brazil are bigger than ours. We also need to take into account that some of them are still overseas, and others may have fled to be with their families. Two hundred thousand army personnel to protect sixty million UK citizens is a tall order."
Host: "Will we get help?"
Professor: "In a word, no. Is anyone giving France or any other countries help? So what makes us so special? Countries are scared of the virus getting into their own land. To be perfectly honest, I think it's going to be hard for the world to contain this, as it's probably already a global threat thanks to aviation."
Host: "What are these creatures called?"
Professor: "There are various terms, and nicknames. The so-called experts basically called them "things" but I've heard all kinds of names in such a short space of time. Ghouls, Deadheads and Snatchers—short for Bodysnatchers. I suppose it's like asking the question, what do you call the USA? Is it the USA? United Stated of America? The United States? America? or North America? Is it Britain? Great Britain? United Kingdom? Or the UK?"
Host: (sighs impatiently) "How are they killed?"
Professor: "If you stab or shoot at them in the body, it won't do a jot. They bleed dark liquid because they're technically dead. It's the brain that keeps them moving. If you penetrate their head and damage the brain, it will cause the same damage as if you attack a human. That's the only part of their body that's still alive."
Snatchers: Volume One (The Zombie Apocalypse Series Box Set--Books 1-3) Page 22
