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

by Shaun Whittington

That was the first and last time Pickle had punished someone by rape, and when the story was told to Karen, she didn't seem too shocked.

  Still on the bed, the two were trying to sleep while wrestling with the horror pictures of the last week that was invading their psyche, which was keeping them awake. "So what do we do tomorrow?" Karen threw the question at Pickle, as if he was in charge of the pair of them. She knew he wasn't asleep, so decided to dilute the silence that devoured the room.

  "Dunno," Pickle sighed. "See if we can survive another day, I suppose."

  "Same old same old then," Karen began to chuckle.

  Although Karen's remark was greeted with a blanket of quiet, she could almost hear Pickle's mind working. He was about to say something, she knew it; she could hear his intake of breath. "I'm sick o' hiding...I'm sick o' fighting." Pickle said with a deflated tone.

  "It's called survival."

  "Yeah? Well I'm tired of it. But I promised I wouldn't feel sorry for myself anymore, so I'll just need to get on with it."

  "Trouble with you," Karen gently mocked, "is that you've had it easy in that prison. With your free accommodation, free gym, free medicine, free—"

  "It weren't that easy."

  Karen could sense that his mood was slightly up due to her mocking tone and decided to continue. "Out in the real world, it was always about survival: Paying bills, wondering if the cuts were gonna affect your job."

  "Yer still had to survive in prison as well."

  Karen half-laughed. "Bullshit! I bet you were top dog in there. I bet you had bitches on tap, queues of men lining up to give you a blow job."

  Pickle began to chortle and half-nudged Karen in the side with his elbow from her ribbing.

  He said, "Yer can be a right bitch sometimes, yer know that?"

  "At least you're laughing again."

  "Right, I'm going to sleep now. Don't disturb me unless one of those deadheads gets in."

  "Didn't you barricade the doors?"

  "Yip, we should be okay anyway. This street is pretty quiet."

  A few minutes of quiet hovered over the pair and they were almost in the land of nod, but their senses were given an adrenaline shot once they heard a slamming noise.

  Karen got out of the bed and went to the window. She could see two men who had broken into the Range Rover, sitting in the front of the family's vehicle, and a nervous looking woman holding a two-year-old infant, waiting for the car to start. It looked like to Karen that they were trying to hotwire the thing. Karen allowed it to happen; so long as the prison van was okay, she wasn't caring. The people looked desperate and she thought that the car might as well be put to some good use. She looked out onto the front garden where the van was backed up, in case they needed to escape via a bedroom window, and sighed. She knew they'd be screwed if that ever was stolen.

  She returned to bed as the vehicle started. Pickle went to get out of bed, but Karen held him back. "It's okay. A desperate family are taking the Range Rover on the drive. Let them have it."

  Pickle never verbally agreed or disagreed, he just grunted, and then went back to lying down. Pickle turned round on his side, his back now facing hers. "Once we get our energy back, we'll move out the family sometime tomorrow before they begin to smell."

  "Defo."

  "Good night, Bradley."

  "Good night, Harry."

  Chapter Thirteen

  June 17th

  Jason Bonser's host had been worth her weight in gold.

  He had decided to stay the night and his host never objected to his stay, although she had a feeling she had no say in the matter despite it being her house. With the calamity that was occurring outside, she thought it would be in her best interests if she decided against standing up to the big man, especially now the land was in a lawless situation.

  He went into the kitchen as she remained on the sofa, and helped himself to some bread, butter, cheese and the last slice of ham from the fridge.

  He switched the kettle on and made himself another coffee. He was planning on getting an early night in the spare room she had mentioned, but had decided to pig out before doing so. After quickly consuming his cheese and ham sandwich, he slurped on his milky coffee and remained standing in the kitchen; he thought about how the world was now.

  As far as he was concerned, the world was a better place for him. Sure, he had no wheels, food would eventually run out, and the threat of death was round every corner, but at least he was free. He had no routine to stick to anymore; he could do anything he wanted. Anything!

  He finished his coffee and decided to use the woman's toilet before having a wash in the sink upstairs. He had noticed in the dark street that there wasn't a single vehicle left. Whether people had decided to flee or the cars were stolen, he didn't know, and realised that his journey on foot was going to be a long one, which was one of the reasons why he stuffed his face. The nearest village was Hazelslade and had decided that that's where he would stay, providing it was safe. Then he would hopefully get himself a car and get to his sister's house to see what had been happening and to see if she was still alive.

  He went upstairs feeling flustered and his heart was galloping; he needed to calm down quickly if ever he was going to sleep that night. After a wash, he helped himself to a pair of grey jogging bottoms, a pair of trainers and a black T-shirt that belonged to Jenny's husband, and was glad to finally be rid of the prison attire.

  He then fell asleep.

  His sleep only lasted seven hours as once he awoke at six am, he realised he had been in such a deep sleep, he was never going to drift back off. Also, an audible noise coming from somewhere was not helping. Dazed and confused, he got up and jogged down the stairs to see if the coast was clear. The living room was still in darkness, and he had a peep in the kitchen. Nothing.

  He scratched his head in bewilderment and then realised the noise was coming from upstairs. He walked back into the living room and took a look at Jenny, his female host, lying motionless on the sofa.

  He walked past the woman he had raped, beaten and strangled to death the previous evening, and began to trudge back upstairs. As he gained towards the landing, his heart began to sink. Before he opened the door he knew what kind of sight was going to greet him. He opened it to reveal a hungry and raucous baby of around six to eight months standing up in his cot, crying. His hair was a chocolate colour, matching his beautiful brown eyes.

  Now it was morning, he was aching to get out and feed.

  The sight of Jason Bonser, instead of the usual presence of his mother, did nothing to calm his crying, in fact, it made him more hysterical if that was at all possible. Jason shook his head. It all made sense now. He remembered Jenny shushing him when he first arrived; she must have just got the baby down to sleep. If he knew the real situation, he would have left Jenny alone, but it was too late now.

  Jason felt a twinge of guilt, but he couldn't let this mess up his plans. He looked at the traumatised baby, and its brown eyes demanded to know what was going on and where was his mummy. Torn in two on what to do, Jason scratched his head and tried to conjure up an idea to make sure both parties were happy, but it was proving difficult. Maybe if the neighbours hear the kid crying for long enough, they'll come round to investigate, break the door down even.

  The future didn't look too bright for the little baby and Jason Bonser certainly didn't want to play daddy while he made his trip to his sister's. What if he had to camp for the night in the woods, and the brat was squawking its head off because there was no formula for him? It'd be like ringing the dinner bell for the dead walkers; he wouldn’t last five minutes out there with a baby in tow. He needed to be on his own. Of course, if Kyle had made it, things would be a lot safer, as at least then the pair of them could take turns in sleeping while one stood guard, because the dead don't sleep.

  Jason was sure that there might be incidents involving these ghouls while he travelled on foot, but was hoping that that situation was going to be rare. It was earl
y in the morning and he was sure he could walk to his sister's by the time nightfall came around again.

  He sighed with genuine guilt eating away at him. "Sorry, kid, you're on your own."

  Jason shut the door and trotted downstairs towards the front entrance. With the hysterical screams of the baby still filtering in his ears despite the shutting of the door, Jason took a glass of water before finally leaving the house. It was early, it was daybreak, and it was time to stop hiding from the world. He took his tyre iron and shut the front door behind him, finally shutting out the noise coming from the hungry infant.

  He left the premises and took a quick glance to either side of him.

  He ran to the house next door and began to hammer at the front door with his fist so he could tell them that there had been an 'accident' with Jenny and they needed to take care of the baby. Nobody answered; in fact, Jason was sure that banging the door only enhanced the residents' consternation, if they were in.

  "Fuck it!" He decided it was time to leave.

  The street was abandoned and he smiled to himself as he headed towards Cannock Chase with hurried steps. Despite the hesitation of leaving the prison, he was now glad that he had done so—even though he was forced into the decision—and was enjoying the freedom thus far. It was good to be out in the countryside; for the last few years, the only outside experience he had was in E wing's exercise yard. He took a deep breath in, and embraced the freedom, as he was aware that he didn't know how long this freedom was going to last, or if he was going to be alive the next week.

  As his steps led him further and further away from the street, and deeper along the main, bendy roads that had condensed woodland on either side, he thought of the baby. If he knew Jenny had a baby, he would never have 'enjoyed' his thrill with her the night before. But what's done is done, he thought.

  He wasn't going back now.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The decision was made; although a few protests by Sean West and Lee Hayward were vocally thrown at Gary, Jack and Paul Parker, they had already come to the conclusion that if the village hall was going to be their home for a while, food supplies and medical supplies had to be stocked up, as although they weren't running short, they shouldn't be complacent.

  With fourteen people in the group, the food supply was going to go down rapidly, and raiding empty houses wasn't going to keep them alive in the long run. Bread was no more, and Jack had informed the group that if they did somehow manage to get hold of some bread, it might be out of date and stale. Paul had told the group that two miles from where they were, was a supermarket on the outskirts of Rugeley.

  Paul Parker asked Sean West and Lee Hayward if they were happy to hunt for food and live from hand to mouth, or munch on mushrooms and berries and drink stream water for the next few months. They responded with a shake of their heads, and Paul responded by saying that they should stop with their protests then. Paul told the group that they should be back soon with carloads of food, unless the supermarket had already been emptied or if it was swarming with the hungry fiends.

  Gary, Jack and Paul took a car, not necessarily their own, and drove in a controlled convoy as Gary and Jack followed Paul who was driving Lee Hayward's Cherokee jeep, although technically it wasn't really Lee's jeep.

  One of the days, they had exchanged stories about their survival and what they went through when the outbreak was made official on the Saturday evening/Sunday morning of that second weekend of June.

  The usual horror stories had been exchanged, with horrific tales of families being infected, attacked, and unable to escape. Sean West and Karen West admitted that they ignored the screams of their neighbour, who was a single mother of two daughters, under the age of ten. When they jumped into their car to escape the event, they reversed the car out of their drive, onto the road, and left the street while their neighbour banged on her bedroom window in desperation for help.

  Lee Hayward's confession was a tale that had probably happened a thousand times over the country. He and his nephew had spent the night drinking and watching the pay-per-view boxing match on cable TV, and passed out. They woke up the Sunday morning to find that the world as they once knew, had changed somewhat. This was confirmed as they put the TV on. At first they thought it was some kind of joke, and their soused state refused to believe the information that they were getting fed with. Then their phones went mental; they made calls; they received texts and surfed the net, including all three of their personal web pages. It was no joke.

  Once they managed to get their bearings and had managed to get over the shock, they peered out into the street and saw three of the things that the TV talked about, stumbling around. They jumped into Lee's car and frantically drove out of Green Lane and decided to head for the countryside. They thought about Colton or Abbots Bromley, but Lee turned right at the Globe Island and headed up to Sandy Lane.

  Once they passed the Pear Tree Estate and got nearer to Draycott Park, they saw a selection of cars parked on peoples' drives. With the street barren, they pulled their own Skoda up and agreed to try the vehicles that were in better condition than their own vehicle. Lee was informed by his nephew that another car was heading towards them. Lee picked up a rock and as they hid behind a bush, he threw the rock at the windscreen of the jeep; the jeep then veered off the road and crashed tamely into a brick wall.

  Before the driver could escape, Lee pulled out a knife and pulled the driver out of her vehicle. She scratched his face and he retaliated by punching the young woman in the stomach. She was left alone, as Lee and his nephew drove off.

  Two days later, Lee's nephew was killed by one of the creatures when they stopped off for petrol. His nephew was in the garage trying to find the switch to start the pumps, when he was grabbed from behind by two of them. A day later, Lee came across the village hall. With the exception of Gary and Jack, he was the last to join the group. It was a story that he was ashamed of, the group could tell by the tone in his voice when he spoke of it, and in return, a few disappointed eyes flashed his way also. But at least he was honest.

  *

  The three cars eventually pulled up at the supermarket. There were a few in the car park, but they assumed that they must have belonged to staff or consumers, who might have fled on foot or were still cooped up inside. Their cars were parked near the entrance and all three men were carrying the wooden homemade spears that Paul had made.

  They were three-foot in length, with a round circumference and sharpened at the end. Paul had joked previously that they would come in handy whenever the time they needed to hunt for animals that existed in the woods. Jack thought that they were only weeks away from that scenario anyway, unless someone could take control of the country; but with no information filtering through, nobody knew what was going on. No one knew if it was a global epidemic, or was simply a UK catastrophe.

  They walked across the car park and noticed at least a dozen bodies, and assumed they were the infected, as a lot of them had no head as if a grenade had been placed in their mouth, or they had been shot in the head by a shotgun.

  "So what do we do now?" Gary asked nobody in particular.

  "Grab a trolley each," Jack answered. "Just use your head and fill the damn thing up, empty it into the car and go back again."

  "What if some of those things are in there?"

  "Then we kill 'em." Paul intervened. "Unless there are loads of them, of course. Then we run."

  They grabbed a trolley each, rested their individual spears on top of the trolley, and casually walked into the establishment as if it was a normal shopping day.

  They scanned the area and put their shirts over their noses as the smell hit them. It was an area Paul knew well. He, Jocelyn and Hannah used to spend their Saturday afternoons at the place. His wife would be by the side of him with her shopping list held out in front of her, and his daughter would sit in the trolley with the baby seat provided, and he would push the trolley.

  A small swelling emerged in his th
roat as he thought about his wife and daughter.

  He had to flee! He had to!

  They weren't there when the beings engulfed his house. At first he thought that they might have ran out into the street or through the back door into the back garden, but there was no sign of them. Standing there and screaming out their names would only have got him bit.

  Although he didn't have a clue what was going on, he could tell by the creatures that something was amiss, and his only concern was for his family. He couldn't believe the strength of them as they surged forward when he made the appearance from his bedroom into the living room; and once they tried to bite him, his strength multiplied and somehow he had managed to fend them off before fleeing.

  Paul could see that the smell was coming from some of the rotting food in certain aisles; he called out to the men that they should concentrate on tinned food. The aisles were only a quarter full, as if many people had been here before them. Jack had almost filled his trolley and reached a staircase that led to the clothes department. He looked around and decided to walk up the stairs to see if there was anything of interest. As he reached the top of the stairs, Paul bellowed from the ground floor. "Food! We can get clothes another day!"

  Jack nodded in agreement and accepted his reprimand, and he turned to go back down the stairs. He looked to his left to see a cluster of bodies slumped together on the first floor as if they had been involved in some kind of massacre; beside them, lay dozens upon dozens of empty handgun shells. He couldn't fathom how this incident had come about. They must have been infected, otherwise, why would someone shoot a group of human beings? For the food? He couldn't tell by the faces if they were initially infected before they were shot, but he assumed that they were, as every one of them received headshots, which was starting to become common knowledge that this was the only way to put these things down.

  He trotted back down the stairs, feeling the nausea develop in the middle of his chest once the images had digested in his brain. He couldn't make up his mind what was worse: the stench coming from the food on the ground floor, or the smell from the bodies on the first floor. He took his trolley and met up with his other two colleagues. "Are we ready to go then?" Paul quizzed.