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

by Shaun Whittington

  He was convinced that such a vehicle could mow down these things with ease, but he didn't want dents, blood and brain matter all over it so soon. He took his foot off the gas and weaved around the hideous things that desperately tried to claw at the sheet of metal that surrounded the two men inside.

  Jack was doing an exceptional job, until he accidentally hit the dead boy.

  The boy went under the vehicle and both men's backsides jumped up as the wheels went over the body. Although he was already dead, Jack immediately thought of Thomas and tried to shake it off.

  Johnny asked, "Where to now? Lichfield? Burton?"

  "I suppose the best thing to do is lay low. The longer we wait, the more chance, as time passes by, that these things might slowly die off and help could come our way."

  "Isn't that just wishful thinking?"

  "It is wishful thinking," Jack agreed with Johnny, and was in no way angry for his negativity, "but it's all I can think of right now, and I'm not spending another night in the woods, that's for sure."

  "I could imagine the sleep deprivation must have been murder."

  Jack nodded. "Especially when you're on you own, and you've go no one to cover your back."

  "So where to, if you think going back to mine will be too dangerous?"

  "I have one idea. Back to my ex's. That's all I can think of. Depends on how many of those things are there, I suppose. It's not far."

  "And if it's too busy there?"

  Jack shrugged his shoulders. "I dunno."

  That wasn't the answer Johnny was hoping for.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Their journey had been mundane and unproblematic throughout, but now the only thing they had to moan about, apart from the obvious dehydration and hunger, was the stress the hill was putting on their thighs and lower backs. They both eventually got to the top of the large hill, where five hundred yards of flat ground greeted them.

  The wind was predictably boisterous on this reasonably dry day, and Karen pointed over to a cluster of trees where the cabin should be. Their eyes couldn't see it at that moment, but Karen was convinced that behind those trees was an open area where the cabin was.

  Pickle looked around at the view and could see the back of the Pear Tree Estate of Rugeley. The streets seemed reasonably clear and he couldn't understand why. Unless everyone in that area had escaped, or had been slaughtered.

  Granted, his eyes could only clock half a dozen streets, but at the moment he couldn't see any signs of bodies strewn across the roads. There were fires in the distance, but he was hoping that the worst of it had already happened, because if this cabin was a pointless exercise, they were going to have to go to the edge of town to find somewhere to sleep.

  Karen was looking at the same area he was, and spoke up. "Looks fairly clear."

  "True," Pickle said, "and if that shack is still there and clear, we can stay there for as long as we can. The longer away from those things, the more chance we stand o' surviving, providing we get some supplies."

  "What happens if this cabin is empty? No food or nothing?"

  "Then we're gonna have to raid a few houses and bring the food back up here."

  Karen fired another question. "And if the cabin is inhabited?"

  "Then we move on, if they don't give us a bed for a few nights. I'm not gonna harm people to get what I want."

  Karen raised her eyebrows at her companion as if to say: Isn't that what you used to do?

  "Okay." He smiled, realising what he had just said was a little hypocritical. "Back then it was about business. This is about survival. I've never harmed anyone that didn't deserve it."

  "Really?" Karen was unsure. She placed either hand on the side of her head and sat down on the grassy, steep hill. "We are getting desperate now, though."

  Pickle was a little perplexed at what Karen had just said. Was she hinting that the pair of them should be a lot more ruthless? Was it the dehydration talking? Or was she just physically and emotionally exhausted?

  Pickle asked, "So if there's a family in there, are yer quite happy to move them out by force, is that what yer sayin'?"

  "Of course not."

  Pickle motioned with his hand for Karen to get back on her feet. She did as she was told, and wearily followed behind the man she had known for a short time.

  Pickle walked towards the cluster of trees, with Karen following suit. Once they got near to the area, they both stopped, then cautiously walked and came to a six-foot fence with a gate the same size as the surrounding fence that was situated in the middle.

  "I don't remember there being a fence." Karen rubbed her eyes, ready to collapse in a heap and sleep for a day.

  "Who used to live here?" asked Pickle.

  "Some old man. When he died, numerous people bought it and used it as some kind of retreat."

  Pickle rubbed his thin beard in thought, and added, "I suppose it's one o' these places that yer can use to have time for yourself, to pray, and get in touch with nature."

  Karen glared at the man to see if he was being serious or not. "Sounds boring to me."

  Pickle smiled and playfully punched Karen on the arm. "That's because yer a young chick. Yer should be still going to clubs and gettin' drunk."

  "Those days are well and truly over."

  Pickle went to reach for the gate's knob and tried twisting it. It wouldn't open. He used a little force this time and the gate rattled. If need be, Karen was sure that Pickle could smash through the gate, but out of respect for whom or whomever was in there, she never suggested such a thing.

  Impatiently, Karen snapped, "Just look over."

  "Okay."

  Being the same height as the fence, Pickle went on his tip-toes and could see over. The cabin was reasonably large, and in front of it there was a small garden that was dark, as it appeared to be congested with the shadows of the tall trees that surrounded the area that allowed in little sunlight. Twenty yards in front of the house was an old-looking shed to the left side of the garden. Opposite the shed was a tree stump that seemed to be the place that maybe some wood-chopping would take place.

  Pickle could obviously not tell from looking outside, but he guessed that maybe it was one of those recluse cabins that had no electricity, gas or phones. He guessed that the person/people who came here, came to get away from the stress of twenty-first century life, away from technology, and to converse with Mother Nature.

  Without warning Karen in advance, Pickle pulled himself up and threw himself over. From behind the fence he could hear Karen releasing profanities that were about him, and he stayed where he was until seconds later she followed his lead.

  Karen was clearly exhausted, and it looked as if that one climb over the fence had sapped any energy she had left. Once they were in the grounds, they both stood at the end of the garden and looked at the front of the cabin. She then questioned Pickle, "What now?"

  "Knock on the door and introduce ourselves."

  "Simple as that? We're trespassing on their property."

  "Doesn't matter what we do, Karen, they're gonna be startled at first anyway. Let's just hope it's empty."

  They tentatively walked forwards and could see that the windows of the place were in desperate need of a wash. They went past the stump and the dilapidated shed, then Pickle progressed a little further than Karen, and was only yards away from rattling the front door.

  "That's close enough," a voice snarled.

  Pickle and Karen both stopped in their tracks, and gazed at the slightly opened window to their right—the one to their left was shut tightly, and although they couldn't see a face, they could see the double-barrel shotgun pointing at Pickle's midriff.

  Both Karen and Pickle slowly raised their hands in the air without being asked to do so.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Going back to Rugeley and heading for Kerry's house was forcing Jack to re-live some of the events that had happened to him in the first few days when the news of the outbreak was announced. The days
of riding on the lime-green, stolen BMW motorbike seemed like an age ago.

  He drove the jeep carefully as they entered the town of Rugeley. It was a few miles from the factory to the town, and Jack was astounded that there were hardly any incidents on their journey back to the place.

  There were only a few incidents on the two-mile trip. The first one was when Jack and Johnny drove past a village and found scores of the things, wandering aimlessly. A few attacked and clawed at the jeep, but the jeep was too quick and powerful, and they were too slow and weak to cause any damage to the vehicle and the men that were inside it.

  The second incident involved humans. Jack passed a parked van on the side of the road where a male dead body lay, and three men and a woman left a house and got into the van. All he could think of was that the man was the owner of the house and the four people that owned the van, parked up, and killed the man for his food, as well as other items that would be deemed as necessary for survival.

  At first, Jack thought that the van was going to follow them, but thankfully it never happened.

  As soon as they entered Rugeley, they got to the road, Horsefair, and saw at the roundabout that there was a horde of them, all congregating to the left side of the roundabout where a few cars were parked horizontally across the beginning of the road, Sandy Lane. The cars were being used as some kind of barricade, and the Snatchers were trying to get through, knowing that there was something of interest that could be devoured.

  Jack had a quick peep and could see people behind the cars, armed with swords and knives, and it seemed to him that some people were trying to take control of the situation. Sandy Lane was the road that led to Draycott Park, and further on was the end of Rugeley and the beginning of Hednesford Road, which bypassed Stile Cop Road.

  The jeep turned left onto Green Lane, and passed a street called Park View Terrace where Jack lived for a while when he was a young boy. As the jeep got to the top of Green Lane, it turned left and was now on Crabtree Road, Kerry's old road.

  There was just the one dead walker in the street, and Jack made sure that that one ghoul was going to test the jeep's mettle. Back at the factory, despite hitting the boy, he didn't want to run down the small group in case it gave the vehicle unnecessary damage. But now he was at Kerry's and there was just the one of them, Jack wanted to see how the jeep would react hitting an adult's body. They certainly couldn't leave it to roam about. They had no weapons of their own to take it out, and if they entered Kerry's house, it could follow them, which could attract more from afar.

  "Hold on." Jack dropped a gear, and floored the gas pedal.

  Johnny closed his eyes as the jeep made impact. Once he opened them, Jack had stopped the vehicle and had the wipers on, clearing the black gunk off of the windscreen.

  Jack said, "Well, that was relatively painless."

  "Have you a key for this place?" asked Johnny; his hands were shaking and his bottom lip wobbled a little when he spoke.

  Jack shook his head, but didn't answer Johnny verbally. He parked the jeep at the side of the road and jumped out. He looked at the street and could see the end house had been burnt out; whether it was an accident, he had no idea.

  The first time he arrived here from Glasgow, he remembered that he had taken out a pane of glass to get into the house; so getting in would be pretty easy, even easier if the place had been broken into and ransacked by desperados.

  "You told me about your son and your ex," Johnny began, and was reluctant to finish his sentence, but he did. "Isn't this a little weird coming back to this house? There should be plenty of other houses abandoned."

  "I want to be here. You can go whenever you want."

  Johnny shook his head, as they were both now walking down the garden and around the back of the house. Jack noticed the shaking of Johnny's head and asked him what was wrong.

  "Seriously?"

  "Yeah." Jack nodded. "What's up?"

  "You're an ungrateful fucker, Jack Slade."

  "What?" Jack stopped walking and turned to stare at a clearly-upset Johnny.

  "You were nearly dead when I brought you in, and all you've done is bark orders at me; I just feel you're really ungrateful. You drive me all the way to this town, miles away from my own house, and then tell me that I can go if I want. What's your problem?"

  Jack look baffled and had no answer for Johnny. He could see he was upset, but felt that it wasn't necessary to apologise to the man, as he didn't know what he would be apologising to him for.

  "I appreciate you taking me in." Jack looked around and was stroking his thin beard that had been itching the hell out of him over the last few days. "But what do you want me to do? Give you a wank? The factory was eventually gonna be your own tomb; you would have starved to death in there eventually, while hundreds of those fuckers would be gathering outside the place. I've taken you out of that place," Jack then looked and pointed at Kerry's house, "and I'm giving you a bed for the night. I think we're even, don't you?"

  Jack never received a response from Johnny. He continued to look all around him, as he was paranoid that standing where they were and having a conversation, wasn't the best thing to do in an apocalyptic situation where the dangers were everywhere.

  Jack patted Johnny on the shoulder. "Let's go inside."

  The two men went round the back of the house; Jack could see that the pane of glass he had broken, to get inside two weeks ago, was still sitting on the floor in pieces. He raised a sad smile, knowing that Kerry and Thomas were alive back then.

  He let himself in and Johnny followed.

  Jack looked around. It looked exactly the way it was when he came here the other week, and couldn't believe it hadn't been ransacked yet. It would be eventually; he was certain of it.

  Johnny scanned around and asked Jack, "Can I check upstairs?"

  Jack nodded his head and said, "It's clear upstairs, I'm sure of it."

  Johnny smiled and opened the door that led to the stairs, where there was three bedrooms and a bathroom on the first floor.

  "Don't go into the bedroom on the right," Jack spoke out in a sad voice. "That's my son's room. Even I won't be going anywhere near that."

  Johnny released a sympathetic smile and could only imagine the torment that Jack had, and still was, going through. No wonder he was rude and uptight, Johnny thought.

  Jack had told Johnny in a brief summary what he had been through over the last week or so, and Johnny had come to the conclusion that this world was now either going to strengthen him, mentally, or break him. He had no idea where Jack was, as far as his mentality was concerned. Johnny thought that Jack Slade had been moulded into the figure he was now, and was probably a normal bloke before all this shit happened. He was probably a simple guy, with a simple job, and enjoyed a beer and the company of women.

  The new world had stripped down all the perks of the world. Playstations, Facebook and job promotions were now things of the past. Food, drink and shelter were taken for granted in the old world, but were the only targets that people were aiming for now. The days of walking into a supermarket and getting a week of food had disappeared; from now on they were going to be living from hand to mouth.

  Johnny got to the top of the stairs and went into the bathroom. He tried the cold tap of the sink and raised a scowl as nothing came out. He took a damp flannel that was sitting on the side; he then washed his hands and face with a bar of soap and the wet flannel, lowered his head on the ceramic and began to cry.

  From the bottom of the stairs, Jack called out, "Johnny."

  The thin, bald man, who was nearly at the age of fifty, composed himself and called down the stairs, "What is it?"

  "We're gonna need to block this front door off and some of the windows, if we want to sleep easy tonight."

  Johnny took a look in the mirror. He looked hideous. He looked hideous anyway; some people had remarked over the years, since he had lost his hair, that he looked like one of the cannibals in Wes Craven's, The Hills Have Eyes
. He may have looked scary to some folk, but he was one of the biggest cowards on the planet.

  How on earth was he going to last more than a week in this world? He couldn't rely on Jack to carry him; and even if that was the plan, Johnny had a strong notion that if you were slowing Jack Slade down, he would eventually leave you to fend for yourself.

  Jack's voice was heard once again. This time it was a lot louder, angrier, and made Johnny jump. "Johnny, hurry the hell up!"

  "I'll be right down," Johnny responded.

  Chapter Sixteen

  June 25th

  Jade Greatrix and Paul Parker had managed seven hours of broken sleep between them, and were both feeling the effects of dehydration. Jade had drank a few gulps of stream water the evening before and had contracted diarrhoea, but she was unsure whether it was down to the water she had drank, or it was her nerves that were causing her bowels to be so upset. Maybe a mixture of the two.

  Paul had splashed his face by the nearby stream, but refused to drink it, despite that his body was aching to have water. He stood to his feet and stretched his body. Jade looked at him and was concerned for him. They were both tired and thirsty, and Paul seemed to have given up. He was such a different character to the one she had first met in the sports centre.

  Back at the sports centre, he was strong and confident, and despite the fact he was a man that was missing his family, she did find him attractive. Maybe that's what it was! It wasn't just the tiredness and the dehydration that was making him feel so down; he was more than likely pining for his wife and daughter, she thought.

  "You okay?" Jade glared at Paul for some kind of answer. Talking hadn't been his strong point of late.

  He shook his head. "This is hopeless. Living in this," he opened out his arms and looked around the woods, "is hopeless. I've made a decision."