Chapter Twenty Five
Pickle and Karen had returned to the cabin.
Burying Wolf's wife had been exhausting and thirsty work, so they returned to get refreshments before heading to the edge of town for their first trip to get supplies.
It had been nearly an hour since Karen's breakdown, and the digging and burial had been completed in total silence, until Pickle muttered The Lord's Prayer under his breath.
Wolf had made it clear that he didn't want to attend the burial as what he saw tied to the chair wasn't his wife anymore, and even though he strongly believed she had died many days ago, he still didn't have it in him to kill her himself. Sleeping with that thing in the house was impossible for the first few days, so Wolf had to rely on exhaustion to put him to sleep, whether it was in the cabin on a night, or a sneaky hour in the garden.
"You've got plenty of hours of daylight left," Wolf spoke, and handed Karen and Pickle two over-the-shoulder sports bags. "I really appreciate this, you know. I just wish I could come with you. With my aching bones, I struggle to get out of bed on a morning."
"And we appreciate yer putting us up, Wolf," Pickle said and winked at the old man. "We'll get these bags filled, and come back. If it's quiet, we might have time to go for a second stint."
Wolf said, "We'll have a good night. I'll get the fire on, and we'll have a hearty meal. See if you can get some booze. Red wine would be good."
Pickle laughed, "Yer do realise we're not going to the supermarket?"
"Sorry," Wolf chuckled, and glanced over to Karen who was staring into space. "Say, Karen; you okay? You've hardly said a word."
"I'm fine." Karen put the bag over her shoulder and looked around the enclosed garden, then called over to Pickle. "We ready?"
Pickle nodded.
"You sure you don't want the shotgun?" Wolf began scratching at his grey whiskers, and adjusted his straw hat.
"It's too loud," Pickle said. "Anyway, I think we'll be okay with these." He patted the machete that was tucked in his belt to the left of him.
Harry Branston walked towards the garden gate and opened it; Karen followed behind and left Wolf to shut the gate after them. Once the two survivors were out on the hill, in the open air, Pickle took a big breath in, which amused Karen.
"What is it?" he chuckled, and was glad that she was starting to lighten up.
"How can you breathe in like that, and have that face on you like you're happy to be alive?"
"Well, I am happy to be alive. Don't forget, I only left prison two and a half weeks ago, Karen. I'm still getting used to being out in the real world."
"The real world?" she tittered. She pulled out her machete and used it to point at the back of the Pear Tree Estate, where they were heading, and they both looked out and saw smoke smouldering from the area. She then pointed down the hill. The seven Snatchers were still there, not giving up, crawling hopelessly, trying to get to where they thought food might be, but were simply just clawing at dirt. "You mean all this? This real world?"
"Okay." Pickle scratched his head; it was irritating him and it was desperate for some soap. "It's no' quite how I envisaged ma 'ventual freedom when I was inside," he slurred, unusually more than he normally did.
They descended down the hill, gaining on the seven things that were all on their bellies, clawing at the ground as if they were unable to get back onto their feet. They were now ten yards away from the seven bodies and Pickle warned Karen not to get too close.
"I have done this before, you know." She shook her head, but secretly liked the fact he was concerned for her.
"Not with a machete, yer haven't. Just make sure yer squint yer eyes, just in case."
Karen walked over to the one furthest left and walked around it, grabbed its ankles and dragged it away from the other six, so she could kill it without fear of being scratched or bit by the others.
"Good idea, Karen," Pickle said sarcastically. "Handling a diseased-ridden ghoul is a great idea."
"Shurrup," said Karen.
Karen drove the machete into the skull, instead off hacking at it, and was surprised that it didn't require too much effort. Pickle wasn't messing about. He was going for the hacking method, and had killed three already. Each one feeling the huge blade slicing through the skull and killing off the brain, halving their craniums.
Karen dragged number two away from the remaining two that Pickle was about to execute. She stared at the ghoul that was trying to twist round to get at her. It used to be a female, and it looked to be no older than eighteen.
What a waste, she thought.
She allowed the thing to grab her trainer while Pickle was finishing off his fifth and Karen wondered what she had become. Three weeks ago, this scenario would have emptied her stomach, but now she had adapted to this apocalyptic world quite easily.
The female Snatcher was like all the rest: discoloured, milky film over the eyes. This particular one was affecting her, but why? Karen was thinking about her step-sister, Kelly, in Glasgow. Was she one of them now? Is this what she looked like? She was convinced her mother was dead, but had a feeling that Kelly, maybe even her father, could still be kicking about in Scotland's biggest city.
"Ahem." Pickle tried to get Karen's attention, bringing her out of her hypnotic gaze and back to reality. With his bloody machete, Pickle pointed at the creature that had its hands on Karen's feet, trying to pull itself towards her on its belly to get a bite. "Yer want me to get tha'?"
Karen took a step back and looked at Pickle. She then shook her head as if she had just woken from a dream, and pulled the machete back, ready to strike. She brought the weapon down three times, and the damage was so severe that a portion of its head gave way with the severed diseased brain inside it.
She wiped the blade on the grass, and Pickle did the same before putting it back into his belt. With her empty bag nearly slipping off her shoulders, she adjusted it and nodded towards Pickle to see if he was ready to go.
Despite his reservations of touching them, he helped Karen drag the bodies to the side, near the hedge, so they didn't have to see them every time they walked past. Once this was achieved, they went through the large gap in the hedge. They were now on the football field, and only a few hundred yards from the Pear Tree Estate, which was half a mile from Draycott Park where Karen used to live when the world was normal, when she was a nurse, and her fiancé, Gary, was a young lawyer.
As they walked across the football field, Pickle turned to Karen and said, "Oh, by the way. When we get there, I want no stealing off o' families, okay?"
Sarcastically, she saluted Pickle and said, "Yes, Saint Harry."
"I'm serious, Karen. One vacant house alone, should be enough to fill these bags." Pickle watched her for a response, but she never made eye contact. "Yer follow ma lead. Straight in, then straight out. No messin' about."
They were coming to the end of the field, and were now a hundred yards away from the concrete path that led into the estate. Once they were on the path, Pickle drew his machete; Karen did the same.
They were preparing for the unexpected.
Chapter Twenty Six
Both Jack and Johnny ran downstairs and went through the door into Kerry's back garden. As soon as they entered the grounds, they heard the angry voices of men entering his ex's house.
With Jack carrying the crowbar, and Johnny carrying the knife that used to belong to the ginger female assailant that Jack had thrown down the stairs, both men jumped the garden's fence and landed in the next street.
They ran as hard as they could, veered right into an alleyway and turned their sprint into a jog. This continued for another minute until Johnny had got stitch, forcing him to stop running. He doubled over in agony and was focusing on getting his breath back.
In the distance they could see two ghouls with their backs to them, stumbling into someone's driveway. "We better go another way," Johnny said, "before they see us."
Jack shook his head satirically at Johnny.
"And what are they gonna do if they do see us? Run after us?"
"Some do seem to be quicker than others."
"Just relax." Jack looked around the area, seeing if there were any signs of an empty house. His eyes continued scanning the street, but it was difficult to tell if any houses were vacant at all, as most, not all, had their window-curtains closed. The only strong hint that there were people inside was the barricading of the front door, which sometimes could be seen through some doors that had frosted glass, but not all doors had this design and possessed a simple wooden door.
Suddenly, noises of engines could be heard, and Jack and Johnny immediately ran away and hid behind a large bush. Three vehicles pulled up in the street, fifty yards from the two hiding-men, and six men and two women got out, all holding a sharp weapon or a bat each.
Jack had a sneaky peek, and recognised two of the men from before. He couldn't see the woman or the other two males that had invaded Kerry's house, which suggested to Jack that this gang had a healthy number of people involved in their clan.
There were two men in front of the rest of the group, having a heated conversation with one another. The one on the left was dressed in a skip cap and had an Aerosmith T-shirt on. The one on the right looked more slicker. He was wearing jeans, a nice, well-ironed AC/DC T-shirt, and was clean-shaven.
The man in the skip cap spoke with Slick. "Let's just forget 'em. We got plenty of supplies."
Slick shook his head; he was the one that seemed to be in charge of the mob. "No chance. They've got the keys to that jeep, and one of those pricks threw my sister down the fuckin' stairs."
Crouching behind the bush, Johnny shook his head at Jack. "Sister?"
"Oops." Jack reminded Johnny, "To be fair, you're the one that fucked up her leg."
Slick then went round the back of one of the vehicles and opened the boot. The sounds of dogs barking had sent shivers down Jack and Johnny's frame, and Johnny looked at Jack. It was clear from his face he was fearing the worst.
Said Johnny, "I hope that's Yorkshire Terriers that they've got." He then put his head in his hands. Could this day get any worse?
Still looking, Jack could see that on two leashes, Slick had two Pit Bulls, each one with a grey coat. "Er...not quite."
"Fuck this." Johnny ran from the bush, which alerted the dogs. Jack followed suit.
Slick couldn't see that the men had fled from the bush, but knew by the dogs' reaction that something was up. "It must be them!"
Trusting their instinct, he took each one off the leash and watched as they sprinted to the end of the street and turned left down an alleyway. Slick then ordered two guys to follow where they went, if that at all was possible.
Meanwhile, Jack and Johnny ran through alleyway to alleyway, from street to street; but with the pace and the nose of a dog, it was like a fighter pilot trying to avoid a heat-seeking missile.
Johnny was becoming exhausted, and carrying the heavy crowbar wasn't helping Jack's plight either. "We're just gonna have to kill 'em ourselves." Jack looked at the crowbar, then looked at Johnny's knife.
"Fuck that." Johnny wasn't confident at all, and began running again. They both turned into a main street that descended a little and were greeted by nine Snatchers stumbling in the middle of the road.
"We can dodge them!" Jack shouted at Johnny, but Johnny took a look behind him to see the Pit Bulls turning the corner of the street, onto the main road, and hurtling towards them with a vicious speed. Jack looked to his left. "Garage!" was all he bellowed, and they both headed for the nearby garage that was attached to a house.
The dogs weaved and swerved by the dead as they had no intention of harming them, and concentrated on the two men that were now struggling to climb the garage.
Jack threw the bar onto the roof and climbed up with ease on his second attempt, but Johnny was struggling. Jack gave Johnny his hand and tried desperately to pull him up.
"Fuckin' hurry up," Jack shouted, seeing the two Pit Bulls gaining and gaining. "You've got three seconds before they take you down."
Johnny released a cry of anguish, and Jack pulled him up just as the dogs had jumped and gnashed at the man's legs. The canines remained where they were and snarled and barked at the two relieved men who were standing on top of the garage, catching their breath.
With the melee of the escape and the arrival of the dogs, who were still barking furiously at Jack and Johnny, all nine ghouls slowly shambled their way over to the garage. At this point, Johnny nudged Jack. "If we jump off the back of this garage, we should land in the back of that garden, away from those things and those dogs."
"Wait a minute." Jack held out his hand to his friend, trying to catch his breath. "This might be interesting."
Jack looked down from the garage as the dogs gnashed and tried to jump up at the man, desperate to tear his face off. The dogs were still oblivious of the dead that were gaining on them from behind, but the dead were strongly attracted to the noisy animals.
The nine continued to walk towards the dogs and eventually circled around them. At this stage, Jack looked away as the cries and wails from both animals pierced and assaulted his ears, as the nine Snatchers ripped the dogs to bloody shreds.
Johnny looked down and saw that there wasn't much left of the dogs already. Jack then saw two men, belonging to Slick, turn the corner of the street onto the main road. Jack pulled Johnny onto his front on the garage roof, away from view of their eyes.
"Holy fuck!" one of Slick's men yelled.
"Fuckin' shame," the other one laughed.
"But where are the dogs?"
Jack then looked at Johnny with confusion. "What are they talking about?"
It took him a while to realise that the two men, who could see the nine ghouls from afar munching on bloody pieces of meat, thought that they were eating the remains of Jack and Johnny.
"Fuckin' dogs have just bolted," Jack heard one of the men say. "Gavin ain't gonna be pleased."
"I know," the other one spoke. "Let's go back and tell him the news."
Jack assumed that the 'Gavin' that they were talking about was Slick. Nevertheless, they seemed to have got away with it, thanks to a huge slice of luck.
"Let's hope we never see these men again," Johnny snorted.
"Amen to that," was Jack's response, but Jack was unsure whether groups like this were isolated incidents.
If such a brutal gang like this could exist in this part of a small town, how many more could there be? What was it like in cities across the UK? Was this now becoming a normal thing? People getting stabbed in the street in front of their family? Men having dogs set upon them because of retribution and a set of car keys? Seriously?
"Week three," Jack said, and shook his head, wearing a fictitious smile.
"What?" Johnny was now getting to his feet, ready to jump off the garage, into the back garden.
"Week three, and some people are resorting to this already."
"I know." Johnny lowered his head sadly, stood his skinny frame up and ran his fingers over his hairless head. "What's this place gonna be like after three months, let alone three weeks?"
"I dread to think, my friend." Jack also got to his feet. "I dread to think."
Chapter Twenty Seven
As soon as they entered the first street of the estate, Karen and Pickle walked and looked from side-to-side at the houses on either side of them. There were sixteen houses in all, eight on either side, and the first one to the right looked all burnt out. The rest looked to be in decent condition, and some had a few doors that had been left ajar from possible fleeing residents.
The houses that weren't open seemed to be barricaded; living room windows had curtains and blinds closed; some front doors could be seen through the frosted glass and cupboards, and other furniture, had been stacked up against them.
"The few houses with the doors left open," Pickle began, "are the ones we're gonna search."
Karen responded with a single nod and brushed her da
rk hair behind her ears. She followed Pickle into the front garden of one of the places in the street and both went into the house, machetes drawn. The living room was dark from the drawn curtains, which Karen opened, and once it was established that the living room and kitchen was devoid of life, it was time to check upstairs.
"Where're you going?" Karen snapped, seeing her partner heading for the stairs. "Just see what they've got and go."
"I want to make sure the house is empty before we ransack the place. We'll need sheets as well."
They both crept up the stairs to the dim area of the landing. Pickle tried the bedroom on the left, checked it, then returned a minute later, then tried the other two, only to find all three vacant. Judging by the state of the quilts in all bedrooms, it appeared that the family had left in a rush.
Karen clapped her hands together and said, "Now it's safe, we can see if this lot have left anything for us."
"What about the attic?" asked Pickle, looking up to the hatch that was above him.
"What about it?" Karen asked, bewildered.
"There may be people up there."
"So what? We're here for supplies, not people."
Karen ran down the stairs, leaving Pickle on the first floor, and took the bag off of her shoulder. She went into the kitchen and opened the fridge. There wasn't much left, and what was in it, some ham and cheese, had become mouldy since the fridge had stopped working.
She crouched down and opened one of the cupboards that had a food carousel with two levels. On the first level was a packet of croissants and some bread rolls, still in their packet. On the second level was a jar of crunchy peanut butter, ketchup, two tins of tuna, a jar of bolognese sauce, four tins of baked beans and bottle of maple syrup.
She put the lot in her bag.
She opened the cupboard above and took the bleach. She even took the toilet cleaner, some sponges and a bottle of cream to clean baths—she had no idea why. In the glass cupboard, next to the one full of cleansing products, there was a biscuit tin. She opened the tin and saw an assortment of chocolate bars that produced a huge smile across her face. There was Crunchies, Caramels, Snickers, Fudges, and chunky Kit Kats—mint flavour.
Snatchers: Volume One (The Zombie Apocalypse Series Box Set--Books 1-3) Page 70
