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

by Shaun Whittington

  Unbothered of the loss of a limb, it continued to walk towards Karen, who was now a little distracted that her new friend was struggling to get free and had the dilemma of another one heading towards her. The thing lashed out with its left hand, and Karen side-kicked it into the stomach. It fell backwards, giving her precious seconds of breathing space, and she went over to the struggling Shaz and struck out at the ghoul that was yards away. It fell to the floor, but Karen had no time to help Shaz get up, as the two remaining beasts quickly moved towards them.

  Shaz struggled to her feet, whereas Karen quickly walked backwards on the road and fell over onto the pavement. Her heels had hit the kerb, and the back of her head had taken a knock. She dropped the machete onto the floor, and she was sprawled out onto her back.

  The back of her head received a little trauma and she could see the disgusting thing getting nearer, and then it fell on top of her. She grabbed the thing by the throat, desperate for its mouth to be away from her flesh, and winced as its smell assaulted her senses. She took a quick second to look at Shaz's predicament, and she seemed to be in a far less dangerous state.

  Shaz was trying to avoid her attacker, but had no weapon, as the embedded cleaver remained in her first victim. It appeared that Shaz was trying to entice the thing away from the other body, so she could have a few seconds to make a run for the cleaver and try and prise it out.

  With her one hand, Karen tried with all her strength to push her assailant away; her right hand was outstretched, feeling for the machete that was frustratingly only a few yards away.

  Because she was holding the thing back with the one hand, she could feel that the Snatcher was winning the battle as she was weakening. She decided to forget about the machete and concentrate more on not getting bit.

  With both hands, she grabbed its neck and pushed it further up. Its mouth opened, and Karen retched when she saw that the thing's mouth was littered with maggots. Some of the things fell out and landed on her shirt, but she tried to not let this affect her, as she had more pressing matters to be concerned about than a few insects. The maggots continued to wriggle excitedly and a couple fell from its left nostril, which told her that its insides were completely infested with the flesh-eating insects.

  Suddenly, from out of nowhere, a whizzing sound could be heard and the head of the thing exploded. Karen quickly threw her head to the side as blood hit her in the face, and the thing became motionless. She moved the ghoul off of her and stood up immediately, brushing off the few maggots that were aching for flesh. She then realised what had happened and rapidly scanned the area of the street, and then tried to look in the windows of the houses belonging to the next road.

  Shaz had finally managed to get the cleaver free while her 'admirer' was still trying to catch her up. But before the exhausted woman had chance to strike, the front of her attacker's skull received trauma from 'bullet number two' that had originally entered the back of its head. It fell to the floor with a slump, and the fall to the concrete increased the damage to its head.

  Both Karen and Shaz were stunned and out of breath.

  They looked at one another, and the two women, who were both sprayed with blood and drenched in sweat, slowly peered around the area that was devoid of human life.

  Shaz then became a little distracted when she saw the maggots pouring out of the mouth and onto the road of Karen's, now defunct, attacker that had received a bullet from a mystery gunman. She pulled a face and asked, "How did that happen?"

  "Insects are attracted to decomposition," Karen explained robotically, not even eyeing Shaz, and proceeded to look around to see where those damn bullets had come from. "Flies will lay eggs in skin openings and in entrances to the body; nose, ears and mouth. Maggots will hatch and start eating the decomposing flesh. But forget about that. My question is: Where the fuck did those bullets come from?"

  "I don't know."

  Shaz tried to look at every window—not just the windows in the street they were standing in, but the windows that belonged to houses in other streets, behind. "Are we being watched?"

  Karen Bradley shook her head. She was unsure. "Possibly; but whoever shot those things must be friendly and no danger to us, otherwise we'd both be dead by now."

  Shaz put the cleaver into her belt and squatted to the floor in the middle of the carnage of the bodies they had just killed, and the bodies from the day before that Karen and Pickle had executed. "This place stinks."

  Karen was trying to get her breath back. Once she had given up scanning for the shooter and was reasonably sure his or her action was in the girls' best interests, she looked around at the fresh carnage that had taken place, and wasn't impressed with their 'work'. "For fuck's sake. Five of them, and we needed help with that."

  "We were tired before we came down," was Shaz's defensive response.

  Karen's facial expression was in agreement with Shaz's comment. "Maybe I should have waited till the morning. Don't tell Pickle. I don't want him knowing about this." Karen giggled, "I'll never live it down."

  "I think we should go."

  "I think that's a great idea."

  An exhausted Karen threw the bag of clothes over her shoulder, Shaz did the same, and both girls strolled their way out of the street and onto the football field. They both looked up at the hill that they had to climb, and both released false laughter, knowing that the cabin was going to be a bitch to get to.

  Karen kept on repeating, 'I should've waited till the morning', over and over again, as if she was punishing herself for making the spontaneous decision to go and get clothing.

  "Look on the bright side," Shaz tried to appease. "We'll sleep like babies tonight."

  "That's for sure," Karen responded; but she wasn't sure.

  Karen's mind wandered; it plagued her psyche that she didn't know who the shooter was. She never actually heard the gunshots and wondered if the shooter had had a silencer attached to his/her rifle, or maybe they just couldn't hear the shot over the yelling and groans coming from both the women and the ghouls combined.

  Whether the gun had a silencer or not, who was the shooter? Ex-army? A soldier that had escaped and fled his position? Or just a random psychopath with an arsenal of weapons and was now finally putting them to some good use?

  She had no idea, and knew that, exhaustion or not, this was going to mentally torture her when she finally settled down to get some shuteye.

  Chapter Fifty Four

  The smashed and crumpled vehicles had been stationary for the last half an hour, and the Vauxhall Corsa was smoking at the front. The man inside was unconscious, moaning a little, but the dashboard had been pushed and crushed so much, due to the impact, that a lot of debris had been inserted into his stomach and chest. The man was losing blood and was minutes away from death.

  The other man, Jack Slade, wasn't wearing a seatbelt when the impact occurred. He had minor whiplash and had hit his head on the dashboard when the Corsa ploughed into the side of the black jeep. He had been unconscious, but was finally coming around.

  For a moment, Jack thought he was waking up in his own bed. He looked around the inside off the jeep; his eyes then saw the state of the Vauxhall Corsa, and had noticed that both cars were sitting in the middle of the crossroads. To the right of him was Stile Cop beauty spot, Hazelslade was straight on, and the road to the left led to Longdon.

  He then realised what had happened.

  He realised that he wasn't at home anymore, and he was probably never going to see his home again. He understood that Thomas was deceased, and that the world had turned into an apocalyptic place.

  His realisation had depressed him, but before he had any more time to dwell on this and burst into tears, a mixture of hideous and familiar moans and groans could be heard to the left of him.

  A small group of the dead could be seen coming down the Longdon Road, the road to the left, and they clumsily progressed towards the two cars. Jack struggled to get out. He was beginning to think he was cursed eve
ry time he got behind the wheel of a vehicle.

  When the outbreak first happened, he set off from Glasgow to Rugeley on the M6 and ended up crashing his Vauxhall Meriva when it got a flat. A jeep he was driving from the supermarket, after Gary's death, had been driven into a ditch when he was somewhat distracted by a set of ghouls. And now this!

  The sight of the gang of the dead had given him a shot in the arm, and he suddenly perked up and began to try the doors of his vehicle. Neither one was budging, and he had no idea if this was due to the damage the vehicle had taken, or it was some kind of mechanical failure.

  He then realised he had locked both doors once he had left the factory, just in case. He unlocked them both and tried the driver's side again. It still wasn't budging, and this time he was convinced that it was damage to the door that was causing this nefarious inconvenience.

  He saw two of them go around the back of the Corsa, but the remaining seven surrounded his jeep. He tried to start the car but nothing occurred. It had died on him. He looked above him and could see the sunroof. It seemed the only way: Break through the sunroof; get on top of the jeep, and hopefully jump off without breaking his legs and being grabbed and ripped apart by these mindless, ravenous freaks, but he was too sore to move properly.

  As they reached the jeep and began peering and clawing at the thick pane of glass on the driver's side door, Jack stared into the eyes of these things and was certain that the glass in the solid jeep was good enough and strong enough to hold them off. The problem was that they never gave up. It didn't matter how long he stayed in the vehicle, even if he had enough supplies for a week, they'd still be there, waiting for him to come out.

  He had to think of a way to get out alive. But he couldn't think.

  Suddenly, Jack could hear a roar of an engine from behind, but he couldn't twist his sore neck round to see who it was. He jumped in fright when he heard a thunderous blast, followed by the sight of blood and brain matter decorating the outside of the driver's side window.

  What the fuck is going on?

  Jack then heard another blast. He peered out of the window and saw a solitary creature to the left, fall, while most of its head left its body in a bloody violent way that he had seen before. It fell to the floor, practically headless.

  Jack then heard a scuffle, and saw bodies continuing to fall to the left and he recognised the man straight away. He then gaped to the right, through his driver's bloody window, and noticed the blonde ponytail swinging as the female had approached the two creatures that were by the Corsa. She made light work of their demise with her machete and both had taken a blow each, the second ghoul's head had come off completely. He then watched her go over to the decapitated head and rammed the blade of the machete through its skull.

  A month ago this scene would have horrified and repulsed Jack, but now he felt nothing. Although he was happy that his macabre episode had a happy ending, thanks to Vince and Claire, he was baffled how they knew where he was, unless this had been some kind of remarkable coincidence.

  Once the conflict had finished, Vince leaned the shotgun against the car, opened the passenger door and peered in. He began to cackle, "Well, looks like we saved your life, Jackie boy. That's a blowjob you owe me."

  Jack was confused, and began rubbing his sore head. "But how..?"

  "One of my men saw the cars on the way back from a run. Claire had a feeling it could be you."

  Jack was stunned and couldn't find his voice, although his bottom lip moved a little. "Thank you," Jack said wearily, obviously still a little concussed.

  "Don't thank me," Vince sniffed. "It was Claire's idea. I was gonna let you be, considering you seem to think you're too good for us."

  Claire walked over to the jeep and took a look inside. "You okay? How you feeling?"

  Jack smiled. Despite his reservations of staying in the camp, he had a soft spot for Claire. "I think it's just a bit of bruising; neck's a bit sore though."

  Sighed Vince, "Well, you two can play hide the sausage once we're back at the camp. I, for one, don't wanna be hanging about here for a minute longer." Vince's larking around began to cease and his face took on a more serious look. He held out his hand and said to Jack, "You're coming back with us. No arguments."

  Jack nodded in agreement, and was beginning to feel like an idiot for leaving in the first place. He had been out on the road for under an hour, and already he had got himself into a life-threatening scenario that he was lucky to be leaving in one piece.

  "What about him?" Claire pointed over to the dying man in the Vauxhall Corsa; he was crushed by the inside of his car, and wasn't far away from death itself.

  Vince sniggered, "He's not coming back with us."

  Claire shook her head at his dark sense of humour and asked, "What are we gonna do with him? We can't just leave him there. The poor man's dying."

  Vince bent down and pulled out a blade from his sock. "I'll take care of him. This is only the second human I've killed, but the guy doesn't deserve to die like this."

  "You can't do that," Claire protested. "That's sick."

  Vince disagreed. "It's not sick. He's already dying. I'm doing him a favour. If you wanna see sick, put your thumb up your arse and one in your mouth, count to five, then switch thumbs. Now that's sick."

  Vince walked away from Claire, smashed the driver's window with the butt of his shotgun and leaned in. The guy was a mess. The dashboard had crushed him, and his abdomen had been pierced and there was blood everywhere. The man looked at Vince with pleading eyes. Vince nodded at the man, took a hold of his blade and drew it across the man's throat, leaving him to bleed out.

  *

  "Where the hell have you two been?" was the first question Wolfgang Kindl threw at an exhausted Karen and Shaz. Wolf could see that they had ran into trouble, the evidence was all over their face and their clothes.

  Karen and Shaz held up their bags and Bradley announced, "Got some clothes. Besides, we thought we'd be back by the time you and Pickle woke up. Wanted to surprise you."

  Shaz slumped to the grass by a fire that Wolf had just started. Karen placed the bag by the side of the cabin and did the same, sitting next to Shaz.

  "Where's Pickle?" asked Karen.

  "I think I heard him just wakening up," Wolf said. He went into the cabin and asked from the kitchen, "You girls hungry?"

  They both replied with a 'yes' and Shaz asked what it was going to be.

  "Gonna use those rolls you found. They're a bit stale, but a chicken breast and some relish should make it taste nice."

  "I'll get up in a minute," Karen called back. "We're exhausted."

  "No problem," Wolf said, feeling more relaxed now they had returned, but was still upset that they had walked off without telling anyone. "You can get the tea on with that stove."

  Once Wolf began buttering the rolls in the kitchen, Shaz and Karen got to their feet and placed a cup in one of the buckets, and used the water in the cup to wash their face and remove any sprays of blood that were there. They both sat back down and Shaz looked over her shoulder to make sure there was nobody eavesdropping. Shaz leaned over to whisper to Karen. "About this sniper. Who on earth could that be?"

  Karen was lost in thought. "Probably some guy who's escaped from the army. He's probably hiding out in one of the houses and saw our predicament, took pity on us, and used two bullets up to help us out." Karen began to snicker, simply because she was finding the 'sniper incident' more bizarre and surreal than the dead in the street trying to eat them. How messed up was that? "Best to keep it to ourselves for now."

  Shaz was about to ask another question, but Karen shushed her as footsteps could be heard coming from the kitchen, followed by the main door opening.

  A weary-looking Pickle exited the cabin and walked onto the garden. He greeted the girls and noticed the bag straight away. "Been shopping, I see." He shook his head in disappointment.

  Changing the subject, and trying to avoid a lecture about going to the street
without him, Karen questioned, "How's the finger?"

  "Still missing."

  Karen almost burst out laughing at the stupidity of her question. "I meant, how are you in general?"

  "I'll live. My nose's sore as hell, and ma torso feels like it's been hit with a couple o' baseball bats."

  "I couldn't imagine how sore that would be," Shaz said, pointing over to his missing finger.

  Pickle smiled and spoke, "I think it's fair to say that it may keep me awake for a few nights. The pain comes in waves; at the moment it hurts like a bastard."

  "Have a look in the bag." Shaz stood up on her aching feet and showed Pickle what was in it.

  Pickle ruffled through the bag with his right hand, and eventually pulled out a pair of blue jeans and a black T-shirt.

  "Ah, black," he spoke with sarcasm. "It seems to be the only colour I wear these days."

  Karen said, "There's plenty of underwear at the bottom of the bag as well."

  Pickle looked at the girls and his face was full of emotion. Karen turned around and peered over her shoulder. "For fuck's sake, Harry Branston, you're not gonna cry, are you?"

  Pickle cleared his throat. "Course not." The topic was quickly changed and Pickle asked Karen, "Any problems back at the street?"

  "No." Karen shook her head and gave Shaz a glance. "No problems at all."

  "This is the last time we go for a while, okay?"

  Karen laughed and began picking at a bit of dry skin on the end of her nose. "We keep on saying that."

  "I'm serious. And I don't want yer going down there on yer own again."

  "I wasn't on my own, I was with Shaz."

  "Yer know what I mean."

  Karen seemed annoyed by Pickle's mollycoddling, and was a little embarrassed with Shaz being present. "Look, you went on your own when I was unwell. Just because I don't have a dick, doesn't mean I can't fight. And you should know that by now."