Once his bag was bursting, crushing the berries and mushrooms underneath, he took a can of lemonade from the fridge and cracked it open. He took the delicious fizzy liquid down in one and belched softly after finishing the can. He dropped the can to the floor and looked round for anything else. There were still a few chocolate bars that had been left, that he couldn't fit into the bag, so grabbed two and devoured them both in seconds. Satisfied that he had enough supplies to keep him going for a few days, he decided to leave. He stepped back outside, now thinking of the poor family that had been brutally killed in that house in Slitting Mill, and took in a deep breath.
He had a quick scan around and decided to head back, but he was stopped in his tracks when a voice called out, “Hey, you! Stop!”
Craig Burns turned around and saw four men, dressed in jackets, about thirty yards away, walking briskly through the woods, over to him. He knew they were the same group of men that had butchered that family and wondered where they had parked up their bikes. He then saw two bikes, to his left, by a tree.
Craig put his arms behind his back, hiding the carrier bag and hockey stick, and asked innocently, “Anything wrong, guys?”
They never answered. Craig was a stranger. They probably just wanted to know who he was, but he wasn't going to take the risk. If these four could murder an innocent family, what would they do to him? A part of him wanted to stay put. Maybe they would have a chat and be on their way. He had already made a decision when the first man, sporting a grey beard, pulled out a trench knife from his jacket. Craig didn't know these woods, but he had to risk fleeing. And so he did.
“Get him!” a man yelled as Craig headed out of the park area and for the trees.
He avoided the dirt path and went straight into the condensed part of the woods. He panted and could hear the sound of the men following him. He hoped to God that there was no animal traps hidden anywhere.
He had a quick look behind him and could see that the nearest man was gaining on him. He was clearly the fittest of the four, as his three other pals were lagging behind.
With the added weight of the bag and stick in his left hand, Craig wasn't sure if he could outrun his nearest pursuer. The men had left their bikes behind, so surely they weren't going to stray too far away from them, he thought.
He glanced over his shoulder to see they were still running after him, and faced forwards once more.
“Shit. “
He felt the ground beneath his feet give way and dropped the bag and stick as he tumbled down into a large ditch. As he reached the bottom, he picked himself up and could hear feet above him getting louder. The ditch was almost ten feet in depth and even though the hole could be climbed up because of the angle of the decline, Craig knew that he didn't have time to flee these guys. He hoped for a miracle. He hoped that the four men would run by the ditch.
They didn't.
Unlike Craig, they had noticed the ditch and he could hear their running turn into a walk. Chatter and laughter began amongst the men as they approached the hole. Their chatter suggested to Craig that they were relaxed. The four men peered over and looked down on Craig, all wearing smiles, except for the young man.
The guy with the beard turned to the youngest looking of the four and told him, “Initiation time, Jez.”
Jez was a teenager, had blonde hair and looked nervous. He had been picked up by this mob a few days ago, and now it was time to prove if he could be a viable member for the future. He took no part in the killing of the innocent family. He didn't have the stomach for it. This was his last chance.
Jez took a breath out and slowly descended down the ditch, whilst Craig waited at the other end, unsure what to do and what this young Jez kid had planned.
Initiation time?
Craig still had his arms behind his back, hiding the bag and hockey stick. He didn't want his weapon and supplies being taken off him, but he didn't want to lose his life either. If he sorted out Jez, what would the other three do? Were they armed with guns? If they were, then Craig knew he was fucked.
Jez was now at the bottom of the ditch and looked over at Craig. He revealed a nervous thin smile, put his hand in the back of his trousers and pulled out a six inch blade.
Craig gulped. “You don't have to do this?”
“Oh, yes he does,” the bearded man spoke above them, standing at the edge of the ditch, looking down. “He bottled it when we went to a family home. It's time for this kid to man up.”
“I'm sorry.” Jez looked nervous and walked over to Craig, blade in hand. “It's nothing personal.”
Chapter Twenty Seven
Twenty-six-year-old Danny Gosling stepped out of 5 Colwyn Place. Danny wasn't an original resident of the street, and had joined the community a couple of months ago after losing his family to the dead. He lived on his own, for now, and wasn't necessarily enjoying his time at Little Haywood, but was thankful that he was still alive.
Danny looked up at the darkening sky, then peered to his left and could see that David MacDonald had made an appearance. The fourteen-year-old was sitting on the doorstep of number seven, a house he was sharing with Stephen Rowley, and looked over at Danny and flashed him a nervous smile.
David looked like a shy and edgy young boy, and Danny pitied him. It was bad enough losing everyone being a young man, but for a fourteen-year-old...
Danny took the short stroll over to David and said hello.
“Hi.” MacDonald looked at the man that was twelve years his senior and asked, “Any news on Vince, Karen and Stephen?”
“News?” Danny laughed and sat next to David on the doorstep. “They're still not back, if that's what you mean?”
“Oh.” David looked at Danny. He was quite muscular and sporting a full dark beard.
“I had a word with Lincoln earlier. Pickle said that it's nothing to worry about, but if they're not back by tomorrow...”
“They're gonna go out to look for them?” David enquired.
“Maybe. Just glad Freddie made it.”
David sighed and looked around the street, wondering if he was ever going to get used to the place. “I suppose if Freddie hadn't left when he did, according to his story, he could have been attacked.”
“His story?” Danny queried. “Freddie wouldn't have left for no reason. Anyway, Pickle is convinced that they're still alive, and he knows Karen and Vince better than any of us.”
“I suppose.”
Danny could see that David was shaking and pitied the teenager. This new world was enough to push anybody over the edge. “How're you mixing with the locals?”
David smiled and hunched his left shoulder. “I'm not ... really. I don't know anyone. I have no job to do, I...”
“That'll change.” Danny cleared his throat and ran his fingers through his beard. “Let me give you a brief summary of the people of this place, if it's okay with you.”
“Yeah, sure.”
“Okay, let's play a game.” Danny smiled and said to David, “To relieve the boredom, pick a house, any house, and I'll tell you the names of the people that live in there and what I know about them.”
David ran his fingers through his dark hair as he began to think. He was taking his time. At last he spoke. “Number two.”
“Nobody lives at 2 Colwyn Place,” Danny said. “I don't know who used to lived there. I only came here a few months ago myself, and the original residents that are still here don't really mention the past very much. In the cellar of the basement of number two, Lincoln keeps weapons down there, blades and bats mainly, and the house is watched by whoever is on guard at the steel gate.”
David nodded. “What about 1 Colwyn Place?”
“Oh, that's an easy one,” Danny snickered. “That place belongs to Terry Braithwaite. He regularly does guard duty. He lived here before the infection started. His family were attacked when it first kicked off, in the first weekend, and are all buried in his back garden. He beats himself up over it, as he was doing the gardening at the
time, mowing the lawn, so he never heard the screams when his family were attacked.”
“Must have been hard on him.”
“Still is.” Danny looked to his right to have a gander at Terry's place before saying, “To be honest, I think losing his family has made him unstable. He's alright with me, but I don't think Terry is someone I'd like to piss off. Because he's lost everything, I think that makes him kind of dangerous.”
“I'll bear that in mind.” David nodded. “Number twenty?”
“Twenty? Ah, trying to catch me out.” Danny took in a deep breath. “James Thomson and Stephen Bonser stay there. That's really all I know. I don't think any of them were original residents before...”
“Number three?”
“That's an easy one,” Danny began to laugh. “That's where Old Tom lives. He keeps himself to himself, seventy-six years old and his wife, Gladys, died of cancer about ten years ago. He's lived here for most of his life, as far as I know.”
David yawned and rubbed the palms of his hands on his jeans. He was beginning to get tired of this 'game' already and wanted to get his head down. With Rowley away, he was going to be staying on his own tonight, but he felt relaxed about it.
“Next one,” Danny urged young David.
“Erm ... nineteen?”
“19 Colwyn Place. Lynne Smithers and Sandra Roberts stay there. Good looking women. As far as I know, they've always been friends and came here months ago, looking for help. I think they were both students when it kicked off, both twenty-six, and far too old for you, young man,” Danny teased.
“Number seventeen.” David yawned again, this time he didn't even try to hide it.
“Seventeen is now empty. A guy called Brian Marley used to stay there, but he died. Lincoln now uses it for food and water storage. I think that's where they've put the medical stuff that Freddie came back with as well. Under guard, of course.” Danny scratched his head and said further, “I don't know who's supposed to be guarding the stuff in there.”
“I think I saw Ian Ferguson go in earlier,” said David.
Danny could see that David MacDonald was growing bored of this and decided to wrap it up before going to bed for the night. “Let's make the rest of it quick. Obviously, Pickle and Karen stay in number ten. Gareth Broadgate stays with Vince at eleven. We all know that John Lincoln is an original resident. Used to be a manager at Costa Coffee.”
“I didn't know that.”
“Anyway,” Danny sighed, becoming a little tired himself. “Joanne Hammett stays at number four. She was a law student. Her parents were killed in the first week. Not an original Colwyn resident. Brenda, your neighbour, lives at number eight. Nice woman, kind of reminds me of the singer Adele. She's in her forties, used to run a cake shop and is also new to this street.”
“I can't say I've ever seen her.”
“She keeps herself to herself,” responded Danny and added, “Freddie lives at number nine with his mum, another woman you hardly see, and has lived here all his life. Don't know what he used to do back in the old world, I think he was unemployed for a while. Whatever you do, don't tell Freddie to calm down. He hates it.”
“I'll make a note of that.” David stifled a yawn this time and could feel his eyes watering.
“Gail and Paul Smith live at number twelve. Married couple. Quite nice. They're also new residents and both used to own a cafe in Colwich. Beverley and a toddler she had saved from Milford lives in the next one. James Thomson lives in number fifteen—”
“I thought he stayed with Stephen Bonser at number twenty.” David appeared confused.
“So you have been listening,” Danny snickered and patted young David on the back. I think James stays at either house. Let's just say that he and Stephen are close.”
“So they're gay?”
“Well, they haven't announced anything as such...” Danny cleared his throat and said, “Anyway, number sixteen ... brothers Derek and Ian Ferguson stay there. Did you know that they and some others murdered the last Murphy, Jason, after Vince had shot Kevin and the dad?”
David shook his head. He didn't know and he didn't care. He had heard about Vince killing the two Murphys for some kind of revenge attack, and Paul Dickson had accidentally killed the youngest of the Murphys, Lance. He had broken into Paul's house and Paul Dickson hit Lance Murphy with a hammer, sending the young man down the stairs and clattering off of the radiator. He never got back up.
“And the only house I haven't mentioned is where the Danson family live,” said Danny, now scratching under his bottom lip with his top teeth. “Jim Danson and Jennifer Danson have lived here for a while. They have a son called Zac, nice kid. He's nine. And their daughter, Kelly, is seven. So at least you're not the youngest in the street.”
David slowly shook his head from side to side, biting his bottom lip. “I don't think I've ever seen anyone come out of that house.”
“It took them a while to get used to this new world, both kids and parents, but they're a nice family.” Danny looked at David and gave him a playful soft punch on his arm. “I'm turning in. I'll see you tomorrow. I know you're only fourteen, but maybe Lincoln will give you something to do.”
“I hope so.”
Chapter Twenty Eight
The day was beginning to dim and all three knew that getting to Haywood before it became dark was looking bleak. Stephen Rowley, Vincent Kindl and Karen Bradley were a couple of miles from Haywood, but darkness wasn't far away and when darkness arrived, more danger from the dead and the living came with it.
A vehicle could be heard up ahead, and this made the three of them leave the main road and go into the woods. Being abandoned and hearing the sound of an engine would normally produce a smile from someone months ago, but now nobody knew if the person or persons in that vehicle were a danger or not, so as a precaution they hid.
Their feet strolled through the woodland for a few seconds, in silence, until Vince stopped walking. He was in front, with Karen and Stephen behind him, and they also stopped.
“What's up?” Karen asked.
“I don't think I can go on anymore,” said Vince. He ran his fingers over his scarred face and sat down with his back against a large sycamore. “I think we should stay here for the night.”
“We have no blankets or food.” Stephen sighed and had a look around where they were. “Do you think this is really necessary, chap? Sleeping in the woods? Can't we go on?”
“We need to continue,” Karen said to Vince, and agreed with Stephen. It seemed madness to stop now. “We have nothing to keep us hydrated, or...”
“It'll be dark soon,” Vince moaned and closed his eyes. “And my legs are hurting like a couple of bastards.”
“Just give it a try.”
They all stopped talking as the engine finally went by them. It sounded like a car.
“Come on, Vince. For me.” Karen urged Vince once more.
Vince opened his eyes and could see Karen putting on a sweet face, pouting out her lips and cocking her head to one side.
“Shit,” sighed Vince. “I swear, if you weren't so cute...” He pulled himself up and winced once he was on his feet. “When we get back to Colwyn Place, I'll be needing at least a handjob for doing this.”
“Done.” Karen smiled, her hands were behind her back and crossing her fingers.
Stephen was standing behind Bradley and scratched at his head. He said, “Karen, why are your fingers crossed?”
She slapped Stephen on the back and told him to shut up.
“I'll lead the way,” she said. “All you two big babies have to do is try and stay on your feet and don't die on me.”
“Babies? I'm fine.” Stephen grunted, twisted his neck and pointed at Vince. “He's the one that's moaning.”
They had managed to get back on the main road for a while until more noises could be heard from a distance, this time coming from behind them.
Karen placed her hands on her hips and shook her head. “At this rate it'll b
e midnight by the time we get back.”
Nobody needed to say anything. All three went back into the woods, deep enough to be well-hidden, and all crouched down and waited for whatever it was to pass. The sound was different this time. They watched through the trees and cussed under their breaths when three men pulled up, a few yards to their left.
“Here will do,” one man said.
Karen, Vince and Stephen could just about see that these men had mopeds. They had parked the bikes up, putting them on their stands, and approached the woods. Karen held her breath and placed her hand on her machete when the three men advanced, but she was relieved when all three guys had approached the woods to simply empty their bladders. Whilst they pissed, they exchanged conversation.
They talked about how they had killed two of the dead. They called them something different to Snatchers, which was what Karen called them. Or Rotters, which was Vince's saying, and Creepers, which was what Stephen called them. They called them DCs, but Karen didn't understand what the D and the C stood for.
Once they had finished urinating, the three men, to Stephen, Vince and Karen's dissatisfaction, decided to stay where they were, sat at the side of the road and began to drink fluids whilst they chatted.
“Fucking great,” Stephen muttered, then sat behind a tree and on the grass with Karen and Vince doing the same.
Said Vince in a whisper, “Maybe getting back tonight was never meant to be.”
Neither Karen or Stephen responded. They closed their eyes and listened to what the men had to say. They talked about another group that they had travelled with and how they weren't too sure about the 'new kid' that they had picked up days ago called Jez, who was now out with some pals of theirs. They talked about certain things that made Karen and Vince sit up and notice. They discussed what had happened to Ina a few days ago, suggesting to Karen and Vince that these guys may have been there when Sheryl was shot in the back of her head, when they were all lying flat on the road. They mentioned Ina and how Drake—a name that had been heard before by Karen and Vince—was furious when he was told that she was hit by the red pickup that the gang had eventually stolen.
Snatchers Box Set, Vol. 4 [Books 10-12] Page 11
