Hector strolled down the road, heading back to the farm, back home, and waved as his rotund mother stepped outside from the farmhouse. She waved back and as he approached her she asked him how he had got on.
“Dad's right,” Hector said. “The gate's gonna need a new lock. Better get one soon. It won't stop trespassers, but it'll stop the dead from walking in.”
“I hope you're right.” She cuddled up to her son and rubbed his arm. “You want some soup?”
Hector nodded and had a question of his own. “Is dad still out hunting?”
“Yeah. He should be back soon.” She began to laugh and said, “Let's hope he comes back with something substantial.”
“We still have supplies in the barn.”
“And how long is that gonna last?” She smiled at her son and rubbed his head. He was still her baby boy, no matter what age he was.
“Do you think we'll have to leave one day? Go somewhere where there's more supplies? Maybe a camp or something?”
“Not this again.” His mother shook her head. “This is my home. I'm not going anywhere.”
“But mum...”
“No buts. I've said to you time and time again. I'm going to die here.” She then began to chuckle and gave him a playful nudge with her elbow. “Let's just hope it's not too soon.”
“Me and dad went out everyday for supplies in the first weeks and then we had to kill all our livestock—”
“And your point being?”
“We'll have to move, if we start running out of food. Those boys aren't gonna last us long, are they?”
“Speaking of which.” His mum disappeared into the farmhouse and came out a few minutes later with a large bowl of soup and a spoon.
“You're not wasting your good soup on those two, are you?” Hector began to laugh.
“Need to keep their strength up. They're no good to us malnourished, are they?”
Hector followed his mum to the barn and he pulled out a set of keys, unlocking the padlock. They stepped inside the barn and were greeted by moans and groans. Sitting on the floor of the place were two young men, backs to one another and tied up. The rope was around their stomachs and tied in a knot. A sock was in each of their mouths and Hector pulled them out.
Both men never protested once their tongues were free. There was no point.
They were in the middle of nowhere and the first time they protested, when they were first captured, they were beaten.
Four days ago there were four of them. They had left Nantwich to go somewhere safer and had reached Stafford. After a run-in with a biker gang, they ran away. They then decided to flee Stafford and go to the country.
They went to the farm for temporary sanctuary, but it had turned out to be a grave mistake. Two of their friends had been taken away a couple of days ago and hadn't been seen since. They wondered where they were, but were scared to ask. They had a feeling that their friends weren't around anymore.
“Eat.” Hector's mother crouched down, bowl in one hand, spoon in the other, and fed the two men herself. Once this had been done, she asked if any of them needed the toilet. One of them nodded.
Hector knew what this meant. He sighed and left the barn. He returned a few moments later, holding a shotgun. He nodded over to the man that needed the bathroom and said, “Come on then.”
Hector's mother had untied the men, then pulled out a knife and pressed the blade against the throat of the man that didn't need to relieve himself. He and his friend were used to this now. Hector escorted the other young man outside and watched as he took a piss up a tree.
“That was nice soup,” the man said as he continued to pee. Once he finished, he turned around and smiled at Hector. He had to ask. “When do you think you're gonna let us go?”
“You're not leaving.” Hector decided to tell the man the truth. “Now move your arse.”
The young man lowered his head sadly. Deep down he was scared, but he was also angry. He was angry that he was being ordered about by a fifteen-year-old. Hector smiled as he walked behind his captive, the shotgun pointing at his back, and they both made the slow walk back to the barn.
Hector continued to smile as they made their way back. He was dying to tell his captive what was in the soup, just to get a reaction. Mother insisted that these men needed to be fed and watered like any other normal person until it was time for the men to be butchered, and the hostages vomiting would be detrimental to the Grassington's survival.
Supplies were thin, the father was forced to hunt, and their other two friends had almost been finished.
Some of their meat had been put into the huge bowl of soup that Hector's mother had made. The same soup that the two captives had devoured themselves.
Hector guessed that it would be a few more days before they would have to butcher another captive, but the future still worried him. His mother and his father were adamant that they were not going to leave, and he was unsure if they would let him leave on his own. If they weren't going to leave, then what? Starve?
Maybe they would go into a room and take their own lives. This is what Hector was worried about. He was a minor, so they would make the decision for him. He would be gunned down first, without having a say in the matter, before they turned the gun on themselves.
He tried to put it at the back of his mind. He had weeks, possibly months before that scenario arose. If it did.
Chapter Thirty Three
Both men had had a decent sleep and Craig and Jez were on their way to the house where the family had been murdered. Jez was nervous, but felt he had a responsibility to give the family a burial. It was the least he could do.
The two of them walked up the drive of the place and Jez felt a shudder down his vertebrae.
Craig stopped by the opened main door and turned around to face Jez. “You okay? Getting flashbacks?”
Jez lowered his head shamefully. “Yes. Well, kind of.” Jez shook his head and looked emotional. “Hardy and Skinny Chris went upstairs and I heard screaming coming from a kid. They told me to come upstairs, but I refused and stayed by the door. When they left, I knew they'd killed them. I just knew it.”
“I went in after you lot left.” Craig looked at Jez. He knew he was a good kid, deep down. He only briefly went with this gang because he was desperate. He didn't know what they were.
“And?”
“I warn you now. It's not pretty.”
Hardy told me I had one more chance, then they were going to kill me. Then we saw you on the way back and... It was nothing personal. You were just at the wrong place at the wrong time. They wanted to see if I was capable of killing, if I could be one of them.”
“Well, I've got news for you, buddy. You're not a killer.”
“I know.”
“You're a good kid.”
“Thanks.” Jez rubbed the back of his head. A lump was present and it was going to get a whole lot bigger, but at least the giddiness and headache was going away.
“Come on,” Craig urged Jez to follow him upstairs. “I know there's a shed round the back of the garden. We can break into it and grab a shovel.” Craig began to ascend the stairs. “We'll get the bodies outside first before we dig them a grave.”
“Are we burying them together?”
Craig nodded. “It seems right. We'll start with the boy first.”
Both males were now on the landing and Craig told Jez to follow him into the room.
Jez looked hesitant and didn't know where to start. He covered his shirt over his nose as the smell of death began to torment his sense of smell. He watched as Craig took the arms. Jez grabbed the legs, and they wordlessly lifted the light body of the child. Jez refused to look at the face as they descended down the stairs, and once they were outside they continued to move. Jez waited for Craig to pick a spot, so they could lay the body, and eventually stopped walking. He nodded at Jez, and the pair of them lowered the boy gently on the grass.
Craig could see that Jez was getting upset. “And you wa
nted to hang out with these guys?”
Jez never wanted to hang out with these guys. He just wanted to survive.
Jez was verbally unresponsive and Craig sighed, nodding back to the house. “Well, one down, two to go.”
The dead man was difficult for both to carry and Jez struggled, especially when they reached the stairs. They slid the man down and Jez tried to ignore the stab wounds to the man's stomach and chest. He was placed by his boy outside and both men decided to rest.
After a five-minute breather that consisted of zero conversation, they trudged up the stairs and entered the bedroom for the final time. They tried to ignore the smell of death and the buzzing of the flies, and Craig told Jez to grab the arms of the woman.
Jez never responded. His eyes were mesmerised by her cut throat. How could someone do this? Why would someone do this? Being away from the WOE gang was going to be a blessing, Jez thought.
He wanted to survive, but he wasn't prepared to rape, rob and kill people. What was the point? It had nothing to do with surviving. It was just senseless violence for the sake of it.
“Jez!” Craig yelled.
“What?” Jez looked dazed and moved his eyes away from the body and onto Craig's frame.
“Grab the arms,” said Craig.
Four minutes later, they had managed to remove the female body from the house.
After the bodies had been taken out of their home, Craig and Jez decided to have a two-minute rest. Both sat on the floor and stared up at the white clouds.
“You have anything to drink back at your house?” Jez moaned. “I'm as dry as fuck.”
“Yeah.” Craig nodded. “But first...”
He slowly got to his feet and headed over to the shed in the corner. He looked through the small window, then opened the door. It wasn't locked at all. Craig put it down to living in a decent neighbourhood for this.
He slid the bolt back and opened the door to be greeted by garden utensils, including a pick axe, a fork and two shovels.
He grabbed all four and walked out of the shed, throwing the tools onto the grass. “Right, let's get digging.”
He looked over to see that Jez had his back to him. The youngster was crouching on the floor, shoulders shuddering, and Craig could hear the young man sobbing.
Craig cleared his throat and felt for the youngster. “I'll start without you.”
Chapter Thirty Four
Karen, Vince and Stephen had been given water to drink and had two bowls each of soup with chunky bits of venison. The camp that they had been taken to had over twenty people there. Tents had been erected and two homemade wigwam-style places had been built with logs and branches. Washing lines had been made and there was a brook nearby that was used to collect and filter water and was also used to clean clothes.
It was a simple set-up that they had, but they were hidden, and had been unbothered for weeks. They had no transport, no leader, and all seemed to be welcoming when the three appeared; some were even pleased that new faces had arrived.
One thing that was missing was protection. Karen, Vince and Stephen couldn't see any weapons around and this group's pleasant and gentle mannerisms suggested to Vince, Stephen and Karen that if ever this camp was attacked, they'd struggle to protect themselves even if armed. The only protection that they had at the moment was being hidden from the outside world, but their luck could run out one day.
It was now time for the three of them to leave.
“Are you sure you don't want to stay a little longer?” An elderly woman asked the three of them as they got to their feet, saying their farewells.
“We need to get back, I'm sorry.” Karen gave the elderly woman a hug and wished her good luck.
The young woman that Vince had bumped into when he was relieving himself, Sapphire, told Karen, Vince and Stephen that she would walk them out to the main road. She told them that it was the polite thing to do.
All three trudged through the greenery with Sapphire in front, leading the way, and Stephen Rowley twisted his neck and cleared his throat.
“So ... Sapphire,” he began. “How did you all meet?”
“We have a community hall that we went to,” she began, her back was straight and her nose was slightly in the air. “You know, to pray and stuff. We all met there when we heard the news. It was hardly a surprise.”
“It was hardly a surprise?” Karen was confused by her comment. “Why wasn't it a surprise? I don't get what you're talking about.”
Sapphire smiled. “I meant exactly what I said: It was hardly a surprise.”
“What do you mean?” Vince was unsure of Sapphire's comment. “Are you telling me that you saw this coming?”
Sapphire continued walking and never turned around to face any of the three when she talked. “Kind of.”
“Can you see into the future or something?”
She giggled and repeated herself. “Kind of.”
“I don't get what you mean.”
“You guys ever read the Bible?”
Even though Sapphire couldn't see them, because she was walking in front, they all shook their heads. Vince was the only one to verbally respond.
“No, we haven't,” he said. “We've been a bit busy in the last few months, you know, trying not to get bitten and avoiding people trying to kill us for a bag of nuts, that kind of thing.”
“So, even before the apocalypse,” said Sapphire, “you never read the great book?”
“The Shining?”
Sapphire sighed at Vince's poor attempt at humour and said sharply, “No. You know which one that I mean. The Bible.”
“Not really my cup of tea.” Vince then added, “But we have a friend that is religious. You'd like him. He likes men, an ex-drug baron that had people killed and injured, and spent a lot of time in jail. A true Christian.”
“Not too sure Pickle would be too impressed to hear that explanation about him, chap,” Stephen spoke up and twisted his neck.
“He wouldn't mind,” Vince sighed. “He knows my sense of humour. It's called sarcasm, Steve.”
“Don't call me Steve.” Rowley's round face began to redden. “I don't like it.”
“God, sorry.” Vince revealed a small cheeky smirk. “I forgot.”
“Just ignore him, Stephen,” said Karen. “He goes into these sarcastic moods when he's bored.”
“The Bible had predicted this thousands of years ago,” Sapphire said with a smug grin, almost pleased that the apocalypse was happening. She had been mocked for most of her life about her religious beliefs, but now one of the predictions in the book had come true.
“Is that right?” Vince guffawed, “Give me an example.”
“And the Lord will send a plague on all the nations that fought against Jerusalem,” Sapphire said aloud, taking the other three by surprise. “Their people will become like walking corpses, their flesh rotting away. Their eyes will rot in their sockets, and their tongues will rot in their mouths. On that day they will be terrified, stricken by the Lord with great panic. They will fight their neighbours, hand to hand. Zechariah fourteen twelve.”
Karen looked at Vince as he shook his head.
“Well,” Karen said to him. “You did want an example.”
Sapphire wasn't finished there. “Then there's the passage in Revelations.”
Vince sighed, “Are we nearly there yet?”
Sapphire began. “And the sea gave up the dead which were in it; and death and hell delivered up the dead which were in them; and each person was judged according to their works. And death and hell were cast into the lake of fire. This is the second death.”
“Back in the day, you must have had a right laugh with this community of yours.” Vince wasn't convinced of Sapphire's beliefs.
“Mock away, if it pleases you.” Sapphire released a little chuckle. “What the Bible predicted is now happening.”
Karen spoke up. “I thought this started in a medical centre, in Newcastle?”
“Does it matter,
chap?” Rowley grunted and added further, “However it got here, it's ... well ... it's here, isn't it?”
“Spoken like a true scientist.” Vince smiled and could see Stephen giving him the finger in the corner of his eye.
“Then there's Isaiah, twenty six: Nineteen to twenty,” said Sapphire.
“What's that?” Karen was genuinely interested in what Sapphire had to say. She wasn't religious, but she respected the fact that everyone had different ideas on how the catastrophe had started.
Sapphire began, “But your dead will live; their bodies will rise. Your dew is like the dew of the morning; the earth will give birth to her dead. Go, my people, enter your rooms, and shut the doors behind you; hide yourselves for a little while …until his wrath has passed by.”
Sapphire turned to the side in thought and said aloud, “I can't think of any more. I'm sure there's a few others.”
“Well, I'm sure it'll come back to you.” Vince placed his hands on Sapphire's shoulders, urging her to stop now that they were near the main road. “But this is where we part company.”
Karen shook Sapphire's hand. “Thanks for everything.”
Sapphire smiled and said, “Well, if ever you're passing through...”
“We'll probably keep on walking,” said Vince.
“Vince.” Stephen shook his head in disgust. “Don't be so rude, chap.”
Vince smiled and clapped his hands together. “Anyway, thanks for the soup and the Bible lesson. Time for us lot to Foxtrot Oscar.”
Vince walked the few yards through the trees and then he hit the main road. He was quickly followed by Karen and Stephen. They were all on the road, heading back to Little Haywood, back to Colwyn Place, back home.
Chapter Thirty Five
“Another mile and we should be at the place where they went to get the medical stuff.” Pickle sighed, knowing that finding the three of them was looking grim.
Knowing why Pickle was despondent, Paul said, “They'll be around, somewhere.”
Snatchers Box Set, Vol. 4 [Books 10-12] Page 14
