Ophelia nodded, agreeing with Karen, and was quite willing to go over and remove the dead.
Elza Crowe peered over and also agreed with Karen. “They're quite spaced out. If we all go over, and stay in a tight formation...”
“Bollocks to that.” Stephen Bonser shook his head. “I'm not going over. Why are all the new people fucking insane?”
Nobody could give him an answer.
Pickle looked at the people that were around him, all carrying a weapon of some sort, mainly blades, and realised he had something in his living room that would be ideal for this scenario.
With his spare machete in his belt, he walked back to his house, ignoring the people who yelled and asked where he was going, and returned quickly with the mace in his right hand, resting it on his shoulder. The panicky chatter was still ongoing and Pickle held his left hand up and shushed the group. Some chatter was still going between James Thomson and Stephen Bonser, and they were shushed by Elza.
“Don't fucking shush me, darling,” Thomson spat. “You've only been on this camp for a matter of hours.”
“Pickle's trying to speak,” Elza hissed back. “Shut up.”
“I ain't having no split-arse telling me what to do.”
Ophelia stepped forward, approached James Thomson and raised her chipped and bloodstained bat. James gasped and took a step back, but Elza called Ophelia back, and now the chatter had died down.
“So, what are we gonna do, Pickle?” Terry Braithwaite spoke up.
“Okay,” Pickle began. “This is what's going to happen. We're gonna peer o'er this wall and holler like a bunch o' crazy bastards.”
Stephen Rowley interrupted, “Wait a minute—”
“I 'aven't finished yet.” Pickle stuck his index finger up at Stephen, shushing the man. “Then they should come towards the concrete line o' defence. The wall will be our protection, our shield, if yer like. While those dead fucks are against the wall, tryin' to get at us, we put them down. It's not difficult.”
“That's it?” Bonser scoffed.
“That's it.” Pickle nodded, and could see Bonser laughing to himself and shaking his head at Pickle's 'plan'. “Unless yer would rather go over, possibly get dragged to the floor and see what yer insides look like before yer die?”
Bonser gulped and lowered his head.
Pickle smiled. “Thought not.”
Pickle put the mace on the floor, had his machete ready and walked over to the centre of the wall, about a yard away from it. Karen Bradley copied him, then Vince and a few others, all stood in a line, side by side. The bat and the knife-wielding folk all stood back, a yard from the wall, waiting for the horde to reach them.
“Get ready, guys,” yelled Pickle. “Stay lined up, side by side. And I don't want any one invading another's space.”
“That's how you will get injuries,” said Vince.
“We've all played whac-a-mole, haven't we?” Pickle giggled. He was answered my moans and some yeses. “This'll be the same thing, but a bit bloodier.”
Pickle began to yell and clatter his blade off the wall, and was soon copied by many others.
He turned and could see that twelve residents were by the wall. It was a pathetic turnout considering the whole population of the street, and half of the people at the wall were the 'new people'. It was something that Pickle would have to address with John Lincoln at a later date. Many of them continued to yell and hit their blades off the top of the wall.
The machete holders could now see the dead bastards staggering towards them, towards the wall. The well-dressed dead were in healthy numbers, nearly fifty of them, but Pickle assumed there could be more scattered about in other side streets, in the old part of Little Haywood, in No Man's Land.
Pickle raised his hand, telling the machete holders to stop hitting the wall and stop yelling. There was no need now.
They were coming.
Pickle put his blade back under his belt and grabbed his mace off of the floor. He told the rest of the group to get their weapons ready. The dead nearest the wall were now just yards from the concrete barrier.
“Now what do we do?” Freddie Johnson cackled nervously. “Wait for them to climb over?”
“They can't climb. It's quite simple,” said Pickle. “As soon as yer see the top o' a head, yer damage it, depending what yer carrying. Stabbing, hacking or bludgeoning should do the trick either way. Try not to get any blood in yer eyes.”
They all glared and could now see the tops of the heads of some of the dead from behind the wall. Some of the Colwyn residents gazed at Pickle, wondering what the hell to do. He began to laugh. “Do yer need permission off me to scratch yer balls? Yer see one in front o' yer, yer smack it.”
Machetes and baseball bats rained down and knives stabbed at the tops of the exposed heads. As the group continued to attack anything that approached from behind the wall, blood flew and diseased brain matter scattered. More of the dead staggered to the wall, unaware that their demise was only seconds away.
For minutes, the twelve individuals that were lined up put the relentless ghouls down; some had to peer over and stab at the shorter beasts.
Sometimes the arms of the dead would try and reach over for the people on the other side of the wall, but limbs belonging to the dead would be hacked off by the machete holders like Karen and Vince before the ghouls' demise.
It seemed to take ages, but the exhausted group stopped one by one when the dead eventually stopped coming. Every blade and bat was covered in dark sticky blood and it appeared that every single beast that they had seen scattered on the road was now in a heap, on the other side of the wall.
Pickle looked at the exhausted and sweat-stained group and was proud of them. Yes, the likes of Karen, Vince and Elza were veterans when it came to killing the dead, but the likes of Danny, Freddie and the others that had been hidden from many of the horrors that the new world had to offer, had done their bit as well.
Pickle looked over to see John Lincoln, arms still folded, wearing a proud smile. Pickle raised his arm, telling the people to keep back, and slowly poked his head over the wall. There were none left standing. However, he was pretty sure that there were more. These things had escaped the abbey somehow, and from what he could remember there was a lot more in that abbey that what was lying motionless on the ground.
“Who's knackered?” Vince asked the rest of the people.
Most put their hands up, apart from Karen, Vince, Elza, Ophelia and Stephen Rowley.
“Good.” Pickle nodded. “We need to get rid o' these bodies ... now. Otherwise the place is gonna stink.”
Karen peered over the wall and sighed at the many bodies. “There's too many. There's no way we have the strength to shift them over the wall. Must be at least fifty of them. Have you ever carried a dead body, let alone try and get one over a six foot wall?”
“That's why we're gonna grab the pickup, drive round and dump them in the back o' it.” Pickle smiled. “Then we drive back round to the gate and get them buried in the field.”
“That sounds like a better way.” Karen nodded.
“So how're we gonna do this, chap?” Rowley queried.
“Rowley, Elza and Ophelia ... get yer arses over to the field, grab some shovels and get digging.” Pickle looked at Vince and Karen. “I'll jump in the truck, go around and get the bodies. Yer two jump o'er the wall once I've arrived and help me put them in the back.” Pickle peered over the wall again to estimate how many bodies were lying on the floor. “It might be two journeys. We'll see. By the time we drop them off, we should have a decent size hole waiting for them.” Pickle looked at the tired and frightened faces of the other residents such as Terry Braithwaite, Stephen Bonser, Freddie, Danny and a couple of others, including young Stephanie. “Everybody else ... go. Go and clean yerselves up.”
No one argued and slowly trudged away and went back to their digs.
The back of the pickup was layered with a plastic sheet and Vince and Karen were goin
g to wait by the concrete wall. Once Pickle arrived, they were going to jump over and help throw the bodies in the back of the truck, then Pickle would drive back round to the gate and dump them on the field that was opposite the entrance of Colwyn Place, where Rowley, Ophelia and Elza would be waiting.
Pickle sat in the driver's seat and placed his machete and mace on the passenger's. He fired the engine and slipped the vehicle into first. After he had exited the street, he went by the Wolseley Arms pub and turned right onto the Stafford Road. He slowed the vehicle down and could see another dozen or so shambling away from him, down the main road, all in suits and dresses. Thankfully, he didn't need to drive through them to get by. There was a right turn, a few yards up ahead, and that was where he was going.
He made the turn and went over a hump bridge. He was now entering Little Haywood at the other end. No Man's Land.
The drive through the village was a short affair; he had driven by six Snatchers that were obviously from the abbey because of the way they were dressed, and didn't understand why more wasn't seen. He then remembered the small group of the dead, yards down from the Stafford Road. That must have been the rest from the abbey.
He could see the concrete wall from a distance and his eyes picked up no more dead, so he decided to pull up and remove the six that he had just passed, before removing the bodies that were by the wall.
He casually stepped out of the vehicle and went round to the other side of the truck. He opened the door, unbothered that the six were now heading back in his direction, and took out his mace. He held the weapon up in his right hand, staring at the spikes at the end, then gently rested it on his shoulder, heading over to the six dead.
“Right, let's get this over with.”
He pulled the weapon back as he approached the dead and swung the mace from the side, at head height, putting down three all at once. The remaining three were scattered along the road and Pickle went for the female ghoul in the centre.
He held the weapon with both hands and rammed the front of it into the beast's head. The female came off her feet and flew a few yards backwards. The other two were now getting closer to Pickle, groaning, and with their arms stretched out. He was struggling for breath and waited for the pair of them to get closer. One was behind the other and Pickle decided to put down the one in front first.
He hit the thing at the side of its head. Surprisingly, it remained on its feet and was put down with a second blow. Its head was caved in and bled out as it lay there, stinking up the place.
Pickle turned and gave the final one a smack with his mace. He held the weapon with two hands above his head, and brought it crashing down on the top of its skull. The spikes embedded themselves in; Pickle released the mace and watched as the beast collapsed with the mace still stuck in its head.
He looked around at the damage he had created, panting hard, and decided to sit down on the floor, in the middle of the road.
Pickle lowered his head, now feeling his breath getting back to normal and his heart decreasing its beat. He looked back up and saw the bashed in heads of the six beasts. He sighed, then staggered back to his feet.
He looked at the body of one of the ghouls he had killed and wondered if she was heavy. He decided to pick them up and throw them in the back of the truck. He didn't want to get their diseased blood on him, but he didn't want them to rot in the middle of the road, only yards from where he was staying. If they were going to get rid of the dead by the wall, he may as well get rid of the other six that he had destroyed as well.
He bent down and grabbed the arms of the female ghoul, ready to throw her over his shoulder.
“You wanna hand?” a voice called out from behind him, making Pickle gasp.
Pickle dropped the arms of the Snatcher and turned around, staring at the two males that were stood in front of him. Both men looked like good guys, normal. There wasn't many of them about these days.
Chapter Fifty
“And you are..?” Pickle raised his eyebrows, impatiently waiting for an introduction from the two strangers.
“We're just survivors,” Craig Burns began to explain. “Like yourself. I'm Craig and this is Jez.” Craig Burns pointed at the youngster standing next to him.
Pickle acknowledged both men with a quick single nod, then pointed at his own chest. “Harry. But most people call me Pickle.”
“Pleased to meet you, Pickle.” Jez walked over and shook Branston's hand, then took a few steps back, standing next to Craig once more.
“Say, is that a camp you have over there?” Jez pointed towards the concrete wall where many bodies lay.
Pickle nodded. “It is. That's our place, o'er the wall.” He then looked both men up and down, certain that they were looking for a place to stay. “It's not up to me who stays and who goes. I've only been 'ere a few days maself, yer know.”
“And what are you supposed to do to get in?” Craig asked. He looked at the houses behind the wall.
Pickle cackled and had a look around the area where he was standing, No Man's Land. “There's plenty of houses here to choose from. Take your pick. Everybody has pretty much left.”
“True,” Craig nodded, “but I'm assuming you guys have a little community going, have food, water... That wall was put up for a reason, right?”
“Aye.” Pickle smiled. “Where we're standing now is now named No Man's Land.”
Jez asked, “What does that mean?”
“It means there's fuck all here,” Craig sighed. “No food, water, security. No people to talk to.”
“That's pretty much it,” Pickle began to snicker.
“So how hard is it to get into this community?” Craig was persistent without being pushy and annoying. “How did you get in?”
“It's a long story,” Pickle sighed. “I tell yer what. Why don't yer two give me a hand with these bodies and I'll tell yer. Yer did ask if I wanted a hand earlier, didn't yer?”
Craig nodded with a smile.
“It's the least we can do,” Jez blurted out, “considering it was my fault.”
Pickle cleared his throat and spat to the side of him. “Er ... What?”
“Nice one, dickhead,” Craig muttered, shaking his head.
Jez continued, “We watched your camp take care of the dead from behind the wall. It was very impressive.”
Ignoring Jez's comment, Pickle asked him, “What did yer mean earlier, about it being yer fault?” Pickle screwed his face in confusion. “I don't understand.”
Craig huffed and nudged Jez, “Might as well tell him.”
“It was my fault they were in the street,” Jez began to explain. He chewed his bottom lip as he shook with nerves and added, “We went to an abbey...”
Pickle sighed and folded his arms. “And yer opened the door, after removing the water feature?”
Craig and Jez looked at one another, but only Jez spoke up.
He asked Pickle, “How did you know?”
“Because it was me that put the water feature there, to keep them in.” Pickle rubbed his stubbly chin in thought. He thought that the dead had come from the abbey before, because of the way they were dressed, just like the wedding party they came across the other week. It had now been confirmed.
“Seem as though yer was the cause o' this,” Pickle said light-heartedly, wearing a smile across his features. “Yer can pick up these six bodies yerself, then come with me to the wall.”
Pickle instructed Jez and Craig to throw the six bodies into the back of the pickup. Once that was done, he told them to jump in the front and he drove the very short journey to the wall, where the dozens of bodies lay from the massacre earlier on. Jez and Craig had placed their empty rucksacks by their feet and Craig now had a hold of his hockey stick. They stepped out of the pickup, immediately putting their T-shirts over their noses and hopelessly wafting the annoying flies away from their faces.
Jez and Craig could see three confused faces that were standing behind the wall. Pickle finally stepped out o
f the driver's side and introduced Jez and Craig to the three faces: Karen, Stephen and Vince.
“Guys,” Pickle looked over to his three friends behind the wall. “This is Jez and Craig.” Pickle looked at Stephen and said, “I thought yer were digging with the girls.”
“James is over there, helping out.” Rowley explained. “Thought I'd stay here and give you lot a hand.”
Jez and Craig smiled and nodded at the three faces, and Karen, Stephen and Vince returned the gesture.
Pickle then added, pointing at the wall, “This is Karen, Stephen and Vince.”
“Are you new arrivals?” Karen asked.
Craig smiled at the twenty-three-year-old. It was rare these days to come across any women, let alone a good-looking one like Karen Bradley.
“Erm...” Craig didn't know how to answer her and looked to Pickle.
“We'll have to have a word with Lincoln,” said Pickle. “Anyway, at least we know where these fucks came from.” He nodded at the dead by his feet.
Vince asked, “Where?”
“Unknowingly, these guys released that door at the back of the abbey.” Pickle pointed at the dead from the floor. “That's where they came from.”
“That's what we thought,” said Vince.
“Sorry.” Jez lowered his head.
“He didn't know,” Craig said, and started to investigate the inside of his cheek with his tongue.
Noticing this, Karen asked Craig, “Something wrong with your mouth?”
Craig smiled. “Just an ulcer. I'll live.”
“They're horrible things.” Karen brushed her dark hair behind her ears and added, “I had three in my mouth once.”
“You're a dark horse,” Vince giggled.
“I meant ulcers, prick,” Karen huffed at Kindl. “Anyway,” she turned her attention back to Craig. “We have some bonjela at the house where the medical stuff is kept.”
“Medical stuff?” Craig ran his fingers through his hair and puffed out his lips. “You really do have a decent set-up.”
“Right,” Pickle clapped his hands together and looked at the three behind the wall, “are yer three coming over to load the bodies in the back, or what?”
Snatchers Box Set, Vol. 4 [Books 10-12] Page 22
