Snatchers Box Set, Vol. 4 [Books 10-12]

by Whittington, Shaun

  “Jesus, son.” The driver was coughing, almost retching and wound his window. “Have you shat yourself or what?”

  “A little.” Paul nodded.

  “For cunt's sake!” Drake snapped. He then turned to the driver and told him to stop the car.

  The driver brought the car to a halt and the trucks and mopeds that were following behind also stopped. Nobody from behind asked questions about what was happening.

  “Now what?” asked the driver.

  “I'm not having this cunt shitting all over the car,” said Drake. “You two,” he pointed at the two men that Paul was sat inbetween, “get him into the woods and let him shit himself thin. Smelly cunt. I swear, we're better off killing him here and telling them back home that he’s already dead.”

  “You did swear you'd bring him back,” the driver said. “They'd appreciate that, Drake.”

  Drake never responded.

  Paul was taken out of the car and was then ushered into the woods by Bill and John that had been sitting either side of him. They went in ten yards and the two covered their faces because of the smell that was coming from Paul. Bill pointed at a large oak tree and said, “Behind there. Fucking hurry up.”

  “I can't shit with my hands behind my back,” Paul cried out. “At least one of you undo my top button.

  Both men gazed at one another.

  “I'll fucking do it,” said Bill who had been sitting on Paul's left. “But we're not untying you.”

  He walked over and reluctantly undone Paul's button; he then stepped backwards as if he was on fire.

  Paul said, “I can get the rest.”

  Dickson, with his hands still tied, crept behind the tree. Minutes went by and the patience of the two men were being tested.

  Both men took a step backwards, turned around and covered their noses when the unmistakable sound of an individual having chronic diarrhoea could be heard. They winced and squirmed as the sound of loud flatulence came from behind the tree.

  Paul moaned, “Oh God. Have you guys got any toilet roll?”

  “No, we haven't!” Bill yelled. “Fucking hurry up!”

  “But I've caked my jeans. When I go back to the car, I'm still gonna stink.”

  Both men looked at one another and both shook their heads. Paul was going to have to travel half-naked once he was back in the car.

  “What's the fucking hold up?” Drake could be heard yelling from the car.

  “We're just coming!” John shouted. “Waiting for this prick to hurry up.”

  Bill began to anxiously bite his nails, whilst John was drumming his thighs with the palms of his hands.

  Bill was still biting his nails and stopped doing so and huffed, “This is taking too long. I'm gonna see what the hold up is.”

  “I'll come with you,” John said.

  They both turned and watched in horror as Paul was running away. His arms were somehow free and he was already thirty yards away from the men, running through the bracken like Usain Bolt. He was so far away already that the pair of them knew that running after the man was pointless. Three seconds later the woods swallowed him up.

  Bill turned and gasped at his other pal John and said, “I think we're both fucked.”

  *

  “What did yer say to Paul before he left?” Pickle asked Karen. The pair of them were standing near a doorstep, outside of their house.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Yer said somethin’ in his ear and put yer hands in his back pocket.”

  Karen smirked. “You saw that?”

  “O' course. Yer looking at a man that used to pass all kinds o' shit, mainly drugs, to inmates under guard's noses. I saw yer, but I don't think anyone else did, yer sneaky little minx.”

  Karen laughed softly and gave Pickle a glance before lowering her head.

  “What did yer say?” he persisted. “And what did yer put in Paul's pocket when Drake was talking to one of his guys?”

  “Nothing. It doesn't matter now.” Karen had her head lowered and could feel Pickle's stare. “It might not even have come to any use. Poor Paul.”

  Pickle smiled. “What are yer talking about, woman?”

  “It doesn't matter, Pickle.”

  He leaned over and tried to look in Karen's eyes. “Tell me. What ‘ave yer done?”

  “Okay.” Karen moaned and tucked her dark hair behind her ears. “Remember when I went to the house where all the medical supplies are, when Drake was here?”

  Pickle nodded. “O' course. Yer said yer had a migraine.”

  “Well, I didn't.”

  “Karen, yer not making any sense. What did yer go to the medical place for, if yer didn't have a migraine?”

  “To get a few things. Things that could help him.”

  “Help him?”

  Karen shrugged her shoulders.

  “Jesus, it's like getting blood out o' a stone,” Pickle sighed. “Just fuckin' tell me what yer did.”

  “When I hugged Paul I put a suppository in his back pocket.”

  “What?” Pickle scratched his head and was confused why Karen did this. “What for?”

  “Take a guess.”

  “I have no idea, Bradley.” Pickle wasn't in the mood for games. “Just fuckin' tell me, will yer?”

  “I put it in his back pocket and then I whispered in his ear what he should do with it and when he should take it.”

  “So you sneaked him a suppository?” Pickle looked baffled. “So he's gonna shit himself all over the back of Drake's car? What’s the point?”

  “That's right.” Karen nodded. “And I also slipped him a razor blade.”

  “What for?”

  “Originally to attack whoever was guarding him. I could hardly sneak him a knife. Anyway, since they tied him up, it looks like he'll be needing that blade to probably cut himself free.”

  Pickle sighed and lowered his head as he took the information in. “If this comes back on us...”

  “It won't.”

  Chapter Forty Seven

  Vince Kindl walked over to the concrete wall where Stephen Rowley was, and could see that the forty-three-year-old rotund man from number seven was standing on a small stool. His front was against the wall, facing the old part of the street and resting his chin on the top of it.

  Vince crept up behind Rowley and could see that the man was in a world of his own. Vince then crouched down slightly and grabbed Rowley by the waist and cried, “Gotcha!”

  “Jesus, fuck!” Rowley wobbled and nearly fell off the stool. “Vince, you stupid prick. I nearly shat a brick.”

  Vince doubled over with laughter and was clutching onto his stomach. “Your face,” he howled. “You look like you've just walked in on your mum getting banged by the window cleaner.”

  “Not funny, chap.” Stephen stepped off the stool and leaned his back against the wall, trying to get his breath and clutching onto the left side of his chest. “You could have given me a heart attack.”

  “What're you doing anyway?”

  “Nothing.” Stephen shook his head and was too annoyed with Kindl to go into detail. “Just thinking.”

  “Well, don't think too hard, Stephen. Don't want you having an haemorrhage.”

  “I was actually thinking about Paul.” As soon as he mentioned this, Vince lost his smile. “And everyone else that we've lost in the last couple of days. Makes you wonder why we still want to live.”

  “We've all been there.” Vince nodded and knew where Stephen was coming from. “We all get down days. It's part of living in this shitty new world.”

  “This is what it's like for me,” Stephen began. “We're all on death row. It's just a matter of time before we go. It could be tomorrow or it could be next month.”

  “You should tell stories to the Danson kids.”

  “I'm serious, chap. What is the point?”

  “What's the point?” Vince was bemused by Rowley's ramblings. “What do you mean? What's the point in being alive?”

  �
�I don't know, chap.” Stephen began to quiver and Vince could see that Rowley was beginning to get emotional.

  Vince looked around, hoping that there'd be a woman about to take care of the situation. Most men were simply hopeless in these circumstances, and Vince was one of them.

  “There, there.” Vince reluctantly patted Stephen on his lower back and could see Stephanie stepping out of 2 Colwyn Place with her bow in her hand and bag on her back.

  Vince waved her over, and the fourteen-year-old slowly made her way towards Vince and Stephen.

  “Oh look, it's Stephanie,” Vince said.

  Stephen turned around and began to compose himself, wiping his eyes with his hands.

  “Everybody okay?” Stephanie asked.

  “Stephen was just having a wobble,” Vince explained.

  Rowley cleared his throat and said, “I'm okay. Just having a bad hour.”

  “We're all allowed them now and again.” Stephanie smiled. “I get them quite often.”

  Vince then nodded at Stephanie's bow and asked her, “You going out or something?”

  “Was gonna nip out, get some practice in before it gets dark. It'll probably stop me from thinking about Paul.”

  “You want some company? I'm as bored as a fat kid with a bowl of vegetables.”

  “As long as you don't tell me any of your sexist jokes, or any jokes for that matter.”

  “Just trying to keep spirits up. Anyway, they're not that bad.”

  “Vince, you told Karen that women are evil because they can bleed for a week and not die. You also said to Elza a few days ago that the difference between her and a fridge is that a fridge is easier to defrost.”

  “Yeah,” Vince snickered, “and she also said that she was gonna sneak into my house while I slept and cut my balls off. I've been sleeping with the front door barricaded ever since.”

  Stephen stood back on the stool and peered over the wall once more. “Whereabouts were you going to go?” he asked Stephanie.

  She hunched her shoulders. “Just across the road to the field. There're a few trees I can use for practice.”

  “I've got a better idea, chap.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  Stephen jumped off the stool and said, “Two strays at twelve o'clock.”

  Stephanie climbed onto the stool and could see over.

  She could see two of the dead. They were out of range, but it wouldn't be for long. They were shambling down the middle of the road, heading for the wall.

  “I'd be better on ground level,” she said.

  She passed the bow and bag to Vince and told the two men that she was going over, and that they should pass her the bow and bag once she was on the other side.

  “We're coming as well,” said Vince. “I wanna see this up close.”

  Once Stephanie was over and had been given her equipment, Vince climbed over and Rowley followed soon after.

  All three were on the other side of the wall, and Stephen and Vince watched as Stephanie was getting herself ready.

  Rowley leaned over and said to Vince, “Have you seen her in action before, chap?”

  “Weeks ago, when we were down at the canal in Rugeley. It's impressive stuff. She's bloody good.”

  They both watched as Stephanie prepared herself and now had one of the pine arrows on the string of her bow, ready to fire.

  The two dead were getting closer and all could see that both were females, but because of how decomposed their bodies were, it was difficult to determine how old they were when they were once human.

  “Need to wait a few seconds,” said Stephanie, knowing that the two men were wondering why she was taking so long. “A few more yards and then I'll shoot. Look at the woman on the left.”

  They did as they were told as Stephanie raised the arrow, and watched as she released it. It flew in the air, and both men gasped as the pine arrow with the metal point embedded itself into the top of the skull of the Snatcher on the left.

  “Jesus, chap,” Stephen gasped as the creature fell to the floor.

  Vince turned to Stephen and said, “Stephanie has been doing this for years. She had been training for the Commonwealth games.”

  “Right, next one,” she said.

  She pulled out an arrow from the bag that was on the floor, and prepared herself once more. This time she wasted little time and released the arrow.

  Both men watched and narrowed their eyes as the arrow landed in the shoulder of the other creature. This creature was closer than the other, but she had missed the intended target: the head.

  Vince turned to face Stephanie, and was about to make a sarcastic quip for missing her target, but he could see that the fourteen-year-old had tears in her eyes.

  He asked her, “You okay?”

  She shook her head.

  “What's up?”

  She dropped her bow and approached Vincent Kindl and wrapped her arms around him, taking him by surprise.

  Stephen took out a knife from his pocket and headed towards the lone beast, telling the two that he had it.

  The two continued to hug after Rowley had dealt with the remaining creature. They were still hugging when Rowley returned. He grabbed Stephanie's gear and went over the wall, leaving the two of them alone.

  Once Stephanie had stopped crying and had managed to compose herself, she broke away from the embrace and said to Vince, “Since I lost my family, I've met many people.” She cleared her throat and looked up at Vince. Her eyes were watery; her face was red and the stains on her cheeks made Vince quiver with emotion. “I like it here. I know I said that I'd go anywhere with Elza, but I'm not so sure now. She has a nasty streak that sometimes makes me feel uncomfortable. Some days I love her, other days not so much.”

  “I want you to stay here. I like you being here,” was all Vince managed to say before his bottom lip quivered.

  “So do I.” Stephanie nodded. “I know we had a little break from each other, after Sandy Lane and me going off with Elza, but I missed you. We're not related, but I see you as family, Vince. You're like a dad, brother and friend, all rolled into one. I'm so glad I've met you, and you're not as bad as some people make out.”

  Her gag at the end made herself laugh a little, and with her eyes clearing up she could see that Vince was getting emotional.

  “Vince?” Stephanie took a step back and asked, “You're not crying, are you?”

  “Of course not,” he said and cleared his throat, “Vince Kindl doesn't cry.”

  Vince walked away from Stephanie, over to the wall and climbed over. Now in Colwyn, he stood on the stool and offered Stephanie his hand. She took it and climbed over with Vince's help, and the pair of them now had their feet on the ground. She looked over at the lawn of 2 Colwyn Place and could see that Rowley had left her gear there.

  Vince and Stephanie agreed that they were going to turn in.

  “You okay now?” he asked the teenager.

  “I will be.”

  “Losing your family is a lot to lose at your age.”

  “I know.”

  “You should start talking to David MacDonald. He's the same age, and you both have a lot in common.”

  “I've already started to get to know him.”

  “Good.”

  Stephanie leaned in and kissed Vince on the cheek. “Good night, Vince.”

  “Good night.”

  Vince turned and walked away, heading back to his place.

  “Vince?”

  Kindl stopped walking when Stephanie called out his name, but he never turned around. “Yeah?”

  “I love you.”

  He turned around and could see Stephanie was now walking away, going back to 2 Colwyn Place. She picked up her gear off the lawn and headed for the main door.

  “Me too,” he whispered.

  Chapter Forty Eight

  Two of Drake's men, Bill and John, who had walked with Paul into the woods had returned. Drake and his driver stepped out of the car when they could see that Paul wasn't
with them. The body language from Bill and John said it all. They dragged their feet across the grass and had their heads lowered.

  Drake leaned against the car and shook his head. His cold stare was seen by both men once they lifted their heads.

  Drake never said a word; he simply waited for the two men to explain themselves. He knew Paul was gone. He had no idea how the fuck he got away, but he had.

  “He went behind a tree,” John, the tallest of the men decided to try and explain. “He ran away, but his arms were free. I don't get it. Maybe the tie-tag wasn't tight enough.”

  “Maybe,” Drake said softly.

  “Or he managed to break it off.”

  “I doubt it.” Drake sighed and unfolded his arms. “Whoever put the tie-tag on must be held accountable for this.”

  “But that was me,” said John.

  “I know it was you.”

  The man turned and dropped to his knees and began to beg for his life. This only angered Drake. Drake told Bill to get back into the car, then turned to the driver and told him to do the same. He turned to his left to see the men in the pickups and on the mopeds waiting patiently. He didn't need to tell them what was happening. They knew what was going on.

  He raised his hand at the dozens of men, thanking them for their patience, and then turned his attention back to the man who was deemed responsible for Paul's escape. He was now in tears, still begging.

  “You know something?” Drake began. “I don't like killing my own men. I haven't killed many in the last couple of months. I've certainly never killed two cunts in one day. I killed Mac, back at that place, out of anger. But you...” Drake pulled out a knife and slowly walked over to the kneeling man. Drake crouched down and could see that the man had lowered his head again in shame.

  “Look at me.” Drake handed the man the knife. He reluctantly took it, but was confused about what was going to happen next.

  The blade was only three inches in length and the kneeling John asked Drake what he wanted him to do.

  “Hmm.” Drake rubbed his fingers over his smooth face and said, “What do you think I should do?”

  The man sniffed, “Give me another chance? I swear I won't let you down this time. I was certain I put that tie-tag on tight. He even winced when I did it. He must have...”