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

by Whittington, Shaun

  “Was that a I love you too?” she giggled and walked away, back into their place.

  “Bugger off, Bradley,” he snickered.

  Chapter Forty

  It was dawn, and Vince Kindl and Stephen Rowley stood by the concrete wall. Both men were armed, but kept their blades away. Stephen had a blade in his pocket and Vince had earlier returned to his house to get his machete.

  Vince and Stephen continued to glare over the wall, looking down the old and abandoned Colwyn Place. Vince glanced over his shoulder as the minutes ticked by, looking at the burning vehicles, and decided to converse with Stephen Rowley.

  “Another couple of hours,” Vince began, “and it’s gonna be sunset.”

  “Tired, chap?” Rowley asked. Both men were still peering over the wall, their fronts pressed up against it.

  “Yep,” Vince sighed. “Don’t think I’ve ever been this tired since I spent the night with Marie Farringdon.”

  “Who, chap?”

  “Marie Farringdon.” Vince smiled and shook his head. “She was a right goer, I can tell you. She was a classy girl.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  Vince nodded and said, “She had all her own teeth, and she had Love and Hat tattooed on her knuckles.”

  Stephen Rowley scratched his head and said, “Shouldn’t it be Love and Hate?”

  “Yeah,” Vince sighed, “but she had a finger missing.”

  “Oh.” Stephen narrowed his eyes and wasn’t sure if Vince was joking or not.

  “You never seem to talk about old flames, Stephen. What’s your story?”

  “A gentleman never tells,” Rowley said with a smirk.

  “Has there ever been a special somebody in your life?” Vince asked. He then turned his head and said, “Have I asked you this question before?”

  “I don’t remember, chap. And no, there hasn’t been a special person in my life, apart from my mum and my sister, Emma.”

  “Yeah, but you can’t sleep with your sister, can you?” Vince chuckled. “Unless you live in West Yorkshire.”

  Stephen Rowley grunted, cleared his throat and twisted his neck. He looked over his shoulder and could see that the flames were finally dying. Thankfully the vehicles with gas had little, and the others were empty, so there was no explosion as such or a massive wave of flames.

  Rowley seemed hypnotised by the flames and jumped when Vince slapped him on the shoulder.

  Vince pointed over the wall. “Our first strays.”

  Stephen looked over and could see two of the dead in the distance. They were at the bottom of the road, but would soon be by the wall.

  The two of them watched as the dead slowly made their way down. They could see that the two monsters were female, young, both wearing blood soaked dresses, and had nothing on their feet.

  Vince could see that the one on the left was in a worse condition than the other, and was missing half a face; the top half of the dress was torn and a breast was hanging out.

  “I don’t fancy yours much, Stephen,” Vince laughed.

  “Come on, Vince,” Stephen sighed. “Once upon a time that was somebody’s daughter, sister even. You shouldn’t say things like that, chap.”

  Kindl nodded in agreement. “Having said that, the one on the left looks alright.”

  Stephen shook his head in disgust.

  “Come on,” Vince laughed. “Don’t be so serious all the time. The trouble with you is that you need your hole.”

  “My what, chap?”

  “You need to get laid. You’re all uptight, serious. When was the last time you did it?”

  “Did it?”

  “You know,” Vince sighed, “the last time you roasted the broomstick, did the hokey pokey, stuffed the turkey, when was it?”

  “None of your business, chap,” Stephen huffed and turned away from Vince, clearly upset.

  “I reckon you got little action, back in the old world,” Vince spoke, still looking at the two dead females that were approaching. “I reckon the best way you could have got laid would be to crawl up a chicken’s arse and wait.”

  Stephen never responded, making Vince smile.

  Vince pulled out his machete, as the two ghouls got nearer to the wall, and said, “Right, time to punish some bitches. And not in a good way either.”

  *

  Harry Branston had his arms folded and had been pacing up and down for the last few hours, annoying a nervous Paul Smith. Pickle was getting tired and kept on moving to keep himself awake, whereas Paul looked like he had given up. He was sitting on Terry’s lawn with his head in his hands.

  Pickle stopped walking when he saw at the other end of the street Vince and Stephen looking over the wall. A few minutes later, Vince had pulled out his machete and appeared to have put down two ghouls that had approached the wall. Vince put his machete away, telling Pickle that no more were around.

  Pickle looked to the side when the door of 1 Colwyn Place opened. Terry Braithwaite stepped out, fully dressed with bat in hand, and walked towards Pickle. The big fellow patted Paul Smith on the back and told him to get to his bed. Paul never had to be asked twice, and left immediately.

  “Looks like you have me for company,” said Terry.

  “The fire’s only attracted two so far,” Pickle said. “Probably don’t need yer, Terry. Looks like we kind o’ got away with it.”

  “What happens now? With the street?”

  Pickle shrugged his shoulders. “We carry on. Maybe when Craig gets back—”

  “Look, Pickle…” Terry paused, unsure whether to finish off his sentence. “When John was here, things ran smoothly. You’ve been doing this for a week, and half the people in the street are dead. I don’t want you to think that I’m being unfair, but it’s not exactly running smoothly, is it?”

  “That’s okay, Terry.” Pickle paused and had to swallow his anger. “Yer entitled to yer opinion. But let’s not forget that John was still alive and in charge when we were attacked.”

  “And now we’ve lost five in a week,” said Terry, “with Ophelia and Elza being killed back at the factory, and now the Dansons.”

  “I know,” sighed Pickle. “I’m trying my best.”

  “Well…”

  Terry never managed to finish off the sentence that he had started. His and Pickle’s ears picked up a sound coming from a distance, to the right of them. They both stared at one another, and had a mix of intrigue and nervousness within them, as the engines grew louder.

  “Engines,” Terry murmured.

  “Correct.” Pickle smiled. “Let’s hope they belong to Drake and his mob, otherwise…”

  “A bit early for a visit, ain’t it?”

  Now Vince and Stephen could hear the sounds from the wall, and both men began to make their way over to the other two men by the gate. By the time Vince and Stephen had reached Pickle and Terry, the sounds of the engines were growing, and all four individuals knew that the vehicles were coming to Colwyn Place.

  “I hope that’s Drake’s mob,” said Vince.

  “That’s what I just said to Terry,” Pickle moaned. “Otherwise we may have a little trouble to deal with.”

  “Great. More bad luck.”

  Chapter Forty One

  As soon as Pickle spotted the pickup, and the four bikers behind it, he began to relax. He could see the driver and Drake sitting at the other end; Craig Burns was sitting inbetween the men. Pickle opened the gate himself and the pickup slowly crawled its way through and stopped once it was fully in, parking to the left, near Terry’s garden. The four bikers hung back, outside the street, and Pickle decided to leave the gate open.

  Terry, Pickle, Vince and Stephen Rowley stood at the side of the vehicle and waited patiently, wondering what the hell was going on.

  Drake was the first to step out of the passenger side. The six-four thin man leaned against the side of the vehicle and gazed at the smouldering vehicles, shaking his head. He ran his fingers over his shaved head and wore the same attire he had on w
hen he first visited. He was wearing black combats, a white T-shirt and a black nylon jacket. And unlike his men, there were no WOE letters stitched on his clothing.

  Craig was next to leave and said aloud, looking at the vehicles, “What the fuck happened here?”

  “Thugs,” was Vince’s short explanation, wondering why Craig was with Drake’s mob.

  Craig shut the passenger door and the driver remained in the vehicle. The driver switched the engine off and sat with his head bowed.

  Pickle decided to break the ice and asked Drake, “What’s up?”

  Drake stood next to Craig Burns, placed his hand on his shoulder and said, “Your little friend here stayed the night at our place.”

  “Oh?”

  “He tells me he’s on some kind of recruiting mission. But I think I have a solution to all your problems. I’ve already discussed it with Craig here.”

  Craig was smiling and the thirty-one-year-old said to his four comrades, “You wanna see Drake’s place. It’s incredible.”

  “Um,” Pickle scratched his head and said, “I’m not sure what’s going on.”

  Vince smiled. “I think I know.”

  “Let’s go to your place and discuss what I have to offer,” Drake said to Pickle. “Just you.”

  Pickle looked unsure and gazed at Vince, Terry and Stephen. All three nodded at Harry Branston and he asked Drake to follow him to 10 Colwyn Place.

  The two men strolled to Pickle and Karen’s place. Pickle opened the door for Drake and told him to sit at the dining table in the living room. Pickle asked Drake if he wanted a drink. He politely refused and Pickle sat on a chair at the opposite side of the table.

  “There are two more people upstairs,” Pickle said to Drake. “My friend and a little girl.”

  “Is that right?”

  “We had a bit of a tragedy yesterday,” Pickle began to explain. “There was a family living in the street and the father went off the rails. He killed some o’ them and then himself. The little girl is all that is left.”

  Drake sighed, “That’s a damn shame. It seems that people in your street are diminishing by the week. I know my men didn’t help matters in the beginning.”

  “No point going o’er old ground. What’s done is done.”

  “What happened to that family you just mentioned is kind of related to what I’m about to bring up.”

  Pickle said, “Well, if it’s a trade deal for our food for your gas, then that’s not gonna work, now that we have zero vehicles.”

  “Listen, let’s not beat around the cunty bush.” Drake leaned back and placed his hands on his lap. “I have an offer for you. And with your vehicle dilemma and the family thing, it looks like I’ve come just at the right time.”

  Pickle also leaned back and placed his hands on the dining table. His facial look gave off the impression that he was confused. He admitted to Drake, “I have no idea where yer goin’ with this.”

  Drake smiled and said, “Come and join us. You and the whole street, or what’s left of it.”

  There was a pause by Pickle before he attempted to respond. “Er ... look, I...” Drake’s proposal had taken Pickle by surprise and he struggled to respond.

  “Ask Craig about where we stay,” Drake said. “We’ve built something quite special. He seems impressed anyway.”

  “It’s a kind offer...”

  “But?”

  Pickle took a while before responding. He rubbed his chin as he pondered the offer. “I’ve been in charge for about a week. Before me, a guy was in charge for months...”

  “I get it.” Drake began to chuckle and wagged his finger at Pickle. “This is about pride, right? You want this street to work under your leadership.”

  “Aye, I do want it to work, but it’s not about ma pride, yer know.”

  “I think it is.” Drake chewed his bottom lip in thought. He added, “Bend your pride over and fuck it in the arse. What I’m offering you is perfect.”

  “Some people in here are still nervous about yer, about what happened last week.”

  “If you go, they’ll follow. Forget about yourself and think about what would be best for the people here.”

  A silence fell on the two men as Pickle contemplated Drake’s offer. Both men remained sitting opposite each other with their heads lowered.

  Pickle raised his head and asked Drake, “I hear yer have got dozens and dozens o’ people staying there, so why would you want us there?”

  “The more people we have, the stronger we become. And...”

  Drake’s pause was too long for an impatient Harry Branston. “And?”

  “And ... I like you, Pickle. I think if you move, it’ll be the best decision you’ve made since this shit began to happen.”

  “I don’t know,” Pickle sighed. “Some o’ the guys won’t go for it, even if I wanted to go.”

  “And what would be the alternative for these ... guys? Staying behind on their own? No vehicles, no muscle. While the rest of the people from this street have moved to Stafford, to a place where’s there’s solar power, working lights, showers, vehicles, vegetable patches, greenhouses, water, hundreds of tinned foods and plenty of beds?”

  “Sounds too good to be true,” came a female voice from behind.

  Both Pickle and Drake turned in the direction of the voice to see Karen walking in.

  She sat on the couch and crossed her legs. “I heard voices, so I came down,” she explained. She then turned to Pickle and said, “Kelly’s still fast asleep.”

  “You’re Karen, right?” Drake pointed. “I remember you from my first visit. Craig talked about you last night.”

  To save confusion, Pickle explained to Karen that Craig had stayed at Drake’s place and Drake had brought him back. Pickle then explained in short that Drake had made him an offer for everybody in Colwyn Place to move to his digs.

  “And where’s this place you’re talking about?” Karen asked Drake.

  “It used to be Stafford Hospital,” Drake said with a smile.

  Karen widened her eyes and said, “Wow. Things seemed to be getting weirder by the week.”

  Drake thinned his eyes with perplexity, and Pickle explained to the guy that Stafford Hospital used to be Karen’s place of work when the world was normal, before the apocalypse.

  “The last time I was there was the second weekend of June, when I left on the Sunday morning,” Karen said to Drake. “It had been a weird night, but I could never imagine that it would turn into something that it did.”

  “Come and see it anyway,” said Drake, looking at Harry Branston. “The change of scenery will do you good. And before we go, we’ll get those vehicles towed away and get them dumped in a field.”

  “Does that invite include me?” Karen asked.

  “Sure.” Drake nodded. “The pair of you.”

  Karen looked over at Pickle and said, “If anything, it’ll be good to get out of this place. I could always go on my own.”

  Pickle ran his fingers through his hair and groaned, “Okay. I’ll go. I’ll tell Vince what’s happening.”

  “Sorted then.” Drake stood up and stepped away from the dining table and pointed at Pickle. “I’ll have that drink you offered earlier. Just gonna go out and tell my guys to get rid of those vehicles for you. Be back in a sec.”

  Chapter Forty Two

  The pickup left Colwyn Place, and the vehicle was being driven by a man simply known as Dave, with Drake, Pickle and Karen in the passenger seats. They turned right onto the Wolseley Road. The bikes followed behind. No words were spoken until the vehicle reached the pub, and it was Drake that was the first to break the ice.

  He said, “When we get there, I’ll get someone to give you a guided tour of the place, show you what’s what.”

  “I worked there,” Karen huffed. “I probably know the place better than you.”

  “True.” Drake nodded. “We only live in the A and E part of the building, where the reception and main area is. The rest of the bu
ilding is out of bounds.”

  “So you’ve cleared the main building of the dead, but haven’t bothered with the rest, is that it? Isn’t that a bit dangerous?” Karen looked to the side at Drake, impatiently waiting for an answer.

  “No,” Drake shook his head. “The hospital is clear. We made sure of that.”

  “Oh.” Karen flushed a rose colour.

  “When we first got there, over two months ago, we cleared the whole hospital, removed the dead cunts, and lost a few people along the way. As time went by we got more people. We only started off with a few of us, and then it grew as the days went by. Some people came to us, others were found on supply runs.”

  Drake looked into the rear view mirror to see if his four bikers were still following.

  “And what about these bikers who have these jackets with WOE. Anything to do with you?”

  “The Wrath of Evil gang was something I was involved with for years. When this thing kicked off, there were eighteen of us. The rest of the guys at the base are just regular guys, but some wanted to wear the WOE jackets and ride the bikes, so we raided a bike store and managed to get another twelve bikes, Vespas and Lambrettas.”

  “How did yer start out?” Pickle asked.

  Drake turned and looked at Pickle. “Well, I suppose if we’re gonna be civil to one another, regardless of whether you stay at my place, then I’m quite happy to open up, if you do the same.”

  “O’ course.”

  “What’s there to tell,” Drake began. “When the shit hit the fan, me and my guys got together, eighteen of us. We took our families with us, stayed in a pub for a while before the DCs broke in and attacked us, and then we had to move. I’m sure you’ve been there.”

  “Certainly have,” Pickle said with a chuckle. “I think our first two months was a cycle of finding a place, getting attacked, and then having to move. Getting attacked by a group of humans, your guys, was a surprise, I can tell yer.”

  “Well,” Drake cleared his throat and looked a little embarrassed. “Let’s not go over that again. If I could turn back time...”