“Colwyn?”
“Whether he made the trip or not is another thing,” she moaned. “But if he’s alive, then that’s where he is. Unless Terry decided to act like an arse.”
“What do you think of Drake?” David asked in a husky voice.
“He’s a tough one,” Karen admitted. “I don’t agree with a lot of his methods, but overall I think he wants what’s best for the camp. He kind of reminds me of Vince when we first met him.”
“I reckon he’s capable of hurting others to make this place stronger,” David said quietly.
“You reckon?”
“Yeah.” David nodded. “Not too sure I’m comfortable with that.”
“Pickle will keep him in line. He can be Drake’s moral compass if he steps out of line.”
“Pickle couldn’t stop Ronnie from being thrown out, though, could he?”
Karen didn’t have an answer for the teenager, and instead called over to Dave the guard and asked him what he thought about Drake.
Dave turned to face Karen and hunched his shoulders. “He’s firm but fair. A bit unpredictable.”
“How do you mean?” Karen asked.
“Well...” Dave paused, then added a few seconds later, “You obviously saw him kick a man to death in Colwyn Place, and then there was a time when a guy called Alec was beaten. He had interrupted Drake three times while he was giving a speech to us all once the hospital was up and running. Drake doesn’t like being interrupted, so he went over to Alec and punched him until he was unconscious in front of everybody. Alec left the place a few days later.”
“How?” Karen asked. “Was he just allowed to leave?”
“No,” Dave said. “Alec went out on a run with two other guys, Brian McIntyre and Craig Ralston, now both deceased.” Dave never went into detail that Brian and Craig’s deaths were the result of the attack on Colwyn Place. “They were in the pickup and Alec asked them to stop so he could go for a piss. They stopped and Alec went into the woods and never came back out.”
“He did a runner?”
Dave nodded. “I think he had had enough of Drake. He’s not to everybody’s liking.”
Karen brushed her hair behind her ears and asked, “And you?”
Dave stroked his beard and released a satirical laugh. “I love him like a brother.”
“Of course you do.” Karen looked with suspicion. “In a Liam and Noel kind of way?”
Dave never answered.
“And I suppose that walk back here didn’t increase your love for the bloke, eh?”
Again, Dave never answered.
Karen could see young David was confused and decided to tell him what happened to Dave a couple of weeks back.
“Pickle and I went to visit this place with Drake,” Karen began to explain. “Dave was driving, and Pickle, myself and Drake began to talk about ourselves, as part of the whole ... I don’t know ... fixing the wounds between both camps. Dave wasn’t in the mood for talking, so Drake kicked him out of the vehicle for being disrespectful, or something like that, and Dave had to walk home.”
“Luckily the roads were quiet that day.” Dave decided to finish the story. ”Otherwise I would have been killed. Only had to kill two of the dead before I made it back.”
“What did Drake do when you turned up?”
“He just asked if I had had a nice walk.” Dave then laughed and shook his head. “Prick.”
Footsteps could be heard down the hall, and Darren appeared to pop his head round the door and asked Karen if he could have a word.
“Of course,” she said.
“Alone.”
David MacDonald excused himself and Dave the guard shut the clinic door and gave Karen and Darren some privacy.
Karen told Darren to sit down and sat opposite him. “So what is it? Is it medically related?”
Darren nodded.
“Okay.” Karen was intrigued. “What’s the problem, Darren?”
He bit his bottom lip and lowered his head slightly with embarrassment.
“Darren?” Karen persisted.
He finally spoke. “Promise you won’t laugh?”
Karen smiled thinly and said, “Why would I?”
“It’s a bit embarrassing.”
“Darren,” Karen began. “I’ve had guys coming into A and E with bottles stuck up their arses and hoover nozzles attached to their cocks, all claiming that what had happened was an accident. I even had a young man in, just after Christmas, in tears because he was about to masturbate and he put calamine lotion on his penis instead off lubricant.”
“Okay.” Darren took in a large intake of breath and looked mortified. “Here goes.”
Chapter Six
It had taken over an hour to transport the individually caged chickens into the back of the prison van. There were fifty-two altogether, and had to be put in the holding cells and stacked on top of each other. Drake was expecting more, but overall the trip had still been worthwhile. Vince had found bags of pellets for the birds. These pellets provided them with the right amount of protein and minerals to keep them laying eggs. Drake was delighted that they had been found, but knew if push came to shove they’d be able to munch on potato skins or bits of veg or fruit.
Once everything was put away, the five of them hung around the van.
“One last look around before we go?” Pickle asked.
“No point,” said Drake, and seemed agitated. “Let’s just go. I’ve had enough of this place.”
“What about the house?” Mildred stared at Drake for a reaction, but didn’t get one.
“What do you mean?”
“You said that the couple in there were dead, but did you check the entire house?”
“Look,” Drake huffed. “We’re wasting time. Let’s just go.”
Pickle could feel an unusual tension between Mildred and Drake, but chose not to bombard them with uncomfortable queries. It could wait.
“We’ve come for what we had planned,” Pickle began. “Shame about the old couple, but there’s nothing we can do for them now.”
“Can we go then?” Vince groaned. “I need a nap when I get back.”
“Are yer alright, ma friend?” Pickle placed his arm around Vince’s shoulder. “Yer have been very quiet today. It’s not like yer.”
“I’m just tired.”
“Okay.” Pickle nodded. “I’ll drive back.”
The arrangement for the return to the hospital was the same as before. Stephanie and Mildred were going to travel in the back, this time with dozens of noisy caged up chickens, and the guys were in the front.
Once the doors to the back of the van were shut, Pickle fired the engine and they moved away.
A quiet Vince had his head leaning against the window and Drake was in the middle, staring out, yawning.
Pickle knew Vince was exhausted, but something was bugging Drake.
He turned the van around and took a right at the defunct traffic lights. There had still been no word from either men.
“I was thinking,” Pickle began. Only Drake was listening. “Maybe we could drop ten o’ those birds off at Colwyn Place.”
Drake took an intake of breath, annoyed already, and said, “And why the cunt would we do such a silly thing like that? Chickens can lay up to five eggs a week, that’s over fifty eggs I’d be denying the people of our camp.”
“I just thought it’d be a nice gesture, that’s all.”
Drake took a while to respond to Pickle’s idea. He tried to hold back a little so that the pair of them wouldn’t fall out on the way back to the hospital.
“Are you kidding me?” was Drake’s short response.
Pickle hunched his shoulders and asked, “Why not?”
“Pickle, you’re gonna have to sever ties with these Colwyn lot.”
“Why?”
“I want you to concentrate on supplying for the camp you’re in now, not the one you used to stay at. They made their choice.”
“I can’t just sever
ties with these guys, neither can Karen.”
“You’re gonna have to. I like and admire you, Pickle, but this Colwyn obsession has to stop.”
“It’s only been two weeks since we left. We’re just concerned about the people we left behind. Think about it. There are very few o’ them left. They’re more vulnerable than ever and I’m partly to blame for that.”
“You thinking about going back?”
It took a while for Pickle to respond. “I don’t know.”
“They had a choice.”
“I know they did, but we still left them.”
Pickle kept the vehicle at thirty and could sense that Drake was annoyed and had more to say. He slowed and dropped the van into third as they approached a bend, and Drake came out with a question Pickle wasn’t expecting.
“You sent Ronnie there, didn’t you?”
“Aye,” I did.” Pickle never hesitated. He didn’t see the point in lying. “I couldn’t let him die.”
“I fucking knew it,” Drake groaned. “You say you couldn’t let him die, but you don’t know for sure if he’s made it or not.”
“I will find that out if we pop in to Colwyn.”
“You know what,” Drake sighed. “We’ll just fucking go. I suppose when you’re out here with Karen I can’t stop you from visiting.”
“And the chickens?”
“Do what the fuck you want,” Drake huffed. He folded his arms and leaned his head back.
“We won’t stay long,” said Pickle. “Probably be best if you stay in the van. If Terry sees yer...”
“Well, fucking hurry up then,” Drake groaned.
Pickle slowed the vehicle and took a left down a country lane. Six minutes later they were in Little Haywood.
Chapter Seven
Karen sat back and listened to Darren talk about what he had on his mind. He was nervous, but Karen told him to take his time. She had no idea what it could be, and braced herself for some sinister news.
“I’ve had it a while now,” he began awkwardly and shifted in his seat. “I tried to keep on top of it with my diet, but that’s easier said than done when you live in this new world where you eat whatever you can get your hands on, and the water is hardly perfect.”
Karen allowed the man to speak, but she had no idea where he was going with his ramblings.
“The guys at work used to mock me when I was diagnosed with this condition.”
“Condition?” Karen tried to extract some information from the young man, but his vague ramblings continued.
“When I arrived here, I told Findlay about it. At first, I thought we were friends, but that prick told Drake and they had a laugh about it with the other guards. That’s when they started calling me Double D.”
Darren had stopped talking and looked up to Karen. She looked at the man and wondered if he had finished. The few seconds of silence gave Karen the opportunity to ask what condition he had, as she had no idea what he had been talking about.
“I have IBS,” said Darren.
Karen raised her eyebrows.
“Irritable Bowel Syndrome.”
“Yeah, I know what it is,” Karen giggled. “I’m a nurse, remember? I thought you were gonna tell me you had something serious.”
“Jesus, Karen.” Darren was unhappy with Karen’s response and it showed. “You were a nurse. Where’s your empathy?”
“I’m not mocking you, Darren.” Karen ran her fingers through her dark hair and added, “With the whole build up and the seriousness on your face, I just thought it was going to be something really bad, something life threatening. To a certain degree, we all have IBS in some sort of way.”
Darren lowered his head, feeling ridiculous, and was in two minds whether to walk away. He was feeling emotional and didn’t want to be teary in front of Karen, but he didn’t want to walk away and be rude either.
“Anyway, I noticed that we have Viberzi.”
“Yes, we do.”
“I used to take that back in the old world. It helped me to have less bowel contractions and less trips to the toilet.”
“I think we have Viberzi and Xifaxan, but I don’t know how much.”
“I would like to go back on it,” Darren said with almost pleading in his voice.
“Okay, but once it runs out—”
“I know. I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.”
“Okay,” Karen sighed. “I’ll give you a packet and follow the instructions. You’ve taken it before, so I assume you have a gallbladder, because it can play havoc with your pancreas.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know all that.”
“Okay.” Karen went over to the left and grabbed a packet of Viberzi.
She sat back down and reached for her A4 size book and opened it. She passed the packet to Darren and began to put the entry in the book. She dated it and asked Darren to sign and print his name at the end, on the right of the page.
“So, is that it?” he asked.
Karen nodded.
Darren got to his feet and put the packet in his jeans’ pocket. He looked sheepish and said, “So I suppose you wanna know why Drake calls me Double D.”
“I really am not that bothered, Darren,” Karen said. “Especially if it is something that’s cruel.”
“It stands for Diarrhoea Darren.”
Karen groaned, “Well, I’ll have a word with him about that. That shit just isn’t funny.”
“No pun intended,” Darren giggled.
“Sorry.” Karen smiled and stood up. “That was an accident.”
“I know.”
“Anyway,” she moved over to Darren and placed her hand on his shoulder, “let’s hope those bad boys work. God knows what you’re going to do once we run out.”
“Like I said. I’ll cross that bridge when it comes to it.”
“Okay.” She nodded and released her hand off of his shoulder.
Darren took a step forward and tried to plant a kiss on Karen’s lips.
Karen moved her head back and said, “What are you doing?”
“Sorry.” Darren looked mortified and Karen felt for him straightaway. He stormed out of the clinic, the old Ward 22, and Karen called after him, but a clearly embarrassed Darren had exited the building by the time Karen had left the ward and was standing in the corridor.
“Shit, Karen.” She stroked her forehead and moaned, “Maybe you could have handled that better.”
Chapter Eight
Pickle pulled up the van a few yards before the gate and stepped out once the van had stopped. He asked the leader of Stafford Hospital how much they should give them.
“Just ten chickens,” Drake snapped. “That’s generous enough. Haven’t travelled all this way to give shit away. We have around a hundred people at our place.”
“It’ll help heal some wounds if they know they’ve come from yer.”
“I don’t give a shit about that. I’m not fucking Santa Claus.”
Pickle never asked for a hand from Drake to transport the hens to the gate. Instead, he got out of the van, with Vince following suit, and went to the back of the vehicle.
He opened the doors and told Mildred and Stephanie to get out and where they were and why.
“Stretch yer legs for a bit,” Pickle said. “I’m going to have a word with Terry first, or whoever’s at the gate.”
Pickle approached the gate and could see Terry Braithwaite sitting on his front garden, legs crossed, holding a bat, and head down. He looked bored beyond recognition and Pickle could see that there was nobody else in the street.
The ex-inmate cleared his throat, which stirred Terry.
Braithwaite looked up, groaned, and shook his head once his eyes clocked Harry Branston. He slowly got to his feet and stretched. Mildred, Vince and Stephanie turned up and stood near Pickle.
Terry raised a smile on seeing Vince and Stephanie, but the other girl he didn’t know.
Without uttering a word, Terry opened the gate and stepped out to welcome them. He
looked to his right and saw the prison van, then his eyes became thin as he looked at the figure sitting in the passenger seat.
He turned to Pickle and growled, “Why the fuck did you bring that cunt with you?”
“Relax, he’s not coming in.”
“Too right he’s not coming in.” Terry snarled and gripped his bat tighter with anger. “I can’t believe you brought him here.”
“He’s here because we went on a run and I asked to pop in and see yer guys.” Pickle cleared his throat and added, “We went to a farm and managed to get around fifty chickens. We thought you’d like to have ten or so.”
Terry began to relax and never responded.
He moved away from the gate, gesturing to the four to come in.
Mildred and Stephanie stood behind Pickle, and Terry told them to go to Brenda’s at number eight and that she would give them a drink. They did so, and Vince informed the two men that he needed to pee and left Pickle and Terry alone together.
Terry sat back down on the lawn and Pickle joined him. They both sat in silence for a few seconds before Pickle broke the silence.
“How’s things been in here?”
It took Terry a while to answer and said, “It was only a week ago that I saw you and Karen.”
“I know,” Pickle sighed. “A week in this apocalyptic world can feel like a long time. That’s why I’m asking.”
Pickle could feel Terry’s eyes glaring at him, and the man with the ginger beard asked the ex-inmate what was on his mind.
“Well, I suppose yer better know,” said Pickle. “Not too sure yer should tell anyone else. Don’t wanna be spreading unnecessary panic.”
“What is it?” Terry groaned. “Just fucking spit it out.”
“A week ago we were travelling and came across four guys who had blocked off the road.”
“So?”
“From Gnosall.”
Terry screwed his face and stroked his ginger beard. “That’s a village not far away from here.”
“I know.”
“I don’t get it.” Terry shifted uncomfortably and asked, “Why are you telling me this?”
“The four guys are bad ‘uns,” Pickle began to explain. “They used to be in Stafford Prison. The leader, and a guy called Manson, especially, are fucking psychopaths.”
Snatchers Box Set | Vol. 5 | Books 13-15 Page 26
