Snatchers Box Set | Vol. 5 | Books 13-15

by Whittington, Shaun

  “He was probably annoyed because you could have been killed.”

  “He was more annoyed because I disobeyed him. Fucking control freak, that’s what he is.”

  “How do you guys keep up with the date and month in this place? Back at Colwyn—”

  The man interrupted, “Drake, as well as others, circle the day every morning so they know what day and month it is. There’re calendars all over the hospital.”

  “Makes sense.” Karen nodded. “Gives you a clue how close winter is, I suppose. A doctor from Ward 34, the oncology department, brought in a calendar of Cliff Richard as a joke.”

  The man managed a smile and said, “It’s still there.”

  “So what next for you?” Karen sniffed and added, “You can’t sit about and drink all day.”

  “I have no job to do and I’m considered a waste of fucking space by my loving older brother.” He released out a depressed sigh and added, “Maybe I’ll just leave.”

  “The hospital?”

  He nodded.

  “And would that be your way of punishing him, for the way he spoke to you?”

  “Fuck him!” he snapped.

  He shook his head and Karen could see the man was hurt and decided to leave him alone. She held out her hand and said, “Let’s start again.”

  He shook her hand, fighting back the tears.

  “If ever you need a chat, come to Ward 22. I have a clinic set up there.”

  “I’ve heard.”

  “I’ll be seeing you ... um...?” Karen had suddenly forgotten his name.

  “Alan.” He produced a thin smile. “My name’s Alan.”

  Karen turned and headed for the door.

  *

  Quint looked around the ward that was going to be his home for the foreseeable future, and released a sigh. He ran his fingers through his long grey beard and thought about his dead wife and his old place that he had to flee. He smiled and shook his head. She was such a pain in the arse, but he did miss her and the old place where they lived. He wondered if his kids were okay. He knew that he would never know for sure if they were okay or not, but tried to remain positive.

  He had killed many of the dead over the months, but overall his place wasn’t badly hit because of the location.

  When the time came that he had to leave, he spent many days roaming the countryside with his bag of supplies that slowly dwindled as the days ticked by. One of the highlights of his journey, apart from being picked up, was the blackberry bush that he had come across when he reached the area of Hixon.

  He hadn’t eaten in a day and all he had in his bag was a bottle of stream water that was unfiltered.

  He then came across a large bush of blackberries and ate every single berry. The next day he had diarrhoea and had to rely on the bracken to clean himself up. Not a comfortable experience, but it could have been worse.

  And then a day later he was picked up, all thanks to Vince.

  He checked out the bed where he was going to sleep, and was impressed and surprised with the cleanliness of the place.

  “This’ll do,” he said with a smirk. “This’ll do just fine.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The van went by the small place of Milford and knew they were only a mile or so away. The van passed The Barley Mow pub and hit an incline with a bend.

  As soon as the road straightened up, a body could be seen up ahead, in the middle of the road. The corpse was face down and had half a dozen crows on its back, pecking at whatever exposed flesh was available. The back of the neck appeared to be the most popular.

  Pickle began to slow down, but Vince told him to drive around it. He needed the toilet and wanted to get back to the hospital as soon as possible.

  “No.” Drake spoke up. “Stop the van and I’ll get out and clear it.”

  “What’s the point?” Vince huffed.

  “My guys use this road all the time with runs and stuff,” Drake began to explain. “We’ve always been in the habit of dragging every dead body to the side of the road. If we didn’t have that mentality, then the roads would be littered with bodies, making journeys, especially on mopeds, hazardous.”

  “I used to do that as well,” Pickle spoke up.

  “It’s just one body,” said Vince.

  “True,” said Drake, as Pickle stopped the van and pulled up the handbrake. “But one body turns into two ... and so on. Don’t get me wrong; with lack of decent water, soap, and crap sanitation ... you don’t want my guys touching dead bodies. It’s not healthy, but needs must.”

  Drake sat inbetween the two men and squeezed past Vince to get out. Once he was out, he made the ten-yard walk over to the body, scaring off the birds.

  Drake bent down and grabbed the man’s head and lifted it up to have a better look. He looked dishevelled, had a full overgrown beard, and looked like he hadn’t been dead long. He checked his body for any kind of injuries that he could have sustained to explain his death, but there was nothing.

  “Poor cunt,” Drake moaned, and then released the man’s hair.

  He grabbed his trousers and dragged him to the side of the road. He checked his pockets and pulled out a crumpled photograph and opened it out. It was a picture of the man with his female partner, he guessed, and a young boy that must have been his son. It looked like they were abroad, possibly Spain. They were sitting on a bench, on a promenade, and there were shops behind them, and in the right corner of the photograph Drake could see the Tabacos sign in yellow lettering with a brown background. He raised a smile and it took him back to his own holidays he had with Coral, when it was just the two of them.

  They would sleep in, eat and drink too much, then go back to bed in the afternoon for a nap, then get up and eat and drink once more and have a late boozy night. Sometimes they would lie on the sun loungers and fall asleep by the pool, but that had to change when their son came along.

  A snap of a branch could be heard behind him and Drake snapped out of his daydreaming.

  Two of the dead staggered out of the trees to his left, and one tripped over the body and fell flat on his face. The other was a female and an unarmed Drake was relaxed and pushed the advancing female back.

  She staggered backwards and fell over, cracking her head on the tarmac, and Drake walked over and brought his boot over her head and finished her off.

  The remaining one staggered to his feet and Drake grabbed it by the neck and ran with it, smacking its head off the tree. The back of the skull caved in and the Snatcher fell to the floor in a heap once Drake let it go.

  He looked around and decided to head back to the prison van. He opened the passenger door and could see that Vince had shifted along to the middle. He got in and told Pickle to drive.

  “That guy didn’t have a mark on him,” Drake spoke, as Pickle went through the gears.

  “No?” Vince remarked. “Not a scratch?”

  Drake shook his head. “Must have been a heart attack or an aneurysm ... or something.”

  “Poor Brad,” Vince said.

  “Brad?”

  “That was Brad Pitt,” said Pickle, and decided to explain. “We recognised his face when yer lifted his head up.”

  “Who?” Drake was confused.

  “Bradley Pitcher. A man we met on the road when we were out looking for Craig and Stephen last week.” Pickle decided to stop there. All Drake knew about Craig’s demise was that he and Stephen fell into a ditch and the dead fell in. Stephen was lucky. Craig wasn’t. He didn’t know about them being helped out by Paul Dickson, who put down most of the dead on ground level and helped Stephen out of the ditch.

  Although Pickle was convinced that Paul Dickson was now far away, if Drake found out the real story then they’d be a search for the man that was hated in most parts of Drake’s camp, but was a hero at the time for the Colwyn residents.

  “Five minutes and we’ll be back,” Drake moaned and looked out of the window for the rest of the journey that was made in silence.

 
Chapter Twenty-Three

  Karen headed towards the gate and could see Findlay, who usually guarded the gate during the day. He smiled as he saw her coming over and asked what was happening.

  “Not a lot.”

  He then fired another query at her. “Has anybody set up a perimeter for the hens yet?”

  Karen shook her head. “Pickle said that there was no point, as they weren’t entirely sure if they’ll be anything there. We best wait until they return with anything.”

  “If they do get any, I think Drake wants them thrown into the shed,” Findlay remarked.

  “Thrown into the shed?”

  “Well, you know what I mean.”

  “I don’t think it’s good for them to be stuck indoors all day.”

  Findlay started laughing and said, “Oh, don’t tell me you’re one of those animal activists.”

  “Of course not.”

  “Then what are you on about?”

  “If they’re less distressed, then they should produce more eggs. I read it somewhere.”

  Findlay could see Darren pushing Stephen Rowley in a wheelchair and it looked like they were heading over to them. The ground was uneven and it appeared that Darren was struggling to move the thing.

  Karen turned and saw the two of them and asked if they were okay.

  “Still in pain, chap,” Stephen was the first to respond, “if that’s what you mean.”

  “Are you his babysitter for today?” she asked Darren.

  “Something like that.” He groaned and rolled his eyes.

  “Gonna have to reduce the painkillers,” Karen said to Stephen.

  “Again?”

  “You’re healing nicely, slowly, and I don’t want you relying on them. Also, those things don’t grow on trees, especially these days.”

  “What are you up to?” Darren asked, and flushed a little when his eyes met Karen’s, trying to forget the embarrassing incident from earlier.

  “Just hanging out,” Findlay answered, although his question was for Karen.

  “We’re bored out of our tree,” Karen admitted.

  She looked around and held out her hand. The place looked abandoned, apart from the guards that were spread out by the wall.

  Karen looked up and could see the heavens darkening with the black clouds emerging.

  “Miserable day,” she murmured.

  “I’m dreading the winter, chap,” Rowley confessed.

  “Aren’t we all?” Karen huffed.

  “But at least I’ll be able bodied by then.”

  “Hopefully. If you keep the weight off your ankle.”

  The sound of an engine could be heard and everyone remained silent and could hear the sound growing in volume.

  Findlay looked at Karen and wasn’t sure if it was going to be Pickle or not. His walkie talkie came to life and Roger announced that he could see the prison van approaching.

  Everybody relaxed, and Findlay and Karen stood near the gate and could see a large vehicle turn into a road and all could see the INVESCO van heading towards them.

  Findlay smiled and opened the gate, allowing the vehicle to drive through without stopping.

  The van pulled over as soon as it entered the grounds and Pickle, Drake and Vince immediately got out.

  “Nice ride out?” Findlay asked them.

  “Adventurous,” Pickle remarked.

  “We had a few obstacles to contend with,” said Drake. “But we managed to sort them out.”

  “What he means,” Vince chipped in, “is that Pickle sorted it out.”

  “Sounds like you have a story to tell,” Findlay remarked.

  “Later,” said Pickle. “Let’s get our guys and get these birds out the back o’ this van.”

  “You managed it then?” said Karen.

  “We sure did.”

  Pickle opened the back of the van and Stephanie and Mildred were the first to step out. Karen greeted the pair of them with hugs and could see Mildred looking at Drake in a funny way.

  Karen was about to ask what was wrong, but was thrown by the emergence of a man she had never met before.

  Pickle introduced Quint to the group and the surprise never stopped there. Richard and Tracy stepped out and Karen released a laugh, giving Tracy a cuddle.

  “What happened to you two last week?” she asked them.

  Even though Pickle told the group that he would tell them the story at a later day, Richard gave them the shortened version.

  “Me and Tracy were staying at Gnosall. We didn’t realise the guys running the place were bad ‘uns.”

  “Two jeeps blocked the road,” Vince chipped in. “Some of the guys in the jeep got out, including Richard, and a fight broke out.”

  Stephanie said, “Pickle did most of them and we went back to Gnosall to get Tracy.”

  “Richard’s being humble,” Pickle intervened. “He and Stephanie saved ma life, yer see. If it weren’t for them I’d be brown bread. Anyway, we’ve got about forty or so hens in the back.”

  “I’ll get some kind of pen for them set up,” Darren spoke up.

  “Nice one, Double D,” Drake chuckled. “As soon as you get that done, we can throw them out on the grass. We can keep them in the shed on a night and during the winter. Let’s hope the fuckers mate. How many cocks in the van?”

  Karen said, “There were three when you, Pickle and Vince were in there.”

  “Ha, ha, ha. Very fucking funny.”

  Karen looked over at Mildred and could still see her giving Drake daggers.

  Something was wrong. She didn’t know what, but she was determined to find out what it was that was bugging Mildred Huxtetter.

  She looked over at the woman and signalled her to come over. Mildred walked over as the rest of the guys were helping to move the birds out of the van.

  “You okay?” Karen asked Mildred.

  She nodded unconvincingly.

  “You sure?” Karen persisted. “You were giving Drake a funny look.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “Come on, out with it.”

  “I don’t trust him.” Mildred nodded over to Drake.

  “Why? What’s he done?”

  “Forget it.”

  “Okay.” Karen decided to pester her no more. “I’m going to have a word with Pickle, seem as though you’re not in the mood for talking, and get the full and detailed story of what you lot got up to while you were away. Talk later?”

  Mildred shrugged. “Yeah, maybe.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Peter and Roger had passed one another outside the wall and were suffocated by boredom. Staying at the hospital seemed a good idea at the time, but both men were used to being on their own, being ‘free’, and going from one place to the next.

  They had had a discussion the evening before about leaving and going elsewhere, despite the winter only being a few months away. The hospital provided supplies and security, and most survivors would assume that both men were insane to go elsewhere, but the truth of the matter was that they were bored. They weren’t used to this, and being put outside the wall to keep a lookout was mind numbing.

  Peter and Roger slowly walked around the perimeter of the wall in opposite directions. It took a while to walk the whole circumference of the wall and eventually passed one another again.

  Peter stopped walking and decided to sit on the kerb of the pavement he had been walking on. He pulled out a protein bar out of his pocket, which was given to him by one of Drake’s men after raiding an abandoned shop, and unwrapped the bar. This was the first thing he was going to eat since yesterday morning. He looked ahead of him, at the abandoned streets, and wondered what life had in store for him and his brother over the next few months.

  The bar was full of nuts and covered in chocolate, and he took a small bite from it, savouring every chew from the bar that was only four inches in length.

  He ran his fingers through his beard. It was getting thicker, and was in dire need of a trim. He took another
bite, dropped his head, and thought about his mother.

  He had no idea how long he had his head lowered, maybe just a few minutes, but a sound alerted him and he quickly looked up to see what was approaching.

  A smile stretched over his face when he saw a dog, a mongrel, tentatively heading towards him.

  The canine had brown fur and looked like a descendant of the Alsatian. He took another bite from his bar, leaving an inch of it left, and held out the rest of it with his fingers and beckoned it over.

  The dog seemed unsure and paused for a moment. Peter could see it was malnourished and could see its ribs poking out. It must have been starving.

  It then began to move again and Peter said, “There you go, boy.”

  He stretched out his hand further and the nervous dog took a vicious bite, taking the chocolate and injuring Peter’s hand.

  “Jesus!” he exclaimed, and could see the canine running away after getting its treat.

  He looked at his hand, stood up straight, and held it up. It wasn’t bleeding heavy, but six red teeth marks could be seen on the top of his hand. “Little bastard.”

  He stood up straight and could see Roger coming towards him, on the right.

  “Had enough of walking?” he asked Peter.

  Peter pointed over at the canine that was trotting away in the distance. “Tried to give it my last bit of my bar and it fucking bit me.”

  “Must have been hungry,” Roger gently chuckled.

  “Just hope it doesn’t have rabies.”

  “Better get it checked out by Karen.”

  Peter nodded in agreement and looked at his hand once again.

  Annoyed by his brother’s hesitancy, Roger snapped, “Like now.”

  *

  Peter was let in through the gate by Findlay and asked what was wrong.

  “Nothing,” was Peter’s short reply.

  “You can’t leave your brother out there on his own.”