Snatchers (Book 14): The Dead Don't Hate

by Whittington, Shaun

  “How’s this guy treating yer?” Pickle asked Ronnie, referring to Terry.

  “Great.” Ronnie smiled and seemed a different young man. “How’s everything back at the place?”

  “Not bad. John’s missing yer, and Jason Bailey was killed last week for rape.”

  Ronnie smiled thinly. He didn’t know Jason Bailey well, although he had heard that he liked to try and charm the female population of Stafford Hospital. To Ronnie, he came across as desperate and a bit of a creep.

  “I just wanna thank you for what you did,” Ronnie spoke to Pickle, and looked to be getting emotional. “It was a struggle getting here, but thankfully Terry let me in.”

  Terry turned to Pickle and said, “Yesterday, he told me what he did to young David.”

  “I had to tell him the truth,” Ronnie spoke with genuine regret in his voice. “I behaved like a dick.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” Pickle smiled.

  “I mean it. I don’t know why I behaved like I did.”

  “Teenagers are hormonal, moody, and angry with the world. Now put them in an apocalyptic situation and yer get something worse.”

  “Plus, I was sexually active when I was your age,” Vince intervened. “Can’t be easy not getting any, although I still think you were a prick to David.”

  “I know.” Ronnie lowered his head. “Just glad to be away from that place and Drake.”

  Pickle and Vince looked at one another and refrained from telling the youngster that Drake wasn’t actually that far away.

  Ronnie continued to speak, referring to the treatment of David MacDonald, “I’m sorry about that. Anyway, I have things to do. I’ll see you later.”

  “Things to do?” Pickle enquired.

  “Ronnie and Paul Smith are taking a trip to the river to fill some jars,” Terry began to explain as Ronnie walked away, “I’m glad you sent him. That kid’s been an absolute godsend. A great addition to the place.”

  “I’m glad it’s working out,” Pickle said. “I was worried what was going to happen to him.”

  “On the way here he said he ran into a few Creepers ... Snatchers, as you call them,” Terry began. “But to be honest, I’m just glad we’ve got another body in the place.”

  “I suppose the trouble is now, is that if yer and the rest do decide to come back with us, Ronnie would be on his own again. I think Drake would see taking him back as a sign o’ weakness, as daft as that may sound.”

  Terry was lost in thought and pondered over what Pickle had just said, but he had no intention of leaving. He wanted to continue to live where his family died. He wasn’t going anywhere.

  “Tell me more about this group of guys you bumped into,” said Terry.

  Pickle could see the concern on his face and said, “A part o’ me wished I never told yer anything. Nothing may happen, but there’s nothing wrong keeping yer on high alert, just in case. And it’s definitely not a story to get yer to come with us.”

  “I know that now,” Terry moaned and then looked at Vince. “Well? Tell me more about these guys.”

  “I don’t know anything.” Vince hunched his shoulders. “They used to be in Pickle’s prison. Some of them do look a bit mental, to be honest.”

  “There were four o’ them,” Pickle began. “I know the four, but with them at this village and the apocalypse being nearly four months old—”

  “Has it been four months?” Terry interrupted.

  “It’s now September,” Vince joined in.

  “I thought it was around October.”

  “Anyway,” Pickle puffed, slightly annoyed that he had been interrupted. “The concern I have, and this was the point I was going to make before I was interrupted, is that these four inmates may have added a bit o’ muscle to their crew. There could be more than four o’ them. Whether it was from when they were on the road or more recently, or from this village they’re staying at, yer could have more than four guys to take care o’ if ever they were to attack, which they could. Those four are bad enough.”

  “Well, that makes me feel better,” Terry spoke with a mocking tone, making Vince giggle to the side of him.

  “Sorry.” Pickle threw his hands up. “Just explaining what the worst case scenario could be.”

  “Ah,” Vince began. “Don’t you just miss the good old days when the places were full of the dead, ripping people to pieces, and that was all you needed to worry about?”

  “I don’t think anything will happen.” Pickle slapped Terry on the shoulder and stood up, hinting that it was time to leave. “Just want you prepared for the worst case scenario.”

  Terry and Vince also stood and Pickle could see the concern on Terry’s features. “If I thought there was a chance it could happen, I’d be dragging yer to Stafford with us, or even staying back here temporarily.”

  Pickle could see the girls leaving the house and said to Mildred and Stephanie, “Good timing. We’re heading back before Drake gets annoyed.”

  Pickle and Vince shook Terry’s hand and waved to Paul Smith, who was standing outside his house. Kelly and his wife must be indoors, Pickle thought, and even Old Tom managed a wave from his living room window.

  Pickle took a nostalgic look around the street and said his farewells to Terry, the obvious leader of the small group.

  “Don’t be a stranger,” he said to Pickle.

  Pickle nodded. “We’ll pop in whenever we can. Drake hates using up the fuel and...” Pickle didn’t need to go on.

  Terry said, “I understand.”

  “Hopefully Karen will be with us next time.”

  “Kelly will like that.”

  Terry watched as they began to leave, but couldn’t bear to wave them off. That would include stepping out of the street and clocking the face of the man he despised, the man that killed some of the residents here weeks ago.

  He stayed in the street and shut the gate once everybody was out.

  Chapter Eleven

  Karen walked around the building where the reception was based and her thoughts went back to that terrible night shift, where a series of bite victims had been rushed into the A and E department. It was bedlam, and it didn’t help matters that some members of staff had called in sick. The only thing that got her through the ordeal was the thought of going back to Draycott Park, to her home, to Gary, and crashing on the bed and experiencing one of his foot rubs.

  She didn’t realise at the time that this shift would be her last one.

  Karen walked by two guards, of name she didn’t know, and ignored their leers as she reached the front of the hospital. She strolled across the staff car park and revealed a sad smile when she reached the area where she would normally park her jeep. Only consultants had their own private parking space, but Karen always managed to park in the same area whenever she started her shift, night or day.

  She looked at some of the spaces where the consultants used to park, and thought about two guys that hadn’t entered her mind since this shit started happening.

  “Derek Fleming,” she said softly. “I wonder how you’re doing?”

  Karen greatly respected Dr Fleming. Unlike some of the doctors and consultants, Fleming treated the rest of the staff with respect. Even the cleaners received a ‘good morning’ from Dr Fleming, and whenever the pressure was increasing he never seemed to crumble underneath it. He was a man in his forties, bald with hair at the sides, and although not Karen’s cup of tea, his kind nature made him an attractive man to Bradley. The only time she had seen him lose his temper was when paramedic Jason Bamford was caught having a cigarette outside his ambulance. He received a verbal warning for this misdemeanour.

  She wondered if Fleming had survived. She doubted it.

  Her mind wandered and she thought about Jason Bamford. He was a married ambulance driver and had a reputation for coming on to the young nurses. Two years ago, when Karen was twenty-one, he asked her to come outside as he needed to show her something. It was April time, near Good Friday. He opened th
e doors to his ambulance and revealed the biggest Easter egg Karen had ever seen, a bouquet of flowers, and a teddy bear.

  Karen was confused and told him so, so Jason explained that he and his wife weren’t getting along and wondered if they could ‘see’ each other now and again. Karen was taken aback and disgusted by his proposal. She was a twenty-one-year-old with a boyfriend. He was married and twenty years older, and he wanted to use her as his plaything until the next daft young nurse came along. She told him to go and fuck himself, and two weeks later he had put in a transfer to another hospital.

  Karen ran her fingers through her greasy hair and could see Findlay at the gate and three Snatchers in the distance.

  “You okay?” he called over.

  She nodded and pulled out her machete that was tucked underneath her belt near her left hip.

  She walked closer to the entrance and released a sharp whistle, making all three turn around.

  “What are you doing?” he asked her.

  “Getting rid of the vermin,” was her response.

  Findlay pointed at his radio and told Karen that he had just contacted Peter and Roger from outside, and that they were going to take care of it.

  “And why should they have all the fun?”

  Karen went to open the gate, but Findlay grabbed her arm. “Don’t be stupid.”

  “Let go of me.”

  “What the fuck are you doing?” Findlay yelled.

  “I’ve missed this.”

  “What?”

  “Just getting my fix.”

  Karen had managed to release herself from Findlay’s grip and was about to open the gate, but Roger and Peter had arrived and headed for the three advancing dead.

  Karen and Findlay watched as the experienced men put the three down with their bats, caving their heads in to mush. They wiped their weapons on the dead’s clothes and dragged the bodies to the side of the road. They then walked away and approached the entrance and waved at Findlay and Karen before turning left, and continuing their walk around the perimeter of the hospital wall.

  “Cool fuckers, aren’t they?” Findlay beamed with admiration.

  Karen hunched her shoulders nonchalantly. “Don’t really know them,” she said, and placed her blade back under the belt.

  “Anyway, how are you?” Findlay smiled. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “I was thinking that you looked nice today.”

  “For fuck’s sake,” Karen huffed and began to walk away. “I’m not in the mood for this shit, Findlay.”

  “I’m just saying.”

  “Bye.”

  Chapter Twelve

  The drive back so far had been uneventful, and once the van had reached an old warehouse, Drake had taken the wheel and decided to pull the vehicle up.

  “Why are we stopping?” Vince was the first to ask.

  “Thought I’d give the girls in the back some proper air,” said Drake.

  He stepped out, leaving Pickle and Vince in the front, and slammed the driver’s door.

  “Think he’s pissed off about something?” Vince asked.

  Pickle chuckled, “And what gives yer that idea?”

  They heard the doors to the back of the vehicle open and Pickle decided to step out, and shuffled along and went out of the driver’s door. He asked Vince if he was coming, but Kindl couldn’t be bothered to move and told Pickle no.

  Branston stepped out and could see the girls shielding their eyes and gabbing to one another as Drake quickly shut the back doors.

  “Five minutes,” Drake announced, “and we’ll head back.”

  Pickle stood at the side of the van and asked Drake for a word. The two men stood face to face and Pickle asked the leader of Stafford Hospital what was wrong.

  “Why would there be anything wrong?” Drake snapped, and ran his fingers over his shaved head. He began to pick at a tiny scab at the back of his head where he had nicked himself when using the cutthroat razor to shave his scalp, and waited for a response from Pickle.

  “Yer seem annoyed,” Pickle finally spoke. “Is it anything to do with the chickens we took?”

  “It’s a fucking joke, if you ask me,” he huffed, and began to clench and unclench his fists.

  It was obvious from the beginning that Drake had anger issues, but Pickle knew he could take him if he had to. It was a road he didn’t want to go down. They had only been at the hospital for a couple of weeks, and Drake had already hinted that the ‘Colwyn lot’ were cheeky, disrespectful, and were finding it hard to let go of their old camp. Karen, Pickle and Vince were making stops at Colwyn Place whenever they went out on runs, Joanne Hammett had made it clear that she missed her house, and Pickle had sent Ronnie to the place without Drake’s knowledge.

  “What’s a joke?” Pickle eventually asked Drake.

  “We wasted all that fuel to then give away a fifth of the stock.”

  “It was me that took the van full o’ fuel from the prison. Don’t forget that.”

  “I just think it’s about time you left them to wipe their own arses, Pickle.”

  “Right,” Vince had popped his head out of the window and said, “Shall we go back before you two start arm wrestling?”

  Drake stared at Pickle and then went to the driver’s side.

  Stephanie and Mildred went into the back as Pickle headed for the other side of the door of the prison van.

  The drive back was a silent one until a figure could be seen up ahead. Straightaway they knew it wasn’t a Snatcher, but Drake pressed the accelerator harder and had no intention of stopping for the man. Pickle kept his mouth shut at Drake’s selfish behaviour. Drake wanted to add people to the camp, so why was he going by him? Was the man too old? Did Drake think he wouldn’t be an asset, or was he simply still annoyed with Pickle?

  As the van got nearer, the man began to wave with both hands, and Vince narrowed his eyes as he clocked the heavy grey beard and his large frame.

  “I know him,” said Vince.

  The van went by the desperate looking man and Vince asked Drake to stop the vehicle.

  “Really?” Drake moaned. “Again?”

  “Just for a minute,” Vince said.

  “Fuck’s sake.”

  Drake pulled the van to the left and slowed down, eventually bringing it to a stop.

  Vince jumped out of the van and walked towards the elderly man who was striding towards Kindl.

  Vince raised a smile and said, “I thought it was you!”

  “Vince!” the man exclaimed.

  Pickle had now left the vehicle and Vince looked at the approaching Branston and asked him to open the back. Pickle did as he was told without firing a single question, and Stephanie stepped out and clocked the elderly man.

  “Recognise him?” Vince asked her.

  “Quint?” Stephanie nodded.

  “Who?” Pickle was confused and wondered how they knew this man and he didn’t.

  Vince noticed Pickle’s confusion and began to explain. “Remember when Stephanie, Elza and Ophelia went out on a run in the RV, and young David and I went out looking for them because we were concerned for them?”

  “O’ course.” Pickle nodded.

  Drake had now left the van and headed to the back of the vehicle where the discussion was taking place.

  Vince pointed at Quint and said to Pickle, “This is the guy that pulled out the RV from the mud, and he also killed a shit load of Snatchers with his combine harvester.”

  Pickle shook the old man’s hand and then Vince asked him what happened and why was he outdoors, in the middle of nowhere, miles from the farm that was his home.

  “Too many of the dead turned up,” Quint huffed and ran his fingers through his beard. “Bastards.”

  “So yer had to leave?” Pickle asked. “Yer had no choice?”

  “Pretty much.” He nodded and began to unashamedly pick his nose, making Drake wince. “There were four of those smelly bastards in my field one evening, so I went
to bed and hoped it’d be better by the morning. I hoped they had gone.”

  “But they never?”

  “The complete opposite.” Quint released a short chortle. “Cunts were everywhere by the time I woke up in the morning. House was more or less surrounded and I barely made it out. All I had was the clothes on my back. Even had to drink my own piss yesterday. That wasn’t pleasant, I can tell you.”

  Vince pulled a face at the thought of drinking his own urine. He had never been in a position where things had been that bad, however, he had come close once or twice.

  “So you’ll vouch for him, Vince?” said Drake.

  Vince looked at Stephanie, and she gave him a reassuring nod.

  “Well, he’s a bit old school and has a bit of a mouth on him, but so does Karen and yourself.”

  “We can’t just leave him,” Stephanie said.

  “Well, we’ve stopped now.” Pickle said. “If we leave him and drive off that’d be just cruel.”

  Drake released a heavy sigh and said, “Well, old man.”

  “What?”

  “Looks like you’re coming back with us then.”

  “Thanks.” Quint smiled, and went to shake Drake’s hand.

  “Don’t thank me,” said Drake. “If it were up to me, I would have left you.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Karen Bradley had been sat in the new clinic area for the last ten minutes. The monotony was killing her and she decided to get her head down for an hour or so. She wasn’t used to being sedentary, and this new role she had been given was beginning to bore her already. She wondered how Pickle and the rest were getting on with the trip to Amerton, and thought about their escape from the Stile Cop beauty spot in the first week.

  She thought about the scene where Pickle and KP needed to get to the van whilst Karen tried to hold off the crowd of the dead that had just killed Jamie and Janine.

  She laughed, thinking back to that frightening episode, and thought to herself that if she had been watching an apocalyptic Hollywood movie and there was this twenty-three-year old nurse with no experience with firearms but now had a Browning in each hand and was putting down the dead, it would have been criticised in some quarters. But it really happened.