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

by Whittington, Shaun

  Richard let the gun go once he saw Pickle running over and watched the ex-inmate strike Marsden at the side of his skull, making him release the gun and stagger backwards. Richard saw Manson from the front of one of the jeeps, holding a knife.

  A shocked Richard opened his mouth to warn Pickle as Manson raised the knife above his head, but an arrow went through his hand.

  The steel tip had entered through the back of Manson’s hand, now sticking out of his palm.

  He dropped the knife, inspected his right hand, and could see that three quarters of the pine arrow had gone through, with just a few inches sticking out of the back of his hand. It took seconds for his brain to register what had happened, and then the white-hot pain made the man scream and drop to his knees.

  Pickle turned around and could see Stephanie putting her bow back over her shoulder and Drake and Vince calling over to him, telling him to hurry up. Branston dropped the cosh and picked up the knife that Manson had earlier dropped and looked around to see Hutty and Jamo still lying on the floor, groaning, and Marsden with his hands on his throbbing head, kneeling on the ground.

  “Stay inside!” Pickle called out to the remaining gang members in the vehicle. “Or I’ll start stabbing folk.”

  Pickle went to the vehicle on the left and slashed the front tyres and did the same to the other vehicle. He then stood up straight and told young Richard that he was coming back to the hospital with him.

  “I can’t,” Richard cried. “What about Tracy?”

  “Where is she?”

  “She’s at the village. At Gnosall. We have to go back for her.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I can’t leave her. They’ll kill her when they eventually get back.”

  “True.” Pickle had his head in his hands and couldn’t abandon the young girl. Her boyfriend had just saved his life.

  Pickle pointed over to the prison van where they were all out, standing by the front, waiting for him to get a move on. “Go and join them. I’ll be over in a second.”

  Pickle turned around, as Richard walked away, and looked at the carnage he had created. Hutty and Jamo were still on the floor, Manson was still moaning and writhing around in pain, and Marsden had got to his feet, but looked unsteady. Pickle went over to Marsden and as soon as he clocked Pickle with a knife, he held his hands up and said the word, “No.”

  “Don’t worry, Marsden,” Pickle said. “I’m not gonna kill yer. Just letting yer know that I’m taking Richard back with us, but first I’ll be picking up his girlfriend from Gnosall and then we’re gonna head back to where we stay. I don’t want any reprisal from this, even though yer did try and kill me. Yer started it.”

  “Okay.” Marsden lowered his head and could feel his head spinning as if he was drunk.

  “Right.” Pickle smiled and winked at Marsden. “I’m gonna give Manson his knife back.”

  Pickle walked over to Manson, as Marsden began throwing up on the road, and bent down and gazed at Freddie Newton.

  “Here’s your knife back.” Pickle grabbed Manson’s left hand and rammed the blade through his palm, coming out three inches at the other side.

  Manson screamed out and began to curl up on the ground, his eyes streaming from the excruciating pain.

  Pickle, still bent down, patted him on the head and added, “Maybe that’ll keep yer hands from wandering for a few weeks, yer rapist cunt.”

  He then grabbed the arrow, that was in Manson’s right hand, at the tail end, put his boot on his right arm and grabbed the arrow and pulled it as hard as he could, pulling it out, mutilating the hand even more, especially when the tip travelled through the flesh. The screams were hysterical and Pickle coldly wiped the arrow on Manson’s clothes and stood up.

  He walked away from the jeep, back to his crew.

  “Fuck me,” Drake laughed, and was the first to speak. “You put them all down with no fuss.

  “Yeah, well. I had a bit o’ help.” Pickle handed Stephanie the arrow. “Here’s yer arrow back. Thanks for what yer did.”

  Stephanie smiled and placed the arrow in her bag. Pickle looked at Drake and then asked if he was ready to go to Gnosall.

  “Gnosall?” Drake had no idea what Pickle was talking about and rubbed his forehead. “What are you on about?”

  “I’m sorry, Pickle,” young Richard said. “I haven’t said anything yet.”

  “Said anything?” Drake said with a baffled smile. “What’s he talking about? What the cunt is going on?”

  “We have to go to Gnosall.” Pickle’s comment immediately wiped the smile off Drake’s face.

  “What?” he exclaimed. “When?”

  “Now, I’m afraid.”

  “No way.”

  “Come on, Drake,” Pickle almost begged. “I can’t leave his girlfriend there. They’ll kill her and he just saved ma life.”

  “And so did Stephanie,” said Vince.

  “True.” Pickle nodded. “Ma life has been saved by a seventeen-year-old and then a fourteen-year-old. What a weird world we live in.”

  “Is this really necessary?” Drake moaned.

  “I have to do this.”

  “For fuck’s sake.” Drake ran his fingers over his hairless head. “We’ll do it, but I’m not going out on another run with you Colwyn lot. You lot a fucking nightmare.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  The game of cards had killed forty or so minutes and Karen was now becoming bored. Karen and Derek talked and she found out that he was an old acquaintance of Drake and was a part of the Wrath of Evil biker group that used to congregate every other weekend for country rides and days out. Derek chose, like Drake, not to wear the attire anymore. He didn’t see the point.

  Karen did some digging and asked about Derek’s family, but she was more interested in Drake, who was a bit of an enigma.

  “He had a wife and a son,” Derek explained in short, “but they died.”

  “No other family members?”

  “Apart from his younger brother, Alan, no.”

  “And how are you coping with all this?” Karen probed further.

  Derek shook his head. “I’m one of the lucky ones,” he said with a smile.

  “What?” Karen didn’t understand his comment and added, “Pickle told me when we first met, only a couple of days into this, that the lucky ones were already dead.”

  “I can see his point,” Derek said with a snigger. “I suppose that made sense in the first couple of weeks, when there was so much devastation and death, but it’s calmed down now. It’s still a dangerous world, but I’m glad things have worked out ... so far.”

  “Worked out?”

  “My family are still alive,” he said. “I reckon they made it to Scotland, I really do.”

  “Good.” Karen smiled. “Maybe you’re right. We could all do with a bit of hope.”

  “Drake and the guys met up when it all kicked off, but I refused to move and stayed in our house for a couple of weeks. I went out one day, on a run, and was attacked by some thugs called the Murphys when I was driving through Little Haywood, on the way to the supermarket.”

  “I know of them.”

  “Horrible family. I heard Vince killed a few of them.”

  Karen nodded. “There’s a story behind that, but go on.”

  “Anyway, I managed to escape the attack and ran into a couple of my guys on the road. As soon as I saw two mopeds heading towards me, I knew it was them. They told us about where they were all staying, and then weeks later we decided to try out the hospital.”

  Karen sat back in her seat and revealed a smirk, making Derek uncomfortable. He asked her what the problem was.

  “I heard Drake is a bit of a ladies man.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t say that. I’ve heard a few rumours that he’s been with a few women. The one we all know about is his casual fling with Patricia Johnson.”

  “He told me that was a one time thing.”

  “I think the pair of them get together
when they’re both in the mood.” Derek laughed and hunched his shoulders. “What can I say? It’s the apocalypse, but people still get horny.”

  “Must annoy some of the guys that he’s getting some action and others aren’t.” There was no response from Derek, so Karen continued to pester further. “And having booze available must be annoying as well.”

  Derek nodded gently and said, “I know about that.”

  “Oh?”

  “The rumour is that after a run, Frank, one of the riders, goes into the staff room, Drake’s office, and hands him booze after a run.”

  “Know that for sure, do you?” Karen didn’t want to tell Derek that she had found booze hidden in the staff room. She could be accused of snooping.

  “We’re not daft. Some days we can smell the booze off him.”

  “And it doesn’t bother you?”

  Derek placed his hands on his thighs and thought for a moment. He said, “You know what? No, it doesn’t.”

  “Why not?”

  Derek shrugged his shoulders. “He’s taken on a roll that requires him to be responsible for people in here. He sleeps very little, has to make sure everything is running okay, from the growing of food to sanitation, the nursery, security ... and now this clinic set up.”

  “Granted, it was his idea,” said Karen. “But it’s me running the show. I’m not having a go at him, I’m just saying that he’s not God. Nobody would volunteer for this if they didn’t get off on being the main man.”

  “You’re a cynical woman, Karen,” Derek said with a smile. “Very cynical.”

  “Overall ... I do like him, despite our rough start.”

  “Rough?” Derek laughed. “That’s one way of putting it.” The man then ran his fingers through his hair and bit his bottom lip. He had something he wanted to get off his chest and Karen knew it.

  “Come on then,” said Karen. “Out with it.”

  “I was one of the people that opposed to you lot coming here,” Derek revealed.

  “Okay.” Karen urged the man to continue. “And now?”

  “You’re just the same as us,” he said. “Just people wanting to survive. Although Drake’s brother’s still not a fan.”

  “So I’ve heard. Probably still annoyed that we restrained him and sent him back to Drake with a message that we wanted to have a truce.”

  “He should never have headed to your place on his own. Idiot.”

  “I’ve hardly seen him since we arrived.”

  “He’s keeping a low profile. Drake wasn’t happy what he did, and let him know about it. He still goes out on runs now and again, but I think he spends a lot of his time in his room.”

  “Which is where?”

  “Ward 33.”

  Karen smiled. “That’s the next floor. It was the old neurology ward. Dr Robert used to be the consultant for that ward.”

  “Who? Isn’t that a Beatles’ song?”

  Karen shrugged her shoulders and explained, “Dr Robert was a guy I shadowed, as well as many others, during my training period.”

  “Okay”

  “Doesn’t matter.” Karen shook her head and asked Derek, “Fancy another game?”

  He shook his head. “Not really, if I’m being honest with you.”

  “No, neither do I.” Karen smiled and then stood up, forcing Derek to ask where she was going.

  “Ward 33,” she answered.

  “What?” Derek was befuddled and said, “Ward 33?”

  “That’s where I’m going.”

  “Why? That’s where Alan stays.”

  “I know.” Karen quickly elevated her eyebrows, and Derek asked what she was up to.

  “I think it’s about time that Drake’s brother and us Colwyn lot buried the hatchet.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Before Pickle put Richard into the back of the van and introduced him to Mildred, Stephanie and Quint, he quickly told him about Marsden and especially Manson. He explained to him what they were capable of and the story that Shelley Tavernier had told them when they first turned up at the village with their thuggish behaviour and rapists ways.

  “I’ll do all the talking,” Pickle explained. He was behind the wheel, as Drake said he was tired, and had two miles before reaching the small village.

  “You do all the talking?” Drake scoffed.

  “Look, Drake,” Pickle tried to pick his words carefully, “no offence, but yer have a short temper and yer can come across as a bit aggressive.”

  “A bit aggressive,” Drake chuckled. “You went over to talk to Marsden and his cunty pals and ended up putting most of them down.”

  “Aye, well.” Pickle cleared his throat. “Didn’t really have much o’ a choice, did I?”

  “So what’s the plan you have in mind?” Vince asked. Kindl had been quiet for most of the day and Pickle had made a mental note to find out what the problem was. Normally, even when staring death in the face, a quip from Kindl wouldn’t be far away.

  “There’s no major plan,” said Pickle. “I’m not going to be sneaky about it. I’m going to drive up to the village where there, more than likely, be some kind o’ barrier o’ some sorts, and tell the guys what’s happened to Marsden and that we’re here to get Tracy. I’ll tell them that we made a deal with Marsden while on the road.”

  “Did you make a deal?”

  “Not really. I just told them I was taking Tracy back with us.”

  “And if they refuse?”

  “Then we’ll see how tough this van really is.”

  He dropped the van to third gear as they approached a bend, and went back into fourth as the road straightened up. Drake was in charge when he was at the hospital, but Pickle seemed to have taken control in this situation and Drake didn’t mind. He had heard of some of the stories about Harry Branston.

  He had heard about the escape from Stile Cop, the walk back to Vince’s camp when he was half dead, beating up a couple of guys from Vince’s camp for calling him a derogatory name, slitting an intruder’s throat ... he had heard many stories. He had a few of his own, but Karen and Pickle’s journey was a story that was doing the rounds amongst the residents of his camp in Stafford.

  Seeing him in action with Marsden’s crew, albeit with a little help from Stephanie, had impressed the man and he was glad that Pickle was around and was on his side.

  A possible second in command or right hand man, maybe?

  Drake never officially had one. Maybe Findlay should be his second in command, he thought, if anything happened to him. Not having a man or woman in line for the leadership would cause chaos and infighting amongst the rest of the people. Even in death, Drake didn’t want everything he had built to crumble once he was gone.

  Vince stared out of the passenger window and a smile emerged on his face.

  Noticing this, Drake asked the man what he was thinking about.

  “Glenda Bracken,” Vince purred.

  “Why?” Drake asked. “Why now?”

  Vince shook his head and pointed outside. “Maybe it’s the bracken that made me think of her.”

  “Who was she?” Drake narrowed his eyes after his short query.

  “A girl I met years ago.”

  “Another one!” Pickle scoffed. “How many women have yer had, yer fuckin’ tart? I’m losing count with these tales yer come out with. I’m sure yer make some o’ these stories up.”

  “She was a quality girl,” Vince continued, ignoring Pickle’s ramblings. “She was from a rough part of the countryside, where even the Alsatians walked in pairs.”

  “Lovely.”

  “She even had all her own teeth.”

  Pickle mocked, “She sounds ... wonderful.”

  “She was old school. Taught me a thing or two, I can tell you.”

  “Well, I’d love to hear more, Vince,” Pickle said, “but we’re here.”

  “Even made her scream once.”

  “Yeah?” Drake showed an interest and asked, “And how did you do that?”

&n
bsp; “Went down on her, but forgot to take the cigarette out of my mouth.”

  “Now I know yer making that up.” Pickle smiled. “Yer have cracked that line before.”

  Vince laughed, as the van turned into a junction and they could see the ‘Welcome to Gnosall’ sign, but they were far from welcome.

  The van pulled up and all three of them could see two guys standing, all holding baseball bats. The men looked tetchy and the bats were raised a few inches when the vehicle came to a stop.

  “Let’s try and make this as civil as possible,” said Pickle.

  “Like last time?” Drake chuckled.

  Pickle left his machete in the van once more, and told Drake and Vince that he was going to go out alone again.

  He stepped out of the van and the ex-inmate raised his hand as a sign that he came in peace. He approached the two men, who were standing in front of a parked car that stretched across the road, and the one on the right told Pickle that was far enough.

  The two men looked similar in shape and size.

  They looked like two stereotypical nightclub bouncers. Both were muscular and had shaven heads with a permanent growl on their features.

  “What the fuck do you want?” the guy on the left snarled.

  Ignoring their rudeness, Pickle smiled and said, “I want yer to listen to me. I used to be an inmate in Stafford Prison, the same prison where Richard Marsden and his pals are from.”

  “Who are you?” the man snapped.

  Pickle snarled and narrowed his eyes, and yelled, “I told yer to fuckin’ listen, didn’t I?”

  Both men were taken aback by the aggressiveness of this unarmed man and took a look at one another in aghast.

  “Right,” Pickle sighed. “Now I’ve got yer attention, listen up. Me and ma crew bumped into Marsden on the road and had no choice but to fight. I think it’s fair to say that they came off second best.”

  “And your point?” was the response from the man on the right.

  “We made a deal,” Pickle lied. “A young couple called Richard and Tracy came here a few days ago. Richard is in the back o’ the van and wants to come back with us. We’re here to pick up Tracy.”

  The two men were unsure whether Pickle was telling the truth or not and were quiet for a while and seemed hesitant. They had a quick look at one another and began to whisper.