Snatchers (Book 3): The Dead Don't Cry (10 page)

Chapter Nineteen

Jade and Paul moved as swiftly as they could through the woodland, as the creatures from the woods now moved towards them in healthy numbers. Jade had her arm around Paul's waist and was desperately trying to help him move. His foot was broken and every time the thirty-one-year-old accidentally put pressure on the damaged area from the animal trap, he would release a cry of pain.

Jade kept on looking behind her as they both struggled to move in unison.

"Don't look back," Paul scolded with what little breath he had left. His breathing was inconsistent and he was already tiring. "Just keep moving. Every time you look back, you slow down."

"I'm sorry," Jade was now in tears. "They're—"

"I don't want to know. Just keep looking ahead, and keep moving." Paul was certain that Jade's full sentence was going to be: They're gaining on us.

He didn't need to be a genius to work that out. He could hear the noises of movement getting louder and louder from behind him. He didn't need to look, and he didn't want to look; he knew that the future appeared to be drastic for the both of them.

"Turn left," Paul commanded.

They both turned left and Jade took another peek behind her, despite Paul telling her
not to
only a few seconds ago. The paranoia was making it hard for Jade not to turn around, but the image of her being grabbed and pulled to the ground and then experiencing dozens of mouths taking chunks out of her well-toned body, repulsed and frightened her. She could now see at least twenty of the things, stumbling and groaning in their direction. She was hoping that they would soon be giving up.

Fat chance!

"Argh!" Paul screamed out as he went over his already-damaged foot and Jade stumbled as he lost his balance; they both fell to the ground.

They wasted valuable seconds while they straightened themselves up. They went back to the old position, with Jade's arm around Paul's waist for support, and Paul's hand around Jade's shoulder, and the two progressed the best they could with only three working legs.

"We need to speed it up," Jade stated the obvious.

"I can't," Paul snapped. "It hurts like a bastard."

Jade was quaking with panic and screamed, "It's gonna hurt a whole lot more if we don't hurry the fuck up."

Paul was still moving with Jade, and they could see through the trees that there was a road up ahead. Paul went over his foot again and exclaimed, "Jesus Christ!"

"Come on!" Jade screamed; her heart was now banging the inside of her chest, quick and hard. She looked at Paul; he was exhausted. There was no way he was going to make it. She was sure of it.

She looked around again, and could see them in their loose formation; the nearest one was now only ten yards away.

Jade could see the tears streaming from Paul; he really
was
pushing himself through the pain barrier. He was struggling to catch his breath, and he was leaning on her and getting heavier, which suggested to Jade that he was becoming weaker. Trying to move on one working leg must be really difficult, almost impossible, she thought.

"We're nearly at the road." Jade gave Paul a false smile, in order to give him some false hope, but he shook his head. "What is it, Paul?"

With his gasping breath, Paul struggled to get out his sentence. "And what do we do once we're at the road? We still have to keep moving, and these things are not going to stop, ever."

Shit; he's right
.

Jade looked up to the sky and her lip wobbled with emotion. She had never been a bad person, and would like to have thought that she could go back to her house one day and see if her family were still around, but she couldn't do that if she was dead.

She wondered if her parents were still alive; and if they
were
, she was certain that they were probably distraught that their little girl hadn't come home yet.

What worried Jade the most, was her father. He knew she had gone to work that day, and she was certain that her pig-headed father may have taken the car and took a drive to the sports centre to see if there was any sign of his little girl. With the state the sports centre was in when they left, with the hundreds of ghouls around and inside the centre, she feared that there was a possibility that her father may have been killed looking for her. But she wasn't sure. She wasn't sure of anything; and the only way she was going to know if her family were okay was to achieve her overall goal, and that was to go back home.

A few scenarios could greet Jade Greatrix if she made it back home. Her parents could have turned, or they could be alive and hiding in the house. She wanted to know if they were okay. She was desperate to know.

She had a choice to make, and she made it with a heavy heart.

Jade cried, "May God forgive me."

"What are you talkin' about?" Paul spoke.

Jade looked at him, removed her arm from around his waist, took his arm off around her shoulder and pushed him to the ground.

She heard Paul scream, "Jade! No, Jade! Don't leave me here! Jade! No! Jade! Jade!"

Jade placed the palms of her hands over her ears as Paul continued to call out for her. Her guilt was immense, but her need for survival was even stronger. She was now out onto the road, crossed it, and went into the woods on the other side. She was in tears, but she wanted to live. Christ, she wanted to live!

Once she was a few yards into the woods, she removed her hands and heard the awful screaming from Paul Parker as he was being grabbed, bitten and torn to bloody pieces by many hungry fiends. There would be nothing left of him eventually, and Jade constantly begged God to forgive her as she walked briskly through the woodland. Once the cries had faded, she stopped walking and sat against a tree.

She brought her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. She then rocked back and forth, and overcome with guilt and shame for what she had done to a man that looked after her over the past few days, she screamed out, "I'm sorry!"

It wasn't the greatest thing to do while there were marauders about, but it was something she just couldn't hold in.

What was she going to do now?

Chapter Twenty

"So how long you thinking about staying?"

Karen was sitting on a tree stump in the enclosed, suffocating garden that let in little light, while Pickle was in the corner of the garden, near the fence, and was doing press-ups. Both guests looked at one another and were both wondering if this was the old man's way of telling them not to make themselves too comfortable.

Karen eventually answered the man. "It won't be for long."

"Just a wee while." Pickle walked over, slightly perspiring and out of breath, and patted the man on the shoulder as a friendly gesture.

Wolf was convinced he was amongst good people. If they wanted the cabin for themselves, he was pretty certain that the Pickle character would be able to snap him in half. "I fancy a walk. Wanna come?"

Both Pickle and Karen nodded their heads and Wolf went back inside for the shotgun. He was gone for a matter of seconds and soon returned with the weapon tucked into his left arm. He put a set of keys into his pocket, and then began coughing. His coughing was so loud and violent, he ended up clearing his throat, turning away from his two guests, and spat onto the grass. He apologised right away.

"That's okay." Karen then pointed at Pickle jokingly. "
He
does it all the time."

Once they all left the place, Wolf locked the tall, wooden gate behind him and told his two guests that they were heading for the very top of the hill.

In silence they all eventually reached their destination, with Pickle helping Wolf with his last few steps, as it appeared the sixty-nine-year-old was struggling. Once they all got to the top, they took in the view and it brought the childhood memories flooding back for Karen.

The bottom of the hill was surrounded by a huge hedge, all around, apart from a twelve-foot gap where Karen was looking. That gap led to the football field and the back of the Pear Tree Estate of Rugeley Town. She used to pass through that gap to get to where she was now, Cardboard Hill, and would spend hours with her friends. The hill wasn't officially called Cardboard Hill, it was just a nickname. It didn't have a name as such, it was just a large, steep hill that gave off the view of the woods when looking to the right; looking to their left revealed the sight of the football field and the estate, and Flaxley was behind them—another area of the town.

"It's nice up here." Pickle released a smile and tried to ignore the sight of the smoke that was coming from burning buildings from afar.

"It
was
," Wolf chuckled. "I had the occasional bother with kids in the past, but I suppose this outbreak, or whatever the hell it is, puts my
bother with kids
into perspective a little."

"What kind of bother did you have?"

"Just people breaking into the cabin, trespassers, that kind of thing."

Karen reminisced, "I remember, when I was a kid, you used to be able to
see
the cabin. The trees weren't so dense."

"I built the fence a few years ago." Wolf then sat down, and the other two did the same, one on either side of him. "I was getting sick of coming up and finding it vandalised, and I just let the trees grow. The trouble is, I don't own the hill, just the cabin, so anyone can come up here. Joggers, dog walkers, junkies—we used to get them all."

Pickle nodded down the hill, towards the gap in the hedge, and said, "I see what yer mean 'bout them things." They looked just in front of the gap where the hill began to incline. There was five ghouls lying there, hundreds of yards away at the bottom of the mount. They could see a little movement, as if they were still trying to climb their way up. They were clawing at the ground, desperate to move, but the steepness of the hill was eventually too much for their weakened muscles in their legs.

Pickle then turned to Karen. "Why did you call it Cardboard Hill?"

She thought for a second, almost as if she had forgot herself, and said, "We used to break bits of cardboard off, walk up to the top of the hill where we are now, and slide down. You can imagine how popular this place was whenever we had snow."

A comfortable silence enveloped the three of them and all, but Wolf, closed their eyes, feeling the gentle wind lick their sweaty faces.

"You guys can stay here for as long as you want, you know," Wolf announced. The comment came right out of the blue, but it was a welcomed comment, and Pickle and Karen managed a smile on their faces. "But I need you guys to do me two favours."

"I'm happy to earn my keep, Wolf." Pickle waited for the 'favours' that Wolf was about to ask.

"Same here." Karen nodded.

Wolf smiled his yellow grin, and turned to the ex-inmate and admitted, "I don't have much supplies left, Pickle. But if you and Karen could find it in yourselves to loot a few houses over there, preferably empty ones," he pointed at the back of the Pear Tree Estate, "my place is your place. Take anything you can from the street, food, water, batteries, buckets—anything. What do you say?"

"I think that's a fair deal," agreed Pickle. "We do need a break, both mentally and physically from the woods. The cabin is just what we need."

"I'm glad you agree." Wolf patted his own legs. "These old things are finding this hill troublesome these days, and I can't even run the length of myself. If I went with you, and we ran into trouble, I'd just slow you down."

"We'll go soon," Karen said, and Pickle nodded his head in agreement. "There should be nothing there that we're not used to."

"Well, my dear," Wolf said with a slight embarrassed look on his face, "I have very little experience of what could be down there, because I've been hiding up here since day one."

Wolf then stood to his feet, adjusted his straw hat and began to make the short walk back to the cabin with the other two. The decline was proving a little tough for Wolf, especially on his knees, and Karen came to his aid. She placed her hand under his armpit and he smiled and thanked the young lady.

Wolf added, "We'll need to find some bleach as well, if you can."

"Bleach?" Pickle queried.

Said Wolf, "It's to disinfect the water that comes out of the sink's tap. It should be okay, but I'm paranoid to drink from the tap. I still have some bottled water and a small bucket of rain water, as well as the barrel. I can't really boil water; it takes ages with the fire, but with a little bleach you can disinfect it. Bleach will kill some, not all, types of disease-causing organisms that may be in the water. If it's still cloudy, we can filter it through clean clothes or allow it to settle, and draw off the clear water."

"You mentioned getting buckets," Karen reminded him.

"I have a couple inside the cabin," Wolf said. "It's for rainwater. If the tap in the sink goes, we'll only have the barrel and buckets to rely on. Just trying to think ahead, especially if the water coming out of the tap becomes polluted with...whatever."

Pickle and Karen nodded in agreement.

Wolf had already explained that the water supply to the cabin was very basic and came from a tiny stream near the bottom of the hill, by using inexpensive sprinkler-type tubing that was placed underground. But for drinking water, Wolf preferred using buckets for rain water and the large water barrel that collected the rain that hit the house and went into the guttering, because he was paranoid about what state the stream could be in.

A pipe from the barrel to the guttering was attached, and this was how he got most of the water. He hardly used the water for drinking in the past, because he never had to, as he only used to come to the cabin for retreats. Now he was here on a permanent basis.

Pickle thought that their little expedition may consist of numerous trips to the Pear Tree Estate over a period of days, instead of just the one trip. Apart from the lack of food and sanitation, the cabin and location seemed perfect. The sanitation wasn't a problem for the pair of them, considering they had been living in the woods for the last three days.

They entered Wolf's garden and Karen turned to Pickle and asked him if they should both head right now. Pickle agreed, but Wolf politely asked them to wait outside the cabin for a second. They did as they were told, as the elderly man walked through the cabin's door and disappeared. He then returned, holding a machete in each hand.

Wolf released a smile and said to his guests, "Well, you didn't expect me to send you down there without being armed, did you? I bought these to keep the bushes and branches trimmed back."

He handed one machete each to the newcomers, and he thanked them, even though they were getting something in return.

Looking at the reasonably new machete, Karen asked, "You said back at the hill that you wanted two favours; so what is the second one?"

Wolf lowered his head forlornly. He gaped back up in Pickle and Karen's direction and they both could see desolation in the man's face, his eyes were reddening as if he was about to cry. He cleared his throat. "Follow me."

With no hesitation, they walked inside the cabin.

Karen was glad to be inside, as she was intrigued to see what it was like. She walked in and it was a basic set-up as to be expected. As soon as they stepped inside, they were greeted by a small kitchen. The sink was basic and was the only place in the cabin that produced running water; the place didn't look big enough to have a bathroom, even if Wolf wanted one.

Once they walked past the kitchen there was a reasonable-sized living room, with a set of stairs at the end of the room leading to just the one bedroom. That was it.

Once they reached the top of the stairs, Wolf allowed his guests to take in what he was showing them.

A once-female human was tied to a wooden chair in the corner of the bedroom. Her appearance was now becoming stereotypical to pretty much most of the others they had seen on their travels. Its face was yellow, eyes milky, and its face was bruised-looking.

She was one of them now, and her teeth snarled and gnashed at her guests, informing them that if she could ever get out of this, they would be on her menu as far as lunch was concerned.

They didn't need an explanation, but Pickle had to ask, "So, how long has yer wife been like that?"

Wolf explained, "As soon as we left, a couple of those things grabbed us. Grace took a little bite to the hand when we fought them both off, and thought nothing more of it. Then she got sick, and the radio was telling people that bites, sometimes scratches, was causing this thing to spread, so I knew she was finished."

Asked Karen, "So what happened next?"

"She became unwell. And when she became unconscious, I decided not to take any chances and tied her to the chair she was already sitting on. I hated doing that to my Grace, but I was already convinced that I'd lost her."

Pickle placed his hand on Wolf's arm as he could see the man was becoming upset, while the shell of his wife, that looked to have been taken over by some possessed demon, continued to struggle in the corner of the room because of the ropes that bound her to the chair.

"How on earth can yer sleep with that in here?" queried Pickle. He didn't mean the question to sound so cold, after all, 'that' used to be the woman Wolf was married to for many decades.

"It was a struggle for the first week, but you kind of get used to it." Wolf then looked over to his wife and began to sob. His quavering hands wiped away the tears that ran down his cheeks and Pickle was beginning to feel emotional for the poor man.

Pickle looked at Karen, but she looked unmoved.

Wolf added, "I couldn't do it. I know it's daft; I know she's already gone, but I just couldn't do it."

Pickle couldn't make out what Wolfgang Kindl meant. "Couldn't do what?"

Wolf was beginning to compose himself. The weeping had now ceased, but the bloodshot eyes and stained cheeks would be there for a while. "That's my second favour that I want from you."

"What is it?" asked Karen.

"I want you to kill her for me."