Snatchers (Book 7): The Dead Don't Yield (16 page)

Chapter Thirty Three

Theodore Davidson stomped down the stairs and reached the living room of the diminutive cabin. He could see Johnny Wilson lying on the settee, and Paul Frederick on the floor. He stood over Frederick, crouched down and punched him in the stomach.

Frederick woke up, gasping for air, waking Willie up as well. Once he got some of his breath back, he said, "What was that for, Bear?"

"Snoring." The colossal figure glared at Willie. "And I thought you were supposed to be doing a watch."

"Watch what?" Willie spoke up bravely. "I'm sure the Roamers can't get up that hill, and I don't think anybody's gonna come up. And even if they did, they're hardly gonna get past you, or us for that matter."

"He's right," added Frederick.

"Just get back outside." The Bear stomped back upstairs, and then bellowed from the bedroom. "And keep the fucking noise down."

The two men looked at one another. They were dying to say something, but were scared in case The Bear overheard them.

Willie sighed, "I better go outside."

Frederick said, "See you later. I think I'll be doing the morning stint."

Willie left the cabin, no weapon in his hand—he didn't think he needed one—and walked onto the front garden. He sat on the stump and placed his chin on the palms of his hands.

Fuck. He was bored already, and had only been sitting for seconds.

He moved off the stump and sat on the grass.

That's better.

He lay back and decided to gaze at the stars for a while. He guessed that it was around ten o'clock and was so bored that he decided to count them, if that was possible. After a minute he had lost his way, so he decided to try again. Again, he'd lost count.

"Shit," he groaned. "Once more."

He counted with heavy eyes, knowing that it could take minutes to count them all in the vast sky. He was going to count every single one of them. He was determined to do it.

*

His eyes opened and his nose twitched.

"Shit."

He had fallen asleep, but he didn't have a clue how long for. If Bear had caught him, he thought, he'd be dead meat. He sat up and began rubbing his eyes. What was that smell? His nose sniffed the air, and he suddenly stood up and began sniffing again.

It smelt like...burning!

Johnny Wilson could hear the sound of burning wood and squinted his eyes in confusion. He then looked behind him and could see dark thick smoke spewing to the dark heavens, and now panic kicked in. How long had he been out?

He ran to the gate and opened it. The heat smacked him in the face and it appeared that the cluster of trees in front was engulfed in flames. "Crap!"

He ran into the camp and yelled in panic for both persons to wake up. Frederick woke in a panic, but Bear came down the stairs from the bedroom nonchalantly.

"What the fuck is it?" Bear growled, putting on his shoes.

"Fire!" Willie cried.

"Where?" Frederick asked.

"Everywhere!"

Bear stormed outside and began checking over the six foot fence. He seemed to be taking his time, and was the only person out of the three that refused to panic. The other two went outside and followed him.

"This was done on purpose," Willie stated.

"No shit." Bear pointed at the part of the fence that was to the right. "We leave over here. Another ten minutes and this whole place is gonna go up."

"What do we do?" Willie yelled. "What do we do?"

"Don't piss your pants." Bear snapped his fingers at both men. "Get the bags. Get the car keys and we'll fuck off. Simple. Looks like we'll be needing that jeep
now
."

"Who could have done this?" Frederick scratched at his head.

Bear shook his head and knew exactly who was responsible for this. "Little cunt."

*

The teenager had now reached the football field, and looked up to Cardboard Hill. His eyes lit up and a smile stretched under his nose as he could see the smoke billowing. The pale youngster laughed and was certain that that maniac who cut off his hand was now inside, burning away, or at least being suffocated in his sleep by the smoke.

He looked at his stump that had a fresh tea towel wrapped around it. He had no idea how much blood he had lost when he was unfairly punished like that, but he was still living, and despite the pain, he was certain that he was over the worst of it. The only thing that worried him now was infections. He was going to worry about that another day.

He had done everything that he thought was possible. He had raided a house and managed to get bandages and painkillers. He even found a bottle of whisky and poured the whole bottle over the stump. Now that was an experience he didn't want to go through again.

Still wincing with pain, the eighteen-year-old continued to look up at the hill, and said, "Burn, you fucker."

He turned on his heels and walked back to the house he was staying at.

Chapter Thirty Four

Pickle and Vince had spent the last ten minutes talking about the individual that they'd seen in the woods. Both agreed that the person was nothing but a lucky survivor, out there, living day-by-day. Pickle was convinced that the person in the woods had some kind of bow on their back, but Vince had laughed it off.

"How long now?" asked Vince.

"Another half an hour and we should be by the bridge."

"Thank fuck!" snapped Kindl. "My feet are killing me like a couple of bastards, and it's getting dark."

Pickle yawned and stretched out his arms. He then rubbed his watery eyes while Vince was beside him, singing a rude song about the Royal Family.

"What the..?" Pickle didn't finish his sentence and squinted his eyes to focus on what was up ahead.

"What is it?" asked Vince.

"Have a look for yerself." Pickle blew out a breath of air and added, "Please tell me that I'm seein' things, Vince."

Vince stopped walking and Pickle did also, standing by his side. Vince gazed for a long time; eventually he puffed out his cheeks and said, "Well...either the trees are moving, and walking towards us. Or...we could be in a spot of bother."

"How many, do yer think?" Pickle already had a rough estimate, but wanted a second opinion.

"Twenty."

"Can we take 'em?"

Vince peeped at Pickle to see if he was serious. "Probably, but it'd be easier if we just outrun them," Vince laughed, shocked that Pickle was even thinking about going through this horde.

"We have sawn-offs," Pickle began. "And a few more cartridges in our pocket. If we can take out four each, at least, then that leaves us with about twelve to destroy with our blades."

Vince dropped his head in his hands and remained silent for a few seconds. "I'm sorry, Pickle, but have you lost your fucking mind?"

"We need to get to tha' bridge, Vince. I don't wanna stay in the woods tonight."

"Well, neither do I." Vince could now see that the group were gaining and both men had to come to a decision...fast. "But I don't really wanna die either. I kind of like living at the moment. I know you can't access Pornhub anymore, but life
could
be a lot worse."

"Vince, I'm being serious."

"Look." Vince placed his hand on Pickle's shoulder and was coming across as patronising. "Stop panicking, sweet cheeks."

"Everything's a joke to yer, isn't it?"

Vince never answered at first, then nodded over to the advancing horde. "I'll tell you what. Make a decision, and I'll go with whatever you decide." Vince took his bag off, unzipped it, then pulled out his sawn-off shotgun, expecting Pickle's answer to be the more dangerous option.

"Fuck it. Yer right." Pickle kicked at the ground in defeat and said, reluctantly, "Let's go back."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Pickle turned around and began to walk away and pointed at Vince. "But I am not fuckin' happy about this."

Vince followed Pickle and began to lightly jog, "Er... Branston. Don't you think we should pick up the pace a bit?"

"Good idea."

Both men began to jog away from the gang of the dead, and were now heading in the direction they had just come from.

*

Still embarrassed about his failed sex with Sheryl Smith, Lee James continued to walk in silence, plagued with mortification. He couldn't stop thinking about Denise, and had been racked with guilt for being so intimate with another female after her demise.

Sheryl Smith walked behind him and had made no attempt to make conversation since she had embarrassed him about his quick performance. She felt a little guilty about making fun of him, but it was her disappointment and frustration that made her lash out like that.

She picked up the pace to get near Lee's side and took a quick peep, trying to catch his eye. She felt that he knew that she was looking at him, but he chose to ignore her. Had his male pride been hurt? she thought. Or was he feeling bad because of his family?

"We're here," he finally spoke.

Sheryl could see the small bridge up ahead. It was her turn to speak. "But
they're
not. What do we do?"

"We wait for ten to twenty minutes." Lee stopped walking once he got to the beginning of the bridge, then looked up to the sky. It was reasonably light considering it was nearly ten o'clock in the evening.

"Then what?"

"You
know
what." Lee was sharp with Sheryl, but she was certain that it was because of the incident before. "We have to go." He pointed up to the heavens. "It's gonna be dark soon, and we still need to walk to the pick-up truck. We all agreed on this."

"They'll be here."

Lee sighed and had a quick scan around. He hoped that she was right, but he wasn't so sure.

*

Theodore Davidson, Johnny Wilson and Paul Frederick sat in silence as the Subaru jeep left the Pear Tree Estate and made its way along the country road. They had tried two places to get their heads down, but both were unfit for them to stay at. Neither Frederick or Wilson asked the driver, Bear, where he was taking them next. They could tell by his face that he was becoming exasperated, so neither men opened their mouths.

The vehicle bypassed a pub as they entered a small village called Fradley, and both men were surprised that he never stopped at a lone house that seemed perfect. Maybe he had already decided where they were going to stay. The jeep passed through Armitage and began to descend down a hill. The Bear eventually brought the vehicle to a stop by a place called The Spode Cottage.

"Gentlemen," he announced and pointed at the establishment. "Our digs for the next couple of days, and it looks like the place is empty."

Frederick craned his neck to get a better look. "What about those caravans to the right of the place, Bear?"

"What about them?" he cackled, and pointed at The Spode Cottage. "You can stay in one of them, if you like, but I'm staying in
that
place."

"Me too," Willie spoke up.

"No." Paul Frederick shook his head. "What I meant was..."

"I know what you're trying to say." The Bear looked up to the darkening sky, smiled and added, "It's getting dark. We'll check the caravans for food and stuff in the morning. Then we can make ourselves more comfortable in that place." He nodded over at The Spode Cottage, took the vehicle round the back of the place and got out.

Chapter Thirty Five

July 23rd

Karen Bradley's sticky eyes opened and her first thought was if Pickle had returned. She got out of bed, immediately taking off her pyjamas and put on yesterday's clothes that were strewn across the floor; she even put on her boots.

She exited the room and crept across the landing, placing her ear against his bedroom door. She didn't have to open the door. She knew he hadn't returned. She opened it anyway to see the room was just the way he had left it, and she then sadly made her way downstairs to get a drink of water.

She thought about the dream she had, with Pickle as a Snatcher, and just thinking about it made her vertebrae rattle with fear. She wasn't going to rest until he was back. She took a swig of tepid water that was sitting on the table in a plastic bottle, and left the house.

She made the short walk along Sandy Lane and found the place eerie, quiet. She stopped at Rosemary's door and gave it a knock. She guessed that it was around seven or eight. Not too early, she thought.

Rosemary opened the door; her face flushed immediately.

"I take it they're not back," said Karen.

Rosemary shook her head. "Look, about the other day—"

"I don't care who you fuck, Rosemary. You and Vince are hardly Romeo and Juliet, are you?"

"Just don't tell him."

"I don't care about that," huffed Karen. "All I care is if they're back in one piece."

Karen turned on her heels and headed for the barrier at the railway bridge. Coming her way was Rick Morgan; she called him over and he walked towards her.

"He never came back," he said, as if he knew what she was going to ask him.

"I know," she sighed. "We
do
live together, Rick."

"Oh yeah. I forgot." He looked to the left of him, confusion aplenty over his face. "But you know what they say: Good things come to those who listen."

Ignoring his moronic ramblings, Karen said, "I was gonna take a walk to the barrier and wait for the four of them. There's fuck all else to do."

"Four of them?" Rick Morgan scratched at his head. "You mean
two
of them."

"No. Four." Karen half-shook her head at Morgan. It was clear that he was hardly the sharpest tool in the box, but was he really that daft? Or was he just forgetful?

Rick revealed, "Lee and Sheryl returned last night. Didn't you know?"

"What are you talking about?"

Rick wasn't surprised by the lack of communication in the place, or even the fact that Karen hadn't been told. Rick could see Daniel Badcock coming around the corner and called him over. He felt awkward and needed back-up.

Daniel held up his hands as if he already knew what this conversation was about and said, before Karen and Rick could utter a word, "I knocked on your door last night. There was no answer."

"I was exhausted." Karen looked baffled, wondering why only half of the group had turned up. "I had an early night."

"Bentley wasn't found." Daniel added, "As for the four that went out looking for him...they had a bit of a problem."

"What kind of a problem?"

"They went deeper into the woods." Daniel swallowed before continuing. "They came to the bridge where the nature trail is."

"I know it." Karen nodded, and she was certain what was coming next. "There're two dirt paths once you cross the bridge."

"Yeah, there is." Daniel smiled thinly, before adding, "They split up. Sheryl and Lee returned to the bridge, but Pickle and Vince never showed. Look, Karen, they could hardly hang around in the dark—"

"Yeah, yeah." She held up her hand, stopping Daniel from explaining further. "I know all that. They'll be fine."

"They will." Daniel was pleased that she was being so understanding, and had anticipated a verbal lashing from the twenty-three-year-old.

Said Karen, "Me and Pickle have stayed in the woods for days at one point. So when are they going out looking for them? This morning some time?"

Daniel and Rick both looked at one another. It was clear on their faces that that was something that wasn't going to be done in the near future.

Karen could tell by their faces that there wasn't going to be a search party for both men. "You're fucking kidding me, right?"

Lee James walked down Sandy Lane and it appeared that he was heading Karen's way. All three stared in his direction, waiting for him to get closer. "Before you say anything," he held his hands up. "There was nothing we could do."

"So you're not going out today? Is that it?"

"This is the thing," Lee tried to explain. "Four people went out to look for one person yesterday. We now have three people missing. We're not even gonna put it to a vote to see if it's worth risking more people to look for them. It'd be madness."

"This is bullshit," she laughed falsely, her fists clenched.

"Vince, Pickle and Bentley are tough bastards. They'll be back."

"I can't believe you're not gonna look for them."

"You said yourself that you and Pickle stayed in the woods for days." Rick Morgan was now saying
his
bit. "Cannock Chase is twenty-six square miles. Looking for them in an area like that would be like looking for a needle in a cowpat."

"It's haystack," Karen corrected, and muttered, "Fuckin' idiot."

"Anyway," Lee sighed. "They never arrived back at the bridge, so they might have ran into a few of the dead and gone deeper into the woods. As soon as they find a road they'll be fine."

"And what if they don't?" Karen glared at Lee.

"They will," was all he could muster. "I bet you they'll be back here today, probably with Bentley in tow."

"Well, if they're not," Karen squared up to Lee, saliva running down the corner of her mouth in anger, "I'll go looking for them myself."

"I won't allow that."

"You can't stop me."

"I think you'll find that I can."

*

Pickle and Vince strolled through the woods, both sleep deprived. During the night, each man had planned to get four hours sleep each whilst the other stood watch, but it didn't work out that way. Pickle slept soundlessly for four hours, whereas Vince couldn't sleep at all. He was too nervous.

"Now what?" Vince scratched at his hair. "We're going deeper into the woods. This dirt path is practically straight."

"I know." Pickle stopped walking and reached for some water in his bag and took a mouthful. "We can cut through the condensed trees to the left, if yer want. But I'm paranoid about traps an' other stuff."

"Well, we're gonna end up in Birmingham the rate we're going."

"Don't exaggerate," Pickle laughed. "But we
are
moving further from the camp."

"Do you think Lee and Sheryl got to the bridge okay?"

"Yeah. Whether they found Bentley or not is another thing." Pickle slapped Vince's arm and pointed left, through the suffocating greenery. "Come on. This way. Let's see if we can get to a road."

"Machetes out." Vince pulled his from his belt, Pickle did the same.

"Yer took the words right out o' ma mouth, Kindl."