Snatchers (Book 8): The Dead Don't Pray (26 page)

Karen scratched at her greasy hair and said, "What're you on about? I've just come from Jimmy Mac's house."

"He left about a minute ago." Rick gave Karen a look and was hoping for some answers off the woman. "I don't know what Jimmy Mac's done, but after Pickle's antics yesterday, I certainly wouldn't want to get on the wrong side of him. But I wouldn't run off like that. It's too dangerous out there. He should really stay and face the muesli."

Music! Stupid prick
. Karen smiled at his comment. "What did he actually say?"

"
I'm a dead man walking. Pickle's going to kill me
. And then he left." Rick cocked his head to the side and the thirty-five-year-old individual enquired, "Any idea what he's talking about?"

Karen rubbed the side of her head. "I think I have an idea. "

Chapter Fifty One

Vincent Kindl and Stephanie Perkins had now reached another hump bridge that stretched over the canal. The third bridge told Vince that they were now at the Ash Tree roundabout. "Another half a mile and we'll be at the caravan park."

"It seems an awful long way to come," Stephanie started to groan, "just because we can't get to this camp of yours at Sandy Lane."

"I know." Vince nodded in agreement. "But those hordes weren't shifting at all. If we stay at the Spode Cottage we can rest until the morning, then at least we'll have the energy to take the long way round to the camp, if need be."

"And what's the long way?"

"Through Brereton, across a football field that passes Cardboard Hill, then onto the Pear Tree Estate and onto Sandy Lane."

"Sounds like a long journey."

"It's not that bad, but we won't make it if we start it now." Vince looked up to the heavens. "It'll be too dark."

Vince urged Stephanie to go under the bridge, rather than going up the hill and onto the road. They did just that, and now were on the left side of the canal, and to their left there were no trees or bushes anymore. They could see the power station to their left and, across the canal, the Ash Tree pub sat, abandoned.

"At the next hump bridge," Vince pointed up ahead, "we'll get onto the road if it's clear, otherwise this canal path will start taking us away from the caravan site and up to the golf course, near Park Farm."

"Whatever." Stephanie shrugged and had no idea what he was talking about. She didn't know the places that he was mentioning, and all she wanted was to reach this caravan site, he used to live at, and put up her aching feet.

Walking side-by-side, the two of them had finally passed the pub that was to their right, across the canal, and reached another bridge. Vince led the way, went up the concrete steps and onto the main road that would take them to Vince's old camp. If they ventured further they'd be in Armitage, which they had no intention of doing.

Their feet were on the tarmac and were now walking along the main road, heading towards the site. They could see two hundred yards in front of them. The road went upwards and bent to the right, which meant that the caravan site could not he seen until they reached the top of the hill. Once they were at the top they'd be able to see that it dipped and to their left would be the Plum Pudding pub, and across the road to their right would be the Spode Cottage establishment with the caravan site behind it, and the whole area surrounded by an eight foot hedge.

Vince pointed up to the sky to see that it was clear of any clouds. "Could be another nice day tomorrow."

"Does it make any difference?" Stephanie said petulantly. "Especially living in this world."

Vince began to tease, "You know, when we first met—when I woke up, I thought you was a mystery: The black poncho, the shades on your head and the bow. But you're just a moaning, snotty teenager."

"A snotty teenager that saved your arse."

"True," snickered Vince and swapped the crowbar to his left hand as his right was becoming clammy, "But if you're whining now, just wait until winter; then you'll
really
have something to moan about."

"Point taken."

Vince looked at the beautiful sky and said, "Quite stunning. I bet the evening will be plastered in shades of red. You mark my words. We'll have another good day tomorrow, weather-wise."

"What's the saying?" Stephanie looked up to the heavens. "Red sky, Shepherd's pie?"

"What?" Vince burst into hysterics as they were near the brow of the hill. "Red sky, Shepherd's pie? Where did you get that from?"

"I don't know," Stephanie huffed and flashed Vince a playful glare. "What is it then?"

"It's red sky at night, shepherd's delight. Blue sky at night..." Vince paused and thought for a second,  "Er ... day."

"I'm sure that's not it."

"It doesn't matter anyway." Vince pointed; they were at the top of the road. Stephanie could see the site to her right. "A five-minute walk and I'll be at my old digs."

"I can see one of the dead." Stephanie nodded over, and Vince could see that a male ghoul had stumbled from the Plum Pudding's small car park that was situated at the side of the place. "How on earth did you manage to stay here without getting attacked?"

"It wasn't always like this." Vince began to give details as the pair of them made the slow walk downwards to the camp. "We had guards, and HGVS, that are now back at the other camp, that went across the road to create a barrier. And the hedge that surrounds the place also provided some kind of protection."

As they reached the bottom of the road, the male ghoul had noticed their presence, but it wasn't anything to be concerned about.

"I'll take care of it." Vince passed the crowbar from one hand to the other.

Stephanie had already prepared her bow, so Vince moved to the side of her as she pulled back the string with the arrow ready to fire.

"How many of those arrows you got left?" he asked.

"I'm trying to concentrate," she lightly reprimanded him.

"Concentrate?" Vince guffawed, and ran his fingers across his face. "We're out in the open, there's hardly a wind and it's only twenty yards away."

"I'm not used to people standing beside me, spewing out shit."

Vince laughed, impressed by her response. "Sorry. Am I putting you off?"

She never answered, but Vince smiled and began to tease as Stephanie was about to release the arrow. "That's it, Stephanie. Nice and easy; nice and easy, girl. Just remember the eye of the tiger—"

"Please shut the..." she released the arrow and both watched as it cruised past the ghoul's head, missing it by centimetres.

"Allow me." Vince patted Stephanie on the back and marched towards the creature, away from her, and turned around and said, "Now, don't put an arrow in my back while I'm sorting this little problem out."

"I'll think about it." Stephanie smiled. Now it was
her
turn to tease.

Vince raised the crowbar as he reached the beast, but paused when he clocked the face of the dead man. Even though the face was rotten and decayed, it looked familiar. Whilst Vince was still, the creature made a lunge for him. He dropped the crowbar to the floor, grabbed the thing by both shoulders and pushed it over. It staggered backwards and fell to the floor. Vince then bent over and picked up the crowbar, and as he  brought the crowbar back to strike, an arrow struck it right in the middle of the forehead.

Perfect shot.

Vince turned around, in shock, and shook his head. "That could have hit me."

"Well it didn't." Stephanie walked over to Vince and took out the arrow from the corpse's head, wiped the dark gunk on the clothes of the deceased and placed it back into her bag.

"I had it under control," Vince protested.

"You hesitated." Stephanie Perkins gave Vince a curious look and asked her middle-aged companion, "What happened?"

"I thought I recognised the face." Vince looked down at the dead body's features and wondered where he had seen the face before. It suddenly clicked. "I know who he is ... was."

"Who?"

"Last month, when we all stayed at the camp, we robbed his shop."

"That was nice of you," Stephanie remarked with sarcasm.

"He had a sword and his family were upstairs. Stupid fucker had left his shop door open. Me, Claire and Jack took stuff from the shelves, and this man," Vince pointed at the corpse, "pulled a sword on us. So I went outside and returned, holding a shotgun."

"Then what happened?"

"Soft-arse Jack.
That's
what happened."

"What do you mean?"

"A companion of mine, Jack Slade, told him that he could keep some of the stuff."

"He sounds like a nice man."

"He was." Vince looked up at Stephanie, smiled, but she could see sadness behind his smile. "He was a good guy. We buried him at the back of the camp. Claire was nice as well."

Making Vince snap out of his reminiscing, Stephanie asked him, "So which one is your caravan? My feet are killing me."

"Come on, I'll show you."

Chapter Fifty Two

With her head still sore from her slap earlier, she decided to take a trip to Paul Dickson's house to see how he was doing. Karen was worried if David McDonald couldn't keep his mouth shut about what had happened. If Jimmy Mac returned and Pickle knew about the slap she had received, she wasn't sure how he'd react. Killing the intruder and losing his temper with Jimmy Mac, in just a couple of days, would make Lee James and the rest of the residents have serious thoughts about Pickle's position in the camp. It was under scrutiny with some as it was.

Karen could see a female figure in the distance and knew straight away who it was. As she got nearer, she saw Sheryl Smith carrying a large knife, and Karen gave her a friendly wave.

"I'm off to Paul's. Are you off anywhere exciting?" asked Karen. After their little trip together on the Pear Tree Estate, Karen had warmed to Sheryl a little and her abhorrence for the woman had disappeared. She was a hard character to work out, but at least now when Sheryl spoke to Karen it was civilised, and not insults like it used to be. Sheryl stopped walking and was standing next to Karen.

"Oh yeah," Sheryl said sarcastically, in her usual robotic, monotone voice. "I'm off to do the barrier for a few hours with Rick and Daniel. I'm looking forward to that like a kick in the gash."

"Daniel and Rick's alright," Karen laughed at Sheryl's deadpan remark.

"Daniel think he's a bit of a player, but I don't think he could satisfy himself." Sheryl said sharply. "And as for Rick... the engine's on, but there's nobody behind the wheel."

"He's okay. A bit dense now and again." Karen shook her head and smiled at some of the sayings that Rick Morgan would mix up. Sometimes he annoyed her, but other times she'd find his mixed up sayings quite humorous. Her favourite was from four days ago when he told Daniel:
If you can't stand the heat, get out of the smoke
.

"Anyway," Sheryl put her knife into her belt and began heading to the barrier, "I'll see you in a bit. Give Paul my regards."

"I will."

Karen headed for Paul's house and gently knocked the door once she was there. There was no answer, and she thought that maybe he had gone for a nap. The last couple of days must have emotionally drained him.

She tried the door again, and again the result was the same. She stepped onto the lawn and peered through the window to look into the living room. The room had no life, and now she was beginning to worry. She went back over to the front door, tried the handle and gave it a nudge.

It opened.

She then stepped inside, and opened her mouth to call out his name, but decided against the idea. If he was sleeping, she didn't want to wake him.

She walked through the living room and into the kitchen. He was nowhere to be found. Maybe he had gone for a walk. She walked back through the living room, and noticed a white piece of paper sitting on the coffee table. She never saw it the first time she'd walked through, and picked up the piece of paper and read the letter that had been written in pencil:

Karen, or whoever else is reading this letter, I'm so sorry that I have given up so soon. Without my boy I don't have anything left to live for. The truth is that I'm a coward, always have been, and the pain I'm feeling right now is unbearable. It hurts too much. I'm so sorry.

Paul.

Karen dropped the paper, panic running through her frame, ran upstairs and burst into Paul's room.

She found him on the bed.

She gulped and stood motionless.

Her eyes widened as she saw the man curled up on the mattress, and at first she remained near the doorframe and didn't go in any further. She was speechless and didn't know what to do. She took a deep breath out and now stepped further into the bedroom. She made slow steps at the side of the bed and crouched down. Her eyes filled, she placed her tremulous hand on his face and began to stroke his cheek.

"It's okay, Paul," she said with a soft voice. "It's okay."

Paul Dickson's right hand was still holding the box cutter that he couldn't use, and he looked up to Karen with his soaked eyes and sobbed, "I couldn't do it, Karen. I just couldn't do it."

*

James McDonald had broken into the third house at the end of Queensway, and after checking the place out, and finding that it had no supplies at all, he went into a bedroom and blocked the door using a side-table. He wasn't hiding from the dead. He was hiding from Pickle.

After what Harry Branston had done to the intruder, Jimmy Mac feared what his own punishment was going to be once Pickle found out that he had cracked Karen—Pickle's best friend and a pregnant woman—across the side of the head. Pickle wasn't going to let that go. That's if Karen had told him at all. Maybe Karen had kept it to herself.

Hanging around the camp to see if he had been told wasn't an option. The best thing James could do was disappear for a day or two, then return once the dust had settled and everybody had calmed down. He never gave a thought to his son, David, and knew he'd be able to look after himself. The boy hated his father anyway; any fool could see that.

For half an hour James McDonald sat on the first floor of the house with his head inbetween his knees. There was no food in the house, but he needed to at least find some kind of liquid if he was going to stay there for a day or two. He raised his head up slowly, as he heard a bang from outside, and the middle-aged man stood to his feet, listening and feeling both knees crack, then took a slow walk over to the bedroom window. He peered out onto the back garden and saw the shed's door rattle. He could see that a small branch was put through two hooks to stop the door from opening. He guessed that somebody or something was in there, and had been locked in there on purpose.

He crept out of the bedroom and took the stairs. Once he was on the ground floor, he went for the back door, that would take him into the garden, and was surprised to see the key in it. He unlocked it and stepped into the warm air and saw the door of the shed rattle once more. Noticing the shed had a window to the side, he planned on going over and peering in. He walked through the long grass and hesitated before putting his face to the window. Once he did, he could see a dog in the shed. It was a mangy-looking mutt and it looked like a Golden Retriever.

"Cruel bastards."

The dog looked distressed.

Whatever people thought about James McDonald he
was
a dog lover. He cried for two days when his last dog had to be put down, due to old age. It was a black Labrador called Henry. Jimmy Mac loved that dog more than anything, and still hadn't got over Henry's death from nearly two years ago.

Jimmy Mac removed the branch, from the two hooks that went across the door, opened the shed and took a few steps back. "You poor thing." He was a few yards from the entrance of the shed, and went on his knees to beckon the dog out. The animal staggered out of the hut and growled a little. "Come on." McDonald patted his thigh. "How long have you been in there, you poor bugger?" The dog must have been put in there a day or a few days ago, he thought. Any longer than that and the poor mutt would have been dead by now. Unless...

The canine launched itself at James and sank its teeth into his nose. James McDonald screamed out, stood to his feet and staggered back to the house. McDonald locked the door behind him and inspected his injury. The teeth had broken the skin, but there didn't appear to be too much damage. He took a couple of sheets of kitchen roll from the side and used it to soak up the blood from his injured nose. He looked out of the window, and could see the dog still staggering about, like it was an old dog on its last legs.

Jimmy Mac then saw the dog turn around and hobble to the side of the house, as if it was leaving the premises. Then he saw it. The animal looked to have received wounds at the top of its back legs. He glared at the animal's wounds. "What the..?"

James became dizzy and began feeling nauseous. He gulped, and immediately went over to the sink to throw up. Realising the dog was infected, he was aware that he needed help, and the only help he was going to get was back at the camp. Engulfed in panic, he left the house and fell over in the middle of the road. His body was burning up, and his head pounded so hard that he thought he was about to have an haemorrhage.

He got to his feet, as soon as he saw two of the dead coming down Coppice Road, and could see that the pair of them were under the age of ten. With no time to wonder what their story was, he staggered and could feel the world spin. He leaned back, feeling that he was losing his balance once again, then fell back to the floor. He cried out, trying to give himself a boost to move his arse, but getting on his knees was all he could manage. He was aware that the two dead were gaining on him, and to the other side of him was the infected dog that he had released from the shed. He got to his feet once more, made an unsteady jog towards the end of Queensway, and then onto Sandy Lane. He was like a drunk after a Christmas party. He fell over once more, but got up straight away this time, using most of his energy up.

He could see the barrier up ahead and was aware that his presence had been noticed. He could see that Sheryl Smith was standing in front of the barrier, by the HGV, and noticed her holding a knife in her right hand. His presence had now also been spotted by Daniel and Rick, and all three recognised him straight away.

"Help me!" he screamed, and was a matter of yards away from the HGV. "Please, help me!"

Sheryl grabbed Jimmy Mac and sat him down against the articulated lorry. She told Daniel and Rick to keep a watch on Jimmy Mac. They stood next to him and did what they were told. Daniel could see that Sheryl was heading out, and he had to ask, "And where the hell are
you
going?"

Sheryl pointed up ahead, and both Rick and Daniel could see two of the dead, both male children, heading to the barrier. Daniel sat next to Jimmy Mac, giving him words of support, whilst Rick stood and stared at the small injury to McDonald's nose. "What happened to you?"

"I was attacked," was all they could get out of James McDonald.

Sheryl checked out the two dead characters, and even though she felt pangs of guilt about what she was about to do, she knew that they would tear her apart if she let them.

She front-kicked the smallest one, sending it flying backwards, then stabbed the eldest through the front of its head. It ceased its movements as soon as the blade went in, then Sheryl pushed it away, onto the floor, with a thrust of her knee. As the blade dripped with the dark blood, she walked over to the one that she had kicked over and stabbed it through the eye as it sat up. She pulled out the blade and watched the little body fall backwards. She then wiped the blood on the worn
Ben 10
T-shirt that the youngster was wearing, and was about to go back and see Jimmy Mac, but something stopped her from moving.

Coming out from Queensway, and getting onto Sandy Lane, was a clumsy-looking dog. She gazed at the dog, then looked back at Jimmy Mac, and thought about the injury to his nose. She then went over to him, still sitting up against the lorry, and asked him, "How did you get that injury to your nose?"

"A dog bit me," he answered.

"That dog?" she pointed up ahead.

He nodded with sadness scrawled over his face.

She marched over to the canine and could see it was gnashing, but its movement was slow and lumbering. She knew straight away that it was an infected animal. She continued to walk with large strides and, once she had reached the animal, she swung a boot to its face, making it stagger a little, then stabbed it multiple times to its head until it fell.

She gaped at the poor mutt, turned on her heels and strolled over to a sitting Jimmy Mac, with Daniel and Rick either side of him, and said to him, "That dog was infected. Which means you're now infected."

Jimmy Mac stared at Rick, then Daniel, then back to Sheryl. He nodded. He already knew. Jimmy Mac then looked at Daniel with pleading in his eyes. "Kill me."

"What?" Daniel looked aghast.

"Kill me. I don't want my son to see me like this, and I certainly don't want to turn. I was bit only five minutes ago, and already it's unbearable."

"I'm sorry." Daniel shook his head. "I can't do it."

"Don't ask me either," Rick said and gulped.

"I'll do it," Sheryl said.

Jimmy Mac smiled and nodded.

Sheryl walked over to James McDonald, crouched down so she was eye-level with the man, and put her hand over his eyes. She then rammed the blade into his right temple. She looked at a shocked Daniel and Rick as she pulled the blade out, and Jimmy Mac fell to the side, blood pouring out, down the side of his face.

"Right," Sheryl stood up and nodded to Daniel. "Better get the pickup and get him dumped at Market Hall car park. Tell Lee what's happened. I'll go and tell his son the news before you move the body."

Daniel cleared his throat and said to Sheryl, "I think you need help."

"I'm fine," she responded immediately. "You just need to grow a pair. We're not in Kansas anymore, Toto. The world has changed."

"I know the world has changed, you patronising cow." Daniel snarled and took a step closer to Sheryl, but soon backed off when he saw that she was still holding the knife. "But you never even hesitated."