Snatchers (Book 9): The Dead Don't Scream (25 page)

Chapter Forty Nine

John Lincoln had been to visit an individual that was simply known as Old Tom. John had just dropped off some supplies to Old Tom, including toilet roll, and was now walking along the road and stopped to have a chat with a man called Stephen Bonser, one of the last to join the small community before Pickle and co turned up, and walked away as soon as their chat finished.

Bonser went back into his digs, 20 Colwyn Place, as John Lincoln headed over to a despondent-looking Paul Dickson. The man that had lost everything seemed upset, and John was unsure whether to approach the man or not. He decided to bite the bullet.

"You okay?" John Lincoln approached Paul and pushed his spectacles up with his middle finger, before stopping and waiting for an answer off the forty-one-year-old.

"It comes in waves." Paul wiped his watery eyes with his palms and began to clear his throat.

"I heard your story. I'm sorry for your loss. I couldn't imagine—"

"No, you couldn't."

John bit his lip and decided to change the subject. "I warn you now," he began with a false chuckle, "once you get settled, it gets kind of boring around here."

"Can't complain," said Paul. "I'm alive."

"True. I'll find you something to do, sooner or later."

"Put me out on runs. I don't mind."

John Lincoln looked uncomfortable at what he was going to say next, but said it anyway. "No offence, but you don't seem the type to be going out there on runs, you seem—"

"What?"

"Fragile."

"I
want
to do runs," Paul looked angry at John's comment. "I've killed these things before. I also killed a man yesterday. I had to."

"Oh right." John Lincoln look stunned at Paul's confession.

"Don't be too shocked." Paul turned to the side and spat on the floor. "Karen, Vince and Pickle have done a lot worse. They've had to."

"I've never left the village. In the first weeks, when the dead were here in their droves, I saw some terrible things. I don't have to tell you. You lived on the other side of the village." John Lincoln stood and paused for thought. "Then once it cleared up, we had those Murphy bastards to cower from. I can't even imagine how it must be out there. I was told that you killed Lance Murphy, before you left your home."

"It was an accident. I don't really count that as a murder. In a court of law it'd be manslaughter." Paul shrugged his shoulders. "Anyway, once you get to know us, you'll hear a few stories. Karen and Pickle's story is pretty brutal, especially in the first month."

John shook his head. "That poor girl. Carrying a baby in this world..."

A silence covered the men for a few seconds, then John looked around the street and sighed. "You know what? Let me show you around the place." John then began to laugh. "It'll probably only take ten minutes, but let's do it anyway. I'll show the rest once the guys return and Karen is fit to be on her feet."

A female walked past the two men, she smiled and headed for 4 Colwyn Place. Paul couldn't help but stare at the young beauty. Noticing this, John giggled, "Lovely, isn't she?"

Paul snapped out of his gaze and looked uncomfortable for staring at a member of the opposite sex. His Julie hadn't been dead long.

"That was Joanne." John Lincoln beckoned Paul to follow him. "Come. We'll start at number one. Follow me."

John Lincoln and Paul Dickson walked together to the end of Colwyn Place. Lincoln pointed at the steel gate. "Not perfect," he said. "As you can see, it's attached to the brick wall, and the other end is attached with a hook. It'll stop those things from getting in, but if we get unwanted visitors of the human kind..."

John turned around one hundred and eighty degrees, as if he was just entering the street, and pointed at the first house on their left. "Terry Braithwaite lives there. Quiet man. Divorced. Doesn't like anybody going in his house. Very private." John rubbed his chin in thought. "Not too sure where he is. He might be inside, but I think he might be filtering water in his back garden. We get the water from the Trent."

They walked near the next place and John explained, "This one is empty at the moment. It's where we keep the weapons, and whoever is on gate duty keeps an eye on the place to make sure people don't just go in and out when they please. We've managed to get blades and other stuff from runs, from the other houses in No Man's Land."

Paul pointed at house number three. "I think I saw an old man in there earlier."

"That's right." Lincoln nodded. "Old Tom lives there. He's a widow. I think his wife died of a stroke a few years ago."

They continued to walk and came to 4 Colwyn Place. "You've met Joanne, and the next house is where Danny Gosling lives."

"Is that the guy that's missing?"

"That's right. Let's hope your guys and my guys find him."

"Does everybody have a house to themselves?" Paul screwed his face in confusion. "It seems a bit bizarre."

John laughed, "Not quite. In the future, when others turn up, and they
will
, some of these people won't be on their own for long. May as well enjoy it while they can."

They reached the next house and John said, "
My
house, obviously. We'll check on Karen later. Stephen Rowley lives at a number seven and Brenda Hatchet is in the next one. Freddie Johnson is at number nine, and I'll be putting Karen and Pickle in number ten ... once it's ready."

They stood and looked at the other ten houses on the other side of the road.

Paul asked, "So where will you be putting me?"

"Number thirteen."

"Wouldn't it be better to put the four of us together?"

John sniggered and patted Paul on the back. "Enjoy your own company while you can. It won't be forever." He then coughed and added, "At number twelve is Gail and Paul Smith. A quiet couple. Lived here for a few years." John Lincoln could see Paul was yawning, so decided to speed up his tour. He pointed over at 14 Colwyn Place. "A woman from Milford called Beverley lives there with a toddler she had saved. At number fifteen and sixteen we have James Thomson and brothers Derek and Ian Ferguson. These guys killed Jason Murphy a few weeks ago. Tied him to his bed whilst he slept and stabbed him to death."

"Okay." Paul nodded.

"Don't be shocked. He deserved it."

Paul gave John Lincoln a rare smile. "I'm not."

Lincoln pointed at house seventeen. "Brian Marley stayed there. He died on a run. He was one of the guys that killed Jason Murphy. Shame. Nice guy. We now store our supplies there."

Paul Dickson folded his arms and decided to speed things up. "And number eighteen?"

"The Danson family. They have a nine-year-old called Zac, and a seven-year-old called Kelly. Nice kids." John Lincoln then pointed over at the nineteenth house in the street and both men could see two women sitting on the lawn of the house. "That's Lynn Smith and Sandra Roberts. They were friends
before
it all happened."

"Right." Paul Dickson ran his fingers through his dark hair and tried to stifle another yawn, making his eyes water.

"And finally, number twenty," said John.

"It's not their real numbers, is it?" Paul interrupted, and took a look at the concrete fence at the end of the street.

"Not their original numbers, no." John Lincoln explained with a smile, "Most of the street is obviously blocked off, so we re-numbered the houses, so to speak. Makes things easier. And simple."

Paul queried, "And the last house of the street? Or is it the first?"

John Lincoln laughed and answered Paul's query, "It's re-numbered as twenty, so it's the last house of the
new
and shortened
Colwyn Place. A man called Stephen Bonser stays there. Stephen used to run a pub at the other side of the village. He finally caved in. Came to the gates a few weeks ago, malnourished and dehydrated."

Paul yawned again and announced, "I think I'm gonna need another power nap."

"Okay." Lincoln put his arm around Paul and said, "Let's get you into house thirteen and I'll get one of the girls to bring over a welcome pack for you, eventually."

"That'd be great."

Both men strolled down the road and headed for 13 Colwyn Place. All the lawns were predictably overgrown and Paul also noticed that there were old bloodstains on the road, but decided not to question Lincoln about them.

"None of the doors are locked," announced John. "Just go in."

John stopped walking and held out his hand, urging Paul to continue walking, to enter the house and get used to his new surroundings.

"I'll leave you in peace," said John.  "I'll let Karen know where you are once she decides to get up."

"Okay. Thanks."

"The guys should be back soon. Let's hope they come back with young Danny."

Paul turned around, pressing down the door handle, and said, with tears in his eyes, "Thank you, John. For everything."

John Lincoln folded his arms and was getting emotional himself. "My pleasure, Paul."

Chapter Fifty

Once all four went inside, they were greeted by an empty room. The room at the back of the abbey looked like an office. The predictable-looking place had a desk and a chair, with a bible on the oak table. The place was decorated in crucifixes and candles, and there was an old cupboard standing in the corner. At the end of the office was a door. They all guessed that the door would lead out to the main area of the abbey.

They crept over to the door, as if they were walking over glass, and Pickle took a hold of the handle, as he was the first to reach it. He looked at the three men behind him, mainly Vince and Stephen, and shrugged his shoulders, asking them in body language what he should do next. Vince held out his arm and made a fist, then pulled his arm back, telling Pickle to
open
the door.

Pickle did just that.

Three Snatchers quickly piled into the room, taking the four men all by surprise. Pickle toppled over with one of them, dropping his mace, as the other two dead beasts went by him and headed for Freddie, Stephen and Vince. Whilst Pickle wrestled with the creature, probably one of the best-dressed Snatchers he had ever seen, Vince and Stephen removed the other two, their blades hacking into their diseased brains, and then their eyes focused on the wrestling match between Harry Branston and the other dead beast.

Still on the floor, Pickle had his hand around the creature's throat and said, sarcastically with calm, "A fuckin' hand would be good right now, lads. No rush."

Vince pulled his bloody blade back and told Pickle to keep the dead thing still. He then sliced his blade down the middle of the ghoul's head, as if he was trying to cut a melon in half, and removed the sharp weapon as the creature fell on top of Pickle. Pickle tried to push the dead body off of him, then lifted his head up and saw more coming towards the wide-open door, from the main hall of the abbey. It looked like the beginning of the apocalypse had interrupted a wedding, and he could even see the dead bride heading towards him.

"Someone give me a hand and get this creature off o' me," Pickle began. "This is not the way I want to go."

Vince looked up and saw the rest of the wedding party heading towards the room, towards the opened door, towards
them
!

Vince and Stephen grabbed the thing off of Pickle and tried to shut the door as the dead advanced. Stephen, Vince and a now standing Pickle pressed their bodies against the door, trying to close the damn thing, but some had got so close that their arms had reached out and were caught in the door so it couldn't be shut properly.

Freddie watched in horror as he could see four trapped arms trying to grab at the three men that were trying to get it shut.

Pickle turned around and yelled at a stunned Freddie, "Don't just stand there like a spare dick! Give us a fucking hand!"

Freddie went over and began to push against the door, but with the arms trapped, it wasn't going to shut.

"I'm gonna try something," Vince spoke up, then backed away from the door.

He pulled the machete out from his belt, and began hacking at the arms that were preventing the door from shutting. Three whacks was what it took to remove just the one arm and four for the second one.

"Fuck this!" Pickle turned to Freddie and said, "Get over to that door that leads outside, the one we came through, and make sure it's wide open."

"What have you got planned?" Stephen Rowley panted, his strength dwindling by the second as he continued to push against the door. This was a battle they were going to lose. He was sure of it.

"Holding these things off is ridiculous," Pickle spoke with what little breath he had left. "If that Danny guy is in there, then he's now one o' them. As soon as we release this door they're all going to pile in. On
three
, we move away from the door, like shit off a shovel, and head for outside. The outside door needs to be closed straight away or these things are gonna be all over the old village."

"No Man's Land," Freddie piped up. "We now call it No Man's Land."

Ignoring Freddie, Pickle asked Stephen and Vince if they were ready? Vince had hacked all four arms off, but the door still wasn't closing.

Pickle had to ask again. "Are yer fuckin' ready or wha'? Answer me!" They all nodded and mumbled
yes,
like school children that had just been told off. "Right." He told Freddie to pick his mace up before the count. Once he did, Pickle began to count. "One, two, three."

They released their hands and ran from the door that they were holding, heading towards the wide open exit. As predicted, the dead entered the room quickly and once the men reached outside and shut the back door, a huge thud could be heard.

Now outside, all four looked at one another, sweating, panting. Pickle was about to reprimand Freddie for freezing before, but their attention was quickly turned to the door handle of the exit door. The handle was lowering as if somebody was trying it from the inside.

"Shit," Stephen Rowley gasped. "They can't. Can they?"

"I've never seen them open one yet," said Vince.

"I don't think they're capable." It was Pickle's turn to speak. "But if it does open ... there could be a hundred or so Snatchers on these barren streets."

"So what? We're okay," said Freddie. "The concrete wall will keep them out, if they get that far. And they're not smart enough to walk the one mile around the village to our end of Colwyn Place to try the steel gate."

"I'm taking nothin' for granted." Pickle looked around the back of the abbey and spotted a water feature. It was a Liliana figurine, made of stone. Pickle pointed at it. "Let's get that thing against the door."

"What?" Stephen cleared his throat and added, "We'd never lift that, chap."

Pickle stormed over to the water feature and pushed it over. "No, but yer can help me roll the fucker towards it."

All four did just that and stood it up against the exit door.

"I don't think these dopey bastards will work out how to open the door," said Pickle, then pointed at the figurine, "but if they do, that should hold them."

They all stared at the figurine and Stephen said to the group. "What now?"

"How much o' the village have we covered?" asked Pickle.

Stephen put his hands on his hips and thought for a moment. He sighed, "Pretty much all of it. So where do you wanna go, chaps?"

Vince spoke up, "I've heard this place has a cracking village hall. Do you think we'll have time to check out the architecture?"

Stephen widened his eyes in disbelief. "Seriously?"

"No, you stupid prick," Vince puffed and shook his head. "Let's just go."

"Back home then." Pickle couldn't believe he was calling it home already. "Maybe this Danny guy will turn up on his own accord ... eventually."

Pickle said nothing more, took the mace off of Freddie and went back round to the front of the place, passing the twins he had killed earlier. The other three followed.

Once Pickle got to the front, he stopped walking and could see a young man, standing in the middle of the road, near the Range Rover.

The young man was five-ten, was wearing a full beard and had short dark hair.

"Who are yer?" Pickle called out.

Vince, Stephen and Freddie appeared from behind and Freddie announced, "That's Danny."

"Where the hell have you been, chap?" Rowley was the next to speak up.

Danny looked upset and shrugged his shoulders. "I panicked. I would have come back sooner, but those guys..."

"What guys?" enquired Pickle.

Danny then composed himself and looked at Pickle and Vince with puzzlement. "I'm sorry, I don't know you."

"Don't be sorry." Pickle walked towards Danny with the other three behind. "Just answer the question: What guys?"

"When I was hiding in one of the houses yesterday, some guys turned up on some mopeds." Danny began staring at the weapon Pickle was carrying. Dark blood was present on the spiky end of it. "There was a few of them, but you could see that they were all carrying some kind of weapon. I've been too scared to move since then."

"How many were there, chap?" Stephen asked.

"Four. They had these leather jackets on and had
who
stitched on the backs."

"Woe," Vince spoke up, correcting Danny. "They had
woe
stitched on their backs, not
who
."

"How do you know this?" Stephen twitched, looking at Vince and began to scratch his head.

"We had a run-in with the same gang yesterday," Pickle began to explain. "They're responsible for killing our friend, Sheryl. There were ten o' them. The other four Danny's talking about probably belonged to the same crew. So there must have been fourteen of them altogether, and they must have split up ... or something, before we had our little run-in with them." Pickle then remembered what Mac had said before they all departed, before the gun blast.
We need to go and get our other four men from the back of that village before we head back.

"Why would they do such a thing?" Freddie seemed nervous about the story of this gang, and his nerves were going to get a whole lot worse as the story progressed.

Said Vince, "On our way here, Pickle had an accident. One of them ran out in the road, took us by surprise, and we hit her with our truck. Dead."

Freddie said, "So they could be
looking
for you lot?"

Pickle nodded. "I doubt it. It was an accident."

"Well, this is just fantastic." Freddie shook his head, pointed at Pickle and said to Stephen, "We're gonna have to kick these lot out. Their presence is a danger to the rest of us. We're nice people."

Vince said, "They already took their revenge by shooting Sheryl and taking our truck. They won't be back."

"We're just worried, chap," Stephen explained in a calm manner. "That's all."

"If they do come to the entrance of Colwyn Place, trust me, they'll attack you all anyway, whether we're there or not. It's just the way the world is now."

"Yer saw four, and we came across ten," Pickle pointed at Danny. "But I can guarantee there's more of them. If they come to yer gate, yer will want us to be there, even Karen."

"What? That silly bitch who just had the miscarriage?" Freddie scoffed and shook his head with a grin on his features.

"She's got bigger balls than yer have, son." Pickle took a step forward and glared at Freddie with threatening eyes. "And yer call her a bitch again, I'll rip yer cock off with ma bare hands."

"He will." Vince nodded and then lied, "I've seen him do it with my own eyes. It was some poor guy in the woods."

"Look," Stephen was getting exasperated with the arguing. "Nobody is going anywhere, unless John says so. Those guys have been and gone. They're probably somewhere else, making other people's lives a misery. Let's just get the fuck home."

"Sounds good to me." Danny was the first to get into the Range Rover. "I'm starving. Has anyone got any water, at least?"

All four shook their heads.

"It's a five-minute trip back. We weren't planning on staying the night." Stephen fired the engine as Freddie, Pickle and Vince got inside. "I'm sure you can wait that long."