Snatchers (Book 9): The Dead Don't Scream (3 page)

Chapter Five

Bentley Drummle and Rick Morgan had passed the barrier near the Globe Island and was now on the field, walking beside the wiry fence; barbed wire was wrapped around the top of it. Their walk had been done with no chatter between the pair of them for the last half an hour. Rick had spent the quiet time humming tunes in his head, and was tired from his previous stint at the barrier with Vince and Robert. Bentley was investigating his mouth with his tongue, still getting used to the missing tooth he had to pull out himself just under a week ago.

Their walk had taken them by Churchfields School and both males were now walking up the field, with the rail track besides them on the other side of the fence, and were heading in the direction of the back of the Lea Hall building.

Despite Bentley Drummle feeling comfortable with it being quiet, Rick Morgan finally broke the silence. "It's getting dark."

"Yip." Bentley responded unenthusiastically. "Well spotted."

Rick looked around the lifeless place. "Looks like everybody's gone to sleep. What time is it? Nine? Ten?"

Bentley looked at his wrists to see a watch not sitting on either of them. "I have no idea."

"Well, as they used to say in Scooby Doo: It's quiet."

Bentley gaped to the side of him and had puzzlement on his face. "I don't think I've ever heard that on Scooby Doo before."

Rick looked lost in thought. "I think I might be getting a little mixed up."

"I think you are."

"Anyway, things seemed to have calmed down a bit since..." Rick paused and never finished off his sentence. He suddenly remembered that Bentley was a friend of the man he was going to talk about.

Bentley knew what Rick was about to say. "You mean: since Pickle cut that man's throat a few days back?"

Rick nodded. "I never saw anything so brutal before. Well, I mean man-on-man. I've seen enough gore involving the dead. I witnessed my neighbours being attacked in the first week. When I saw it I was sick to my waist...er ... stomach."

"It's bad out there. I don't think people in here realise how bad it actually is. I've been in this camp for nearly a month, but I remember what it was like, when me and Laura were hiding out in the woods."

"Somebody told me you were some kind of prepper."

Bentley laughed falsely, "I'm obviously not a good one."

"I disagree." Rick turned to his companion and placed his hand comfortingly on his arm. "You've brought a lot of wealth of experience to this place. You're one of the most respected people on here."

Bentley flushed a little from the unexpected praise given to him by a man he normally didn't have time for. Rick's statement was a complimentary one, but soon after it there was quiet once more.

Still on the field, both men passed the large pen that had the pigs inside, and Bentley decided to break the silence and lighten the mood.

Bentley smiled to himself and said, "What would you rather have, Rick? A large penis and be a two-minute wonder, or have an average sized cock and last for as long as you wish?"

Rick gasped and looked at Bentley with a look of horror. It was a question he wasn't expecting. Rick gulped, "I have no idea how to answer that."

Bentley released a huge belly laugh and said, "Forget it." He then looked to the side of him and stopped walking, his tittering coming to a quick finish.

Noticing this, Rick Morgan asked, "What is it?"

Bentley didn't answer Rick's question immediately. He stared through the fence, and into the bushes that were behind it. He remained silent, and this made Rick feel twitchy.

Rick Morgan tried once more. "Bentley? What is it?"

"I thought I saw something."

That sentence alone made Rick shiver with nerves, and took a step back from the fence as Bentley took a step nearer, his shotgun now pointing at whatever he thought he saw.

Rick held his own weapon with both hands, but the thought of squeezing the trigger frightened him. He continued to shake as Bentley stared, but even being with the tough and experienced Drummle, who also taught him how to use the weapon he was holding, couldn't settle his nerves.

Bentley looked up at the barbed wire at the top of the fence and huffed out.

"What is it?" Rick dared to ask.

"If that wasn't there," Bentley pointed up at the top of the fence, "I could climb over and investigate further."

Rick Morgan looked wide-eyed at Bentley and announced, "You're insane."

"Possibly." Bentley stared for a while longer, then playfully slapped Rick in the stomach and said, "Let's go."

*

Paul Dickson gasped when he heard his bedroom door open. He was lying on his bed, in his clothes, and sat up with a start.

"Sorry." Karen held up her hands. "I knocked on your front door, but there was no reply. So I just came up."

"And you thought I'd killed myself?"

"Well..."

"Jesus." Paul got off the bed and appeared to be in a bad mood, making Karen paranoid. Was he in a bad mood with her? Or was it events from the past that had made him grouchy? "That's the problem with this place. There's no keys for most of the houses around here."

"That's the trouble with this place?" Karen mocked gently, but was a little miffed about his ungrateful attitude. Yes, he had just lost his son, but
he
was still breathing. "Don't forget where you were when I first found you."

"I was with my boy." Paul's words were covered in sadness.

"You were in a car crash."

"Look," Paul Dickson said, "If you've come to remind me about you and Shaz saving my skin again ... then don't."

"I'm not here to argue."

"Then what're you here for?" Paul stood up straight with his hands on his hips. His face was filled with anger.

"To see if you're okay." Karen cocked her head to make eye contact with her male friend, and the concerned Bradley queried, "
Are
you okay?"

Paul sat down on the bed, hunched his shoulders and lowered his head. Of course he wasn't!

Karen sat next to him, placed her arm around his waist and slowly dropped her head to the side; it eventually rested on his shoulder. "You wanna talk about it?" she asked.

"No," Paul said in a hoarse voice. "If it's all the same to you, I'd like to stay like this, no talking."

"Okay."

Paul Dickson closed his eyes and hugged Karen Bradley tighter. "I just want you to hold me."

So she did. And fifteen minutes later, she went back to her own house.

Chapter Six

Vince Kindl couldn't sleep and decided to go for a walk. He strolled down Cross Road, passing a couple of parked vehicles that were occasionally used for runs, and could see Harry Branston, sitting on the kerb, staring into nothingness.

Vince stopped, took a look over his shoulder, then gaped back over in Pickle's direction. He was unsure whether to approach him or not. Maybe he needed some time to himself.

Vince hesitated, but finally made a decision to go back to the house, back to Rosemary. His steps were few when Pickle called out to him. Vince turned around and announced, "I didn't wanna bother you. You looked like you were daydreaming."

"I was." Pickle smiled, then urged Vince to sit next to him. "Reality always wins in the end."

"Maybe this
isn't
reality." Vince went over and parked his rear next to Pickle's. "Maybe this has been one big dream."

"I'd take tha' right now," Pickle began to snicker. "If I woke up from this to find I was still in Stafford Jail, I'd be the happiest man alive."

"At least then you'd be with KP."

Pickle smiled. "O' course, but I have met some good people in this dire situation o' ours."

Vince asked, "Anyway, what are you doing out this evening? You don't have another shift till tomorrow."

Pickle smiled thinly and twisted his face. "I just fancied some air. Is that allowed, Kindl?"

Vince smiled at Branston's light ribbing, then looked to the side and saw Pickle wince slightly and saw his left hand rub his stomach. He looked to be in some discomfort.

"Problems?" asked Vince, noticing that his friend was in a little pain.

"Got an upset stomach."

"You as well? Must be the water." Vince shook his head. "You wanna be careful you don't soil yourself. It's embarrassing, especially when you're a grown man. Nearly happened to me a few years ago."

"Really? Dare I ask wha' happened?"

"I used to live next door to this blonde twenty-something. Absolutely gorgeous, she was."

"And?"

"Well," Vince cleared his throat and continued, "one day she came round to my house and started banging the door. I opened it and could see she was in a foul mood."

Pickle rubbed his head, confused. Where was this tale going? "Why did she do that?"

"She accused me of stealing some of her underwear off her washing line. She said that she was going to get her bodybuilding husband to come round and kick the shit out of me. He arrived from work ten minutes later."

"So what did yer do?"

"Well, when he came round and hammered my door ... I nearly shat her pants."

Both men burst into hysterics and Harry Branston shook his head at Vince's funny, and obviously made-up, story, and admitted, "That's one o' yer better ones. I 'ave to admit that."

Once the laughter between the two men subsided, Vince spoke in a serious manner, "There's a few complaining about tummy problems. Do we know for sure it's the water?"

"Possibly. Not sure if the stuff they get from the Hagley brook is purified properly."

"We're beginning to run out of the bottled stuff."

"I know."

Vince sighed and said, "I remember the last time I had the shits."

"Please," snickered Pickle. "Not another one o' yer jokes."

"No. This is a true story." Vince began, "About four months ago. I went to the Indian restaurant, the Bilash on Horsefair. Not the one I drove the jeep through, the other one. I ordered a Madras. The fucking curry practically went straight through me. Jesus, by the morning my arse was like a blood orange. It felt like the world had fallen out of me. I was like a never-ending muck spreader—"

"Vince," Pickle sighed. "You're not helping."

"Probably not, but what an explosion when I sat on that pan. It was like bats leaving a cave."

"Enough!"

"Sorry." Vince stood to his feet. "I'll leave you in peace."

Branston smiled and had a chuckle to himself as Vince walked away. Thank God he was here, thought Pickle.

*

Karen was sitting on her doorstep with the door wide open, and minding her own business. She was having some quiet time, enjoying the night's cool air. She took a gulp of water and looked up to the darkening sky, smiling at the beauty of the cloudless heavens. It was August, and she knew that the sky would look a whole lot different in a few months.

She then wondered if she'd ever see another August again. With all the shit that had happened, and all the people she'd known and had lost, she wasn't sure.

She could hear dragging feet coming her way. With her sitting on the doorstep and the three foot wall around the front garden, ten yards in front of her, it was difficult to see who was out there. She stood up and could see Lee James heading her way.

Karen gave Lee a quick hello gesture by raising her chin, and Lee did the same.

Lee had been frosty with Karen since Pickle had killed the intruder. Lee's attitude towards Pickle had gone from
great respect
to
unsure
, and was even beginning to fear the ex-inmate. Some claimed that what he had done was for the future safety of the camp, but others weren't so sure.

"What's happening?" was Karen's greeting to Lee James.

"Not a lot." Lee gave Karen a thin smile and added, "Just wondering if you can do a stock check tomorrow. Gilllian Hardcastle seems to have contracted a stomach bug. The people in here are dropping like flies."

"Does that mean we're friends again?" Karen teased.

Lee nodded with a grin and began to stroke his dark beard. "You and Pickle have been out there more than any of us. Because a lot of us didn't understand why he did what he did, it frightened us."

"Understand now?"

"I'm trying to."

"We love it here." Karen ran her fingers over her chin and felt a couple of stray hairs. She needed to get a set of tweezers. "Pickle will do anything to keep you lot safe and to keep this place going. If we can all pull together..."

"I know what you're trying to say." Lee nodded, walked over to Karen and held out his hand. Karen smiled and shook it. Lee added, "I'll see you in the morning, Bradley."

"I'm sure you will."

Lee James walked out of the front garden, that now belonged to Karen and Pickle, and turned around once he heard someone whistle from behind. He turned to see that the whistler was Vince Kindl who was now walking towards him.

"What do you think I am?" Lee feigned anger. "A fucking sheepdog?"

"I saw you going in Karen and Pickle's place," Vince began. "Pickle is at Cross Road. Have you and Karen kissed and made up?"

"We never fell out," Lee tried to explain. "I was just a little confused why Pickle did what he did."

"You've been in this place for a while now." Vince began to tease, knowing that this subject always pissed Lee off. "There's a difference between going out on runs and living out there."

"Don't
you
fucking start. I
have
been out there, until Denise and the kids..." Lee paused and said with confusion, "And anyway, I've been out there more than
you
. You were on a camp since day one."

Vince held onto his stomach and began to laugh.

"Bastard." Lee smiled, knowing that he had been had. "It's bad enough Karen and Pickle reminding me that they're more experienced, without
you
starting."

"You wanna see your face." Vince was still laughing and pointed at Lee James. "You look like somebody had just shat on your cornflakes."

"Right. I'm off," announced Lee. "Early night for me. I'm on a run tomorrow with Rick and Sheryl."

"Oh, I see. What about me?" Vince placed his hands on his hips and shook his head. "And you're supposed to be an old friend?"

"It's a just a short one. Nothing special." Lee looked around and commented on what a beautiful night it was, but Vince never responded.

"I'm turning in," Vince announced, then lied, "I'm off to wake up Rosemary and give her the time of her life."

"She's one lucky lady," joked Lee.

"She knows," said Vince as he walked away, back to his house, back to 24 Sandy Lane. Vince turned and playfully saluted Lee. "I'll see you in the morning, old friend."

"No doubt."