Snatchers: Volume Two (The Zombie Apocalypse Series Box Set--Books 4-6) (40 page)

Chapter Twenty Seven

The night had been restless for Karen Bradley. As soon as she finished her chat with David Watkins she tried to get some shut-eye, but her mind was constantly suffocated by daydreams of her friends—especially Pickle and Shaz—being dead.

As tiredness eventually won its battle with the worried woman, she finally fell asleep and managed four hours before sitting up quickly. A bad dream that she was having was responsible for her sudden movement, and once she looked around the room she realised that Shaz being pulled to the floor by a horde of Snatchers was nothing but a nightmare.

She stood to her feet and took a quick look in the other bedroom and living room, but there was no sign of life. Karen thought that there could have been a small chance that they had returned, and Shaz might have sneaked in so she didn't wake her pregnant friend. Her quick search around the caravan confirmed that they were still missing, and once she opened the curtains to another dull day she sat down and began to worry further.

She peered through the living room window and could see two men carrying shotguns, dressed in casual clothing that were in desperate need of a wash. She knew that the two men were on their way to the barrier, ready to take over the individuals who had been there all night, and with their head-scratching and concerned faces it appeared that Karen wasn't the only one that was puzzled about the four members of the camp that were missing.

"Where are you all?" she muttered.

Karen headed for the bedroom. With just a long T-shirt on, that she had worn for bed, she put on a musty-smelling dressing gown. After putting her feet in a pair of sandals, she opened the main door and called after the men.

Both men were middle-aged and the one on the left had a head full of white hair. He was the first to react. "What is it, love?"

"When are you gonna go out looking for them?"

"Who? Vince?" he asked.

Karen nodded.

The man with the white hair laughed and nudged his friend. "He'll be back. He can look after himself."

"But what if they're in trouble?"

"Relax, love." The man's tone was condescending, and Karen was beginning to get angry. He added, "I have to admit, it is unusual for Vince to be out for the night—"

"It's never happened before," his colleague interrupted.

The white-haired man continued, "But if he's not here by tomorrow we'll send somebody out to look for them. They could've broken down somewhere."

"We know they've gone to Fradley," said Karen. "Can't you send a team out to look for them now?"

"A team?" the man cackled, and this time his friend joined in with the laughter.

Karen could feel her blood rising, and said with gritted teeth, "And what's so fuckin' funny?"

The white-haired man sighed, "Look, love—"

"Stop calling me that," huffed Karen.

"Look...if we send a team out to look for them, then there'd be no one to guard the barrier. We're on our way there now to relieve the men that have done the nightshift. This is all we have left."

"
I
can guard the barrier." Karen spoke up and placed her hands on her hips.

Both men looked at one another and burst into hysterics once again.

It was apparent that these guys hadn't been informed, by Vincent, of Karen's experience. They thought she was just another girlie, and this angered her.

"Fine." She tried to swallow her anger and released a slow breath out, knowing that the stress wasn't good for her unborn. "I'll go myself."

"Of course you will, love." the white-haired man mocked, and both men walked away and headed for their shift.

"Fuckers," she snarled.

Karen then realised how hypocritical she was.

She was trying to relax because the stress wasn't good for the baby, however, she was thinking about going out into the unknown to look for her friends. She was sure they could look after themselves, but there was a niggling in the back of her mind that refused to go away.

Something was wrong. She was sure of it.

She then looked down and rubbed her belly affectionately.

Maybe I should wait a while.

*

"Boxers don't have sex before a fight," Vince was talking to Harry Beresford, who wasn't in the mood. "Do you know why?"

Harry half-shrugged and sighed with little enthusiasm, "No."

"Because they don't fancy each other."

"Enough, Vince," said Pickle. "I've only been awake for a minute and yer already getting on ma nerves."

"Lucky you, I've had no sleep since the hut." Vince sighed, "Anyway, I'm just trying to cheer the boy up. This could be our last day on this earth."

"Vince!" scolded Shaz.

"Please don't say that," cried the youngster.

"Why are yer sayin' that?" Pickle glared at Vince with sceptic eyes and said, "Yer don't really think we're gonna be killed, do yer? Yer not being brave at all. Yer one hundred percent convinced that we're gonna be released. Yer just been using this young man," Pickle pointed at Harry Beresford, "for some sick kind o' fun."

"Okay," Vince held his hands up in defeat. "You got me. Look," Vince's tone turned more serious, "these guys seemed reasonable enough. This Gavin fellow will turn up, and we'll tell them that we went out for supplies in the pick-up truck, the same one they've stolen, and got separated. Then we shake hands and tell them that we'll never come anywhere near the place again."

"This mob killed that family, back at the house." Pickle was bemused by Vince's naivety.

"That could have been anyone."

"Do you always run into trouble when you go out?" Shaz asked Vince with suspicion. "It seems that every time you leave the camp you run into difficulty."

"Look," Vince became awkward and defensive after Shaz had made her comment, "Me, Claire, and a few others used to do runs with no bother. Sure, there were always Rotters around, but we dealt with them. The Stafford Hospital incident was down to being attacked by other people, not the dead. And this situation is the same, but I can't really blame them. If this was my place, we would already be dead by now. These guys are quite reasonable. Trust me, as soon as this Gavin bloke turns up he'll set us free. Who knows? He might be someone you might know if he's from Rugeley."

"I don't know anyone called Gavin," said Shaz.

"Me neither," a young Harry Beresford muttered. "I used to go to school with a Gavin Richards, but he was killed in a car crash."

"Okay." Vince clapped his hands together. "we're just gonna have to wait and see, but in the meantime you fuckers need to relax. If these guys were cruel bastards then why would they give us water for the night?"

"True." Pickle nodded; at last Vince had made a valid point. "But the dead family in the shed is still a worry."

"Maybe they put up a fight."

"Still..."

"I have to admit, I am starving and could eat my own cock, but apart from that we've been treated okay. And just think," Vince looked over to Pickle, "we were gonna sneak in here and take these guys out. These guys are probably just like us. They probably used to have families—maybe still
have
families, and are just trying to survive."

"So where are they?" Pickle asked. "If they're using that house as some kind o' a base, where're their families? And if they're such nice guys, why was that family murdered and dumped in that shed in the back garden?"

"For fuck's sake," Vince huffed and pushed out his bottom lip. "I'm sick of repeating myself. We don't know for sure it was them."

"I need the toilet." Harry Beresford broke up the conversation and stood up. He stretched and yawned and went over to the corner of the room.

"We've had to use the buckets in the corner if we needed to pee," Shaz explained to Pickle and Vince.

"Great," puffed Pickle. "My bladder's burstin' and I could piss like a racehorse at the moment. If I go to the corner o' that room I'll flood the place. I don't think those buckets will be enough." Pickle then turned to look at Vince. "And yer reckon these are reasonable guys."

Said Vince, "We invaded their patch. They were hardly gonna put us up in a hotel, were they?"

"I suppose not."

"I hope it's just a piss you need," Vince called over to young Harry who was making his way to the other end of the room. "I don't want you squatting and curling out a steamy one."

Harry looked bashful and said, "Please...don't look."

All three looked away, and when Vince took a sneaky peek he could see the teenager squatting over one of the buckets.

Vince dropped his head in his hands. "Oh for fuck's sake. Fantastic." Vince pointed over at young Harry and said, "He's over there squeezing out the butt mustard. I hope this Gavin hurries up."

Chapter Twenty Eight

After spending hours fretting about the Murphy family because Daisy had been spotted by a family member, Paul and Daisy had words and he rebuffed her idea of moving into her house. She told Paul that they should hide in her attic in case they came to his house. She said that having her reanimated husband, Robert, and Jody downstairs could provide a little protection and put the men off from going into her place as well.

Paul wasn't convinced.

He knew the family, and a couple of ghouls were only going to excite them, because it meant they needed to use violence to remove them. He had finally persuaded her to stay.

Paul Dickson walked around the ground floor of the house and took an empty cup from the sink. He walked to his bathroom and took half a cup of water, wincing with disgust when he took a swig and caught a stray hair in the back of his throat. He began to think about that horrendous family.

Even though Little Haywood was a small town with a population of over four thousand, he was sure that the Murphy family had now gone elsewhere—probably up Bower Lane where the middle-class people lived, if they hadn't already been there. Or maybe they had gone to Rugeley, which was the nearest town and was only two miles away.

Paul looked at his watch and went downstairs to see what he could prepare for lunch. It looked like it was going to be a cup of water, a tin of cold beans, and maybe one of the cereal bars he had taken from the gym's vending machines.

He returned to the first floor, went into his bedroom and could see his son playing on the bed. Paul walked past the full-length mirror. He clocked himself and could see by appearances alone that he had lost weight, maybe even a stone. He opened his bedside drawer and could see sitting in the drawer was his Acer laptop, his pyjama bottoms, and a 1982 Dracula's Spinechillers annual that he had bought.

For nostalgic reasons he ordered the annual off Amazon UK a couple of months ago as he had lost his original. It cost him ten pounds, but he was pleased to receive another copy and read the sixty-four page book that he used to read all the time when he was eight and nine years old. He smiled when he flicked through it and saw the comics of
Castle Dracula
and
Twins of Evil
inside it, amongst other macabre stories.

Also, at the bottom of the drawer, was a tray of scattered condoms. Although Paul had had the snip after Bell was born, he and Julie still used protection so the physical part of their relationship was less messy after intercourse had taken place.

He opened the bottom drawer and found what he was looking for: a cardigan. He felt a chill, despite it being summer, and fancied a lazy day anyway. After he put the cardigan on, he gave it a sniff and pulled a face. He took it off and threw it to the side of the bed. He looked at his bed and could see Kyle playing with Dino and Monkey. He was in a world of his own.

Paul watched him for a minute, and finally asked, "Are you okay, son?"

"Daddy, I think I need a stinky."

"Okay." Paul got off the bed and began scratching at his itchy hair. "I'll check if the bathroom's free and get a bucket or a bag."

A sudden pounding noise could be heard from downstairs, and both Kyle and Paul gawped at each other in fright.

"Paul!" Daisy screamed. "Someone's trying to get in the house."

Paul told Kyle to stay where he was, and ushered Daisy and Lisa into the room as well. "Stay there. It might be nothing."

Paul galloped down his stairs and entered his reception area. He could see a man behind the frosted glass of his front door. He opened his mouth to say something, but was unsure whether that was the right thing to do or not. He had made a decision and asked, "Who is it?"

The man struggled to find words at first, as if he was thinking about what he should say. The alarm bells were ringing straight away in Paul's head, and as soon as he asked the man what he wanted, his reply was also suspicious.

The man answered, "I live at the end of the street. I was just going round, seeing if everyone was okay."

It was a terrible answer, and Paul didn't believe the man, in fact, he was pretty sure, from what he could make out through the frosted glass, that the young man standing outside his front door was Lance Murphy, the youngest of the Murphy family.

"Well,
I'm
fine. Leave me alone." Paul waited for his response, but was hoping that there wasn't going to be one, and that the man was going to turn on his heels and walk off his premises.

I hope they haven't touched the car.

He then heard and saw the man try the door.

"Look, just fuck off!" Paul exclaimed. "Don't you dare come in."

"Or what?" he laughed.

Yeah, Paul. Or what?

Paul couldn't find any more words to back-up his false bravado.

The youngster tried the door again and this time he began to shoulder barge it, trying to force it open, which made Paul shake with nerves. A voice came from outside. Paul couldn't hear what had been said to the young man, but the young man had stopped trying the door and responded angrily to a voice that was behind him. "Look, I can do this myself," the young man said to another individual. "I don't need babysitting all the time."

Paul then heard a man say, "But you're our baby brother." This comment was then followed by laughter by a few men. This was when Paul realised that the Murphy mob had returned to the street, and it appeared that they were goading the youngest to get into his house.

Lance, Paul assumed, then turned around and said to one of his brothers, "Get me a knife while you lot are going next door. I've got a stubborn fucker in here."

Paul suddenly removed himself from the reception area and ran back up the stairs. He burst into the bedroom and said to Daisy, "Get the kids in the attic and hide. I'll then close the hatch."

"What?"

"They're coming in. And some are going into your house as well, so don't even think about going on the roof and going back."

"What about you?"

"The younger brother already knows I'm in here. It'll look suspicious if the house is empty. I'll just pretend I'm on my own. The water from the gym's well-hidden, but he could take the food."

They then heard the front door crashing open, forcing Daisy to release a frightened shriek. She quickly covered her mouth, even though it was too late. Paul glared at her. "Hurry."