Snatchers: Volume Two (The Zombie Apocalypse Series Box Set--Books 4-6) (41 page)

Chapter Twenty Nine

Pickle was quick to shush Vince once he heard a new set of voices echo through the hangar. Vince opened his mouth to speak up, but Pickle rudely stuck his forefinger in the air to tell Vince to be silent. He did as he was instructed.

Harry Branston stood to his feet and walked towards the locked door. He placed his ear against it and tried to hopelessly listen to what was being said. The voices were now more hushed, as if someone had told them to quieten down, and Pickle moved away with frustration knowing that whatever they were talking about was now impossible to hear.

"Hear anything?" Shaz was the first to ask.

Pickle shook his head, walked back over to the group and sat back down. "Not a great deal."

"Did they say anything about what was going to happen to us?"

"I couldn't hear a word, okay?" Pickle sighed and placed his hand on Shaz's shoulder. "I'm sorry for snapping, Shaz. I heard nothin'."

"I'm a little worried," she admitted.

"Me too." Pickle then peeped over to Vince, who was now lying on the floor with his hands clasped behind his head. "I wish I had his confidence about this situation, but I have a weird feeling about this."

Shaz queried, "Weird, or bad?"

"Weird...
and
bad," Pickle smiled thinly. "I can't explain it."

The sudden noise of boots could be heard heading towards the stationery room they were in, and both Pickle, Shaz and young Harry took a worried look at one another, waiting for them to open the door.

Relaxed, Vince slowly sat up and got to his feet and began brushing himself down, preparing to meet their captors. "At last," he said. "The smell of shit in here is making me feel sick."

*

Karen approached the barrier area and noticed a man called Lee Johnson. He was Vince's buddy, and had got to know Karen over a few days. Lee was pouring petrol into one of the cars that sat on the Spode Cottage car park near the main road, the two HGVs were at either end.

He stopped pouring, and the young dark-haired man approached Karen with a wide beam over his features. "Hey, Karen. How's it going?"

She looked to either side of her to see the guards that had mocked her earlier, mainly the white-haired man, now had their backs to her. She said, "I'm a bit worried about the team that went out yesterday."

"I know." Lee began scratching his head. "It's not like Vince to stay out all night. It's never happened before. I remember one time he and Claire went to raid a pub and were away for fourteen hours because they were trapped by a few Rotters."

"Well, that's comforting."

"I know you're not Vince's biggest fan—"

"Obvious, is it?" snickered Karen.

Lee cackled and added, "But going out there to get supplies for us folk makes him some kind of a hero back here. He's a decent guy."

"Calm down." Karen laughed, "A hero? Five weeks ago he was just a forklift truck driver."

"And you were just a nurse." Lee didn't mean to upset Karen, but she was ridiculing a man that he loved and respected. "And look what you've done over the last month or so."

Karen brushed her hair behind her ears and glared at Lee with suspicion. He was reasonably handsome, or so she thought, but she was never a sucker for men with large sideburns.

"Oh yeah." He cracked her a smile, and added, "Vince has told me
all
about you and Pickle's journey. It's quite a story."

"I'm sure it's no more exciting that any other survivor's tale."

"I've been hiding in here for over a month. Trust me, it's a hell of a tale."

Karen nodded over to her left, in the direction of the white-haired guard. "Well, obviously he hasn't heard it. Those two were taking the piss out of me earlier."

"What for?"

"Because I wanted to go out looking for Pickle and Shaz."

Lee puffed out his cheeks slowly, then began to shake his head. "Nah, you can't do that."

"Why not? I'm not a prisoner here."

"Of course you're not, but you can't just go out off the camp when you feel like it."

"They could be in trouble." Karen gazed at Lee with wide eyes, almost as if she was trying to hypnotise him.

Once he stared into those eyes he began to shake his head. "No way," he said adamantly. He could tell by the expression on her face what she wanted to do. "No chance. If I help you leave the camp, to go looking for them, they won't be happy."

"All you need to do is reverse the truck back a little, and I'll do the rest."

Lee placed his hands behind his head and groaned. "No way. I heard you were pregnant, and Vince—"

"Forget what Vince said. It could be Vince that's in trouble. They could be on foot. It might just be a small matter of picking them up and bringing them back."

"I don't know."

"Fine," Karen snorted. "But if anything happens to Pickle and Shaz, I'm gonna make your life a fucking misery."

Lee looked blankly and began to think. He snapped out of his gaze and grumbled, "Oh, for fuck's sake. Okay! But you better come back alive so you can explain yourself."

"You're such a gent." She leaned in and pecked him on the cheek.

"No I'm not. I'm just a sucker for a pretty face." He ran his fingers through his greasy hair and announced, "Right, so after I've moved the HGV back, you take a car and wait on the other side of the barrier and give me time to get in with you. There'll be a guard about a half or a quarter of a mile up the Armitage Road, but he won't give chase when we pass them. Vince has given them clear instruction that whatever—"

"Wait, wait, wait." Karen held her hand up to pause Lee. She was perplexed, and it took a while for her to understand what he was babbling about. "You're not coming with me."

"Er...yes I am." Lee took a step forward, almost threateningly.

"I'm going on my own. I'm not going to be responsible for anyone's death."

"But—"

"Look," this time it was Karen's turn to take a small step forwards, their noses now just inches away from one another, "Just me. No more questions. You just reverse the truck, and that's it. I'll do the rest."

Lee's face was covered with nervousness. There was no point arguing with this young woman. "When?" His tone was soft and drenched in defeat.

"Soon." Karen then added, "How are you gonna distract the guard? I assume you're not planning on reversing back the HGV while he's still standing on the cab." She began to laugh. "He'd fall off and you'd break his legs."

Lee pointed up at the guard who was sitting down, cross-legged, on top off the HGV. "I'll call him down and tell him his wife wants a word. I'll offer to stand in for him while he's away...and that's it."

"You might get a slap for this," joked Karen.

"Oh, I can handle myself."

Karen then looked to the black Vauxhall that Lee had earlier been pouring petrol in. "I'll take that."

"Fine. It's open. It's topped up, the keys are in the ignition, and it's almost brand new." He clicked his fingers and pointed at Karen as if he had remembered something. "Oh, and the spare key is in the secret compartment by the passenger seat. It's in the car manual. The same as the pick-up trucks."

Karen looked at him. She was a little bewildered.

"Just in case," he added.

A rustle could be heard behind them. As soon as they both stared in the direction of the noise, they could see a pair of white trainers at the side of a bush. Karen walked over to confront the person who had been sneaking about and possibly eavesdropping. She wasn't surprised to be face-to-face with David Watkins.

"Sorry," he mumbled. He slowly stood up and looked at both Karen and Lee. "I was just bored."

"How much did you hear?" asked Karen.

"Would you believe me if I said...nothing?"

Karen shook her head.

"Okay, I heard everything, but I will keep my mouth shut."

"You better." She then turned around to Lee. "Give me half an hour. I just need to put a few things in a bag before I go."

Lee brought up his bottom lip, making a face that suggested he understood.

Karen walked away, leaving David and Lee standing, and was heading back to her caravan. "Oh, and Lee?" she said, without stopping or turning around.

"Yes?"

"Thanks for this."

Chapter Thirty

Daisy, Lisa and Kyle remained hiding. Kyle had refused to go to the attic without his dad, so they hid in Bell's room instead. Paul now stood at the top of the stairs, away from eyes, peeking down. Because of the lowered roof that was present, Paul could only see a set of footsteps walking along his laminate flooring, the boots leaving a little mud with every step.

Paul held his breath and whispered a prayer. He crossed his fingers and hoped that the individual took what he needed from downstairs and left immediately. He was hoping that the upstairs wouldn't be checked out, and he wished that it didn't come to the stage where he had to use the claw hammer that was being gripped with his sweaty, right hand.

Paul was a little thankful that it was just the one in the house, and could now hear noises and banging from next door as if another one of the brothers had broken into Daisy's. Paul jumped when he heard two gunshots. They came from next door, and although not exactly loud because of his thick walls, it still startled him.

Two gunshots.

Paul assumed that the reanimated Robert and his youngest daughter, Jody, were no more. Hoping that the gunshots had enticed the man downstairs away from his own house, Paul took another peep at the ground floor, but the Lance character was still mooching about.

Paul stood up straight against the landing wall, heart thumping hard and his hands dripping with perspiration, and tried to control his breathing. He had killed two of those things back in the sports centre, but knew that killing a human was a different ball-game altogether. He didn't want to strike out, but if Kyle was at risk he would have no other option, as talking to these men didn't seem to be something that could achieve positive results.

The moment he was dreading had arrived. Lance, who never received a knife he had asked for, was without a weapon and was beginning to slowly climb the stairs. Paul squatted down and sucked a breath in, and then slowly released it out as if he was smoking a cigarette.

Once Lance got to the curvy-part of the stairs that bent round to the landing, Paul, suffocated by fear, stood up and lashed at the young man, striking him in the face with the hammer. Lance screamed out and fell down the stairs. His head struck the radiator on the ground floor that was attached to the wall, opposite the stairs, and he never returned to his feet.

Paul glared at the hammer with wide eyes as if it was the tool's fault and the realisation quickly sank in, making the forty-one-year-old panic even more, if that was at all possible. "Shit, shit, shit."

Daisy came from the bedroom and asked, "What is it?" Paul pointed down the stairs and Daisy released a gasp as soon as she spotted the body. "Is he..?"

"Sleeping? Meditating?" Paul's dark sarcasm was lost on Daisy.

"Dead?"

Paul nodded his head and placed his hand on his cold, damp forehead. "I think so. I'm going down to check."

Paul trotted down the stairs and was hesitant approaching the body at first. He trembled as he slowly crouched down, then felt for a pulse. He looked up at Daisy on the first floor, and shook his head.

"Oh no," she cried. "They're gonna come in looking for him. That old man has a gun."

"Just don't panic."

"Don't panic?" Her face seemed less-than-impressed with Paul. "Me and Lisa should have stayed where we were."

"I didn't want this," protested Paul. "
They
brought this here. They brought this on themselves."

"Yeah, and we're gonna pay for it." Daisy sat on the top step and dropped her head in her hands. "We need to go out and explain to them, see if they'll understand."

"You want me to go out there and tell the father of a notorious family that I've just killed his youngest son?" Paul laughed. "Seriously?"

"Why don't we go to mine. Through the attic, over the roof—"

"No chance. This is my house." Paul was adamant. "Besides, they went into your house."

"They're probably gone by now," Daisy spoke. "I know Robert...er...those things are on the ground floor—"

"Not any more," Paul said.

"What?"

"I heard them in your house just now, and I heard two gunshots. I don't think Robert and Jody are around anymore, I mean...they weren't anyway..."

Daisy placed her hand over her mouth and began to shed tears. Paul found this upsetting. She knew that technically they were already dead. Paul thought that maybe it was just the thought of her husband and her baby girl lying down there, with their heads possibly torn apart from gunshot wounds.

Daisy then said, "I don't even know why I'm crying."

"After what's been happening, you've every right to cry. You've lost your little girl."

Daisy nodded and tried to clear her tight throat. "I've been trying to stay strong for Lisa." She brushed one side of her brown hair over her ears with her quivering hand and said, "I'm not sure I'm cut out for this."

"Nobody is, but Lisa needs you. You're all she has left. You can't quit now."

"It's bad enough having the things attacking you, especially in the first few weeks, without having to deal with bad people as well."

Paul nodded in agreement and explained to Daisy that with power and running water now defunct, and food going short, even the most respectable of citizens may do some unforgivable things to keep their family alive and safe.

Daisy's eyes scowled with confusion, and it was apparent that she had no idea what he was talking about.

"Well, just think about it," Paul tried to explain. "If Kyle was near-starving to death and was severely dehydrated, I would do anything to make him better."

"Even robbing and assaulting others? People with families?"

Paul opened his mouth to answer Daisy's query, but he couldn't. He didn't know if he could harm another human being for his own gain. He then played a make-believe image of Kyle lying in the bed, ribs poking out of his torso through lack of food, and slipping out of consciousness with his lips all cracked from dehydration.

Yes, he
could
do it!

"We've been gabbing long enough," said Paul. "Find a hiding place and stay there until these fuckers leave the street."

Daisy went into Bell's bedroom and took Lisa under the bed. Paul, on the other hand, ushered Kyle into his bedroom cupboard. They were never going to win any hide-and-seek competitions, but it was all that was available.

Two minutes later, they heard boots enter the house and angry profanities being released once the body of Lance was found at the bottom of the stairs. Daisy and Paul had no idea what was going to happen next.

"Daddy?" Kyle whispered, in the darkness of the cupboard.

Paul shushed him. "Quiet, big chap."

Ignoring his dad, Kyle asked, "Are we hiding from the monsters?"

"No, son." Paul thought that it was pointless lying to him. "Bad men."

Kyle never responded and clutched onto Paul's hand, very tightly. Paul could feel his boy's warm hand and he stroked his hair with his free one. Kyle then began squeezing and pinching his dad's elbow with his other hand—a sign that the little man was apprehensive and needed some kind of comfort.

When Paul Dickson was seven years old, all he worried about was what time his favourite programme started, or getting picked for his school football team. Now he had Kyle who should have been worrying about similar things, not about bad men or flesh-eating monsters.

What kind of life was his son going to have from now on? A life of constant fear? A life of living hand to mouth?

Was it worth living at all?

As two sets of boots stomped their way to the landing, Paul covered Kyle's ears when the angry tirades from the men began. "We're gonna fuckin' kill ye. You're as good as dead. We're gonna make this fuckin' slow, ye hear me?"

More stomping occurred and Paul could hear them go into Bell's room.

This is pointless. They're going to find us.

"Check the attic!" Paul heard a man shout. Then seconds later, Paul heard a scream from Daisy. Then an individual burst through his room and Paul began to fear the worst.

"I've found one!" one of the men bellowed from Bell's room. "Actually, I've found two."

The man in Paul's room immediately left and Paul puffed out a huge sigh of relief. He stopped breathing temporarily so he could hear what was going on in the next bedroom. At least Kyle was behaving, being quiet and standing still for his daddy.

"You on your own?" a man questioned Daisy.

To her credit, Daisy answered
yes
, and added, "This is my house. I'm sorry about the man downstairs, I was protecting my daughter."

"I thought Lance had been talking to a
man
through the front door?" the same man queried.

"No, it was me."

Paul then heard a slap, followed by a scream from both mother and daughter.

"You killed my fucking brother!" the same voice yelled.

Paul felt incredibly guilty and was a little ashamed of himself that Daisy and Lisa were going through this, and here he was hiding in a cupboard. Paul did fear that Lisa could let the cat out of the bag, but was prepared to let Daisy take the blame if it meant keeping his son safe.

Paul then heard cries from both girls, and it sounded like they were being dragged downstairs. Paul was nearly in tears, and opened the cupboard, prepared to do something. He then felt a little hand grab the material of his trouser leg. "Don't go, daddy." Kyle looked frightened; his rainy eyes were ready to release tears. "I'm scared."

Paul put his hand comfortingly on his son's head, and could now hear that Daisy and Lisa were being escorted outside.

"Stay there."

"Don't go, daddy," Kyle cried. "Please."

"I'm not going outside. I'm going to look out of Bell's window to see what's going on. You stay there and don't move, whatever happens."

Kyle obediently nodded, and Paul felt terrible for closing the cupboard door. Kyle hated the dark, like any other seven-year-old. His father said, "I'll be one minute, big chap."

Paul went into Bell's room. It looked reasonably tidy, considering it had just held a melee. The cupboard had been moved a little; Bell's Hello Kitty bedspread had been pulled back, and her main cupboard had its doors left open. He walked over to the window, blinds still closed, and peered out.

He could see the Transit van parked right out of his house, where the three men, including the father, stood outside and were questioning Daisy quite aggressively. Young Lisa was in tears.

"Bastards," Paul snarled. "Leave them alone."

He then saw the two brothers in deep discussion with the father. The father of these boys nodded sadly, still upset that he had lost his youngest, and Lisa was picked up by the other brother, Kevin Murphy.

Paul knew of Kevin. His nickname was Knuckles, and he had been accused of rape and child molestation, but his family still stuck by him. As soon as Kevin picked up Lisa, Paul Dickson became confused. Kevin Murphy then opened the back of the Transit and literally threw her in, while Daisy screamed after her and had to be held back by the father.

Throwing Lisa into the back of the van had baffled Paul. What the hell were they going to do with a nine-year-old girl? He then thought of Kevin's sexual history.

Surely not!

Tears fell from Paul's eyes as he saw his female neighbour cry and struggle to get free. He wanted to go down there with a blade and slash and stab at these bastards, but that kind of action would cost him his life, and the thought of Kyle being alone for the rest of his time held him back from doing anything.

Feeling useless, he continued to glare out and saw Knuckles and the eldest brother carrying their youngest brother, Lance, and putting his corpse into the back with Lisa. Then they both got into the front of the van. The father then released his grip on Daisy and pushed her to the ground. She continued to cry and curled herself up, sobbing, convinced that she was about to lose her second daughter.

The father then picked up his shotgun off the floor and turned it around, went over to Daisy and manically rained blows into her skull, screaming out the word
bitch
over and over again. Paul threw his hand over his mouth as he could see the lifeless Daisy receiving blow after blow, her skull eventually caving in and bleeding all over the pavement.

"Oh my God!" were the only words Paul could manage before breaking down. He then turned to the side and threw up on the floor. The vomit came out profusely and hit the laminate flooring with a huge splat. He wiped his mouth and looked back out of the window, hands shaking.

The father began dragging Daisy's broken and bloodied body down Paul's drive and back into the house, which they thought was hers. Paul told himself that if he heard footsteps coming up the stairs, he was going to hide behind the corner and give the man what for. But it never happened.

He peered back out of the window and saw the father finally walk off the premises; he then punched the side of the van with fury, upset because of the loss of his son. He went inside the van; the vehicle moved away, then disappeared along the road and out of view. In the distance, coming down the street, Paul could see three of the dead, stumbling. He decided to go downstairs and make sure the door was shut, then he needed to see to his son.