Snatchers: Volume Two (The Zombie Apocalypse Series Box Set--Books 4-6) (62 page)

Chapter Twelve

Shaz walked alongside Karen as she was doing her medical rounds. Before, she had already been round to see if there was anything that the residents needed, as far as water and toilet roll were concerned, and gave a list to one of the guards who was in charge of the supplies in the Spode Cottage.

"Oh dear," Karen sighed.

"What is it?" Shaz asked.

Karen scratched at her left thigh through her blue jeans and then pointed at the door of the caravan they were now standing outside of. "The old guy that lives here is called John Waite."

Shaz looked perplexed, "And?"

"When you lot were out on that run to Fradley a few days ago, last Sunday, he bored the pants off me. Anyway, brace yourself. As soon as he opens that door he's gonna bore you to tears about his dead wife who died five years ago, his daughter, Helen, and his grandchildren." Karen was lost in thought. "What was their names again? Carla and Jack, I think."

"That's a shame." Shaz playfully punched Karen on the arm. "The old guy's probably just lonely."

"I know." Karen smiled, immediately feeling guilty for mocking an elderly man that was missing his family. The poor man was lonely, and frightened to death of what the future had in store for him.

Karen knocked the door.

*

Once the rounds were done, Karen informed Shaz that she needed a nap, Shaz told her friend that she was going to see a young man called Bobby, and was hoping to get some wine from him from the Spode Cottage.

Karen was on her way back to her place, looking up at the cloudless sky and the glorious sun, when she physically bumped into a man called David Chatting.

Karen immediately apologised, and David looked her up and down and said. "You can bump into me anytime, darling."

She never responded verbally, smiled, and was grabbed by the arm by David. He was an average-looking man, average height, and had a beard that was in desperate need of a trim.

"Let go of me, please." Karen swallowed her anger and tried to keep calm.

"I heard you gave my buddy, Robin, a hard time."

Karen had to think for a moment to digest what he was talking about. The penny had dropped. She responded, "I just don't like being looked at by old men, that's all. Any men, for that matter."

"Maybe..." he looked over his shoulder and his tongue poked the inside of his mouth, "...I could give you a
hard
time. Know what I mean?"

Karen managed a chuckle, and said, "Just because one or two women are up for it, doesn't mean we're all going to succumb to your advances."

"Eh?" It was obvious the man didn't understand what Karen was saying.

Karen laughed, "What I'm trying to say...I would, using Vince's words, rather shit in my hands and clap, than sleep with you. Thanks, but no thanks."

"You don't know what you're missing."

"If I can recall from my past, with the exception of my deceased fiancé, of course, what I'm missing is some guy using me like a piece of meat, followed by frustration. Go and empty your balls somewhere else."

David had anger stretched over his features and grabbed Karen by the hair as she went to walk away. She turned and slapped him across the right side of his cheek, making the man stagger backwards a little. He shook his head and was clearly embarrassed. He snarled and threw his arm back, ready to punch Karen, but he was suddenly pulled backwards onto the floor.

Karen looked up to see Pickle standing over the man. He had just come from his watch, heard the melee on the way to his own caravan, and turned the corner in time to see Dave getting his slap from Karen.

Karen could be a fiery creature, but Pickle knew that she wouldn't slap someone for no reason.

"Wha' the fuck are yer doin'?" Pickle stood over the cowering man, waiting for an answer.

"It's okay, Pickle." Karen spoke up from behind him. "Leave him. I think our friend is a little...frustrated, shall we say."

Pickle scrunched his eyes at the cowering David Chatting. "So all this arguing was because yer wanted to get yer end away?"

"No harm in asking," said David, now holding his hands up.

"Just forget it, Pickle." Karen wasn't in the mood. All she wanted to do was a have a lie down.

"Yer was gonna strike her." Pickle pointed his finger at Chatting. "She's a pregnant woman."

Said David, "I didn't know that."

"No?"

He shook his head vigorously and added, "God, no."

He seemed genuine and Pickle believed him.

Robin Barton appeared from around the corner, along with another male colleague that Karen and Pickle didn't know by name. Their presence gave David a burst of confidence, and he quickly stood up and brushed himself down.

"Problem, lads?" Robin stood, holding a baseball bat. He and the other male had just finished a barrier watch and were on their way back to their caravans.

Pickle sighed, "No problem at all."

"No problem?" screamed David Chatting. He then turned to Robin and the other guard and added, "This faggot just dragged me to the floor."

Pickle explained to the others, "He was pestering Karen, so I acted." He then turned to David and added, "And please don't call me that name again. It's disrespectful."

"You mean faggot?" David quipped. "Faggot!"

All three men were in hysterics and Robin was the next man to speak. "Vince puts you in charge for one day, the new guy, and you think you're something special."

Pickle was tired of talking. He had had a bad day, and was sleep deprived.

"Uh-huh." Robin cackled, and began to playfully nudge his two pals, "I think he's getting angry."

"I'm not angry." Pickle rubbed the palms of his hands over his tired face. He simply wasn't in the mood for this bullshit. "I'm just tired and I need a lie down." Pickle turned away and gestured to Karen that she should walk with him.

"That's it." Robin cackled, "Walk away, faggot."

Pickle stopped walking, turned around, and took a few strides forwards, with no protest from Karen, and this made all three men giggle like children.

Robin looked smug and had his chin in the air, still grasping the bat. "You think you're a hard case, do you? Just because you spent weeks out there? I've heard about your story."

David joked aloud, "Watch he doesn't hit you with his handbag."

Pickle stormed over, making all three men jump, and David Chatting was the first to be grabbed. He gripped David by the hair and threw him up against the caravan. Karen shouted after him, but she saw the venom in Pickle's face—something she hadn't seen before, and was scared of being accidentally hit while the red mist was down. She decided to keep well back.

Robin Barton took a step forward as David Chatting screamed and fell to the floor, but Pickle side-kicked Robin in the knee, forcing him to fall and drop his bat, and then booted him in the face as if he was kicking a football. By this time the other colleague had ran away, and Pickle grabbed David Chatting up with both hands, ignoring his pleading, and head-butted the man twice. He released David and threw another punch into the side of his cheek.

"You're gonna kill him!" screamed Karen. "Stop it!"

Pickle then turned to Robin, who was clambering to his feet, and threw his knee into his side. Robin collapsed and moaned, trying to get his breath back, and Pickle grabbed his shirt with both hands and threw him against the caravan. Inside, the curtains twitched and whoever was inside was too scared to come out and see what the bother was.

Three more men appeared from around the corner, including the one that had ran away, a man called Bobby, and were all carrying bats. All three men looked at the state of Robin and David. Pickle was standing tall with his arms folded, and glared at the three men with devilish eyes and said to them in a calm, disturbing tone, "Yer gonna need more than three men to sort me out, sisters.
And
bigger bats."

One man on the right immediately threw his bat down and said to Bobby, "I didn't realise it was Pickle that you wanted us to beat up."

The other male also left, leaving Pickle and the man who was originally with Robin, glaring at one another. "Just you and me," said Pickle.

"Just you." The man lowered his head, cleared his throat and walked away.

"What the fuck's got into you?" yelled Karen. She was still apprehensive of approaching the man she thought she knew. She remained where she was. She kept her distance.

Pickle took an age to answer and was taking in deep breaths to calm himself down. "I've had a bad day," he finally responded.

Karen had her hands on her head. "You've messed them both up."

"That David was bothering yer."

"I was handling it."

"Yer were two seconds from getting a smack."

"And I would have smacked him back, trust me. Vince is gonna go nuts."

"I can handle that prick."

Karen finally approached her friend and inspected the carnage that he had created closely. Both Robin and David were on the floor, groaning and bleeding.

"Look at the state of the pair of them."

Pickle tried to joke, "They're lucky I didn't have ma handbag with me."

Karen managed a smirk, and gave him a hug, but she wasn't feeling anything back. She broke away, a little embarrassed and looked at his face. "Apart from this, how's your day been?" she tried to joke.

Pickle shook his head. "Don't ask."

"A bad one?"

"Yer could say that."

"What happened?"

Pickle managed a small smile and looked at Karen. "I killed a clown." He looked back down at the two injured men. "Yer a nurse. Yer better clean these puppies up."

Chapter Thirteen

The vehicle had been stationary for three minutes, engine off, and Vince Kindl continued to glare out onto the road. He took Stephen Bonser's advice and went round the back way to Little Haywood and was near where the Murphy family stayed.

He released a sigh at what he could see up ahead. Two members of the dead aimlessly stumbled towards him and his vehicle from afar, but it wasn't the two fiends that was making him pause in fascination, it was the Alsatian dog in front of his car, a few metres away, devouring a carcass. It was impossible for Vince to see what the carcass used to be. An animal—yes, but with it torn to shreds, identifying it from where he was sitting was impossible.

Another dog, maybe.

The dog continued to devour the insides of the unrecognisable animal, blood all over its nose and mouth, and Vince knew that getting past the thing was going to be difficult. The road he was on was tiny, there was no pavement to mount on either side of him, and brick walls were to either side. It was an unusual, claustrophobic entrance to the village.

Once he had reached the back entrance to Little Haywood, he had originally planned to leave his vehicle on a drive in the nearest residential street. He didn't want to drive through the place and be spotted by any of the family members, and also thought that the humming of the engine would arouse the dead.

He wanted to use stealth, but this mutt was in his way, and the two dead were also going to be a hindrance. He was at the outskirts of the small town, and already knew that even if he could avoid the dog, the dead were going to follow him. He needed to get rid of them.

He stepped out of the car and the dog began growling as soon as the driver's side door was shut. The man was deemed as a threat to the dog's food, but all he wanted to do was drag the carcass out of the way so he could get by.

He took a step closer to the Alsatian. It looked up for the first time and began to show its bloody teeth. Vince's heart galloped at this sight, but the machete in his right hand was enough protection, but he'd rather not use it. He didn't want to kill a dog. All it was doing was protecting its meal.

He took another step closer and the canine became increasingly hostile, even more so when the man slowly bent down and took a hold of the hind leg of the dead animal. It appeared to have been another dog, and he could only assume that they had attacked one another to survive, as he could now see that the Alsatian was sporting wounds to its body.

A fight to the death. Whoever lost got eaten?

He slowly pulled at the dead animal, the dog following it and still gnashing its teeth at this man, and once he had managed to get it at the edge of the road, he slowly began taking a few steps backwards. The dog continued to growl, showing its teeth and bloodstained nose and mouth, and its vicious snarling began to subside once the man continued to walk backwards and reached his car.

The dog began furiously eating the dead animal while he stepped back into his vehicle, and took an occasional glance to its side, now noticing the two monsters progressing towards it. Vince fired the engine and pulled the car forwards. He passed the dog to his left and pulled in at the first house, using the empty drive. He casually left his truck and pulled out his machete.

The two ghouls, two males, headed towards him with more zest in their steps, and as they approached he rammed his blade through the skull of the one, while kicking the other onto the floor to give him some respite.

As soon as he removed his blade from the head of his first victim, he turned his attention to the one that was trying to get to its feet. The blade was brought down and the thing ceased its movements.

He wiped both sides of the blade on the lawn, turned and spat on the floor. With the blade now tucked into his belt, he went back in his car and took out his bag and shotgun, and he casually headed to the street where the Murphy family stayed.

He was now on foot.