Snatchers: Volume Two (The Zombie Apocalypse Series Box Set--Books 4-6) (66 page)

Chapter Twenty One

As soon as the pick-up truck reached the top of the hill, the camp was in sight and Vince managed a smirk. It was good to be back home.

Lisa remained silent as Vince slowed down until the vehicle came to a stop. He waited patiently and watched as the HGV reversed back slowly. As soon as Vince pulled up inside, inbetween the two HGVs, he could see Robin Barton shaking his head at him.

Vince ignored him, knowing that Robin was unhappy that he had returned with another mouth to feed, and noticed that the man had a black eye.

Unperturbed by Robin's appearance, Vince left the machete and shotgun in the truck and led a scared Lisa away. He was going to put her with a woman called Rosemary for now.

Vince then heard Robin bellow from behind him, "That Pickle character has to go, Vince!"

"Why?" Vince called out, without turning around, Lisa was close by his side.

"He attacked me and David Chatting!"

"You must have both deserved it!"

Vince had his arm around Lisa, knowing that she was frightened, missing her family, and now with a man and in a place she was unfamiliar with.

As soon as they went by the first set of caravans, they turned around the corner and Lisa squealed, making Vince jump out of his skin, "Kyle!"

Vince looked to see Paul and Kyle Dickson, sitting on the steps of their caravan. Paul and Kyle ran over to meet Lisa and all three hugged.

Vince was perplexed and scratched his head. "You...
know
one another?"

"This is my neighbour I was telling you about," said Lisa, her smile was as wide as could be now she had seen people that were familiar to her.

Paul opened his mouth to speak to Vince, but then waved at him, telling him that whatever he had to say he would tell him later. It seemed that both men were baffled at the remarkable coincidence. Vince watched as the father, son and the little girl continued hugging, and it gave him a warm feeling inside.

"When you're done hugging," Vince called over to Paul Dickson, with a smile. "Take her to Rosemary's for me, will you?"

Paul beamed and kissed Lisa on the head, then responded, "Sure thing."

Vince then saw the delight on the little girl's face as she broke away from the embrace. She had been through a lot, and he then thought that maybe she was better off with the Dicksons rather than a woman she didn't even know.

He strolled to his caravan, thinking about the day he had had, and shook his head.

He had taken two lives today.

The enormity hadn't hit him yet. Yes, they were scum, but he had still killed people.

He tried to remember the first ones that he had killed. His first one was Johnny Jefferson, Jack Slade's friend. He had been bitten after failing an initiation test and Vince had blew his head off. The second one was when he and Claire went back for Jack. They had come across a car crash that Jack was involved in. The other driver had suffered severe wounds and Vince put him out of his misery. Then there was the two that he had killed today.

He couldn't remember if there were any others. His mind had gone blank.

Shit. What is happening to me?

He had a look at Pickle's caravan, and took a wander over and chapped his door. The door opened and a smile stretched over Harry Branston's face. "You made it."

Vince said, "I did."

"And did yer succeed in what yer went for?"

Vince nodded solemnly. "I did."

"Come in."

Vince stepped in to see that Karen and Shaz were sitting on the couch. Vince laughed, "You three are always together."

"We have a bond," Karen tittered, and began munching on a packet of prawn cocktail crisps. "Anyway, how was your day off?"

Vince chuckled, "I'll tell you later."

"You look knackered," said Shaz.

"I am," Vince winked at Shaz and said, "A decent hand-job tonight and I should sleep like a baby."

Shaz laughed, "Yeah? Well, good luck with that."

"Not even a quick knee-trembler in my caravan?" Vince continued to tease, but they all knew him now. They knew he was full of shit.

"It
would
be quick with you?" Shaz cackled. "When was the last time you got laid, lover boy?"

"And goats don't count," Pickle chipped in with a smirk.

"What's this?" Kindl cackled. "Pick on Vince day? I'm just back."

Said Pickle, "Yer love it."

"I'll show you my knickers for chocolate," Karen spoke up.

"Anyway," said Vince, adopting a more serious tone, and looked over to Pickle with his lips thinning. "I heard you've been beating up the locals."

Despite being shocked at Pickle's violent reaction a few hours earlier, Karen said immediately, "Robin and his pals called him a faggot." She blushed immediately, and felt like she was back at school, in the headmaster's office, sticking up for one of her friends.

"It wasn't really that." Pickle leaned against the wall, picking at one of his nails. "I'd just come from a watch and saw David Chatting grab Karen. She was seconds away from getting a slap, then Robin turned up with some others."

"What?" Vince looked enraged. He was trying to hide it, but he wasn't fooling anybody. He gulped and nodded. "Well, it seems you gave him what he deserved."

"What about
your
day?" Karen asked Vince, before he managed to leave their place.

"I killed two of the Murphys."

His announcement was greeted with shock and silence. No words needed to be said. All three could tell by his face that this wasn't something he was proud of or enjoyed. It was something, especially with Kevin Murphy, that he needed to do, whether others agreed or not.

Still thinking about Karen being man-handled by David Chatting, Vince left the caravan with angry steps, and went to the Spode Cottage to get himself a bottle of Jim Beam and put it into his deep pocket. He felt that he had earned it.

When he left the cottage he saw Robin Barton heading back to his place. He had finished his barrier-duty and he called over to Vince.

Vince, promising himself that he wouldn't assault the man, walked over to hear what Robin had to say, although both of his fists were clenched.

"Well?" Robin stood with his hands on his hips.

Vince was confused. "Well what?"

"Did you give that Pickle his marching orders?"

"No." Vince looked at the white-haired man blankly.

"And why the fuck not?"

"Because you deserved everything you got, you
and
David."

"Fuck off!"

"He man-handled a pregnant woman. He was going to slap her."

"I didn't realise she was pregnant."

"Yes you fucking did!" Vince raged. "Anyway, no more from you. I'm not in the mood."

Robin mocked Vince with a small chuckle. "You're getting soft, Vince."

Vince grabbed Robin and threw him up at the nearest caravan. "You think I'm soft? I killed two people today. You wanna try me?"

Robin looked genuinely hurt at Vince's reaction. He was hurting anyway with the bruising he got from Pickle, but Vince grabbing him had him hurting within. They were supposed to be—used to be friends. "Why are you being like this? In the old days we used to get on, have a laugh."

"I run this place, and you can tell David to keep away from me. He's your pal, you sort him out. And if I hear about any of this again, if some of you men start to throw your weight about, especially with any new female arrivals in the future, then I'm gonna have to start kicking people off the site. Including you." Vince let go of Robin and took two steps back.

"I've been here years. You can't do that."

Vince took a step closer and glared at Robin. "You won't have a choice."

"Sending me out there would be a death sentence. And you're quite happy to do that?"

"Don't push me, Robin. Don't make me do something that won't be in your best interests."

Robin glared at Vince's eyes for a moment and began to titter. "You're bluffing."

"Keep it up, and you'll see a side to me that you won't like."

"I've already seen it."

Vince smiled and responded, "I don't think you have."

Robin gulped and walked away.

Vince had noticed for the first time that the man was in some pain and clutching at his stomach as he trudged off, but his sympathy for a man that he thought he knew was zero. A lot of people had changed since what had happened, but Robin had changed for the worse, and Vince didn't think he knew him anymore.

He was a different man six weeks ago. A better man.

Chapter Twenty Two

Jason opened his sticky eyes and felt relieved that he was still alive. He had had a nightmare, and in his nightmare he was being chased by a horde of the dead alongside his brother, Gary.

Gary Murphy was given a long sentence in Stafford jail for armed robbery and for murder, after shooting a twenty-year-old woman in the face for setting off an alarm in the bank he was robbing alongside two other men.

Jason sat up and looked at his watch. It was ten minutes to midnight.

He looked out of the bedroom window to see the street was eerily quiet, with the exception of just the one ghoul that was on the opposite side of the road. In the beginning there used to be hordes of the things, but it was different now.

Jason Murphy was about to remove himself from the window, when he saw a man walk out of his front door, holding an axe. Jason could see he was a family man, because he could see his wife and three children—he presumed—peering out from the bedroom above the axe-wielding individual.

The ghoul wasn't aware of the man's presence, and was hit with the axe from behind. The axe was embedded into the back of its skull and it fell. The man then removed the weapon, wiped both sides of the blade on his lawn, and went back inside.

It appeared that because of the lack of creatures, some people were getting braver. What unnerved Jason was that if the whole village found out that he was the only Murphy left, his life could be in trouble. He had no back-up anymore. His dad, Kevin, and Lance were all dead, and his brother, Gary was in jail.

If the people of Little Haywood knew where he was, he could be in danger. It would be like something out of the Victorian times, with a baying mob trying to hang him. He then thought of the old couple in the next room.

He assumed that with the lack of beasts, some people probably popped over the road and spoke to one another. Maybe neighbours had began conversing, but he wasn't sure, in the houses, who was alive and who was not.

If ever Iris and what's-his-face tells a neighbour that I'm staying here, then I'm fucked
.

He quietly left the bedroom and went to the bathroom. He bent over and cupped his hands, dipping them in the shallow bath to get some water. He turned around to see a small cupboard, opposite the bath. Out of curiosity, he opened the cupboard and had a look inside. It was so dark that he couldn't see a thing.

With both hands, he felt around the cupboard's floor. He came across a large packet of kitchen rolls, some cans, and a torch. He excitedly put the torch on. The light was dim as if the batteries were dying, but he could still see what was inside the cupboard.

"Holy fuck," he whispered, and a smile emerged on his face.

In the cupboard there was tins, at least thirty, of food like soup and tuna. He counted six bottles of sparkling water, some toilet roll, and a mountain of pot noodles, all shoved in the corner. He then lost his smile and thought about what Iris and Richard had told him, about not eating for days.

"Lying bastards." The smile had now evaporated off of his face, and it turned into anger. "The fuckers just wanted to see the back of me."

He quietly shut the cupboard door and crept back to the bedroom into the darkness. He strolled to the side-table and picked up the steak knife he had taken earlier from the kitchen, and stood for a moment in thought.

He thought about if the owners told a neighbour that the infamous Jason Murphy was staying at their house, and he thought of the repercussions that could occur once that information began to travel. It'd be safer for him if they remained quiet. He then thought about the food. With two less mouths to feed, he could stay low for weeks in this place before moving on.

"Survival of the fittest. Fuck it."

He placed the knife into his pocket and stood opposite Iris and Richard's door. He placed his ear against it and couldn't hear anything. He assumed they were still awake, and were sitting quietly, probably too nervous to sleep because of their uninvited guest. Maybe they were asleep and maybe not a single one of them snored. But Jason couldn't even hear heavy breathing.

They were still awake, he was sure of it, and if they were terrified then the bedroom door was probably blocked off. He then began to think. Didn't they say they were too weak to be carrying furniture? Which is why their main door was never barricaded in the first place.

He tried the door and was surprised that it opened with ease.

In the corner of the room was Iris and Richard, sitting. Both individuals were wearing burgundy matching pyjamas. Iris was tearful and shook, but Richard was trying to be strong and had his arm around his nervous wife.

"We heard you in the bathroom cupboard," Richard bravely spoke up.

"I thought I was being quiet." Jason began to chuckle.

"You can hear a pin drop nowadays."

"Really?" Jason glared at the couple with his large brown eyes.

Richard then removed his arm from his wife and slowly got to his feet. Just getting to his feet seemed an arduous task for the old man. He puffed out his chest and was trying to be valiant. He spoke with a loud voice and said, "I suppose you want us both to leave now, do you? Now that you've found the food."

Jason never answered Richard. He just glared.

"Come on, Iris." Richard spoke up. "We'll go to Mavis' house at the end of the street. We'll be welcome there."

Jason knew that letting these pair go would be detrimental to his own safety. Jason shook his head, confusing both man and wife. "No, you two are going nowhere."

He quickly strolled over, pushed Richard into the corner of the wall and grabbed Iris by her grey hair. She cried out and tried to grab at Jason with her frail, wrinkly left hand, but she stopped once he had dragged the knife across her throat.

He took a step back as the blood gushed down her pyjamas and was also being soaked up by the carpet. She slumped to the floor and Richard cried out, "Iris! My sweet Iris!"

"Stop fucking moaning!" exclaimed Jason. "You two have lived a lot longer than some folk. You're lucky."

Jason looked at the broken-hearted old man, tears ran down for the woman that he had been married to for forty-six years. She had given him two sons, resulting in five grandchildren, and now one of the scummy Murphy family had just cut her like a fucking pig.

"I had to kill
her
first," Jason calmly explained to the devastated man who wasn't even listening. "You see, if I killed
you
first, then she would scream the place down. We don't want the neighbours to be hearing that now, do we?"

"You bastard." Richard clambered to his feet and Jason Murphy watched him struggle. Richard fell onto the floor, still sobbing, but tried again.

Jason shook his head at the old man's determination. What was the point? Surely the old man knew that his time was up. Silly old cunt.

Richard fell back down again and this made Jason laugh. He looked down to Iris. She was white, and she had soaked the floor. Jason could already feel the carpet under his feet squish whenever he made a step forwards or backwards. It was time to put the old man out of his misery.

Jason bent down and put his forearm across Richard's throat to stop him moving. Because of the stubbornness of the man, Jason had decided that his fate was going to be a lot slower than Iris'.

He raised his steak knife, the same steak knife the couple would use when eating their Sunday roast, and with his wife's blood still on the steel, Richard closed his eyes. He knew what was coming.

He bit his bottom lip as Jason Murphy stabbed him in the stomach area again and again, until he became tired. Richard was barely alive when he had stopped. He had been stabbed seventeen times and he was seconds away from death.

The knife remained in Richard's stomach when Jason left the room and shut the door, chuckling to himself.