Snatchers: Volume Two (The Zombie Apocalypse Series Box Set--Books 4-6) (74 page)

Chapter Forty

Pickle, Karen, Vince and Shaz crept by each caravan, one-by-one, but there was no sign of any Snatchers, and even the screaming had ceased. It appeared that people had adhered to the two guards, that Vince had sent away, that were telling people to remain indoors. He had no idea where they were now, hopefully they had taken care of the remaining ones that lurked around the corners.

A set of footsteps was heard to the side of them; a figure appeared and quickly aimed a shotgun in their direction. It was David Chatting.

"Don't shoot!" all four screamed.

"Shit." Chatting lowered the gun and was physically shaking. He said, "Are you guys okay?"

Vince sighed, "We're okay...
just
."

"Have you seen any more?" asked Karen, her head turning from side-to-side, paranoid of any surprises.

David shook his head. He looked browbeaten and he had an appearance to suggest that he was about to burst into tears. "I got another one a few minutes ago, but I haven't seen any more."

"I had two guards with me," Vince announced, "Geoff and—"

"I saw them a few minutes ago." David wiped his eyes with his forearm and choked back the tears. "Vince, the barrier's unattended."

"That's not important now. We need to make sure people are safe and these things are gone. I can already see one from here," Vince proclaimed. He lifted his machete up and used it to point at a lone Rotter. "There. Two caravans down. By Rosemary's place."

"Isn't that where that little girl, Lisa, is staying?" Shaz asked.

Nobody gave her an answer, and Vince told David Chatting to continue searching, especially
under
the caravans. He then asked Pickle to go with him as he headed for the single ghoul in case there were more, while Shaz and Karen were distracted by the distressed cries of a male.

"Go and see what it is," Vince said to the girls, referring to the male cries. "We'll see you in a bit."

While Pickle and Vince left Karen and Shaz, both girls followed the cries. Still aware that every corner was a potential hazard, they finally reached a place opposite Karen and Shaz's own caravan. It was John Waite's residence. His door was open and the cries seemed muffled, as if he had locked himself in a back room or something.

Karen was in front of Shaz and was the first to step inside to see what was happening. There was one Snatcher inside John Waite's caravan, meandering around the kitchen area. Its back was to Karen and wasn't aware of her presence. Karen had worked out that John had locked himself in the toilet that was next to the kitchen. She had no idea why his main door was open or how one of those things managed to climb up the three steps to go through it. Karen thought that maybe it had crawled in. It was only three steps.

Karen turned to Shaz and whispered, "It's okay. I can handle this."

Shaz remained outside, peering in through the door. "Just be careful, Karen."

Karen stepped towards the creature and had the machete behind her head with both hands. She brought the blade down and watched as the weapon went through its skull so severe that a chunk fell away before it dropped to the floor in a gory mess. She inspected the grisly sight, then puffed out her cheeks.

"John." Karen called out, her heart still going ten to the dozen. "It's me, John. It's Karen Bradley."

"Hurry up," whispered Shaz to her friend.

Karen waved her away, and said through the door, "You can come out now. I've killed it. You're safe."

"I don't want to," the old man cried. "People have died tonight. I heard it. It's not safe out there. Vince promised us that we would be safe—that we would
all
be safe."

"How did this creature get in?"

"I heard the noise, so I went out and I got chased. I ran back into my caravan, but I couldn't get the door to shut." He then began to sob and Karen felt for the frightened soul.

Said Karen, "I'll remove this thing, get you out, and we'll make sure the doors and windows are shut. Then me and Shaz need to go."

"I don't want to be on my own," he cried.

Karen was nearly in tears, and when she turned to see Shaz by the door, she could see that she was also filling up. "Ah, bless him," Shaz said softly, placing her hand over her mouth.

"Just wait a minute," Karen said to John Waite. "I'm with Sharon Bailey. You know her?"

"Yes," he sobbed.

"We're gonna drag this thing out of here and shut your door. If you want to stay in there until Vince and the others show, then that's up to you. But we need to check the rest of the camp. We can't really stay in here too long. We need to check on the others."

"I understand," sniffled John. "Don't worry about me. I'll stay in here."

Karen looked down on the corpse and beckoned Shaz to give her a hand. Shaz stepped inside and grabbed one leg, while Karen grabbed the other. It would have been better to lift the corpse, but it was too heavy. Dragging it and smearing John Waite's floor with the dark fluid that had escaped from its head was the only way of removing it.

Once the body was dumped on the grass, Karen could see Shaz get on her knees and began looking under the caravan. She remained on her knees and looked around to see under the others, but it appeared to be clear.

"What're you doing?" asked Karen.

Shaz replied, "Just in case. Better to be safe than sorry."

Karen smiled at her friend, affectionately placed her hand on the top of her arm briefly, then said, "I'm just gonna go back and tell him that we're shutting the door and leaving. We need to see if help is still needed elsewhere."

"Poor soul," responded Shaz, and shook her head. Her heart went out to the old man.

"I know. We forget how vulnerable and frightened senior citizens are—"

"Especially now."

"Exactly."

Shaz puffed out some air and took a look around at the young morning. It was getting lighter. "I wonder how many..."

"Let's not worry about that now."

Shaz pulled a face as if she was telling her friend that she agreed with her, and stepped to the area of the main door as Karen stepped back inside.

Karen gently knocked on the toilet door where John was hiding. "John, we're going now. I'll take the key off the kitchen table and lock you in after we've left. Is that okay?" There was no answer at first, and a concerned Karen looked over to the opened main door and raised her eyebrows in confusion at Shaz, who was still outside, but her head was inside, peering in.

Karen tried again. "John?"

There wasn't an answer. Karen grew concerned and placed her hand on the doorknob. She twisted it but it was locked.

"Please," at last John Waite spoke once more. "Don't try and come in. I...I...I've messed myself."

Even though both girls couldn't see the old man, they could hear in his words the embarrassment that he was feeling. Poor bastard, they both thought.

"I can clean you up, if you want, John." Karen took another gander over to Shaz, who was patiently waiting. They had wasted enough time as it was. "I did used to be a nurse, you know."

"No, please leave me alone."

"If that's what you want, John."

"It is."

"Okay, we're going." Karen turned on her heels and was about to leave, but the words from John forced her to remain where she was for the time being.

"Where's the other one?" he asked, every syllable wobbled with fright.

Karen turned around and faced the toilet door again. She had no idea what John meant by his question. "The other...
one
? I don't understand."

A long pause from John once again was now testing Karen's patience. She needed to be out there. He finally said, "The other monster?"

"What are you talking about, John?"

"When I went outside, after hearing all the noise, I was chased by two of them."

She turned to Shaz, hoping that she had an idea on what he was saying. Shaz gave Karen a look as if she had no idea, and then saw the horror on Karen's face, eyes widened.

Karen saw the face of a beast appear to the side of Shaz, and before Karen had a chance to scream at Shaz to move, teeth from the Snatcher bit into Shaz's shoulder and tore out a generous piece of flesh. Both women screamed as blood oozed out of the wound. Karen ran over to the main door, bypassing her friend, and kicked the thing in the chest, making it bounce off the next caravan and dropping to the floor. She stood over the beast and chopped at the thing's head time and time again. Karen hacked at it until there was nothing left of the face.

Karen threw the blade onto the grass, and turned around to see her friend, slumped on the steps of John Waite's caravan. She could hear the old man in the toilet, screaming and begging to know what was going on, but she was in shock and she ignored him.

Karen took a look at Shaz, crouched down to her level, and placed her hand on her cheek. Shaz had her hand on her right shoulder, trying to stop more blood from escaping but it was pointless.

One bite! That was all it took.

Karen tearfully asked to see the wound. Shaz removed her hand that was saturated in her own blood, and stared into oblivion as her friend had a look. It was a large bite that Shaz had received through her blue Nike T-shirt. Karen knew that anyway, from witnessing the attack. She thought that the part of the shoulder that was missing was probably still in the mouth of the ghoul, as the thing was still chewing before Karen made her first attack.

Karen could feel her legs numbing, the pulse at the side of her neck furiously hammering away from underneath the skin, and the tremor starting in both of her lips.

Shaz was finished. They both knew she was finished.

Both girls stared at one another with their glassy eyes. Karen's brown eyeballs stared into Shaz's wonderful blue ones for a long few seconds, both sets of lips wobbled. Karen brushed Shaz's greasy hair and Shaz did the same to Karen, tucking her brown hair behind her ears.

No words were spoken. They then both broke down and Karen hugged her hard. Shaz winced when Karen first hugged her, as her chin was near the wound, but she tried to ignore it and liquid came from Shaz's eyes, mouth and nose as the realisation sunk in that this was the last morning she was ever going to experience. She was never going to experience another morning again.

Shaz opened her mouth to say something. "I..."

Karen shushed her gently, through her weeping. "Don't speak. Not yet."

Chapter Forty One

Carla lay on the rug in the back room, while the remains of her baby boy, Jack, still sat on the floor in the kitchen. Helen Waite's plan was to bury her children in the back of the garden, but the dead intruder was still there. Helen had carried Carla's body downstairs, and spent her waking hours drinking water and rocking back and forth on the floor while mumbling the words to
Beautiful Boy
by John Lennon. It was a song she used to sing to Jack every night.

She was still in her old clothes that she had been wearing for weeks, but planned on finally changing her clothing once she had killed the ghoul outside and had buried her children, if it was safe to do so.

She finished the remains of her water and grabbed the stained steak knife, the same knife that had killed her diseased daughter, off of the arm of the couch and headed for the roller blind. She pulled up the roller blind fully and slid the patio door wide open, unbothered about what needed to be done next.

Helen felt all alone; she thought she was going crazy, and was certain that her own death was just around the corner. She was going to try and kill herself.

She didn't want to die by the hands of these things, or be bit and go through the trauma of changing, and she certainly didn't want to stay in the house for months, going crazier, and eventually dying slowly of dehydration. She wanted to die. She wanted it to be her choice, but she needed to take care of her children first.

She stepped outside and glared at the ghoul. She then turned to her right to see how it had got in. The small gate had been forced open. It wasn't a concern for her as the lock was always flimsy anyway. Even Carla had accidentally forced the gate open in the past when she had been playing with friends.

Once the beast in the garden began shambling over towards her, an emotionless Helen Waite grabbed the knife with two hands and waited for the dead female teenager to progress further. Its dirty hands had grabbed a hold of Helen, but she didn't scream, she didn't flinch, and she didn't panic either. She calmly rammed the knife into the eye-socket of the thing and watched it as it fell to the floor.

Surely this wasn't the behaviour of a sane woman?

After making sure the gate was as secure as it could be, she took a shovel from the shed and began digging a grave for both of her children. She sweated like a normal person, she panted like a normal person, but she never broke down like a normal person. She was a mother that had lost her two children and now she was digging their graves, but the expression on her face was blank.

Carla had been placed gently in the shallow two-foot grave and this was followed by the bin liner, full of Jack's remains, which was placed on top of Carla's stomach. Helen then began to move the dirt on top of Carla, and never took a break until the task had been completed.

As soon as she was finished, she looked around. She threw the shovel onto the grass and went inside, shutting and locking the patio door behind her. She then calmly went into the bathroom and had a look in the medicine cabinet. Ibuprofen, senna, paracetamol, plasters and voltarol was in the cupboard. There was also a strange little yellow bottle. She picked it up; it had
Locorten-Vioform
on it, and Helen remembered that it was drops that her husband used for his eczema inside his ears. It must have been in there for months.

She took the bottle of paracetamol and put them into her pocket. Grabbing a glass from the cupboard, she headed for the bathroom and got herself some water. She went back to the living room and put the glass on the coaster that sat on the arm of the couch and put the bottle of pills there as well. She looked down at her tatty clothes and although she wasn't planning on staying around in this world anymore, she bizarrely decided to go to her room and finally get some fresh clothes that she had promised herself.

She walked into her room and never bothered to scan it to see what kind of mess Carla had left it in. She simply stripped bare, took out a pair of black leggings, and a black John Lennon T-shirt.

She then went back downstairs, ready to end her life. But she couldn't do it. She then thought about the woods, where her and Carla used to visit, when she was a baby. Helen thought about the tree with the engravings.

That's where she should kill herself.

It was perfect. Poignant.

Helen opened her front door, walked out as if it was nothing but a normal day, holding onto a knife for anything untoward. She was barefoot.