Although it couldn't be seen from the surrounding greenery, it was no secret to any resident of Rugeley that the cabin existed. Wolf had always told Pickle that he feared it'd only be a matter of time before people started leaving their homes and going for safer alternatives, most probably the cabin itself, and Pickle wondered if this was the first of many threats that they were going to face.
"What do we do?" There was an unusual angst in Karen's voice, and Pickle wondered if it was because she now had two people to take care of.
"Let him come closer. Just be friendly."
As the man reached the two, they could now see that he was tall in stature, six-foot, with a shaven head, ginger in colour, and blue eyes. He began to speak to the pair of them as if he had known them for a while. He was confident, and certainly not shy.
"Tommy." He held out his hand, waiting for it to be shaken.
Pickle was the first to get to his feet, and shook Tommy's hand. "Harry, and this is Karen."
Tommy Burns nodded in Karen's direction, but she hardly acknowledged him. "You look much better up close."
"What?" Karen looked angered and quickly stood to her feet. She took a step forward, but Pickle held her back with his outstretched left arm.
Pickle cleared his throat and spat on the floor to the side of him. "Yer been spyin' on us, ma friend?"
"Relax," Tommy laughed, and his confidence unnerved Pickle. "I'm just passing through."
"Why didn't yer stay where yer were?"
"Getting tired of these Grabbers everywhere, and I have a feeling in another week or so people are going to be turning on one another. I don't want to be sitting in the middle of a war. Besides, another week in that house and I'd go mad."
Pickle thought that the man was convincing and certainly came in peace. He asked, "So what's the alternative?"
"The woods, for now. Then find something in one of the villages if this mess hasn't been sorted by then."
Pickle spoke honestly, "We tried the woods. Not a great experience to be perfectly honest with yer, ma friend."
"Yeah, well," Tommy sniffed. "In this heavy bag of mine I have food, water, amongst many other things, and six magazines for this." He pulled up his shirt to reveal his Glock sticking out of his trousers.
Karen and Pickle both peeped at one another, both faces unable to hide their surprise. Then worry began to quickly set in.
Tommy could see the concern on the faces of Karen and Pickle, and laughed, "Don't worry about your cabin. If I wanted to take it, I could. But I've got a feeling I'm not the only visitor you're going to get over the next couple of weeks."
"We're already anticipating that," Pickle spoke up.
"Good. So you're armed then?"
"Not exactly." Pickle looked down at his machete.
Tommy nodded at Pickle's weapon. "That's alright for those Grabbers, but not so good for armed men."
"I'll take ma chances, besides, we don't have much o' a choice." Pickle then pointed at the front of Tommy's trousers. "Unless yer got a spare one o' them going."
"Sorry."
"How..?"
"How did I get a gun in this anti-gun state of the good old UK?" Tommy paused for a moment, almost as if he was trying to tease his audience. Karen was looking away, still confused by his you look better up close comment, but she was obviously listening to the intriguing conversation. "I was an enforcer for a drug dealer. Of course, that's all changed now."
Pickle nodded, wondering if he knew this drug dealer and if he was someone that he had crossed paths with in the past. But like Tommy said, those things didn't matter now.
"Anyway. I better go." Tommy looked at Karen. "You are one fine looking woman, you know that?"
"Why, thanks," Karen sarcastically replied, unimpressed by the man's patter. "My bad diet and my sleep deprivation is my secret."
Tommy laughed and held up his hands. "I'll see you around, kids."
Tommy Burns walked away and overheard Karen calling him a tosser as he headed for the woods.
As soon as he turned around, Pickle dropped his head in his hands and was about to reprimand Karen for being so rude to a man, an armed man, they hardly knew.
"What did you mean: you look better up close?" Karen called out.
Tommy snickered, "Where's the other one, Karen?"
Karen wasn't into playing his games, but she couldn't help herself. "Other what?"
"The other girl that was struggling alongside you from a few days ago."
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
"I put two bullets in the back of the head of those Grabbers when you and your friend were trying to hack your way out of the street."
Karen's eyes widened. "Are you the...sniper guy?"
"Tommy will do." Tommy snickered, but it seemed smug and unsettling. "Oh, and you're welcome."
Pickle turned to Karen and asked, "What is he talking about?"
"Oops," said Tommy. "You two kids didn't go down their without father's permission, did you?" he said, while mockingly pointing at Pickle. Tommy walked away and disappeared as he began his descent down the hill to the woods.
Pickle looked at Karen, "I thought it was a straight forward trip when you and Shaz got those clothes?"
Karen was ready to go back and said, "We went down there and had to kill a few Snatchers. That is straight forward these days."
They both progressed to the greenery that surrounded the cabin, and the danger that the girls had put themselves in was preying on Pickle's mind. It seemed ridiculous that they had put their lives at risk for clothing.
Karen tried to change the subject, and said, "Wait till I tell Shaz who we've just met."
Pickle wasn't sharing Karen's small surge of excitement; he was too angry to do so, and the remainder of the walk to the cabin was made in silence.
Chapter Fourteen
Once Jack and Vince finally reached the dirt path, they looked up to the hill and looked at one another.
"A hill?" Jack half-laughed. "It's more like a mountain."
Said Vince, "Once you get up there, it's quite flat."
"Good. I'll be needing a lie down once I've managed to climb that." Jack sat down on a grassy bank, his feet flat on the dirt path, and glared into the woods opposite him.
Vince was still standing and squinted as the sun teased his eyes. He was trying to look at something, but Jack was too tired to turn around.
Jack asked, "What is it?"
At first Vince never answered, so instead of asking again, Jack got back up on his aching feet and turned around to see a figure making its way down the hill, heading towards them.
Both men looked at one another, unsure what to do. It wasn't a Rotter. It was definitely human; they could tell the way it was walking, and it was also wearing a backpack.
"I wonder if he's been to that cabin?" asked Jack.
Vince just shook his head; he never responded to Jack with any words, and waited for the man to get nearer. The mysterious figure raised his hands at the two men in a friendly gesture, and this immediately diluted their trepidation.
He was tall in stature, reasonably well-built, with a shaven head. He introduced himself as Tommy Burns, and all men shook hands.
Jack said to Tommy with a satirical smile, "You're not thinking about staying in there, are you?" Jack pointed to the woods opposite them.
"For a while." Tommy released a chuckle. "I've got some supplies, then maybe I'll check out the odd house along the main road, further up."
"Well, best of luck," said Vince. "I was only in there for a day."
Asked Tommy, "Any trouble?"
Jack shook his head. "We never came across any of the dead in there, apart from the two that are in a ditch just a few metres in."
"It was pretty quiet," Vince chipped in.
"Good." Tommy smiled and became uncomfortable that the chitchat had already come to a close.
"Did you pass the cabin?" Vince questioned Tommy, seeing that he was ready to leave and already
had had enough of the small-talk.
"It's still there." Tommy nodded. "But I didn't really see it as such. It's now surrounded with loads of trees and bushes. I did meet two people up there, though."
Vince released a smile, and felt relief smouldering out of his shoulders.
Mum and dad. They'd made it.
"How were the old couple?" Vince queried with a smirk scrawled on his face. "Coping?"
"They seemed to be okay. But they weren't old. It was a man in his forties, and a young woman." Tommy threw his left arm behind his back, lifting his T-shirt and revealing the Glock tucked into his blue cotton trousers. He took out a small bottle of water and offered it to the men.
Jack never hesitated and took it off of him, while Vince was left bewildered, staring into nothingness. So what happened to my parents? Did they stay at home?
Tommy bid the men farewell and took off into the woods, leaving Jack a little refreshed and hydrated, and Vince confused and nervous. He couldn't care less about his dad, but he feared for his mum.
"You wanna rest a while?" Jack asked Vince, tossing the empty water bottle into the bracken behind him, who never he even thought to ask if he wanted some of the liquid. "Or do you wanna go straight up, and rest when we get to the top?"
Answered Vince, "I think we better go now, before we get too comfortable and end up sleeping here."
Both exhausted men dragged their feet through the bracken, their backs already breaking from the ridiculous incline, and they knew once they had reached the top of the hill, they were going to feel every muscle and bone in their body ache.
Vince still wanted to try the cabin, whether his parents were there or not, and hoped that the people that Tommy had mentioned were friendly. He was exhausted, and he needed rest.
Chapter Fifteen
After a cluster of mundane hours, the group had sat down while Pickle was serving up dry rolls and beans. It was simple, but they were ravenous, and for a change Wolf was sitting next to the girls while Pickle produced the modest food.
No one complained. No one dared to complain.
They were alive, and had a lot more than what other folk had.
Shaz still couldn't believe she had missed the chance of meeting the man that had saved—or helped—her and Karen when they ran into trouble a few days ago. Shaz expressed her disappointment for not having the opportunity to thank the man that had expertly—or was it luck?—managed to put two rounds in the back of the head of the remaining ghouls that were giving the girls problems.
Karen played down the chance-meeting, told Shaz that she didn't miss much, and labelled him as a 'smug prick'. She reluctantly acknowledged that his intervention did help them out a little, but she wasn't overall convinced that he actually saved their lives.
After eating and rinsing the plastic dishes with the cold sink-water, Karen sat Pickle down and inspected where his little finger had been cruelly snipped off during their fracas between a notorious group a few days back. The bandage was off and it looked like it was healing nicely, and Pickle also announced he was laying off the painkillers. His bruising was clearing up on his torso, but his nose was still evidently broken and it didn't need an expert in the medical field to see that it looked a bit unusual, a bit bent to the left.
Referring back to their meeting with Tommy Burns, Pickle began inspecting the front of his teeth with his tongue and finally spoke, "After that meet-up with that chap, I was thinking about our situation up here."
"Oh?" Wolf felt a little uncomfortable as soon as Pickle came out with his comment. Was he thinking about making adjustments to the cabin—his cabin? Or, even worse, was he planning on leaving? If Pickle left, Wolf was certain that Karen and Shaz would follow, leaving Wolf vulnerable, alone.
Shaz eventually asked, "What do you mean?"
"I think we should start keeping guard. Nothing too fancy, just someone sitting on top of the hill, looking out for any signs of human activity like me and Karen had today. Wolf predicted that people could start coming up, and it's started already, although Tommy was no danger."
Karen looked at the expression on the faces of Wolf and Shaz. They didn't look too convinced, and to back Pickle up she added, "Tommy mentioned that some people were starting to leave their homes. Some could end up here."
"Not every person is going to be a bad person," Wolf stepped in. "I know you had a terrible experience with those four men, but we can't tar everyone with the same brush and immediately think that good people have turned into hooligans."
Karen said, "But if they're desperate—"
"They'll do anything to survive," Pickle interrupted and then remembered a conversation that he and Wolf had not so long back. "Yer said yerself—"
"I know what I said," Wolf interjected. "But it doesn't apply to everyone."
"Most people know that this cabin exists, right?" It was Shaz's turn to speak, and it appeared that she was beginning to think along the same lines as Harry and Karen. "If a thousand people leave the Pear Tree Estate, and only two percent are mad or desperate enough to come up here, that's still twenty people." Shaz then looked puzzled, wondering if she got her maths correct. It was never her strong subject at secondary school, but nobody questioned her.
"And if any come armed," added Pickle, "we could be in serious trouble." He looked over to Karen and winked. "Our Browning days are over, and Wolf is the only one with a gun."
"Oh, is that what it is," Karen said with a huge pinch of sarcasm. "I thought it was an antique of some kind."
"Okay," Wolf agreed with Pickle's simple plan. "I suppose it wouldn't do any harm."
"That excludes you though, Wolf." Pickle glanced at Wolf with a straight face.
The sixty-nine-year-old tried to protest, "Now, come on—"
"I'm sorry, Wolf." Harry Branston tried to be as diplomatic as he could. It was Wolf's place, and he knew the old guy felt useless, especially when he and Karen went on their trips to the back of the estate. "That hill is too much for yer, Wolf." Pickle tried to explain without being insulting, but Wolf's face was not happy, and Pickle was becoming tired with his attitude. "What if yer see something or someone; what then? It'll take yer forever to get back to the cabin, if yer get back to the cabin."
Pickle felt terrible for upsetting a man that he respected and had taken them in, but felt he was correct in what he said.
Wolf stood up with anger on his face, adjusted his straw hat that sat loosely on top of his head, and snapped. "I'll just stick to cooking and washing dishes then, shall I?"
He walked into his cabin and slammed the door behind him. Pickle called after him, but Wolf was too upset to respond.
Shaz sniffed, "Well that went down well."
"Fuck him." Karen stood to her feet and accidentally broke wind. Ignoring her mild flatulence, she added, "Pickle's right. If we put that old fucker on a watch, he'd take forever to get back to warn us, that's if he doesn't go for a nap in the middle of it. The guy's a liability."
"Let's be nice, Karen." Pickle was unhappy with her outburst. "He means well. He's just not up to it, and it frustrates the hell out o' him."
Said Shaz, "Anyway..."
The rattle of the gate made all three gasp. All three looked at one another, wondering what the hell to do. Pickle put his right forefinger to his closed lips, telling Shaz and Karen not to make a sound. It seemed weird and ironic that they were having a conversation about being attacked, and here they had a scenario where there could quite possibly be someone behind the gate, trying to get in.
Pickle stood by the side of the gate, and although tempted to peek over and look for himself who it was, he decided to use a verbal response in case he got his head blown off.
Pickle cleared his throat loudly and asked, "Who is it?"
"It's the Big Bad Wolf." Vince sarcastically spoke up. "And he's after the Big Good Wolf."
"What?" Pickle had no idea what the man behind the gate was talking about. He was unsure whether he was insane or being very sarcastic.
Vince huffed and quickly finished with his joking. "I don't know who you are, but I'm after a Wolfgang and Grace Kindl."
"Who are yer?"
"I'm Vince. I'm their...son."
Chapter Sixteen
His walk had lasted a good half-hour and had been trouble-free. Tommy Burns scratched his shaven ginger hair; the sweat was irritating him already and he had underestimated how hot it would be in the condensed woodland. It was like walking in a greenhouse. His back was soaking, and now he had taken off his coat and tucked it into his bag.
His thoughts began to dwell in relation to his mother, and what she must have gone through while she contemplated suicide before he reached her house. The power was still working in the first week, so why didn't she call him? Didn't she want to bother him? Was it a spur of the moment decision?
His unanswered questions were put on hold as soon as a snap was heard up ahead. Because the greenery was at its fullest, it was hard to see more than a few yards in front of him. He needed to find a main path, a dirt path, and be more out in the open so he could see what was around him. It meant he would be more exposed, being out in the open, from human and non-human danger, but he had the weapons to deal with that kind of threat.
He gently and carefully pushed back the branches of the trees, as he walked through, so that he didn't come across any nasty surprises and to also create as little noise as possible.
He stopped progressing through the greenery as soon as he heard the sound of dragging feet. He had been hiding from the dead for most of the weeks it had been occurring, but he knew that the shuffling up ahead belonged to the dead and not of a human. He pulled out his knife from the back and waited for the thing to advance. He couldn't see anything, but the noises suggested that the thing was unknowingly stumbling in his direction.
His heart galloped a little, and he was ready to ram his knife through the eye of the unknowing killer. His nerves were okay, but took a little knock once he heard another sound coming from his left.
Snatchers: Volume Two (The Zombie Apocalypse Series Box Set--Books 4-6) Page 7