Before he went to sleep, he removed the carcass of the fox. The faeces were left alone as Tommy, naturally, didn't want to touch them, and he slept the night with the door bolted and his T-shirt over his nose.
Once his eyes opened in the early morning he gave himself a cereal bar, the first thing that he grabbed out of the bag, and a swig of water, just enough to wet the back of his throat.
Tommy Burns was on the move again after an average night's sleep; he stopped, took a drink from his bag and continued to walk through the greenery, his eyes everywhere, but his nerves were under control. He was so confident that he was safe in this more spacious part of the woods, his Glock remained tucked into his trousers as well as his back-up hunters knife from his bag—his other knife had been dropped during the frightening melee the evening before.
He had no idea where he was going but made sure that he kept on going straight. These woods were going to have to come to an end eventually, but this was something that was quickly put to the back of his mind when his eyes spotted a figure fifty yards up ahead.
It turned to Tommy and quickly disappeared into the trees, suggesting that it was a human being. Tommy wanted to run towards the person, but was aware that a run-in with a ghoul could occur. There was also the small danger of there being a spring-coil animal trap that could be hiding somewhere—a trap set by poachers from weeks ago before the world fell into a catastrophe.
He walked briskly through the greenery and kept looking from side-to-side for any unexpected surprises. He suddenly stopped once he saw a deer; it had been the first time he saw one in these woods so close up. Both man and animal glared at one another, almost daring each other to make a move. It seemed that they were glaring for ages, and the deer suddenly made Tommy jump when it unexpectedly darted away, further into the woods.
Something had spooked it. But what?
An arm went around Tommy's throat and he could feel the cold steel of a knife pressing against his right temple. Tommy tried to remain as calm as possible, but the scenario of the blade slicing across his throat or being rammed into his back would not leave his mind, forcing a little panic through his body. He wasn't used to being on the receiving end of violence; it was usually him that dished it out.
His assailant finally spoke. "Can I help ye, pal?"
Tommy gulped and said with shallow breath, "I was just passing. I mean no harm to you, friend. Only to the dead."
It took a while for it to happen, but the steel was removed from Tommy's temple and the man took a step backwards, allowing Tommy to turn around. The man that had grabbed him look no taller than five-six, had a thick dark beard, wore spectacles, and had a green woolly hat on his head. He looked like the character 'Hooper' that Richard Dreyfuss played in the '75 film, Jaws.
The man never introduced himself and began speaking in a thick Scottish accent, "Ye the first fuckin' bloke I've seen roond these parts. Where the fuck are ye fae?"
"I'm local," answered Tommy, not giving too much away. "And I take it by your accent, you're originally from..."
"Careful," the man half-sniggered.
"Glasgow?"
"Close enough," the man sniffed. "I'm fae Paisley."
Tommy and the man, who never introduced himself, both glared at one another in silence, and although Tommy felt uncomfortable, Hooper seemed unruffled by this uncomfortable silence that engulfed the pair of them.
Tommy asked, "How've you coped so far?"
The man laughed and scratched his head through his woolly hat. "The same as every other cunt. Kill or be killed. I've done nearly thirty o' these fuckers since the virus started. Just seen 'nother two up 'head."
"Wow." Tommy was already unsure about this man. "You seemed to be enjoying this."
"Wit's in the bag?" He pointed aggressively with his knife. It was no match for Tommy's hunters knife, and, of course, the hidden handgun tucked into his trousers, but Tommy didn't want the man to think that he was a threat and decided to keep his weaponry a secret.
"That's no concern of yours." Tommy tried to smile warmly, but knew that if Hooper was going to try and take his bag by force, he was going to feel a round in one of his legs. It wasn't just the food and water in the bag that Tommy didn't want to lose, it also had the ammunition to the Glock, which he was about to reload before the sighting of Hooper up ahead.
"You staying near?" Tommy tried to keep the conversation going, and to make it as friendly as possible. He had no problem putting down the deadheads, but he'd rather not kill humans. But if he had to, he would.
"Aye, 'mon, I'll show ye." Hooper urged Tommy to follow him. "It's just a wee fuckin' shack, nothin' to come in ye pants aboot, but it's better than fuck all, nat 'a mean?"
"I think so." Tommy could just about understand Hooper's broad accent, but didn't want to upset the volatile man in case he was forced into a situation he couldn't get out of. Only minutes earlier the man had a knife to his head, but Tommy put the incident down to fear by the individual, and not an act of unnecessary aggression.
"This way, and 'ave a wee look at ma shack. I call this place hame noo."
Hooper presented a dilapidated shack that looked worse than the one that Tommy had slept in the evening before, but he managed a thin smile, trying to look impressed.
Hooper bellowed, "Isn't she a fuckin' beauty. And it's all fuckin' mine; nae other cunt is havin' it."
Tommy wasn't really interested in another shack or cabin in the woods. He had slept reasonably well in the one he had found the evening before, and now just wanted to be on foot and find something at bit more liveable, more comfortable, and use the place to pass the time while waiting for the country to get back on its feet.
"Look." Tommy tried to be as polite as possible. "I'm glad we've met, but I have a place to go."
"At least 'ave a wee drink before ye go." Hooper pointed at the door of the shack. "It's been fuckin' ages since I had comp'ny. Staying here on ye own is pure pish, man."
Tommy swallowed his impatience and produced a false beam on his features. "Okay, why not?"
"Ye dancer." Hooper clapped his hands together and went over to a bag that was sitting just outside the door. "I've been keepin' this for a special occasion, may as well open it the noo, eh?"
Tommy was expecting Hooper to produce a bottle of bourbon, but instead he pulled out a litre bottle of orange Tango.
"I found it on a fuckin' road, aboot a mile fae here. Ye wanna drink or no'?" He practically shoved the bottle in Tommy's face and he felt that he didn't really have an option whether he wanted a drink or not, but he wanted to keep the peace.
Hooper seemed excited that he had found some company at last and asked Tommy, "It's better than being dead, but it sure gets lonely bein' on ye own."
"Haven't you come across anyone in these woods?" Tommy thought it was strange that Hooper hadn't come across a single person, but then again, he was unsure how long Hooper had been staying in the shack. By the look and smell of him, it could have been a while.
"Nae cunt's been here in weeks," was Hooper's response, as he stroked his dark beard. "Apart fae those dirty bastards."
Tommy assumed he was referring to the dead, and looked at his face once more. He was urging the man in, and Tommy felt that he just wanted some company. If he spoke to him for five or ten minutes and found that he seemed to be okay, Tommy told himself that he would ask Hooper if he wanted to join him. He seemed aggressive, a little erratic, but looked like a guy who could handle himself. He could be a handy addition to his search for a safe place.
Despite originally wanting to be on his own, Tommy thought about the film Castaway, and wondered if he did stay alone for months, would he go insane, not having anyone to talk to?
He peered at Hooper—he was determined to ask his real name eventually—and thought that maybe he was a normal, mild-mannered guy, and the situation and weeks of loneliness had made him a bit of an aggressive loose cannon. Getting to know him would probably answer some of those questions.
Chapter Nineteen
"I'm going out for some air," Karen announced to the group.
"Fancy some company?" Vince chipped in.
Karen could feel the eyes of every member of the group on her. She shrugged. "Not really."
Vince sniggered at her honesty. "Well, I'm going to see my mum anyway. I'll walk you up there."
Karen sighed, "Fine."
It was apparent that Karen had already taken a dislike to Vince. He came across as a bit of letch, and she didn't like the way he leered at her when he first arrived. He seemed creepy, and couldn't believe that Wolf had been partly responsible for producing a man like this.
Maybe she was wrong. Maybe if she got to know him... No!
There was definitely something about him that turned her stomach, and she was sure it had nothing to do with hormones and Junior growing inside of her, or the hideous scarring all over his face.
The pair of them walked out of the premises, with Karen being the last to leave. Pickle shouted over teasingly, "Have fun."
Karen shook her head and mouthed the words, fuck off towards Pickle's direction before closing the gate behind her, making Shaz and Jack giggle.
"She makes me laugh." Shaz spoke with affection in her voice for a person she had known just for a short time.
"I just wish she wouldn't cuss so much." Pickle shook his head, but couldn't help raising a smile thinking about her.
"She saved my skin. She never had to stop that van when we all jumped out from the woods." Jack reminisced, thinking back to the time where he, his son, Kerry, Paul Parker and Lee Hayward were on the run from dozens of the dead. "I can never say a bad word about her."
*
Karen and Vince were heading towards the hill. It was clear that Karen was struggling a little making the climb, so Vince took his hand out and was about to place it on her back to help her reach the peak.
Karen growled, "Any part of you that touches me, you're not getting back."
Vince laughed and said, "Touchy, aren't we? Jesus, I was just trying to give you a hand."
"I don't need your help." Karen then twisted her neck, stared at him and studied his face. "You don't seem too upset that your mother's dead."
Vince had no words to use to respond to Karen's statement, so he just shrugged his shoulders. He wasn't expecting any of his parents to be alive after nearly a month, and never even went looking for them when the outbreak occurred. He was sad that his mother was dead, but he was hardly close to his parents as he grew older. He had become more of a stranger, and only visited when he wanted to borrow money.
They had finally reached the top of the hill and Vince sat down next to Karen, making her a little uncomfortable. She said, "I thought you were here to see your mother."
Vince pointed to the shallow grave. "Not a lot to see. To tell you the truth I wanted away from that old bastard. The sooner me and Jack leave, the better."
"You two don't get on then?"
Vince shook his head. "Never have."
"So how did you meet Jack? He told me some stories about escaping the sports centre, and meeting some guy in a factory, but I don't think he mentioned how you two met."
"Are we being civil now?"
Karen huffed, "If you don't wanna speak, fine."
Vince smiled and began, "He turned up one day, with some pussy. Anyway, Jack being Jack thought he was too good for the camp because he didn't approve of our raiding, especially because we were already quite rich with the facilities we have. He thought we were being greedy, but Jack is starting to see sense, and he knows that a year down the line, he'll be one of the few that won't be starving and drinking his own piss to survive."
Karen laughed mockingly and said with sarcasm, "Nicely put."
"It's the way of the world now, darling."
"Don't call me darling. And I know the new world better than you." Vince could see fury in her wide eyes and a little saliva left the corner of her mouth. This Karen had a temper if pushed, he thought.
She added, "On the first day I was carjacked, fled to the woods from a horde of them. Then I met a guy in the woods who tried to rape me, then—"
Vince interrupted, "You're a miserable git, Karen."
"Yeah, I know." She cleared her throat and said, "I'm not really a people person."
"You're not a people person? But Jack told me you used to be a nurse." Vince giggled and couldn't help but stare at her. She was stunning. Even with the lack of make-up and the greasy hair tucked behind her ears, Vincent Kindl was strongly attracted to Karen Bradley.
Noticing his stare, Karen snapped, "Er...what the hell are you looking at?"
"Nothing." Vince was bewildered with her attitude and couldn't help himself. "What's up, someone light your tampon fuse?"
"You're staring. And your voice gets on my nerves."
"You want me to be quiet?"
Karen nodded and sighed, "If I want to hear anymore from an arsehole in future I'll just fart."
"You're a cold bitch, Karen."
Annoyed that he was ruining her alone time, she snapped, "If I throw you a stick, will you leave me alone?"
Vince grinned at Karen menacingly, but his leering reminded her of Oliver Bellshaw from a few weeks back, and it made her irate and uncomfortable. He finally spoke with a creepy smirk, "You know what you need to get rid of all that stress, don't you?"
"Oh, Vince, just go away." Karen stood up and brushed herself down. "I'm going to go back to the cabin. Make sure you're at least ten yards behind me."
Vince cackled uncontrollably, loving the fact that he was winding Karen up.
Chapter Twenty
Tommy Burns had only been in Hooper's cabin for a matter of minutes and was already feeling uncomfortable. They had talked about what they used to do for a living and about their family.
Tommy was honest about his violent career, but Hooper seemed unfazed by it all. He told Tommy that he used to work in a supermarket and had stolen stuff a day before the virus was officially announced. Hooper knew that something was amiss with all the riots and biting incidents happening around the country, as well as the videos going viral, and told Tommy that he couldn't believe the stupidity of people continuing to go about their daily business.
"So what do you think it is?" asked Tommy, still sitting on the floor of the shack, legs crossed. "You seem to know more than me."
Hooper was on his feet and began to pace the floor; he seemed wound up. "I've nae fuckin' idea, but just remember that we're surrounded by pandemics, but not all pandemics are created equal," Hooper continued. "This is a disease that is fuckin' spreading faster than any scientist can make a cure. So fast that it has beaten quarantined protocols and border closures. If this was airborne or waterborne we'd all be fucked."
"I suppose that's one positive." Tommy scratched at his head and added, "How come it wasn't stopped?"
Hooper shook his head while he continued to pace the floor, and there was now anger in his face. "It spreads through bites, which could have been preventable, but lack o' knowledge released by the government, as well as arrogance and denial, has killed most of us." He then stopped pacing, turned to Tommy and pointed at him, his finger only inches away from his face. "If I ever come across a politician, I'll fucking kill the bampot, I'm tellin' ye."
"I suppose it's unfair to tar them all with the same brush."
"If this happened in somewhere like China, we'd all be fucked be noo. Because it 'appened here, on an island, it should 'ave been dealt with, aviation or nae aviation."
"Aren't we all fucked anyway?" Tommy asked. "There're survivors, but isn't it just a matter of time?"
"No. Humans will continue. But if this happened in a place where there's a secret government, the world wouldn't stand a chance. Imagine this happened in China with a billion peop
le in one country, full of global travellers, and then there's the borders they could cross."
Said Tommy, "We survived the Black Death and the Spanish Flu."
"Aye, The Spanish Flu killed fucking millions, but back then they didnee have aviation, penicillin, and people with cars travelling from one place tae the next. In those days people rarely left the place they were born and raised. 1.8 billion was on this planet in 1918. There's over 7 billion now."
"Maybe they'll find a cure."
"If the scientists are still alive. A cure is useless the noo anyway. The peak o' the dead has already 'appened. Diseases, dehydration and starvation are our enemy the noo, as well as other people. Common historic diseases will eventually come back with the amount o' rottin' dead walking around and lying in streams and lakes. Then there's the family members who had infected relatives and probably couldnee come tae terms wi' killing them, only tae be attacked themselves. That didn't help wi' dampening the spread."
"It can't be easy killing your own father, son, mother—"
"People weren't brutal enough. I killed my own family. I killed my two weans, my missus and my lodger. Killed them all while they slept, and they weren't even infected."
As soon as Hooper made this confession, a shocked Tommy slowly went for his knife. You crazy fucker! Tommy couldn't help himself. He had to ask, "Why did you do that? That's fucking insane."
Hooper began pacing the floor again, and said in his broad accent, "I was protecting them from this messed up world. I killed them while they all slept on the first day o' the announcement, but I didnee have the guts tae kill myself." He then began to laugh manically and stopped moving. He stood still and gazed at Tommy with his wide, crazy eyes. "I'm no' aff ma heed. I know what ye thinkin'."
Snatchers: Volume Two (The Zombie Apocalypse Series Box Set--Books 4-6) Page 9