She would like to think that he was now with KP, but she still couldn't bring herself to believe in life after death. It still seemed ridiculous to her, even now.
Shaz and Vince finally came out of the area with more bags of stuff.
"That's it." Vince walked on with a bag and the canister in his left hand. Shaz followed behind him, stopped, and turned to Karen. "I think we may have a problem."
Karen knew straight away what Shaz was talking about. She had seen this coming. Wolf was refusing to go.
Karen got up and stormed towards the cabin. The gate was already open.
Wolf was standing up in the garden. He looked distraught, and she guessed correctly that he had just been told the news.
"Don't try and talk me out of it." He adjusted his straw hat and sat down on a stump, moaning about his knees.
"I knew you'd do this." Karen glared at him, waiting for a response. "What're you gonna do? Stay here and eventually shoot yourself?"
"It's nothing to do with what's happened to Pickle, or that I'm scared. I'm just tired. Tired of all of this. Tired of smelling like a tramp. Tired of crying for my Grace, the world. And I'm tired of worrying for the future."
"But the whole reason why they made two journeys was so they could come and get you."
"No it wasn't." Wolf guffawed falsely. "Vince only came back to strip the cabin. And they didn't come back for me. They came back for you."
"There's no way Pickle would have left you here. And I'm not gonna leave you here either. You're coming and that's it, even if I have to roll your smelly, wrinkly arse down that fucking hill. Now move, you selfish bastard." She grabbed a surprised-looking Wolf and began pushing him through the already-opened gate. "Go, before I rip you a new one."
Chapter Thirty Eight
Tommy Burns had a guest. The guest was left upstairs, while Tommy went back down, sitting on the couch, still a little fragile. He felt dehydrated. His lips were dry, the roof of his mouth was wrinkled, and his head was pounding. He took an empty plastic bottle, half-filled it from the bath and drank most of it down. He put his condition down to his selfish action and consumption of the alcohol earlier on, and cursed himself for being so weak. He was no alcoholic, but with the world the way it was, and with death around every corner, he didn't know when was the next time he would come across such a luxury. Unfortunately, Tommy had abused that luxury and he was paying for it now.
He sat down on the couch in the living room and began to massage his own temples with the first two fingers of each hand. He closed his eyes and continued with the massaging for a few minutes, but it wasn't working.
More water.
Maybe more water would eventually reduce the pounding in his head. He had to try something. At the moment, however, he was finding it difficult to get his arse off the seat. Once he did, the room span once, and his legs almost buckled. He needed another lie down.
He lay down on the couch and closed his eyes, but as soon as they were shut his mind began to race. He quickly opened his eyes, expecting there to be Grabbers in the room, but it was just the paranoia teasing him.
He closed his eyes once again and fell asleep.
In Tommy's dream he was seven years old, alone, and being attacked from a horde of dead kids that used to be his classmates.
It started in the gym.
He was in a class and they were doing a fun circuit consisting of star-jumps, sit-ups and rope-climbing. Tommy always hated the rope climbing. He always found it a struggle, and he always got a funny sensation in his groin whenever he rubbed himself up against it.
While he was up on the rope, in his dream, about eight feet from the ground, eight members of the dead burst into the hall area and began attacking the other children. Tommy's young eyes watched in horror as they were being torn apart by their own classmates, blood spilling plentifully on the floor as throats were being ripped out. Tommy remained clinging to the rope and winced while the screams were killing his ears. He wanted to cover them, but that would result in him dropping to the floor and experiencing the same excruciating pain as his classmates.
He hung on, slipping a little, and the rope was heating up the palms of his hands. He closed his eyes. He couldn't shut off the sounds, but at least he didn't have to witness the rest of the brutality. It only lasted a couple of minutes, but it felt like hours, and young Tommy finally opened his eyes and looked below him once the screaming had stopped. It was a scene of decapitation and torn out limbs, with the wooden gym floor covered with blood.
The young dead now turned their attention to Tommy and began heading towards him. Petrified, Tommy desperately tried to climb further up, but the more he tried, the further he slipped. He was exhausted and there was nothing he could do about it.
His tears fell from his eyes as his hands continued to slip, the rope burning his skin, and he brought his legs up in a desperate attempt to get a few more seconds of being alive. The fear had made him wet his blue shorts as he continued to slide, and once he looked down, he could see the small group of the dead with their arms reaching out, aching for his flesh. He could now feel the fingers on his exposed calf, and released a scream once the first set of teeth sank in and ripped away most of his right calf muscle.
*
Tommy shot up off of the couch and suddenly stood upright. His head was spinning, and with the disorientation he took a while to get his bearings. The sweat trickled down the side of his hair, tickling his ears, and his heart was beating like he had just stepped off a treadmill.
He heard sounds coming from upstairs. It was the sound of an individual walking, and he sat back down to get his head together and figure out what the hell was going on. Was he still dreaming?
It then suddenly came back to him. He had momentarily forgot about his guest. Tommy was out in the woods and came across a bush of wild strawberries, but his attention was distracted by a figure up ahead. The figure turned out to be an exhausted man that Tommy had taken in. Tommy had practically carried the man upstairs and put him in the only liveable room on the first floor of the house. Once he had plonked him on the bed, a hungover Tommy felt shattered himself.
He could now hear the noises again, and it sounded like the guest had been in the bathroom. Tommy headed for the stairs. It was time to introduce himself.
Chapter Thirty Nine
"Which way?" Shaz asked.
The girls were in the passenger seat; Vince opted to drive, while Jack and Wolf sat in the back, out in the open, next to the supplies.
"Don't worry," Vince spoke up. "I know where I'm going."
Vince was doing a steady twenty along the bendy roads on the estate, and as soon as the truck reached the bottom of the hill, they could see, up ahead, a black Audi with two people standing outside. As soon as they saw Vince's car, both individuals began talking to one another and then flagged Vince down.
In the back of the truck, Jack peered over the top of the cab, his eyes widening. He recognised the man. He was well-dressed and had slicked back hair. Slick was the same man who released his dogs on Jack and Johnny a week ago, and the woman standing beside him was his sister who Jack had thrown down a flight of stairs.
This wasn't good.
He wanted to get out and warn Vince and co, but was apprehensive to show his face to these dangerous individuals. He covered his face, and went to step off the truck to talk to Vince.
Wolf grabbed Jack. "What is it?" asked Wolf. He could see Jack was nervous.
"I've had a run-in with these people. Trust me, Vince needs to drive on."
They saw another two men walking out of the house where the Audi was parked, and this confirmed to Jack that they were raiding the place. And knowing this mob, if there were any residents inside, they could be hurt.
Jack pointed ahead and said to Wolf, "You see that red-headed woman?"
Wolf nodded.
"I saw that same woman stab a man to death in front of his family while he was lying on the floor."
Wolf shook
his head in disgust. "Really?"
Wolf climbed off the truck, and made noises as if what he was doing was killing his joints.
"Where are you going?" asked Jack; this time it was he who was doing the grabbing.
"I'm gonna tell Vince what they're like. If they see your face..."
Jack grabbed one of the loaded shotguns, ready for anything.
Vince stepped out of the vehicle and was about to converse with the new people, but was beckoned by his dad to have a talk with him. Vince saw the woman wave her hand in a friendly gesture, and Vince gave them two fingers to tell them that he'd be two minutes while he spoke to his old man. "What's wrong?"
Wolf grabbed his son by the elbow. "These are dangerous people."
"How do you know?" laughed Vince. "Get back in the truck, you old fool."
"Vince!" called out Jack.
Vince left Wolf standing by the bonnet of the vehicle and went to see Jack. "What?"
"Your dad is right." Jack kept his head lowered, paranoid he'd be seen. "Remember the story of me and Johnny? That was them. These people could also be responsible for what happened to Claire and Paul."
"We can't be sure of that." Vince stared in disbelief and lowered his head. "Okay, we'll drive on. You'll be fine. We have guns, and they don't seem to be carrying any. Just stay down. Try not to be seen."
Vince told his dad to get back in with Jack and called out to the people standing next to the black Audi, "I'm sorry, but we have to go."
He got back in the truck and drove on; the vehicle went past and the four people suddenly jumped in their car and followed them.
"For fuck's sake." Jack dropped his head in his hands.
The vehicle then turned left at the end of the junction, and the Audi followed.
"Why are they following us?" Wolf looked nervous as hell. This was new to him, and being cooped up in the cabin since the beginning of the outbreak had shielded him from most of the fear and violence that came with this new world.
Jack guessed, "They probably saw the supplies in the back. They probably want the truck as well."
The truck's tyres squealed as it made a sharp left along the Stile Cop Road, nearly throwing Wolf out of the vehicle.
"You okay?" asked Jack.
"Why can't they just leave us alone?" Wolf cried, ignoring Jack's query.
Jack had no answer for the frightened sixty-nine-year-old man.
The truck pulled itself to the top of the road, passing the beauty spot on the left and heading for the crossroads. Another sharp left was achieved, with the other vehicle still following closely behind.
"We're never gonna lose them." Wolf held on for dear life, fearing a crash of some sort.
The red pick-up truck began to slow down, and it appeared that Vince was giving up. He made a quick U-turn in the road, as the other vehicle slowed, and stopped the truck.
"Grab a gun," Jack ordered Wolf.
"But—"
"I'm not asking you to shoot anyone. Just look mean."
The four individuals from the chasing vehicle immediately got out of their car, but their enthusiasm dwindled once Jack and Wolf stepped out of the back, both holding shotguns. Slick took a step back, but the ginger-haired woman took a few steps forward with a slight limp. She pointed at Jack. "I know you. You're the fucker that threw me down the stairs."
Slick then turned to his sister. "Is that him?"
At this point, Karen, Shaz and Vince stepped out of the vehicle and took a shotgun each from the back of the truck. All five stood in front of the pick-up truck, all carrying.
Jack yelled at the woman, "You killed a man in front of his family, in cold blood, so don't moan to me about being thrown down a few stairs."
"From what I hear, you deserved it, sister!" Vince spoke up.
"You killed a man in front of his family?" Karen snarled. "How many more?"
Slick said with calm, "We're just surviving, darling."
"You call me darling again," Karen caressed the trigger, "and you'll be going home with your balls in your hand."
The two other men remained standing back, and it appeared that the group were only armed with blunt instruments, not guns.
"Right, let's go." Slick knew that their situation was hopeless and grabbed his sister by the arm, but she shrugged him off, fuelled with anger after coming to face-to-face with the guy that fucked up her leg.
"That's it, darling," Vince mocked, his confidence sky-high because of the weaponry they had compared to the group. "You run along and wax your back."
Jack was further forward than the rest of the group, and once the woman shrugged of Slick's grip and took another step forward, he raised his gun.
"You don't have the nerve," the woman began to laugh. "You're not a killer."
"No, I'm not," Jack admitted. "Now run along before someone gets hurt."
"You think I'm gonna forget about you and your friend messing up my ankle? You can think again."
Karen sighed, "Just move on."
"What's up, sugar?" the woman derided and glared at Karen. "Period pains?"
"We lost someone today," said Wolf in a croaky and nervous voice, trying to calm both sides down before any unwanted accidents took place. "Just leave us alone, please."
"Join the club," Slick commented, and urged his two men back into the vehicle. They did what they were told, but his sister was so full of fury, she refused to move. "Come on, sis. They'll get theirs one day."
She huffed, "I'm not going anywhere."
"I'm getting fuckin' bored of this," Karen snapped, and stormed over to the woman who exchanged concerned glances with her brother.
The ginger-haired woman spoke with slight concern in her voice. "What the fuck are you gonna do, bitch?"
"You're a pain in the tits." Karen swung the shotgun round and hit the ginger-haired woman in the face with the butt of the gun. The woman went down screaming, clutching her face that poured out crimson. Slick then took a step forward and Karen turned the gun back round, both barrels pointing at his chest.
She then looked at Slick who took a step forward, his fists clenched. "You just try it, you greasy fuck."
Slick smiled nervously, put his hands up, and said to his injured sister. "I think it's time to leave."
Karen nodded at the vehicle behind Slick, urging him to hurry up. Slick nodded his head, then helped pick up his sister who was still groaning with the pain, her face saturated in blood. Her nose had been broken.
Once they got into the car, the black Audi reversed and did a slow U-turn, then eventually disappeared around the bend. Karen turned on her heels and headed back to the pick-up truck while the rest of the group remained standing in their positions, their guns now lowered.
"Was that a wise thing to do in your condition?" Vince queried the twenty-three-year old woman.
Karen stopped walking. "Who told you?"
Wolf lowered his head sheepishly.
Vince added, "I don't think you should get involved in any skirmishes in future, that's all I'm saying."
"Making you look bad, am I?"
Vince never answered. His comment was a serious one, and he genuinely didn't want Karen putting the baby at risk.
She was confused. She didn't know where she stood with him. One minute he was berating her, the next he was concerned for her.
Maybe he's pitying me because of Pickle.
Karen strolled towards the truck and huffed, "I'm pregnant, Vince. I'm not crippled."
Chapter Forty
Tommy was standing near the bedroom door where he had put the exhausted man, listening in on what was happening inside. It appeared that the man had settled down and he guessed that he was now lying back on the bed.
Tommy knocked the door.
There was no answer, so he slowly opened it and peeked his head through. The man was awake, and his hands were behind his head and his eyes glaring at the ceiling.
Tommy asked, "How're you feeling."
"Not bad," the stranger ans
wered. His eyes then looked at Tommy. "Thanks for...."
"No problem." Tommy walked into the room and sat down at the bottom of the bed. "It took a while to get you up those stairs. And I was a bit hungover."
The stranger laughed and added, "Sorry about that. I was totally exhausted. The nap seems to have done me some good."
"You probably won't feel right until the morning. You want a cup of tea?" Tommy nodded towards the stove.
"Yes, thank you."
The man sat up suddenly, as if he had remembered something important, and swung his legs round so that he was now sitting up on the side of the bed. He yawned and playfully slapped his face to wake himself up, then rubbed his eyes and went to stand up. He looked unsteady on his feet, but Tommy kept his mouth shut.
The man then peered out of the bedroom window, shook his head, then walked out of the room and went straight into Megan's room to look out at the other side of the house.
"What is it?" Tommy followed him in and could see that the mess in the room never bothered the man, as if he was immune to such bloody carnage, and he never even asked why the room was in such a mess. He glared out of the window and put his hands to the back of his head and released an exasperated sigh.
Tommy stood next to him, wondering what he was looking at. "Shit."
"I'm sorry." The stranger walked away and headed back to the room. "They must have followed me."
Tommy glared out and could see seven ghouls behind the back garden's fence. "That's okay," Tommy called after him. "The fence should stop them from coming in." Tommy then followed him back to the only room that was fit to sleep in.
"Maybe." The man in black didn't seem convinced. "But what about these?" He nodded out of the bedroom window.
Tommy counted eleven ghouls, so there was eighteen altogether, and was now lost in thought. "If I shoot them, that's eighteen rounds if I'm precise, but it's also eighteen loud bangs. More will come."
"One bang is enough to entice hundreds o' the fuckers. I've seen it happen."
Snatchers: Volume Two (The Zombie Apocalypse Series Box Set--Books 4-6) Page 18