She tied the bag in a knot and casually walked out of the room, ignoring the smell, ignoring the insects buzzing around her face, and ignoring the fact that she was carrying her one-year-old son's remains. She shut the door behind her and went downstairs. She went into the kitchen and placed the bag on the floor, near the pedal bin. She turned and looked at the set of knives that were on display to the left of the defunct fridge, and picked out a steak knife.
Gripping the knife in her right hand, she headed back upstairs and went for her bedroom door.
With no hesitation she unbolted the door and pushed it open to see Carla sitting on the floor in the corner, her back was to her mother. Helen ran her fingers through her brown greasy hair and walked into the room, making little noise, and stood over her daughter. She brought the knife over her head, holding it with two hands like she was going to perform some kind of sacrifice, and by the time the contaminated Carla turned her head and snarled, realising there was something behind her, the knife was brought down and embedded itself into the top of her skull.
The body of Carla fell to the side, and showing little emotion on her face, Helen Waite bent down and took out the knife, scooped up Carla in her arms, and headed for downstairs.
Chapter Thirty Six
Trevor Barkley was bored to tears as he made his slow walk by the hedge for the umpteenth time. He had lost count how many times he had walked around the camp, but knew that he had another hour to go. His watch stated that it was exactly 5am, and he began dreaming about going back to bed. He yawned and thought he saw some movement in the caravan that belonged to Gail Kelly and her daughter. "They're up early," he muttered to himself.
He continued with his walk, yawning, looking and kicking at the ground and was now at the back of the camp. His slow walk would end up at the corner of the hedge where a shallow grave was, and to keep his mind off from falling asleep, Trevor began humming a tune in his head by Joy Division.
God, he missed music.
He had an old iTouch that had hundreds of artists on it from Lennon to Zeppelin, but the demise of electricity had eventually put a stop to his device from working.
Two days after the power had gone, he listened to music sparingly. The last song he had listened to was Staircase by Radiohead, and knowing that his iTouch battery was in the red, he milked every second of that song before it finally cut off.
His ponderous walk continued and his feet dragged. He looked to his left and saw Henry Bowes stepping out of his caravan and having a cigarette. It wasn't unusual for there to be activity so early in the morning. A lot of people had lost relatives and friends, so insomnia was something that was quite normal.
He stopped humming Love Will Tear Us Apart when he looked and saw a group of people—at least he thought it was people—walking towards him. Daylight wasn't quite in full bloom, and there were a few clouds hanging in the dark blue sky. He squinted his eyes to improve his vision. Although pockets of activity wasn't abnormal at this time of the morning, a group walking together was.
Carrying just a knife, Trevor Barkley marched towards the group and demanded to know what was going on.
*
It was 5am and the thirty-three-year old man had managed four hours of unbroken sleep for the first time since the apocalypse began. He took out a cigarette from his pocket and lit it. It was a Silk Cut cigarette, not his normal choice as he thought it was too weak, but was pleased to be able to suck some kind of poison into his lungs.
Henry Bowes knew that cigarettes wouldn't last forever, but he appreciated that Vince would return now and again with many packets of the poisonous weed for the handful of people that were still hooked.
He was in a minority, being a smoker, and even in the old world there were people he knew that had smoked for years that had even given up. He was aware that food and water was the essentials when out on these runs, so appreciated Vince even more, despite a few grumbles from other residents, when he came back with the weed. He could understand their moaning.
As he puffed on his cigarette, his thoughts went to his wife. In just the first days of the outbreak his wife had taken her own life. She was convinced that they were all going to die anyway, and wanted to be in control of her own demise, rather than experiencing the unimaginable death people had gone through. Henry went into the caravan to find that she had taken an overdose and cried for hours. The only blessing was that they never had kids.
People taking their own lives wasn't so unusual in the first week, and because it was, for the most part, whole families that had decided to die, there wasn't much protest when Vince suggested burning the bodies. Even Henry never objected. His wife had always wanted to be cremated, and always said that she never wanted to be stuck in a ground so she could be food for the worms, but when she made that statement she was talking about dying at an old age.
Henry would occasionally guard the barrier for Vince, but he knew, and so did everybody else, that he didn't have the stomach for the fight. Some would say he was even a coward, and that if Henry hadn't been a resident of the caravan park for years Vince would have had him thrown out.
He continued puffing away and saw Trevor Barkley strolling along the hedge. Henry felt for the man, and had one more hour to go before he was up next on the pointless exercise. He then noticed that Trevor's strides were becoming quick and long, and Henry could now see where Trevor was going. He was heading towards a group of people he had just spotted.
Henry was perplexed by the group and wondered what the hell was going on. Did a group of people from the camp just decide to go for a walk this morning? Did Vince know about this?
Henry continued watching them from a good thirty yards away, and saw one of the members of the group lunge at Trevor once the guard was close enough.
Outsiders? Shit.
Henry's immediate concern was for Trevor and ran to the group and said, "Hold up. What's the problem here?"
As soon as he was a matter of feet away from the group, he could see exactly what they were. Trevor was on the ground. He was dead. His throat had been ripped open and he was bleeding out. Henry then saw more appear and two went on their knees and began eating Trevor, while the rest staggered towards Henry.
"Oh bollocks."
He stood for a few seconds in fright, as if his legs were made of concrete and were temporarily paralysed. Due to fear, they possibly were, and by the time he turned to run to Vince's camp, he felt hands grab his shoulders. He fell to the ground, landed on his back and began frantically kicking out. As the group of dead circled him, one appeared to have been nudged accidentally from a ghoul from behind, and fell on top of Henry's face. Henry tried to scream out, as he couldn't breathe, but the decaying body was smothering his features.
Seconds later, Henry could feel his legs being bit and his trousers coming off in shreds. It felt like he was being stabbed by a dozen men, but the real scenario was a whole lot worse. He could feel fingers digging into his stomach and tried to scream when he felt it opening up. He felt a dull sensation once hands entered his body and began to tear organs out, and once his penis was ripped away by a set of teeth, he passed out.
*
"Jesus Christ," were the words that brought Gail Kelly out of her light sleep. She had no idea who the words were from, or where they had come from. She guessed that it was somebody outside.
She had been kipping on the sofa, while her daughter, Jasmine, slept in the bedroom. Gail had trouble sleeping ever since her husband was taken away from them both on the Saturday evening on the ninth day of June, and still missed her Jimmy terribly. She would spend most nights tossing and turning, and huffing and puffing because she struggled to get off.
She would become exhausted in the evening, then when it was time for shut-eye, her mind went haywire and sleep was impossible. It was still like that now that she had moved from the bed to the sofa, but she managed a few hours a night and at least she wasn't disturbing Jasmine.
Wondering about the noise that startle
d her, she stood to her feet and began to peer out of her windows. To her left, she couldn't see a thing, apart from the back of more caravans. Her and Jasmine's caravan was at the back of the camp and only had a view of more caravans to her left, and to the right was the eight-foot hedge.
She walked the short walk to the other side of her living room and saw a crowd of people in the distance, most of them were on their knees, in a circle, as if they were looking for something.
"What's happening?"
Gail put on her dressing gown, put her feet into her brown leather sandals, then went outside into the dull morning to see what the hell was going on.
She began to walk towards the crowd, but a lone figure caught her eye to her left.
"What's going on?" She pointed at the crowd, whilst walking towards the lone figure, and said, "Is Vince up to something?"
The figure could be seen more clearly, and Gail Kelly placed her hand over mouth when she realised it wasn't one of the men from her camp. It was one of them. She had never seen one up close before, only on the TV. Vince had always made sure that most of the residents didn't see them, as that was his way of protecting them, especially the elderly and people with weak hearts.
Before she could turn and run back to her accommodation, the thing almost lunged at her, forcing her to release a scream. She immediately fell to the ground with the beast on top of her and tried to grab at its face, but all she did was rip away its rotten skin. Her hands slipped to its throat and tried to push it back.
"Mum!" screamed Jasmine.
Still clutching the throat Gail tried to turn her head, and saw that her daughter had exited the caravan and was running towards her. "Get back inside!" yelled her mother.
"Who's attacking you?"
Once her daughter asked these words, Gail was aware that her daughter thought that she was being attacked, possibly by a male resident from the camp. "Don't come near. Get back inside, Jasmine."
"But, mum..."
"It's them!" Gail released one hand from its throat and pointed at the crowd of the dead that were now making their way over, leaving the remains of Trevor Barkley and Henry Bowes behind them. "They're inside the camp! Go and get help! Get Vince!"
The creature almost buried its head into Gail's chest, making Jasmine scream. Gail grabbed its head and there was a struggle, making her dressing gown untie and fall away slightly. Gail turned her head and saw that the twenty to thirty strong crowd were heading her way, spread out, and the groans grew louder with every step they made.
"Mum!" Jasmine was adamant on staying, despite the dozens behind that were gaining ground.
"Please," Gail cried," Just leave. Save yourself."
Sobbed Jasmine, "I'm not going while there's still a chance."
Jasmine was bravely staying by her mum's side, whatever happened, but Gail wanted her daughter to live. Jasmine wasn't even eighteen yet, and she wanted her to have some kind of life, even though it was now a different world.
Proud, but a little angry that Jasmine wouldn't leave her side, she released one of her hands from around the ghoul's throat and put her forearm up and closed her eyes. The creature tore out a chunk from Gail's arm. The mother never cried out once, but tears ran from her eyes. Jasmine screamed the word no over and over again.
"There! Now there's no chance for me." Gail widened her eyes and yelled, "Now go! Do as you're fucking told for once, you silly girl."
"Mum, I love you."
Gail smiled through the pain. "I love you, my darling."
Jasmine stood to her feet and began to run away; she took one last look round and saw half of them crowding round her mum, and the other half following Jasmine. Her mum never screamed once.
Jasmine began screaming and banging on each caravan as she ran past, trying to wake up the people. She headed for the barrier, where there were guards with shotguns. She'd be safe there. She hoped.
Chapter Thirty Seven
Karen Bradley and Sharon Bailey were both snoring gently. Both young women were dressed in the same clothes; they hadn't washed in days, but that was something they were planning on doing sometime in the afternoon, although it would be a cold wash.
They both lay on top of the blankets, shoes off. Karen's eyes opened slightly, then she quickly sat up in bed as if something had spooked her. She looked over to Shaz and could see she was still out for the count.
A shiver went through her vertebrae. She couldn't put her finger on it, but something was not right. Maybe she was being paranoid. She smiled to herself and called herself a 'silly tart' under her breath, and lay back down on the fusty-smelling pillow.
She drifted off once more and began to dream about when she discovered Gary on the Sunday morning, on the tenth day of June. She had been on nightshift and her feet were aching to be rubbed, but she knew her chances of a foot-rub were not good with her fiancé lying in bed after a night out with the boys.
Her dream didn't last long as she woke up once more. This time she sat up and began clutching her chest, as if she was having a panic attack. Her ears pricked up when she heard some faint noises. She slipped off the bed, trying not to wake her friend, and walked over to the bedroom window. The side of a caravan was all she could see. Nothing else.
A scream could be heard, and now Shaz was awake and already out of bed. "What the fuck was that?"
"Not sure." Karen went around the bed and began to put her footwear on. "But I think something's happening."
"What?" Shaz began to put her footwear on as well.
"Dunno." Karen looked over to her friend and shrugged her shoulders. "Only one way to find out."
The girls both went for their blades that they had slept with and proceeded to go outside. As soon as their door was opened, yells and screams of terror could be heard in every direction.
Shaz looked at her friend in panic and said, "I suppose there's no point in me telling you to stay inside."
Karen was touched by Shaz's concern, and placed her hand on her tummy. "I'll be fine. We'll both be fine."
*
Paul and Kyle Dickson slept in the same bed.
His seven-year-old was wearing a pair of shorts and mumbled in his sleep. His mumbling concerned Paul, and wondered if it was his wife and daughter that Kyle was dreaming about.
Paul had never slept properly. His mind raced whenever he closed his eyes. He smiled at the thought of Lisa still being alive. Lisa had been persuaded by Vince to stay with Rosemary. Rosemary was a nice woman, and would be better for comfort and advice for a girl that had been through so much as most men were not good at that sort of thing. She would see Paul and Kyle every day, so it wasn't such a problem. Paul was dreading the day Lisa would ask about her mum. She knew she was dead, but how she died was going to pop up....eventually.
He thought about the events that had occurred over the last week or so. Killing those things in the sports centre when going for the water was horrific enough. Then the Murphy family breaking in after he had accidentally killed Lance with a hammer, Daisy and Lisa being dragged outside, leaving the burning house, meeting Bentley....it was all too much.
Paul turned away from his son, and tears fell when the images of his infected girls replayed in his head. Poor Kyle. For the little boy it was tragic enough not to have Dino and Monkey around anymore, but to have lost his mother and daughter before he had turned eight, broke Paul's heart.
After his short sob had finished, Paul leaned over and took a look at the time. He picked up the small battery-powered clock and sighed that it was early. He felt he had hardly slept, and today Vince was going to find him something to do, while Rosemary looked after Kyle and Lisa.
A sudden banging was heard at the side of his caravan and he immediately shot out of bed, heart racing. He went out of the bedroom and went over to the living room window, where all he could see was the backs of other caravans.
"Daddy." Kyle was awake, and had called from the bedroom.
"Just coming, big chap."
Pa
ul ran back into the bedroom and shut the door. Then the screaming began, and Paul took a look at his son to see Kyle's lips wobbling with fear and his green eyes widened.
"Cover your ears, son," his dad ordered.
"Why?"
"Just do it." Paul's heart galloped furiously, unsure what was happening, but knew it was something macabre.
Kyle sat in the corner of the bedroom, hands over his ears, while Paul Dickson looked out of the window. He saw two people that had ran by, screaming. Then he and his son jumped in unison when an explosion shook the caravan. He could see to the right that a caravan was burning and there were screams coming from inside it.
The face of a ghoul then came from nowhere and slapped itself against the window. From what Paul could see, no eyes were present, and half of its face was missing, revealing its skeletal features. Paul screamed out, making Kyle jump. The hideous scene was like something out of one of his childhood nightmares.
A long knife then went into the side of its skull and it dropped to the floor, away from Paul's view. David Chatting went by Paul's window, without noticing him, and went to attack another ghoul.
Should he go out there? Technically Paul wasn't a guard, and it was mainly guards that had had experiences with the dead, but he also had experiences with these things and had killed a couple of them.
The helpless scenario reminded him when the Murphys went into his house and attacked Daisy and Lisa, while he and Kyle hid in the cupboard. Lisa had never asked why he never went to her and her mum's aid on that day, but he still felt that she deserved an explanation when the time was right. He was going to tell her the truth: He puts the safety of Kyle before anyone. Simple.
That's why they hid. If anything had happened to him on that day, then Kyle would be alone. He felt terrible back then, and now, but what he was doing was for the benefit of his son.
He looked over to see his shaking son sitting in the corner, hands still over his ears. Going out? How could he leave him alone? Paul went over to Kyle and sat next to him.
Snatchers: Volume Two (The Zombie Apocalypse Series Box Set--Books 4-6) Page 67