“It’ll do,” Pickle said, stepping out of the vehicle, “until we find some water to clean the rest.”
“It’s gonna be stinking,” moaned Vince.
“It’s that or nothing.”
Vince then saw something in the corner of his eye, coming from the back of the pickup. “What the…?” He continued to stare and slowly raised a smile. He knew what it was.
Roger and Peter walked back to the vehicle in silence and Pickle was next. Vince was about to walk to the back of the pickup, but a rustle in the small woodland to his right could be heard, alerting all four men.
“Just get in, Vince,” Pickle bellowed from the driver’s side, door still open, and then slammed it shut.
A male ghoul stumbled out of the trees and onto the tarmac of the road. Vince strode towards the contaminated being and front kicked it into the stomach, sending the creature flying backwards.
It hit the side of the road, on the grassy bank, and was struggling to get to its feet.
Pickle lowered his window and stuck his head out. “Vince, stop fucking around, will yer?” Pickle called out. “Kill it, if yer have to, and get back in the truck.”
“Let David do it,” Vince said.
Pickle opened his mouth, but he was so perplexed that no words fell out. He tried again and all he could manage was, “What are yer talking about?”
“If David wants to go out of the camp so badly, then he should do it and prove he’s capable, prove he’s an asset.”
Pickle had no idea what Kindl was rambling about and told him so.
Vince whistled sharply, like someone would beckon their dog, and the sheepish fourteen-year-old David MacDonald climbed out of the back of the truck.
Pickle stepped out and could see the shamefaced teenager, standing like a naughty child that had just been reprimanded.
Pickle stormed over to David. With one hand he grabbed the boy by his shirt. “Yer silly little prick. Yer been hiding in the back since we left?” Pickle had no idea why he had asked such a silly question. Of course David MacDonald had been hiding in the back since they’d left! Where the hell else did he come from?
“I’m sorry,” David cried. “I’m sick of being stuck in that place. Stephanie’s the same age as me and—”
“Stephanie has had a crash course in survival before she met up with Elza and Ophelia. But yer just a boy.” Pickle quickly patted him down and added, “And yer didn’t even bring a knife with yer.”
David flushed. “Um ... I forgot.”
“Erm … Pickle,” Vince spoke up. “Let me handle this.”
“Fine,” Branston huffed.
Vince called David over and told the young boy to stand next to him. Sheepishly, David MacDonald walked over and could see Vince pulling out his machete. He handed it over to the teenager and gave one quick nod of the head.
“What’s that for?” David said with a stammer.
“Well, it’s not to scratch your arse with, is it?” Vince pointed over to the Snatcher that was almost back on its feet.
“Let’s see what you got,” said Vince. “Kill it and I’ll take you out on the next run.”
“Vince, that’s not a good idea,” said Pickle.
Vince held his hand up to Pickle, telling him that he knew what he was doing, and David took the blade. Pickle went back over to the vehicle and stood against the front with his arms folded.
“It’s up to you how you do it,” Vince said to the nervous teenager, and took three steps backwards and was now at David’s left side. “Putting it through the top of the head is my favourite.”
“I’m-I’m not sure,” David stammered.
“Better hurry up. He’s coming.”
The dead walker staggered over to the petrified teenager and David made a half-hearted attempt at swinging Vince’s blade at the side of the head, but it hardly made a mark on the ghoul, although it did stumble backwards a few yards.
“And again,” said Vince.
Now a nervous Pickle began walking over to David, and was unsure he had it in him to put the creature down.
David took another swipe and this time the machete flew out of his hands and went whizzing over the contaminated being’s head, and landed on the grassy bank at the side of the road.
“Is that a new technique?” Vince laughed. “I haven’t seen that before.”
The Snatcher reached out its arms and was only a few yards from David MacDonald, but the youngster didn’t move. He was still. He was frozen with fear.
Pickle stood up straight nervously, concerned why David was still; and Vince was simply just looking on. Pickle placed his hand on the handle of his machete, ready to strike, but Vince finally made a move.
Like before, Vince walked over to the creature and front kicked it in the stomach, sending it tumbling to the ground. He then casually walked by the Snatcher, whistling the theme tune to the cartoon Inspector Gadget, and went over to the grassy bank to pick his machete up.
From behind the now standing creature, he brought the blade behind his head and swung it down, hard, making the blade go through the centre of the skull, from the top, and stopping at the bridge of its nose. He pulled out the blade before it dropped to the floor, and then walked over to the youngster.
“You’re about as much use as the G in lasagne,” Vince said. “That’s why we don’t let you out. We’re not being dicks, you’re just not ready. I know Pickle took you out a few days ago and there was nothing around, but you’re gonna have to be patient. Maybe we’ll go out again and give you some practice, if you’re that desperate, but don’t ever sneak out again, or you’ll get a kick in the nads.”
David nodded with tears in his eyes, and one from each eye fell. David apologised for crying and Vince responded by lowering his head and glaring at the youngster’s middle in confusion.
Vince pointed at David’s crotch where a wet patch was present. “Don’t be concerned about the water running from your eyes, be more concerned about the water running down your thighs. Now that’s gotta be a proper ball stinger.”
David flushed red and then Pickle asked Vince what they should do next. Do they take David back or does he go along for the ride to Rugeley?
Vince said, “Just let him travel to Rugeley with us?”
Pickle asked. “Yer sure?”
Vince nodded. “He’s here now, and it’ll be good experience for him. Besides, he can’t go back now, looking like that.” Vince chuckled and pointed at David’s crotch.
“Okay,” Pickle sighed and told David to get in.
Pickle went back into the driver’s seat and Vince and a clearly embarrassed David trudged back over to the pickup. David went inside the pickup, but Vince pulled him back.
“No way,” said Vince.
“What?” David gazed confusingly at Vince, wiping his wet eyes with the backs of his hands.
“In the back, where you were before.”
“But why?”
Vince put both hands on his hips and leaned forwards, asking young David, “You know what you smell like?”
David shook his head, still wiping the tears from his eyes.
“Like a teenager that has just pissed himself. And besides,” Vince pointed at Peter and Roger who were sitting quietly and patiently inside the truck, “There’s not enough room.”
Chapter Six
Elza, Ophelia and Stephanie had left the street and the driver, Elza Crowe, was struggling with the gears of the RV and kept crunching them whenever she went down to second. Fortunately she only needed second gear for the bridge and the roundabout, and once she was on the straight country road she’d be cruising in fifth.
They went by the Wolseley Arms pub and were soon on the main road.
“So how long do you think it’ll take to get there?” Stephanie was in the back, with the bags, bats and her Jaguar bow, and despite the improvement of the weather, she still wore her black poncho waterproofs. She had decided to break the silence. Elza had never said a word since they had
left Colwyn Place.
“Depends how fast this heap of shit can go,” Elza sniffed and took a peek to her left, at her passenger. Ophelia was gazing out of the side window, hypnotised by the trees that ran by her.
That was it. The short conversation was over. Stephanie huffed, sat down on the sofa, and began to think about the recent past.
She had spent many a day on her own after losing her family. And then she saved the life of Bentley Drummle one day, twice. He had been trapped in a cabin and was surrounded by many Snatchers. She hid in the trees and picked them off one by one. Later, she found a man unconscious by a river bank and took him in to the nearest place, a pub, and nursed him. It was Vince Kindl, who had been swept away after a run that had gone wrong.
It was on that same day that Bentley had been saved by Stephanie.
Vince and Stephanie’s stay in the pub was a short one as their presence had been spotted by the dead. They had to leave the Wolseley Arms public house and headed for Little Haywood, but were surrounded by Snatchers.
Thankfully, a group from Colwyn Place came to their rescue and were taken back to the street. John Lincoln then organised a ride for the pair of them, but they had got only as far as the outskirts of Rugeley because of the dead. They left the vehicle and went down the canal way, and Stephanie had to endure Vince’s bad jokes.
She smiled as she remembered some of his lines when they were down there, trying to get to a place where Vince stayed called Sandy Lane. He told her that he used to play hide and seek with his dad when he was a boy, but his dad never looked for him. And he also said to Stephanie that if she didn’t know what introspection was then she needed to take a long hard look at herself.
When they reached Sandy Lane, her stay was short-lived and had to flee only days after making herself at home.
An explosion had occurred, and a tanker that had been found on a run by Lee James and co, had been sabotaged and enticed many of the dead to Sandy Lane. Most of the creatures had managed to get in through a hole in the fence, but once the LGVs were removed from each end of the street, the same LGVs that were used as barriers to protect the street, there was no saving Sandy Lane. It was finished.
One of the saddest things about the street coming under attack was when she, Rosemary and young Lisa had to flee the house they were staying in, over the roof, and Rosemary and nine-year-old Lisa fell to their deaths. It wasn’t the fall that had killed them; it was the dead in the back gardens that ripped them to pieces once they both hit the ground. Stephanie never saw them getting attacked; it was too dark, but she heard their screams rip through the night.
She left with Bentley Drummle and Paul Dickson. They went by the high school and headed for a little beauty spot called Horns Pool, where, in the old days, some people liked to have picnics and fish. They went by that place and reached the pub that wasn’t very far away.
They were attacked at the Horns pub; Bentley died and Paul ran away, although she thought that he had also died at the time. Days later, she had met Elza and Ophelia in the woods, stayed at the church, and then all three went to Colwyn Place after Stephanie had bumped into Vince once again.
Stephanie remained sitting in the back and turned to gaze out of the window.
The vehicle was beginning to slow down.
Chapter Seven
Pickle was given directions by Peter once they reached Rugeley, whilst Vince and Roger had struck up a conversation and were talking about music. Both men were AC/DC fans and were arguing which were the best lead singers from the group. Vince preferred Bon Scott, but Peter liked Brian Johnson better, and reminded Vince that Brian Johnson’s debut appearance on AC/DC’s album Back in Black, after Bon Scott’s death, turned out to be one of the best selling albums of all time.
David MacDonald was still in the back, the piss stain still present, but drying off thanks to the windy conditions, and sat at the side of the vehicle, eyes closed, feeling the rushing wind smother his face.
Finally, they turned off the Western Springs Road after passing Green Lane, and had arrived at Hagley Road. They could see that a part of the street looked to have suffered a brutal time over the last few months.
Hagley Road was a long road that started near Western Springs Road and stretched up a hill, houses to either side. Over the hill, the road straightened out and continued by Fair Oak School to the left and The Chase pub to the right, before splitting in two, and that’s where Hagley Road finished. The road to the left was called Penkridge Bank Road which led to Slitting Mill and Cannock Chase. The road to the right, Chaseley Road, went into another part of Rugeley called Etching Hill.
A burnt out car was the only vehicle, apart from their own, that was present, and a small pile of burnt bodies were near the defunct car. It appeared that the people of the street had tried to fight back, and Pickle guessed correctly that the pile of bodies had been Snatchers.
Roger had told Pickle to pull into a drive on their right, which was opposite a pub called The Chase, and Pickle parked the vehicle up onto the empty drive.
“Never been to this part o’ the town before,” Pickle mumbled.
“We’re not far from Sandy Lane,” Vince informed him.
“Really?”
Vince nodded. “Behind the houses is Hagley field. Fair Oak and Hagley High shared the fields for sports, and across that field is Sandy Lane.”
Pickle stepped out of the pickup, the three other guys doing the same, and took a scan around. He looked over at The Chase pub and nodded over to the place. “We could check that out before we leave, Vince.”
“Me too?” David called from the back of the pickup.
“Not you.” Vince shook his head. “You keep your arse in the back of that truck, understand?”
David nodded and sat against the back window of the truck and closed his eyes.
Vince stood by Pickle’s side and could see that the establishment looked immaculate from the outside, unlike The Wolseley Arms. There was no carnage around the area and not a sign of a broken window.
Regardless whether their mother was alive or not, Roger and Peter had informed Pickle and Vince that they were going to stay at the house.
Pickle did wonder how they were going to survive with no supplies around, but he was sure they could work it out. They were grown men, and they had lasted this long since leaving Cardiff.
Roger tried the front door. It was predictably locked.
“I’ll fix this later,” he said to Peter, before pulling his shirtsleeve over his fist and punching a pane of glass through. He put his arm through the broken pane and took the chain and snib off the door and opened it.
“We’ll let you guys do this on yer own,” Pickle said with a smile. “Once yer let us know it’s clear, we’ll be on our way.”
“Thanks for everything,” Peter said.
“No worries.”
Both Peter and Roger pulled out their blades and went inside the house, whilst Vince and Pickle stood outdoors, both men glaring over at the pub, wondering why nobody had tried to loot the place.
Pickle gave Vince a playful nudge. “Are yer thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?”
“Probably not.” Vince shook his head. “Right now I’m thinking what it’d be like to have my balls slapping off Joanne’s arse.”
Pickle shook his head in disgust. “Yer an animal, Kindl.”
“What can I say? I’m a highly sexed individual.” Vince rubbed his head and chewed his bottom lip in thought. “I wonder how it’d work?”
“What’re yer talking about?”
“If Joanne did agree to sleep with me, to jump on the old famous Kindl pogo stick, I would have to use the withdrawal method. I hate doing that.”
“I don’t think yer need to worry about things like that, Vince,” Pickle chuckled. “Yer got more o’ a chance o’ shittin’ unicorns than sleeping with Joanne Hammett.”
Ignoring Pickle’s comment, Vince continued, “I think there might be condoms from that medical run from a few weeks b
ack. I’ll have to ask Karen when we get back. She could put a few to the side in case I get lucky in the future. Might be some in the toilet in that pub over there. A pack of Trojans would suffice.”
“Yer deluded, Vince.”
“You think?” Vince took a peek at Pickle, and Pickle could see a hint of a smirk on Vince’s face.
“Just concentrate on surviving. Forget about Captain Winky.”
“I used condoms on Rosemary.” Vince began to reminisce and looked up, thinking about the recent past. “She would insist.”
“That’s nice,” Pickle sighed, more concerned about how to get inside the pub, across the road.
Vince then turned to Pickle and asked him, “What about you? Did you and KP use protection?”
“Absolutely.” Pickle nodded. “No glove, no love.”
“How did you get condoms in prison?”
“I had ways and means,” Pickle chuckled.
“I suppose it’s better to be safe than sorry,” said Vince.
“Agreed.”
Vince rubbed his chin and added, “Always best to cover your stump before you hump. Package the meat before you go into the heat. Protect that fish then dip into the dish. Cover the mole then do her hole.”
“Okay, Vince,” Pickle sighed and narrowed his eyes at the man heading towards his fifties. “I think that’s enough.”
“I have a few more.” Vince smiled.
“Don’t bother.”
“Wrap it before you slap it. Plug your funnel then enter the tunnel.”
“Have you quite finished?” Pickle sighed. “Honestly, Vince. This is the kind o’ thing I used to hear in the playground.”
“My favourite is dress him up before you mess her up.”
“Vince?”
“It’s okay.” Vince cleared his throat and said, “I’m done now.”
Chapter Eight
Karen Bradley was at the front gate. Her machete was slipped underneath her belt, but she was sure that nothing untoward was going to happen. Since Drake had left, the street had had a quiet few days. The occasional rider went by from Drake’s gang, but they knew that was going to happen. They had already been told that some of his guys would be present since Paul Dickson had escaped.
The Dead Don't Yell Page 3