Snatchers 11: The Dead Don't Knock

by Shaun Whittington

  Vince then nodded at Stephanie's bow and asked her, “You going out or something?”

  “Was gonna nip out, get some practice in before it gets dark. It'll probably stop me from thinking about Paul.”

  “You want some company? I'm as bored as a fat kid with a bowl of vegetables.”

  “As long as you don't tell me any of your sexist jokes, or any jokes for that matter.”

  “Just trying to keep spirits up. Anyway, they're not that bad.”

  “Vince, you told Karen that women are evil because they can bleed for a week and not die. You also said to Elza a few days ago that the difference between her and a fridge is that a fridge is easier to defrost.”

  “Yeah,” Vince snickered, “and she also said that she was gonna sneak into my house while I slept and cut my balls off. I've been sleeping with the front door barricaded ever since.”

  Stephen stood back on the stool and peered over the wall once more. “Whereabouts were you going to go?” he asked Stephanie.

  She hunched her shoulders. “Just across the road to the field. There're a few trees I can use for practice.”

  “I've got a better idea, chap.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  Stephen jumped off the stool and said, “Two strays at twelve o'clock.”

  Stephanie climbed onto the stool and could see over.

  She could see two of the dead. They were out of range, but it wouldn't be for long. They were shambling down the middle of the road, heading for the wall.

  “I'd be better on ground level,” she said.

  She passed the bow and bag to Vince and told the two men that she was going over, and that they should pass her the bow and bag once she was on the other side.

  “We're coming as well,” said Vince. “I wanna see this up close.”

  Once Stephanie was over and had been given her equipment, Vince climbed over and Rowley followed soon after.

  All three were on the other side of the wall, and Stephen and Vince watched as Stephanie was getting herself ready.

  Rowley leaned over and said to Vince, “Have you seen her in action before, chap?”

  “Weeks ago, when we were down at the canal in Rugeley. It's impressive stuff. She's bloody good.”

  They both watched as Stephanie prepared herself and now had one of the pine arrows on the string of her bow, ready to fire.

  The two dead were getting closer and all could see that both were females, but because of how decomposed their bodies were, it was difficult to determine how old they were when they were once human.

  “Need to wait a few seconds,” said Stephanie, knowing that the two men were wondering why she was taking so long. “A few more yards and then I'll shoot. Look at the woman on the left.”

  They did as they were told as Stephanie raised the arrow, and watched as she released it. It flew in the air, and both men gasped as the pine arrow with the metal point embedded itself into the top of the skull of the Snatcher on the left.

  “Jesus, chap,” Stephen gasped as the creature fell to the floor.

  Vince turned to Stephen and said, “Stephanie has been doing this for years. She had been training for the Commonwealth games.”

  “Right, next one,” she said.

  She pulled out an arrow from the bag that was on the floor, and prepared herself once more. This time she wasted little time and released the arrow.

  Both men watched and narrowed their eyes as the arrow landed in the shoulder of the other creature. This creature was closer than the other, but she had missed the intended target: the head.

  Vince turned to face Stephanie, and was about to make a sarcastic quip for missing her target, but he could see that the fourteen-year-old had tears in her eyes.

  He asked her, “You okay?”

  She shook her head.

  “What's up?”

  She dropped her bow and approached Vincent Kindl and wrapped her arms around him, taking him by surprise.

  Stephen took out a knife from his pocket and headed towards the lone beast, telling the two that he had it.

  The two continued to hug after Rowley had dealt with the remaining creature. They were still hugging when Rowley returned. He grabbed Stephanie's gear and went over the wall, leaving the two of them alone.

  Once Stephanie had stopped crying and had managed to compose herself, she broke away from the embrace and said to Vince, “Since I lost my family, I've met many people.” She cleared her throat and looked up at Vince. Her eyes were watery; her face was red and the stains on her cheeks made Vince quiver with emotion. “I like it here. I know I said that I'd go anywhere with Elza, but I'm not so sure now. She has a nasty streak that sometimes makes me feel uncomfortable. Some days I love her, other days not so much.”

  “I want you to stay here. I like you being here,” was all Vince managed to say before his bottom lip quivered.

  “So do I.” Stephanie nodded. “I know we had a little break from each other, after Sandy Lane and me going off with Elza, but I missed you. We're not related, but I see you as family, Vince. You're like a dad, brother and friend, all rolled into one. I'm so glad I've met you, and you're not as bad as some people make out.”

  Her gag at the end made herself laugh a little, and with her eyes clearing up she could see that Vince was getting emotional.

  “Vince?” Stephanie took a step back and asked, “You're not crying, are you?”

  “Of course not,” he said and cleared his throat, “Vince Kindl doesn't cry.”

  Vince walked away from Stephanie, over to the wall and climbed over. Now in Colwyn, he stood on the stool and offered Stephanie his hand. She took it and climbed over with Vince's help, and the pair of them now had their feet on the ground. She looked over at the lawn of 2 Colwyn Place and could see that Rowley had left her gear there.

  Vince and Stephanie agreed that they were going to turn in.

  “You okay now?” he asked the teenager.

  “I will be.”

  “Losing your family is a lot to lose at your age.”

  “I know.”

  “You should start talking to David MacDonald. He's the same age, and you both have a lot in common.”

  “I've already started to get to know him.”

  “Good.”

  Stephanie leaned in and kissed Vince on the cheek. “Good night, Vince.”

  “Good night.”

  Vince turned and walked away, heading back to his place.

  “Vince?”

  Kindl stopped walking when Stephanie called out his name, but he never turned around. “Yeah?”

  “I love you.”

  He turned around and could see Stephanie was now walking away, going back to 2 Colwyn Place. She picked up her gear off the lawn and headed for the main door.

  “Me too,” he whispered.

  Chapter Forty Eight

  Two of Drake's men, Bill and John, who had walked with Paul into the woods had returned. Drake and his driver stepped out of the car when they could see that Paul wasn't with them. The body language from Bill and John said it all. They dragged their feet across the grass and had their heads lowered.

  Drake leaned against the car and shook his head. His cold stare was seen by both men once they lifted their heads.

  Drake never said a word; he simply waited for the two men to explain themselves. He knew Paul was gone. He had no idea how the fuck he got away, but he had.

  “He went behind a tree,” John, the tallest of the men decided to try and explain. “He ran away, but his arms were free. I don't get it. Maybe the tie-tag wasn't tight enough.”

  “Maybe,” Drake said softly.

  “Or he managed to break it off.”

  “I doubt it.” Drake sighed and unfolded his arms. “Whoever put the tie-tag on must be held accountable for this.”

  “But that was me,” said John.

  “I know it was you.”

  The man turned and dropped to his knees and began to beg for his life. This only angered Drake. Drake
told Bill to get back into the car, then turned to the driver and told him to do the same. He turned to his left to see the men in the pickups and on the mopeds waiting patiently. He didn't need to tell them what was happening. They knew what was going on.

  He raised his hand at the dozens of men, thanking them for their patience, and then turned his attention back to the man who was deemed responsible for Paul's escape. He was now in tears, still begging.

  “You know something?” Drake began. “I don't like killing my own men. I haven't killed many in the last couple of months. I've certainly never killed two cunts in one day. I killed Mac, back at that place, out of anger. But you...” Drake pulled out a knife and slowly walked over to the kneeling man. Drake crouched down and could see that the man had lowered his head again in shame.

  “Look at me.” Drake handed the man the knife. He reluctantly took it, but was confused about what was going to happen next.

  The blade was only three inches in length and the kneeling John asked Drake what he wanted him to do.

  “Hmm.” Drake rubbed his fingers over his smooth face and said, “What do you think I should do?”

  The man sniffed, “Give me another chance? I swear I won't let you down this time. I was certain I put that tie-tag on tight. He even winced when I did it. He must have...”

  “He must have what?”

  “Nobody searched him before he was put in the car.”

  “Searched him?” Drake laughed. “The cunt was tied up. So are you blaming me for this?”

  “No, no, Drake. That's not what I'm saying,” John sobbed. “I don't know how he got away.”

  “You can't even accept responsibility for your actions,” said Drake. “That's no good to me. I need cunts to hold their hand up if they make a mistake. We all make mistakes.”

  “I wasn't on my own,” the kneeling man said desperately and pointed to the other WOE man that was now sitting in the back of the Audi. “Bill was there as well, your own second in command. We both let him go behind a tree, on his own.”

  “But he ran away with his hands free. If he tried to run away with his hands still tied, he wouldn't have got very far. He would have lost his balance, fell over, and would have struggled to get back up.” Drake sighed and rubbed his face in thought. He said, “I'm disappointed that you're trying to drag Bill into this to save your own neck. I already know that Bill played a part in this, which is why he's going to get a severe talking to when we get back. I might even have to strip him from his duties. You, on the other hand...”

  “What can I do to make things right?” the man asked, still holding the knife that Drake had given him.

  “I want you to take that knife and stab yourself through the thigh.”

  “Wh-what?”

  “You heard me, cunt,” Drake sniffed. “Doesn't matter which thigh. Any one will do. And then we're even. You have put me in a very embarrassing position. What am I supposed to tell the people back at the base wanting justice?”

  “But Drake.”

  “But nothing!” Drake yelled, making the man jump with fright. “Stab yourself in the thigh. That's the only way you're gonna make things right.”

  “This is crazy. Please...”

  Drake had no more words for John; he just glared at him, waiting for him to inflict his deserved punishment.

  Knowing that he could face death if he didn't do this, John grabbed the knife with both hands and began to hyperventilate. He knew that what he was about to do was going to be extremely painful, but he didn't want to die.

  He closed his eyes tight, cried out and brought the knife up. He released another cry as he brought the blade down and into his left thigh as Drake watched with a smile on his face. He collapsed to the floor and writhed on the grass in pain. Drake could see that the blade had gone right in and was satisfied at what he could see.

  “Good.” Drake nodded. “I will have my knife back now.”

  He reached over, grabbed the handle of the three-inch blade and pulled it out. The injured male screamed out as Drake did this, and clutched at his bleeding leg. Drake wiped both sides of the blade on the grass and put it into his pocket. He stood up and looked to his men who were still waiting patiently, engines still running. “Time to move out!” he called over to them.

  Drake then went over to two riders and began to speak to them for a couple of minutes. Both nodded after Drake had finished talking, and the bikers turned their vehicles around and headed back where they had come from, back to Little Haywood.

  Drake got back into the Audi. The engine had never been turned off, and it was a simple matter of taking off the parking brake and slipping the vehicle into first for the driver.

  “Wait. You're leaving me here?” the injured man cried.

  Nobody answered him.

  The Audi sped away, and was followed by the four pickup trucks and many mopeds. None of the men looked to the side at the injured man.

  John continued to scream and beg, but his words fell on deaf ears. He began to sob with the pain and feared what awaited for him. Being injured and alone wasn't a great recipe for survival in this macabre world. John lay back and tried to cope with the pain, but he was struggling. He took his jacket off and ripped a sleeve off his shirt. He put the jacket back on and used the sleeve to tie it around his injured thigh.

  “Help me!” he cried. “God, help me!”

  *

  The Audi had been on the road for a couple of minutes and the three people in the car, Drake, the driver, and Bill in the back, hadn't exchanged words. The driver decided to eventually speak up.

  “What about the camp?” the driver asked Drake. “Are we going back there sometime?”

  “What about them?” Drake sniffed and ran his fingers over his shaved head. “They stuck to their side of the bargain. Can't be punishing them because I've got a man that's a useless cunt. Or should I say ... was a useless cunt. Let’s not forget that Harry spared my stupid arse brother as well.”

  “What happens if that Paul guy goes back to the camp?”

  “I don't think he will.”

  “What makes you so certain?”

  Drake leaned his head back on the Audi's head restraint and chewed his bottom lip in thought. “Paul won't go back there. If he does he'll he putting the rest of them in danger, and he'll know we're looking for him.”

  “So where do we start looking for him?”

  “We don't. We're not wasting too much time and petrol looking for that prick, but I'll keep two bikers around the Haywood area for a week or so, just in case. I've sent two guys back to the street to let them know about the situation, just in case those residents start getting paranoid when two of my men are riding about.”

  “Who knows?” the driver said. “Despite the killings, maybe we could work together, especially with the winter around the corner.”

  “That's what I was thinking.” Drake nodded. “And I'll tell you another thing. That Harry bloke ... I like him.”

  “And we're definitely not bothering with Dickson anymore?” the driver queried further.

  “The cunt will die eventually. Gonna have to break the bad news to the guys back at the base about his escape.”

  “Or we could say he was already dead.”

  “No. I’ll give them the truth. Gonna have to tell them why we’re two men short as well.”

  The driver nodded and the rest of the journey to Stafford was made in quiet.

  Chapter Forty Nine

  He had ran for so long that he was certain there was no WOE men behind him. They must have given up, or hadn't even bothered to chase him in the first place. He was miles from Little Haywood and he had no food or water on him. As far as they were concerned, he hoped, he was going to die one way or another.

  He approached a large sycamore and decided to pee against it. He then ran for a few minutes more, just in case, just to make sure that he was clear from Drake's men.

  He stopped running and tried to get his breath. With his wrists still so
re, Paul Dickson staggered through the woodland and a further surge of adrenaline went through his veins once his ears picked up the sound of a stream up ahead.

  He ran unsteadily over to the flowing water and dropped to his knees by the bank of the stream. He dipped his head in and drank the water. He knew that drinking straight from the stream wasn't ideal, as far as his health was concerned, but he didn't care. His throat was so dry that it hurt, his body craved water, and only mouthfuls of the cold liquid could ease the craving.

  He spent minutes on his knees, slurping the cold water, and only turned away from the running stream when the sound of a snapping branch alerted his senses.

  He looked up and quickly got to his feet when he spotted a creature heading clumsily towards him, like a drunk on a Friday night.

  The creature was male, dressed in a pair of black joggies and a red Liverpool FC football shirt, but had no shoes on his feet.

  Paul sighed as it came towards him, and looked around to see which was the clearest path for him to run.

  He chose east and ran along the dirt path that was partially covered in bracken. The creature tried to follow him, but fell over as its foot struck a large root that was sticking out of the ground.

  Paul glanced over his shoulder and could see that he was making good ground, but what if there was another one up ahead? What if there was more than one? A horde? He had no weapon on him to deal with the situation, and the blade he had used to free himself was dropped once he ran for his life—not that a razor blade would be sufficient to put down a Snatcher anyway.

  He stopped moving when the sound of disturbed plantation could be heard ahead of him. He waited and waited, aware that the beast from before that had fallen over the tree root could catch up with him, and moaned when another dead being came out of the trees and hobbled in his direction.

  The creature shambled down the dirt path, getting nearer to Paul, and now an exhausted Dickson had given up trying to run from these fuckers. His breath was heavy as he waited for the beast to get near, and once it was in range, he front-kicked the thing in its midriff, sending it flying backwards and crashing to the ground. He staggered over to the dead thing and brought the heel of his boot down, caving in its skull.