"What is?" Karen quizzed.
"Our family members, whether it's cousins, nieces, nephews...are either dead, or are somewhere frightened to death, and for some reason I don't feel anything, not yet."
"You're probably numb, it's shock. I've had a few breakdowns already, I can tell you."
"Don't get me wrong, I'm incredibly sad, but don't feel the urge to cry yet."
"Probably the best way to be."
Karen yawned and Oliver noticed a little white gunk at the end of her lips, she looked dehydrated. He took off his bag and ruffled in it, then pulled out a litre of water and handed it to her.
"You sure?"
Oliver smirked. "Drink the lot, I've got more in here."
He also took out a chocolate bar and handed it to Karen, and then took out a can of coke for himself. He cracked the can open, and swigged it furiously, two drops of coke ran down each corner of his mouth. He scrunched the can and let out a huge belch, which made Karen smile, and he tossed the crushed can into the bushes.
"So what now?" he picked Karen's brains.
She shrugged her shoulders.
He added, "It's gonna be dark in ten hours, we can't stay here permanently."
"What do you suggest?"
"Well, I was gonna try and walk along the main country road to that little village, Hazelslade. See if any kind people would put me up. I suppose putting up a camp at Stile Cop would be the safest bet, depends if the place is swarming with the Snatchers, I suppose."
"Snatchers?"
"Short for Bodysnatchers." Oliver smiled. "My little nickname for them—okay, so I heard it on the radio." He confessed. He looked at Karen, as she yawned once more. She looked exhausted.
"Look," Oliver began. "Let me make a suggestion. I know you hardly know me, but you look shattered. Why don't you get an hour, I was planning on resting myself anyhow."
Oliver was expecting Karen to spew out excuses that she didn't need any more sleep, and was surprised to see her nod in agreement. "I think we're pretty safe in here…for now."
In such a short space of time, she trusted him. This flattered him. He smiled at her and took a short handled axe and a jumper out of his bag. He suggested that she could use the jumper as a cushion if she wanted.
Overwhelmed by such a small gesture, she accepted his offer, pecked the kind man on the cheek, and was asleep within the minute.
Chapter Twenty One
After taking in valuable seconds of sunlight onto his face, David Pointer side stepped his way across the Baird's roof as all four family members lay dead in their bed beneath him. He was getting nearer to his house and was now on his neighbour's roof that belonged to the New York stranded Noble family. He scanned the area below him with his scared eyes, and saw that his own street was becoming busier with the things.
He stood and eyeballed intently trying to count the beasts using his index finger. In his street alone, he counted twenty-three. He felt that in a week, if no help was provided, he and his family were going to have to spend their days in the attic. It was surely only a matter of time before the creatures forced their way into his house. His front door wasn't very strong and could be kicked in by a ten-year-old; they never felt the urge to replace it, as the crime in the town was non-existent apart from the odd drunken misdemeanour. He lived in a great community where everyone knew each other, and only one household in his street had a burglar alarm, proving how crime-free the place was.
He heard a groan coming from underneath him, and turned to see one of the creatures shuffling about in the Noble's back garden.
Shit! The gate at the front that leads to an alleyway into the back garden must have been opened. Which meant, if one of them could get in there, the back garden could be eventually entertaining the whole street.
His left foot slipped on one of the tiles and it brought back memories of David telling his neighbour that his roof was a disgrace, and that he should get it re-roofed in the next five years.
His neighbour claimed that they couldn't afford the ten grand that it cost, and that David should rightly mind his own fucking business. Even though it was none of his business, David was anxious for them to get it done, because it was making his house looked untidy, and it was the only house of the block of eight that hadn't been re-tiled in the last ten years. From the outside it looked dirty and grimy, and it certainly felt like that under his feet. He hadn't noticed it before, as previously he walked across the spine of the roof, but now he was in the middle of it, desperate to get back to his family.
Thinking that the spine method was more than likely the safest way to get back to his own skylight, he headed upwards. A tile from underneath his left foot fell loose causing him to fall flat on his stomach, and felt a dull sensation in his stomach where he landed on the hammer that was tucked into his belt.
He could feel his body slowly sliding downward, only about two inches per second, but it was enough to send panic through his body. His desperate hands tried to grab onto something that would stop his momentum, but all that happened was that he grabbed a tile that would immediately come away. His slow momentum was held up by the weak guttering where his two feet were pressed up against. He was unsure how do get out of the situation, and frantically looked behind him to see where the thing was.
He couldn't see where it was, so he accepted that it was probably underneath him by the house waiting for his fall, and the falling tile that slid off and shattered on the concrete floor was to blame for attracting the thing.
He looked down to his left and saw the start of the house drainpipe, and thought that if he could somehow slide to the side and fall down to the drainpipe, he could hold on and swing himself back into his own garden. Then he could climb up his own drainpipe, providing he hadn't broken his leg, and head upward onto his own roof, where the climb to the skylight should be a little less troublesome. Trying to climb upwards, back towards the spine of the roof was suicidal and not an option.
He wasn't thinking about the knife that was sitting in the guttering, he had completely forgot about that incident. The knife sat in the guttering only inches away from his feet, but he didn't even notice it.
Without an ounce of dawdling, he released his grip and allowed his body to slide, and threw his feet over the guttering to continue the slide and wrapped his arms around the drainpipe. It was easier than he had envisaged.
He could see beneath him, and his assumptions from before were correct, the ex-human being was underneath him waiting on his fall impatiently and made an awful growling noise. The thing looked like it used to be an elderly gentleman. If it was a resident from his own street, he didn't recognise it.
He slid further down the drainpipe and looked to his left, seeing that his garden was only feet away. If he timed his jump wrong, there was a large chance that he could make contact with the six foot wooden fence, which at best would leave him with broken ribs and he would fall back into his own garden. And at worst, he could be left with broken ribs and into the garden where his predator stood.
As he slid further down the pipe, the desperate groans became more audible. David was now eight feet from the ground and this was the moment he was going to use his feet to spring off the wall and land very uncomfortably on his grass lawn.
He feared that a damaged shoulder was going to be inevitable, but he preferred this option rather than facing what was waiting underneath him.
He leaned back, whilst clinging onto the pipe with desperate hands, and before he had the chance to push himself off over into his own garden, he could hear and feel the pipe giving way to his two hundred pound frame. It was now or never, but his reluctance to jump became his downfall, as the pipe moved further away from the house. A bracket that was drilled into the wall had come away, and David Pointer jumped backward facing the house and landed on top of the thing that was waiting for him.
He quickly clambered to his feet, frightened that he was going to get bit, and ran to the end of the Noble's garden like a frightened
child.
The creature slowly got to its feet and staggered toward him. David looked at his fence, and thought that he could climb over it before the creature reached him, but something stopped him from doing this.
He felt that if he didn't dispose of this thing now, it would see him escaping and climbing to his roof. Meaning, that this almost unstoppable being would relentlessly try and get into his garden and this would also attract the attention of others. He needed to do this for the safety of Davina and Isobel.
He pulled out the hammer from his belt and saw the thing snarl like some prehistoric creature. He remembered what he saw on TV. Aim for the head. David was unsure whether one hammer blow would be enough, but with both hands he rained the first blow as it came into striking range. The thing fell to the floor, and David ran over to the other side of the garden, scared witless he was going to get grabbed or feel the awful teeth sinking into his warm flesh.
He went over and closed the wooden gate that led to the front of the house, in case others tried to get in. It slowly got to his feet, and sped toward him. The quickness of the thing took him by surprise the second time round; he nearly dropped the hammer but he autonomously rained another blow, this time catching the side of its head. It was a weak effort compared to the first one, but David put that down to lack of preparation because of the scare he received as the beast galloped toward him.
The thing wasn't that quick, it went after him about the speed of a gentle jog, but because initially the being looked docile and clumsy, the unexpected speed of its attack scared the shit out of him.
He ran to the other end of the garden once more; he saw a curtain twitch five doors down, telling him that his family wasn't the only one trying to survive. He envisaged the whole street peering out toward the back, egging him on, urging him to kill at least one of those fuckers! He hardly felt like Crowe in Gladiator, neither did the back garden feel like the Coliseum, but knowing he was being watched spurred him on.
It trundled toward him, the same way a man would after consuming a bottle of vodka, and David's third and final blow smashed through the front skull of the creature; dark liquid squirted upwards and some over his shoulder, lightly spraying him, thankfully missing his face altogether.
Its eyes rolled. The hammer was still embedded into the top of the skull as the thing fell to its side and collapsed onto the grass. David didn't have time to wallow in his victorious battle, or bow before his audience, as the wooden gate that he had just shut was being rattled.
There was more trying to get in from the street!
Many more!
Taking the hammer, he climbed the fence, and swung his body over to his own back garden and landed on his feet. He looked to his own gate, satisfied that it was bolted, and ran toward the back of his house, and although out of breath, he began to climb his own drainpipe hoping that his one would hold out. It did.
Many tiles were lost as he climbed his way to his skylight and before he knocked on the glass for his wife to let him in, he took a look over his right shoulder to the Noble's back garden. Fuck! They're in!
He shook his head with despair, and cursed himself for being so moronic, for being so nosey and for trying to be a damn hero! He had now put his family in danger, something a father should never do. He wondered even more now, if staying in his house was the right thing to do as he glared hypnotically at the garden.
"There's fucking loads of 'em," he muttered under his breath.
At least twenty of them roamed around, but they were still pouring into the back garden via the forced opened gate from the street. It was like a garden party for the dead, but where was the buffet? Some of them looked up at David and strolled toward the six-foot wooden obstacle that prevented them from getting to the house from the back.
David thought that the fence didn't matter, all they needed to do was go around the front and try and get in through the living room window. It was blocked off, but it hadn't been tested yet.
Surely it was only a matter of time before they forced their way in.
Chapter Twenty Two
He finished slurping his tepid coffee and decided to go to the toilet before embarking on his journey south. After he had finished, he picked his landline phone up, and dialled Kerry's house number, as he didn't know her mobile number off the top of his head—that information was in his smashed phone on Argyle Street. It rung out, and after four rings, Jack Slade didn't know if calling Kerry would be a counterproductive action, but he needed to tell her that he was coming. There was no way he was going to stay in Glasgow; he wanted to be with his son, whatever it took.
Inside his head, a voice was telling him: If they live in a remote or sufficiently defensible area, they may be safer than you are. Don't get yourself killed by rushing to them assuming they need your help.
Jack knew that the greater distance between him and his son, the more difficult it would be to reach him and there could be a good chance that he wouldn't be there when he arrived.
He thought about the loudness of her landline phone and if it would attract any of the things if they happened to be lurking outside while Kerry and his son, Thomas, was hiding away somewhere.
He contemplated hanging up, but then the phone was picked up.
Kerry whispered hello down the phone.
"It's me," Jack said.
"What are you doing? Why didn't you ring me on my mobile, e-mail me or chat to me on the network."
"My mobile's fucked, and I wanted to hear your voice, I wanted to hear Thomas' voice."
"Well, don't call again."
"What have you told him?"
"I had to tell him the truth; he saw someone get attacked in my street, and asked me what was going on. But I still don't think he really understands. He's only six. He was hysterical for ages, but he's okay now. I'll put him on."
There was a silence on the other end of the phone, and a minute later Jack heard the familiar voice of his six-year-old son.
"Hi daddy."
As soon as those two words were spoken, Jack Slade's lower lip trembled with emotion. He sniffed in and cleared his throat. He didn't want his voice to be coated with fright; he already had a six-year-old boy who was probably scared to death at what was happening, and didn't want to concern him any further.
"Hi, son, what's happening?"
"Me and mummy are playing upstairs."
"Oh, that sounds good."
There was a long pause and his son spoke once more. "Daddy?"
"Yes, son, what is it?"
"There're monsters outside."
Jack could hear the emotion in his son's voice and tried to reassure his son that things were going to be okay, but Kerry had returned back onto the phone.
She snapped, "He's upset, don't call again, I'm unplugging the phone now. Stay safe, Jack."
"Kerry, I'm coming down."
She never heard the last sentence as she hung up the phone. Jack could understand why. Her priority was to keep her son safe, and he was the only thing that she was concerned about.
Jack didn't know the real situation that was occurring where Kerry was staying. For all he knew, there could have been dozens of them banging on Kerry's window aching to get in, but he wasn't sure. Despite Kerry threatening to unplug the phone anyway, he promised himself that he wouldn't try and call again no matter how much he wanted to hear his son's voice. If his phone hadn't of smashed in the city centre when he was with Robbie, he could have pre-warned her that he was coming down by text.
Jack carefully opened his front door and could see at least seven of the things moping around the street, and he saw the body of Robbie lying in front of him as he got into his car. He threw his bag in the back and started the engine and reversed quickly out of his drive. He slipped the car into first and stamped his foot down on the accelerator, and he swerved to his left to avoid hitting two of the beings that were in the middle of the street. He turned left at the roundabout and headed for the shopping mall, which also had a petrol sta
tion.
He finally pulled up at the petrol station, hoping that not all the pumps had been drained and that the electricity was still working, as that was what controlled the pumps.
Jack was aware that most cities had standby diesel generators that automatically kicked in if the power grid stopped performing, but he had no intention of staying in a city like Glasgow; he wanted to go back to his hometown. Would there be any electricity there?
Jack knew that if there was nobody to check the electricity transmissions, and nobody left to use the electricity in the lines and the nuclear plants kept churning out power, the lines would overload and the grid would die. So even if the pumps were full, without electricity they were useless, and this was the reason why Jack wanted to get some jerry cans.
The forecourt was empty as he pulled up; he tried the opened door of the kiosk and went behind the counter to flick the authorisation switch, then went back out and filled his car. He looked around at the huge mall car park to find that there were a handful of cars there, probably workers who had decided it was too dangerous to go back home. Although he felt for the people that may be inside, his main goal was to stay alive for his son, and after he filled up, he headed toward the kiosk for the second time.
He headed toward the pre-packed sandwiches and ate two. One was a chicken mayo, the white bread seemed a little stale, and the other was a BLT. He wasn't hungry, but he didn't know when he would have the chance to stop and have something further to eat.
He took a small carton of milk from the fridge and washed the stubborn bread down with the white stuff. He drained three quarters of the milk and dropped it to the floor like a thug.
He walked around the small area, and had a look round to see if there was anything that could come in handy. He couldn't see any jerry cans on display, and thought they would have been perfect to top up with petrol. He was disturbed by a thud coming from the door that read Private - Staff Only.
Snatchers (A Zombie Novel) Page 12