"I'm freezin' my tits off in this place," she huffed, and walked past Pickle and went into the kitchen.
Pickle chuckled, "Morning, Karen."
*
"Are you looking forward to seeing Rosemary today, son?"
Paul Dickson never received an answer from his son, Kyle, and looked over to the other side of the bed. Both father and son were lying in the double bed, both staring up at the ceiling. Paul tried again. "Big chap?"
Kyle snapped out of his self-hypnosis and said, not answering his father's question, "How long do we have to stay here?"
Paul sat up and stared at Kyle. He looked crestfallen and was sure that it wasn't just to do with having no mummy and little sister anymore. "What is it?"
Kyle shrugged, tears welling in the bottom of his eyes.
"Don't you like it here?"
Kyle, once more, never responded verbally, and shook his head. Paul guessed that Kyle wasn't being ignorant, he was just too choked to speak. Something was bothering him.
Paul queried, "Don't you like the maths and reading classes with Rosemary? Lisa seems to enjoy it. I know Rosemary's not a proper teacher—"
"I miss everyone," Kyle spoke with a whisper, then lay back down.
Paul was sure that he did miss everyone, so did he. But something else was bothering his seven-year-old, and Paul didn't want to push the subject in case both males came to blows.
It could wait for now.
Chapter Four
Karen Bradley took a walk along the empty stretch of road, and looked to her left. There were dozens upon dozens of burnt bodies in a pile, near the Lea Hall building, and she was told that they were planning on doing something about that situation in the next few weeks.
Since Lee had been informed that she was pregnant, she had predictably been told that she would have no job to do and that she shouldn't lift a finger. It was frustrating, but she knew it was going to happen. She accepted it without kicking up a fuss, but she thought that at least some kind of stock-taking job could be done.
She looked all around and could hardly see a soul. There were over a hundred people in the area, but because it was large it would sometimes look inhabited in the afternoon when everybody was up and awake. She knew that it was early, but there was still at least eight bodies on the two barriers, and some worked inside the Lea Hall building to see how the food situation was. That was the job that she wanted.
The farmers from the Spode Cottage stayed on the fields and had spent days building pens for the animals, with the help of Vince, which were fed by some of the bored youngsters to give them a feeling of self-worth. It was going to take time before that part of the set-up was going to be as good as the last one, but at least the fields were bigger.
A young man strolled across the road and held up his hand as a greeting to Karen. Daniel Badcock approached Karen with a big grin on his face. "Morning."
She responded, "Morning."
Both individuals knew each other from secondary school, and had occasional chats with one another since Karen and the rest had moved in. Karen felt comfortable in Daniel's company. He was a genuine nice guy and never seemed to have an hidden agenda with his niceness. With the exception of Pickle and Paul Dickson, she felt at ease with Daniel than any other male on the camp. He was easy to talk to and never produced any creepy sexual innuendos when they chatted.
"Where you off?" Karen spoke. "Anywhere exciting?"
"Not really," Daniel cackled. "Stock-check. Dishing out bottles of water for residents, that kind of shit."
"Sounds awesome," teased Karen, and brushed her greasy hair behind her ears.
"Oh, it is." This time it was Daniel's turn to be sarcastic. "What about you? You sure you should be walking about with those swollen ankles?"
"You cheeky twat!" Karen scoffed. "I'm not quite there yet. Anyway, as long as I do my leg exercises I should be okay."
"They look swollen to me." He peered down with a cheeky grin scrawled across his features.
"And so will be your lips if I get any more cheek."
Daniel laughed and held his hand up as an apology.
Karen added, "The only thing that's swollen are my pillows."
Daniel scrunched his face in confusion and took a few seconds to realise that Karen was talking about her breasts. He blushed, then cleared his throat. "I'm off to check on the Lea Hall building. Why don't you come in?" suggested Daniel, pointing towards the building and still blushing. "You can see what we've got."
"Sounds riveting," she sighed with little enthusiasm. "I would like something to do."
"I don't know why you can't do it. All we do is walk around with a clipboard and note what's there."
"Sounds better than nothing. Maybe you can suggest it to Lee, or whoever the fuck is in charge."
"I'll see if they can put it to a vote in the next meeting."
"Good. I'm bored out of my brains already and I've only been here a few days."
"Come on." Daniel beckoned Karen into the building; but she was unsure.
Asked Karen, "Am I allowed?"
"You're with me."
"I know, but I could imagine that a few of the people are a little paranoid with us new folk turning up—"
"Fuck 'em."
"Okay. If you insist."
The pair of them walked inside the main hall. There were boxes and boxes of stuff. Some were marked, others weren't. Karen pointed at three large boxes of prawn cocktail crisps and began to giggle.
"We raided a pub not so long back." Daniel tried to explain. "Beggars can't be choosers."
"I suppose if I ever need a packet of crisps..."
Daniel ignored her light ribbing and walked to the back of the place where six freezers were present. Karen looked inside to see an assortment of meat. The last freezer was rammed full of ice.
Daniel smiled. "The ice is good for injuries, as well as dehydration."
"How does this stuff work?"
"We used to use diesel generators for the first weeks, then we installed the solar panels on the roof of the building and mainly rely on Mother Nature to do the work. You won't believe the amount of panels we use, and when we have little sunshine, like today, a lot of power needs to be put back into the batteries..." Daniel laughed and paused in mid-sentence. "I don't want to bore you with the details."
"Thanks," Karen said cheekily and smiled.
"Sorry. I'm waffling."
"Can't really rely on fuel to keep freezers going when you've got runs to do," Karen muttered. "You need the fuel for the vehicles."
"Exactly. And we don't have a great amount of fuel left, to be honest. We try and grab whatever we can when we're out."
Karen moved away from the freezers and saw two pallets of baked beans to her left. She then turned to Daniel and queried, "Are you going out on this run this morning?"
"No, not his one." Daniel shook his head. "Me and a few other guys might check out Power Station Road. See if there's anything left in McDonalds and Tesco. There's a few other places we can check out."
"Can you do two runs at the same time?"
Daniel laughed and said, "Yeah. And we'll still have a few guards on each barrier."
"Vince used to have a man each, half a mile away from the camp to pre-warn us in case anything untoward was heading for the camp."
"I suppose that was a good idea, but Spode Cottage is situated on a dip. From our barriers we can see along the stretch of road."
"Well," Karen sighed, staring at a box of water purifying bottles. "You seem to know what you're doing. What's upstairs?"
"Medical stuff."
"What's she doing in here?" a voice bellowed behind Karen and Daniel.
They both turned around to see a skinny average-sized man. His name was James McDonald, or Jimmy Mac, and was a foul-mouthed individual who said what he thought. He had made it clear on more than one occasion that the new arrivals were not welcome, as far as he was concerned.
"Just showing the lady round," explain
ed Daniel, looking embarrassed at the way he was spoken to. Jimmy Mac was middle-aged, but his worn face made him look older, suggesting he had lived on a bad diet of too much booze and cigarettes that had probably aged his skin.
"I don't give a fuck!" he snapped. "I don't want any of these new knobs walking around in here, got it?"
"Stop being so paranoid." Daniel tried to laugh the situation off, but the anger in Jimmy Mac's face showed no sign of diminishing. "We're all one family on this site. And some of the stuff in here is from their camp. Where do you think those animals from outside came from?"
"Let's not forget the HGVs that are now stretched across each barrier," Karen chipped in.
"It's a fucking joke, letting these folk in." Jimmy Mac pointed at Karen and added, "They're only here because their own camp was decimated."
"And you're only here because your house on the Springfields was overrun with the dead," Daniel said.
"Don't smart-mouth me, boy. You know what I mean."
"Well, we're here now," Karen decided to speak further. "So you better get used to it. We were voted in."
"Yes, you were." Jimmy Mac snarled, "You were voted in by seven to one. I was the one that wanted you lot to stay the fuck away."
"We're stronger together."
"No." Jimmy Mac disagreed. "We were strong enough in the first place. Now we've got another thirty mouths to feed."
"Well, looks like you're stuck with us." Karen smiled.
Jimmy Mac clenched his fists together and took a step forward. Daniel side-stepped in front of Karen and tried to make light of the tense situation. "What're you gonna do, Jimmy? Hit a pregnant woman?"
Jimmy Mac snarled once again, turned on his heels and stormed out of the building.
"Well, he seems pleasant," snickered Karen.
"I would like to say that he's alright once you get to know him."
"But?"
"But he's a true dick." Daniel checked his watch and asked, "Shall we go?"
Karen ignored his query and pointed at the metal box that was in the corner of the building. "What's that?"
Daniel scratched his head and finally answered, "Just a junk box. I suppose it's like a lost property box. There's some things in there that I've found on some runs, things that are useless really, but I kept them."
"What kind of stuff?"
"Just daft stuff really: Knives, there's an empty handgun in there, and we even found a pair of knuckledusters in a house."
"A handgun?" Karen was now intrigued. "What kind of handgun?"
"Come." Daniel beckoned Karen to follow him. "I'll show you." He went over to the huge box and took out a key from his back pocket. Karen had no idea what the key was for until she realised that the box was padlocked. Once the lock was opened Daniel flipped open the lid and went through it. He pulled out a pair of black leather gloves with spikes on the knuckles. "Any good to you?" he joked.
Karen shook her head. "Why do you keep this stuff anyway? It's weird."
"You sound like the guys," Daniel began to chuckle. "I don't know. I suppose the handgun is a nice touch. Never held one before. Didn't realise people had them in this area."
"You'd be surprised."
"Wanna see?"
Karen sighed and nodded, humouring the young man.
Karen took another few steps forwards until she was by the man's side and Daniel pulled out the gun and showed it to her. "It's okay. It won't go off."
Karen stared at the thing and asked, "May I?"
Daniel shrugged and gave the woman, the same woman he used to fancy in Geography class when they were at school, a hold of the gun. "I think Rick Morgan told me that it's a..." Daniel paused for thought.
"It's a 9mm hi-powered Browning." Karen spoke up. She released the magazine to see it was empty, clicked it back in, then pulled the slide back to make sure there was no round in the chamber. These bozos may have forgotten to do that, she thought.
Daniel glared, wide-eyed. "Shit. How..?"
"I'm not just a pretty face." Karen handed the gun over. "I fired one a few times in the first weeks."
Daniel remained speechless, still staring.
Karen giggled, "I can't be bothered to go into the whole story again, but if you want to know then have a word with Pickle or Vince when they've got a minute."
"Okay." Daniel still looked shell-shocked.
"Where did you find it anyway?"
"We were in the woods and stumbled across it at the side of the road, near that Stile Cop beauty spot."
Karen gulped and could feel her heart gallop. "On Stile Cop?" Karen asked, knowing that Janine Perry and Jamie Thomson died with their handguns.
"No." Daniel shook his head and took the Browning off of Karen. "A few hundred yards away, on the country road, away from Rugeley."
It was the gun that Pickle gave to KP, Karen thought. It had to be. Not many people in this area, living in the UK, had access to such weaponry.
Then Daniel said something that made Karen's heart giddy-up even more. "There was just the one bullet in it when we found it."
"It wasn't empty?" Shit. He never did it. He never killed himself.
On that terrible early morning at Stile Cop, when they finally reached the prison van, KP had ran out of ammo. He asked Karen for one bullet, for himself. That bullet was never fired, which meant KP had turned. He must have!
Neither Karen or Pickle heard a gunshot when they drove away in the prison van, because Pickle was thrashing the van in a low gear in order to drown out KP's gunshot. It appeared that KP had lost his nerve, or may have thought that he was strong enough to fight the infection. But was it definitely the gun?
"You okay?" asked Daniel. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
"Whatever happens," Karen began. "Don't show Pickle that gun. Don't let him in here, if you can help it."
"What?" laughed Daniel, and scrunched his eyes at Karen, seeing if she was being serious. She was. He glared at her as he locked the padlock and put the key into his back pocket. "Why wouldn't I tell Pickle about the gun? You're not making sense, Karen."
Karen gave a Daniel a short version of the incident at Stile Cop, which left him stunned, and hung onto every word she said. Karen finished off by saying, "Just don't let him get near that box, or even in the building, if you can help it. Please."
"Okay." Daniel agreed to Karen's instruction without querying her any further.
"Trust me." Karen looked at Daniel with pleading eyes. "He doesn't need to know about this."
"I do trust you."
Chapter Five
Bentley Drummle stretched his large frame and rubbed his eyes. In minutes he was due to go on a run with Lee James, Luke John and Sheryl Smith, but would have to do it on three hours sleep. Every time he closed his eyes he thought of Laura. During the day he was fine, especially if he was kept busy, but the nights were the worst. Without brushing his teeth, Bentley left his lodgings and walked to the barrier with a packed bag, Waiting for him was Lee, Sheryl and Luke.
All four that were about to embark on the run were at the barrier, near the HGV that was from Vince's camp. They had just relieved three men who had been doing the night watch, and were hanging around the HGV that was stretched across the road. They waited patiently—apart from Sheryl—for the other shift to turn up to do barrier duty so they could finally leave.
Five minutes had passed and Rick Morgan, Vince Kindl and Harry Branston appeared out of an alley from Hill Street, and were now on the Sandy Lane, heading to the barrier. It was their turn to do a watch, and Karen had decided to turn up to see Lee and co off.
"Here they come, at last." Sheryl Smith was fidgeting with impatience, and just wanted to be out there. She hated all this waiting around.
Sheryl Smith was twenty nine years old, had short black hair, and had a mouth like a toilet. She had lived on Sandy Lane for years, number seventeen, so the forming of the camp around the area was a perfect scenario for her when the shit hit the fan. Like most folk, Sheryl
had spent many days hiding in the house while blood was being spilled outside, and only made her first kill in the second week.
She had no choice.
They had come through her living room window, and every kitchen utensil from scissors to potato peeler had been used to penetrate the skulls of these ghouls. A few men had come to her aid eventually, and a couple of days after the incident, the camp was being created. Like most people, she had to toughen up over such a short period of time.
It took a lot more killing to clean the place up, and a pile of hundreds of bodies still lay on the field where they were all dumped, on the patch of grass to the right of the Lea Hall building. It was an eyesore that the people hadn't quite got round to getting rid of, but that would be sorted in a matter of time.
"Take your time, lads." Lee gently mocked. He then focused his eyes as they got nearer. Vince was now wearing a white T-shirt with "Don't Follow Me. I'm Lost Too" on it in black letters.
Vince pointed at the shirt and gazed at Lee. "Better?"
"Much," Lee laughed.
"So when are yer lot gonna be back?" asked Pickle. On this Saturday he was dressed in black, including his boots, and the machete was tucked into his black leather belt.
"I've no idea." Lee thought for a few seconds before adding, "Just make sure the rest of the guys turn up in the evening for their watch, rather than go looking for them."
"We know the procedure," intervened Vince.
"If we're not back by tonight, don't worry."
"Really?"
"We've disappeared for a few days on the odd occasion. Sometimes when we go to a place and it gets dark we stay the night, if there's an appropriate and safe place to stay."
"What if you run into trouble?"
"We probably will," Lee laughed. "It's an occupational hazard, but we always seem to pull through. So don't be panicking and go looking for us if we're a bit late. The more people that leave the camp, the more vulnerable you make it." Lee pointed at Rick Morgan. "Rick knows the procedure. If we're not back by tomorrow night, then it's time to panic. But that won't happen."
Snatchers (Book 7): The Dead Don't Yield Page 2