Snatchers (Book 7): The Dead Don't Yield

by Shaun Whittington

  She appeared to be strangely relaxed in his company. Her bow was by her side, and her bag of supplies sat on the other side of her as she continued to sit cross-legged.

  Bentley had to ask, "Can I ask you a question?"

  The young girl never answered. With her gorgeous blue eyes she gazed at her feet and seemed to have drifted to another world.

  Bentley added, "Well, actually there's a few I need to ask."

  She snapped out of her trance and began adjusting the elastic band that was keeping her blonde hair in a ponytail. "Go on."

  "Why did you kill those things when I was stuck in the cabin? And how? I mean...there were loads of them."

  "I was washing myself in the stream, and I saw the dead banging on the cabin. I knew somebody was inside it. I was only in the woods for minutes, after leaving the sports centre, and I saw them. I picked some of them off with my bow. I retrieved most of my arrows once I was finished, but I think I left one behind. I managed to get rid of the rest with my crowbar. It was a bit dark, but I managed."

  "I nearly shat myself," laughed Bentley. "But...thank you."

  "That's okay. It was the right thing to do, the Christian thing to do. I couldn't walk away, knowing that there was somebody stuck in the cabin. My conscience wouldn't allow me to walk away."

  "Well, thank you again." Bentley smiled thinly and nodded with his head, almost bowing to the teenager.

  "And again....that's okay."

  "Why didn't you come and see me afterwards?" Bentley had to ask. "Or even approach the cabin after to tell me that it was safe to come out?"

  "I was going to...in the morning, but you came out on your own accord, eventually. I didn't think you'd need my help after that, but obviously I was wrong."

  Something else was bothering Bentley and had to ask while scratching at his dark hair, "Why invite me for dinner? I'm a grown man and you're a young girl. There's a lot of bad people out there, even more so now this disaster has taken place."

  "I'm a good judge of character." The girl gave him a sweet smile and added, "Besides, I've saved your life three times now. It would take a man with a heart of stone to attack me after that."

  "Three times?" Bentley looked confused.

  "I removed those things from outside the cabin. I shot that beast when you were drinking from the stream, and I'm guessing you were probably another day away from dying of dehydration."

  "Fuck, you're right." Bentley quickly placed his hand over his mouth. "Sorry about the language."

  "Don't worry about it."

  "So what's your story? How did you end up with a bow, and being pretty damn good at using it too? And where're your parents?"

  "You ask a lot of questions. I'd rather not talk about the past."

  "Okay. I'm sorry. Where're you staying?"

  "Everywhere." She gave him a short answer, her face telling him that he was prying too much, and Bentley took the hint.

  Bentley looked at his watch. "We've got five or six hours of daylight left. I hope my friends aren't doing anything stupid, like looking for me."

  The young girl never responded to his rambling and took the rabbit off the spit, ready to carve it up. She uncrossed her legs and stretched them out, now beginning to carve up their feast with a knife she had taken out of her bag.

  Bentley and the young girl tucked into the rabbit and washed it down with tepid water. It wasn't enough to fill the large muscular man, but he was thankful for something. It crossed his mind about asking the girl if he could tag along with her until he was on the road back to the camp, but he refrained from doing so. She seemed the kind of individual that had been out on her own for weeks, and probably preferred it that way. He then wondered how good it would be to have someone like this on the camp. Yes, she was young; but she had survived so far and seemed a tough individual both mentally and physically.

  He watched as the girl finished her meal and licked each finger before wiping her hands on her trousers. She looked like she was still hungry, but never complained.

  She then put the crowbar into the bag, threw it over her shoulder, grabbed her longbow, and stood up.

  "Leaving already?" Bentley looked displeased that his company had decided to leave him alone so soon.

  "I need to find a place to sleep." She pointed at the fire. "Kick some dirt over that before you go."

  "Will do," Bentley mockingly saluted her and added with a more serious tone, "Thanks for everything. And for saving my skin...three times."

  She giggled, "No worries."

  Bentley was surprised that she never asked about him and how he had coped so far. It was bizarre. It was as if she didn't care. Maybe she didn't.

  He stood up and shook her hand. "If you ever head into Rugeley, and come near a barrier at Sandy Lane, ask for me. Hopefully I'll be back by then."

  "Will do." She walked away and gave Bentley a wave before turning back round to face the way she was walking.

  "Hang on!" Bentley called out.

  She turned around and enquired, "What is it?"

  "I don't know your name."

  "I know you don't." She smiled and continued to walk away from Bentley Drummle.

  Chapter Thirty

  For a whole hour Karen had laughed and cried as she sat on her couch, thinking of what her life used to be like back in the old world. She smiled as she remembered how she used to reprimand some of the doctors and consultants for not doing the basics, like washing their hands after and before they had seen to a patient.

  The looks they used to give her were priceless. How dare this grade D Staff Nurse tell us what to do! Deep down they knew she had a point, and whenever she lambasted them for their forgetfulness—or was it arrogance?—for not adhering to the basics of healthcare, some of their faces flushed red, whilst others would storm off, embarrassed and angry.

  Her sadness arrived when she thought about other people in her workplace. It was rare that she did this. Most of her thoughts were usually about her family, Gary especially, and Shaz.

  She was an emotional mess, something that she should be used to by now, and needed to get out...again. She needed to talk to someone.

  She missed Pickle.

  She left the house and decided to go to Rosemary's for a chat. It was late afternoon, so she was sure that her classes with Lisa and Kyle would be finished by now. She knocked on the door and waited for it to be answered.

  She waited for a few more seconds, turned around and greeted a man from the old camp, Geoff, as he walked back. He looked crestfallen. He was still plagued by the deaths of May Worthington and Gina Harrison, who died in a fire when the Snatchers stormed Vince's camp. It was Geoff's gun-blast that hit a canister and caused the fire in the first place.

  She knocked again and this time the bedroom window opened, with Rosemary half-dressed. "What is it? she snapped uncharacteristically. "Sorry, Karen." She apologised immediately and tried to explain, "I'm trying to get a nap."

  "Hurry up!" The voice of a man, that Karen didn't recognise, came from the same room and Rosemary dropped her head. Caught!

  "It's okay." Karen walked away and decided to try Paul Dickson again. "I understand."

  "Karen!" Rosemary called after her.

  "It's alright. I won't say anything to Vince."

  She heard the window slam behind her and once she reached Paul's door, she hesitated. She had seen a lot of him in the last couple of days, and she didn't want to be a pest. Before she had chance to knock on the door, she heard a voice behind her.

  "They're out." It was Kirk Sheen. Kirk was a guy who used stay in Vince's camp, but Karen hardly knew him. "They should be back soon, because Paul is due at the barrier near the Globe Island."

  "Okay." She smiled. "And how are you?"

  He never answered and walked away, which Karen thought was bizarre, as well as rude, behaviour.

  She tried to shrug it off and left Paul Dickson's front garden, went out of the gate and cut through Hill Street. She could hear a male voice, follow
ed by the giggling from children. She turned a corner and could see Paul Dickson standing in the middle of a cul-de-sac street, playing Piggy in the Middle with Lisa and Kyle with a tennis ball. Paul was in the middle, pretending that he couldn't catch the ball whenever Kyle or Lisa threw it, and his comical playing about was forcing the kids into hysterics.

  It was the first time she had heard the laughter of children in weeks and it brought a lump to her throat. Paul seemed like a good man, a good father, and was probably a good husband. He didn't deserve the heartache he had to endure, but neither did most people. Karen didn't want to interrupt their fun so she turned and walked away before she was spotted, heading back to the house that was given to her and Pickle.

  As soon as she got inside, she kicked off her trainers and trudged upstairs with tired legs. She went into the bedroom and groaned as she collapsed on the bed. She felt a little tired, but she was bored and lonely more than anything. She knew that if she fell asleep now she'd be awake by the early hours of the morning. She grew concerned for her friend, Pickle. There was still plenty of hours of daylight left, but waiting for his return was dragging.

  She lay on her side and curled herself up, now closing her eyes.

  Maybe if she slept for a few hours, he'd be there when she woke up.

  She laughed to herself. When he was here he was stifling and occasionally got on her nerves, but now he was away she missed him terribly. She couldn't win.

  She curled up even tighter and wrapped her arms around herself as some kind of comfort. She then stretched out the soles of her feet and moaned because they were sore, and a little cramp was beginning to kick in on the left foot.

  Her feet felt the same way when she used to come off the nightshift from the hospital. She could have murdered a foot-rub. She had asked Pickle to give her one once, back at Vince's camp, but he was hopeless, too rough. She joked that it was like getting a massage from a bear. He called her an ungrateful tart and vowed never to give her another one.

  Paul Dickson would be good with his hands, she thought. Maybe even Daniel Badcock.

  She sighed and said, "Oh Pickle. I hope you're okay." She then smiled. "And you...Vince."

  Twenty minutes later, she had fallen asleep.

  Chapter Thirty One

  The task of trying to find Bentley had been unsuccessful, but thankfully it had been a non-dangerous trip so far. Lee James and Sheryl Smith had timed that they had been out for two hours, and were now on their way back to the bridge to meet back up with Vince Kindl and Harry Branston.

  The pair of them had eaten a few biscuits, washed down with some water, and were now ready to go back to the camp and get something more substantial to eat. The last half an hour of walking had been completed in silence, and now they were heading back to the bridge. Lee didn't want the silence to continue for another two hours.

  The journey was going to feel long as it was.

  Lee tried to start the ball rolling. "So what do you miss the most about the old world?"

  Sheryl shrugged and shook her head. She was either unsure how to answer the question, or she didn't want to.

  "Well?" Lee was waiting for an answer, impatiently.

  "You know," Sheryl began, "we walked two hours and never came across one single Waster."

  "Cannock Chase is a big area." Lee glared at Sheryl, knowing that she was avoiding the question, and tried again. "You never answered my question."

  "Question?"

  "What do you miss about the old world?"

  "Too many to choose." Sheryl scratched at her black hair. It was itchy and it was needing a wash.

  "Name a few. We have two hours to kill."

  "Shit." Sheryl blew out her lips and began, "I don't know." She scanned around and could see that the open part of the woods posed no threat. The trees were so spaced apart that a Waster could be seen from hundreds of yards away. Both Lee and Sheryl were relaxed.

  Sheryl added, "I suppose I miss a lot of things. My phone."

  "Obviously," Lee chipped in.

  "Books. I miss reading good books."

  "Rugeley has a library in the town centre," said Lee.

  "So?"

  "We could get some, if you want."

  "And you'd be willing to go on a short run for a load of classic books?"

  "Probably not." Lee laughed. "One day, maybe. When things have cleared up a bit."

  "I also miss my car." Sheryl produced a faint smile. "I also miss sex, fucking."

  Lee was taken aback by her last comment, and said with a squeak in his voice, "It's only been five...six weeks or so since it kicked off."

  "That's long enough. And besides, it's been nearly two months since I've had a shag."

  "Did you have someone long-term?"

  "Nah. I just used to meet men off the internet and meet up every weekend. I was doing that for the last six months or so."

  Lee was surprised by Sheryl's blunt talk, and thought to himself that this was the most he had got out of her, as far as getting to know about her life was concerned. She had always kept her cards close to her chest. He still didn't know much about her, but he now knew that she used to have a car and liked casual sex, which was more about Sheryl that he knew a day ago.

  Lee began to tease, "Does nobody on the camp take your fancy?"

  "Fuck, no," Sheryl scoffed. "The men are either too old or too...widowed."

  Lee was aware that Sheryl was a straight talker, and wasn't offended by her comment. She knew about Denise, but it never stopped her from making her statement. Nobody seemed to ask Lee about his family, with the exception of his old friend, Vince. They all thought he had coped remarkably for a man that had lost his partner and his kids, but in truth he cried before he went to sleep every night.

  But the pain was getting easier. It was going to be a long and slow process.

  "So not one guy takes your fancy?" Lee continued to persist.

  Sheryl shook her head. "Nobody could replace..." She paused and cleared her throat, angry that her defences had dropped for a few seconds.

  "Replace? Did you have someone special?" Lee was becoming annoying with his intrusive questions.

  "Why are you so interested? Do you want me?" Sheryl flashed him a dirty look. "Is that what this is all about?"

  "What? My family perished only weeks ago, and—"

  "Weeks ago," she pointed at his crutch, "but I bet that still works. I'm up for it, if you are."

  Lee stopped walking and glared at Sheryl, wild thoughts now beginning to escape. "That's an insane thing to say. Only yesterday you were nearly raped by those two men."

  "Nearly, but I wasn't." She nodded. "And five days ago, when we were out on a run in Lichfield, I was nearly bit by a Waster. And the week before that I was nearly hit by that car when that lunatic tried to run me down when we were on that run in Alrewas."

  "So what's your point?"

  "My point is..." Sheryl walked over to Lee and grabbed his crutch and began rubbing him. There seemed to be movement. "Life is short, even more so now, and we could all be dead tomorrow."

  She took off her bag, unzipped him and took out his penis and began stroking it. Lee dropped his bag, threw his head back and began moaning as she tugged away. She ushered him to sit on the floor and he did, with his back now against a tree.

  She pulled his trousers down to his knees and took her own off. She was wearing no underwear and sat on top of him, forcing Lee to groan even louder. She gyrated while he was inside of her and speeded up her rhythm. Neither one of them exchanged kisses.

  Lee's moaning was becoming too loud for Sheryl's liking, so she put her hand over his mouth while she continued to move her hips, putting Lee under her spell. Lee's eyes were still closed and he grabbed on her shirt, giving her the impression that he was getting close.

  "I'm nearly there," he gasped.

  "Fuck. Already? How long?"

  "Seconds."

  Sheryl quickly got off of him and began to put her trousers up.

 
; Lee was wide-eyed with surprise and look baffled. "Wh-what are you doing?"

  "I was just getting warmed up and you were about to explode inside of me."

  "And?"

  Sheryl shook her head as if Lee had just asked a stupid question. "And, I'm not walking the rest of the way all soaked and sticky."

  "I'm sorry. It's been a while."

  "Let's just move." Sheryl threw her bag over her shoulder, clearly disappointed.

  Lee looked at his erect penis. "At least finish me off."

  "Finish yourself off," Sheryl laughed. "Fucking men. Useless cunts, the lot of you."

  *

  Vince began, "I went to see a faith healer a few years back at the Irish Centre in Digbeth. There must have been an audience of about two thousand there."

  "Really?" Pickle wasn't sure if this was one of Vince's silly tales.

  "I swear, Pickle, he was that bad a woman in a wheelchair got up and walked out."

  "Seriously, Vince." Pickle was getting tired, and was in no mood for Vince's lame jokes. "I really do wish yer would shut up."

  "Just passing the time." Vince began humming a Led Zeppelin tune and suddenly stopped once he noticed Pickle's evil glare.

  "Yer allowed to walk in silence, Vince. It is allowed."

  "I'm just bored." Vince added, "I wonder how Sheryl and Lee are getting on?"

  "Probably better than us, the rate yer walking."

  "I wonder if he's..." Vince raised his eyebrows at Pickle.

  "You've got a mind like a sewer, Kindl."

  "She's probably noshing him off right now."

  Vince's ears twitched. He stopped walking and scanned around the wooded area. It was more condensed and claustrophobic on this path, but they could still see a fair distance away through the gaps of the trunks.

  Pickle finally stopped and turned to face his friend. "What're yer stoppin' for?"

  "I thought I heard something." He pointed over. "Over there."

  Both men gazed into the woodland. Not a sign of life could be seen.

  "Maybe it was a deer or something." Pickle stroked his chin.