Snatchers: Volume One (The Zombie Apocalypse Series Box Set--Books 1-3)

by Shaun Whittington

  Satisfied that that was the best they could do, Pickle turned to KP and told him to go and get David. It seemed incredibly harsh to bury a man's wife who had only been dead for a matter of minutes, but Pickle didn't have anywhere to preserve the body and didn't want to leave it in the woods for hours for all kinds of creatures to have a nibble at. It was more respectful this way, and David had reluctantly agreed on this.

  Laz's body had been buried near the edge of the beauty spot but David insisted that he wanted her buried where she died and away from his daughter's eyes, which was a little dangerous, considering it was one of those things that emerged from the woods that killed her.

  Once the burial had taken place, the ceremony itself was going to be attended by Pickle and David only, although Pickle tried to persuade David for Isobel to be told and to also attend the ceremony to say goodbye to her mother. His advice fell on deaf ears.

  "I think it's better if yer stay away," Pickle said to KP; his voice was calm and never wanted his friend to be offended by what he had just told him.

  "You think?" KP said with sarcasm. "Considering it was my fault that she got bit, and it was me that put a bullet in her head? You may be correct."

  Pickle never responded to his sarcasm and felt sorry for KP; he was going to wait until the night drew in before he would have a talk with him and give him some kind words of comfort.

  Pickle stuck the handmade crucifix at the beginning of the grave and gave it a twist to ensure it went in further. There was nothing around that could decorate it; there was no rocks, pebbles...nothing. It was as basic as it could get, and he hoped that David understood that despite the basic-looking burial, he had put a lot more effort into this than he did with Laz's burial.

  Laz didn't even have a service; it was more like a 'so long buddy' and then he and KP walked away from the grave and that was it finished with.

  David appeared through the trees, his eyes still raw from the emotion that forced his eyes to leak profusely.

  Pickle asked, "No Isobel with yer?"

  David shook his head, sadly. "She's with the girls. She doesn't know what's going on. She thinks her mummy's hurt and gone to hospital."

  "She thinks? Or is that what yer told her?"

  David ignored Pickle's question, and felt that considering it was one of his men that was responsible for his wife's death, he had no say in what he told his daughter.

  David needed to protect Isobel as much as he could, and if that meant lying to her about her mother's death, then so be it. She was distraught enough as it was, and she screamed for her daddy when he walked away from her, leaving Janine to comfort her. Janine had to hold the little girl back when David walked away into the woods to meet Pickle for the private burial.

  David could only imagine how much more trauma and confusion it would cause if he sat his daughter down and told her that she would never see her mummy again. So he opted not to tell her the truth for now.

  Pickle whispered, "Sorry, it had to be done so quickly."

  David nodded and accepted Pickle's apology.

  "If any animals from the woods comes near and they…eat…her…oh fuck."

  "It's okay." David placed his hands on Pickle's shoulder. "I know what you mean. She needs to be rid of as soon as possible."

  "Well, I wouldn't put it quite like that." Pickle was astonished at David's comment, but was certain it was just the shock talking.

  "It's okay, let's get this over with."

  Pickle's chest caved inwards and he pushed out a sigh. "I spent years reading the Bible in the prison, so I can say a few words if yer want me to."

  David confessed tearfully, "Davina and I never believed in that kinda stuff...but that would be good."

  Pickle cleared his throat and paused for a second, he didn't know where to start. For a moment he nearly blurted out the words, Dearly beloved, which would have been totally inconsiderate, although there was a miniscule chance it could have lightened the mood.

  Pickle bowed his head in an attempt to start again and then raised his head and began to speak. "Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God."

  Pickle paused and looked at the distraught David, his heart went out to him, and instead of getting stronger, Pickle was feeling that this new world was weakening him. For Christ's sake, I used to torture people for fun, and now my heart is breaking for a man I hardly know.

  He thought of a short poem he had written for his father's funeral and incorporated it into the private service he was presenting.

  "God took you in his loving arms. He saw you needed rest. His garden must be beautiful. For he only takes the best."

  Pickle's eyes watched the broken man as the tears ran off his face like a dripping tap, and remembered a passage from his prison days.

  He continued, "There is but one freedom, to put oneself right with death. After that, everything is possible. I cannot force you to believe in God. Believing in God amounts to coming to terms with death. When you have accepted death; the problem of God will be solved, and not the reverse. God bless you Davina, you don't have to worry, as your daughter will be in safe hands. David will look after her, we will look after her."

  "We're not staying here," David pointed out.

  Not wanting to create animosity between the pair of them, Pickle chose to ignore David's confession for fear of creating an argument at the burial of his wife. He tried desperately hard to think of other passages that he thought would be fitting for the situation they were in, but David's comment had threw Pickle, and now he couldn't think straight.

  "I don't know what else to say," Pickle commented, and shrugged his shoulders in defeat.

  David admitted, "I still remember the Lord's Prayer from school."

  Pickle nodded. "Then we'll finish off with that." He cleared his throat. "Our Father..."

  Chapter Fifty

  An hour had passed, and the car of the Clio's engine was switched on, which alerted everyone's attention. The vehicle began to slowly move and was adjacent to the prison van that was blocking the entrance. David rolled the window down and Pickle stuck his head in the window and saw a distraught Isobel leaning forward in the back of the car, clutching onto her daddy's sleeve.

  "Where the hell are yer going?" Pickle questioned.

  "We're leaving. It's too dangerous here. I told you I wasn't staying."

  "Yer leaving now? But we have food, we have guns."

  "That's right, you have guns. One of them has killed my wife."

  David realised what he had just said and turned around to see the reaction on his daughter's face that was oblivious about what the conversation was about, and was still unaware that her mum was no longer alive.

  "But she was already bit."

  "And whose fault was that? Who was supposed to be watching out for her?"

  Pickle's face was stony; he released a breath out, and pushed his lips out making a circular motion, like a smoker trying to make smoke rings. "Where yer gonna go?"

  "Anywhere, but here. What happens if a swarm of those things come up during the night? Me and Isobel would be in danger with just this car as protection. You lot have the comfort of sleeping in a secured van."

  Pickle thinned his lips and could understand David's predicament. "I can swap and make room for you two. The farting and the snoring would probably drive yer mad though."

  "Move the van, or I'll roll this thing down the hill instead. Don't think I won't do it!"

  There was a look of defeat etched on Pickle's face and he nodded. "Fine, I'll move it myself."

  Karen and Janine walked over to David as he waited as patiently as he could for Pickle to move the van, which he had just got into. His eagerness was for all to see, as his hand shook as they rested on the steering wheel. If he could release a scream of frustration,
anger and mourning, he would do, but his little girl was with him and he needed to stay calm for her, although deep down he was hurting inside and the pains in his chest occurred every time he took a deep breath in.

  "Are you sure you won't change your mind?" Janine quizzed hopelessly. "At least take some food with you."

  A fuming David never even acknowledged her and continued to stare straight ahead. He wanted to see the back of the camp, and felt they were better off away from these cursed people and away from the exposure of the outdoors.

  "Goodbye, Isobel," Janine said with an emotional flutter in her voice. "I'll see you soon."

  The four-year-old stared at Janine and managed a thin, but brave smile. Neither one of them had the time to get to know one another, but on looks alone, Karen and Janine could see that she was such a sweet thing, and if the opportunity had ever arose, if they ever had brought a daughter into the old world, they would be more than satisfied if she had turned out like little Isobel.

  "Don't worry about us," David added with gritted teeth. "At least we'll be safe where we're going."

  The prison van began to reverse back and David turned to his daughter and asked her to sit back into her seat, as it would be safer for her.

  She agreed without a fight, and he got out of the family car quickly, strapped her in and kissed her on the forehead for being a good girl and for doing what she was told.

  He wasted no time in driving through the only way in and out, and left the Stile Cop beauty spot quickly. He checked his rear-view mirror and saw Janine and Karen waving sadly behind them. Isobel was looking out behind her, waving back, confused about what was going on and where she was going.

  "Where's Mummy? Where are we going, daddy?" she sobbed.

  "Somewhere safe, Babs," he replied with a frog in his throat, and put his window back up. "Somewhere where nobody can hurt us. Mummy's meeting us there."

  As he left the area, he saw a fire in the rear-view mirror, it was so far away he couldn't make out what it was, but it wasn't of any concern of his and decided to hit the accelerator.

  The drive continued through the country roads through Upper Longdon and they entered the main road that led to the town of Lichfield. David had no clue where to go, and the last thing his daughter needed was to see more of those things that would no doubt be in the heavily populated town of Lichfield.

  He veered left down a country road he had never been to before; he didn't even know the name of the place, but it looked like one of those places that probably had a population of about a couple of hundred, had one pub and one shop. It was farmland, and the two main farms had a 'trespassers will be shot' sign on the front gate, which reminded him of the episode in Colton.

  Fearing his determination to find a safe bed for the night would indeed get him shot and leave his daughter an orphan, he continued down the bendy roads, and he could see that the weather was now beginning to turn for the worse. The heavens began to open and he put the wipers on to medium speed to ensure his view wasn't restricted and that he wasn't distracted as well.

  He was leaving, what looked like, the last house of the small village and saw five of the creatures stumbling around the road.

  "Don't look, Babs," he ordered.

  He turned around and saw that his instruction was fruitless, as she had slipped away into unconsciousness. Probably the stress of witnessing the execution, as well as the bumpy car ride had made her fall asleep. David was thankful, and floored the gas pedal, hitting two of the things, one going under the car.

  David prayed that the car wasn't too damaged, especially as far as the electrics were concerned. He continued through the country road and took a gander to the right where something caught his eye. At least nine of them were in a crowd, on their knees, in a field feasting on, what looked like, a cow. He shook his head, still unable to come to terms what had been happening over the last few days.

  The car left the area and went round a sharp bend, which revealed a long road. He stopped the car suddenly, and gulped hard. There was dozens of them walking in the same direction, towards the village, towards the car. He saw that the nearest being was at least three hundred yards away, but nevertheless, it was an awesome and frightening sight to see, as the small army of the creatures lumbered towards his direction. His body was overwhelmed with so much apprehension that he had temporarily forgot how to put the car into reverse. He crunched the gears on a couple of occasions before finally getting the gear he wanted, and went back the way he had come from.

  He had no idea what to do. Back to Stile Cop? Back to Rugeley?

  It was only a few days into this pandemic, and he was already sick of running.

  The Renault Clio passed two more isolated houses; both had garages that were wide open, as if the owners had got into their cars and fled the place in a rush. David decided to stop. He took one look back at his daughter and stepped out into the pouring rain.

  He ran over to the main window of the two houses but there was nothing inside. He banged on both front doors for a minute, his clothes getting soaked in the process. He decided to give up, realising the situation was hopeless. He ran over to the garages and decided that the first abandoned garage was the one he was going to drive into.

  Again, he slipped the car into reverse, and this time managed to find the gear first time, and slowly reversed into the garage. He got out of the car and shut the garage door, and stuck the light on. He got back into the car, knowing that those things were probably five minutes or so from entering the village.

  He looked over his left shoulder to see his baby girl, still dressed in her black leggings and her Barbie T-shirt, her arms wrapped around her body, giving herself comfort, with her usual sleeping face and her ruby lips pouting perfectly.

  She looked angelic, and David broke down. His head fell on the top of the rim of the steering wheel and liquid from almost every orifice fell out from his face, his shoulders shrugged up and down as the crying began to become uncontrollable.

  As his eyes remained closed, he could see Davina as she was when she was in her twenties. Her hair was brown, down to her back and her figure was slightly more slender, unspoilt by childbirth, and it was just how he remembered her during their courting days. Those were the days they would just look at one another and rip each other's clothes off, those were the days he used to sometimes stroke her to sleep and be thankful for such a wonderful woman.

  He loved her that much it scared him. It scared him what he would do if ever she left him for somebody else; it scared him to think that she could be taken away from him, by a road accident or some debilitating disease.

  They used to discuss this subject when they were in bed together, along with other topics, and David had told Davina that selfishly he wanted to be the one to go first, as she was mentally stronger than him as he just wouldn't cope.

  He was right; he wasn't coping now, and she hadn't even been gone for a couple of hours.

  He remained sat in his seat and took another look at his beautiful daughter who was sound asleep.

  With the garage door tightly shut, he put down the windows of the car and placed his head back on the steering wheel and sniffed hard to prevent his runny nose from starting again.

  He hit the gas pedal furiously for a few seconds.

  He apologised to his wife, and thrashed the gas pedal once more.

  He then apologised to Isobel, before stamping on the accelerator another time.

  He finally apologised to God, someone or something he claimed not to believe in, and he once more applied pressure on the gas.

  His head remained sitting on the steering wheel, as the carbon monoxide snaked its way into the car, already beginning to poison their bodies. He coughed gently as the poison danced its way into the airwaves of both father and daughter. He managed to find one last ounce of energy to apply pressure on the pedal for one final time and kept his foot there.

  He did so until he coughed once more; his foot slipped off the gas pedal and he and
his daughter left the new cruel world, peacefully.

  Chapter Fifty One

  Jamie Thomson had spent his guard-time making himself useful. He was carrying a little weight despite his decent size, and knew that this new world of running and lack of food was going to make the thirty-nine-year-old, very fit and very lean.

  Taking advice from Pickle and watching him train when it was his turn to guard, Jamie had performed six sets of pull-ups using the strong branch of the tree that hung above his head, followed by push ups.

  Pickle swore blind to Jamie that it was the pull-ups that gave him his muscular back and informed Jamie that to increase proper size, squats or deadlifts was the answer, but at the moment they would have to make do with what they had. It was the first lot of exercises he had done for years, and knew that his muscles were going to suffer from it in the morning.

  He looked over to the camp where KP was starting another small fire, and Pickle threw a metal tray over it and placed eight potatoes on top. It looked like after the barbecue, the group were beginning to ration the food and make dinnertime more basic. He couldn't grumble, he had had good food the night before despite his minor bowel altercation afterwards, and had a fair amount of alcohol and food before that at the Wolseley Arms pub. It was inevitable the food was going to get more basic; at least they had food.

  The gun that he had was only going to be used in case of an extreme emergency. Even if one of them appeared from out of nowhere, he would rather resort to clubbing its brains in, rather than wasting a single bullet. Pickle had pre-warned them to do their best to refrain from using their guns in case the noise attracted the things from afar; the two gunshots from KP in the woods, from earlier, had seemed to have passed without any kind of danger so far.

  He saw a bored Janine saunter over; her fingers brushed back her now greasy blonde hair. He greeted the twenty-seven-year-old with a warm, welcoming smile.