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

by Shaun Whittington

  Flabbergasted at his ungrateful question, Karen pulled out her pistol from the front of her jeans, held it in the air with her right hand and waved it. "Because I've got this, so do as you're told. There's no room in the front for all of you anyway. And besides, I don't even know who the fuck you are. The last man I picked up nearly killed me and my friend."

  Paul Parker's face was reminiscent of a schoolchild that had just been reprimanded by the head teacher in front of the whole assembly hall. He gulped. "Sorry. It looks a bit scary being in the back of that, with those things out there." He sighed, "The back it is then." His face was apologetic and Karen immediately forgave him.

  She put the pistol back into her jeans and opened the back doors. "Try and ignore the blood on the floor," she spoke.

  "Isn't this a prison van?" Jack queried.

  "Don't even ask," Karen said, as she wasn't in the mood and didn't have the time to go into detail why she was driving around in a prison van. "Let's go." She then shook her head. "Pickle's gonna kill me. I drop one off, and then pick up another five."

  Jack scrunched his face. A prison van? Pickle? "Were you the group at Stile Cop the other week?"

  "Yeah." Karen wondered how he knew and went on the defensive; her eyes shrank and she took a threatening step closer to Jack. "How d'ya know about that?"

  "My friend, Gary..." Jack felt his throat getting hard with emotion, briefly he had forgot about Gary and his violent demise. He started his sentence again. "Gary spoke to some guy called Pickle briefly when we stopped at Stile Cop Road. Is that where you're taking us?"

  "No. Stile Cop is a no-go area now."

  "What happened?"

  Karen lowered her head, and a five second film of the Stile Cop scene had played in her head. She could see Jamie and Janine being devoured, Pickle and KP running along the side of the hill to get to the van, while she stayed put for as long as she could, putting a bullet into the diseased brain of whomever came closest. She could see herself being grabbed while she tried to get into the van and Pickle unloading a shotgun cartridge at her attacker…and KP being bitten and leaving the van to end his life with dignity rather than turning into one of them.

  Karen finally answered Jack. "Some of our friends got attacked, and we fled the place—look, I don't mean to sound rude, but...get the fuck in the van."

  Jack smiled at Karen and went inside. She seemed okay, he thought. She was aggressive, but that was fine. Everyone seemed to be irritable in some way or another. It was perfectly understandable.

  "If you wanna seat, just sit in the cells," she advised the men.

  Paul Parker was the next to go in, Karen looked behind her and saw Kerry lifting Thomas into the front, and before she got in herself, Karen shouted over, "Make sure the kid doesn't touch anything!"

  Kerry responded with a grateful smile. A sweaty Lee Hayward walked by Karen and was about to step into the back of the van without uttering a single word of thanks, but looked at her and gave her a grateful smile.

  Karen grabbed the overweight man by his shoulder and ordered him to stand outside the van, which perplexed him, as well as Jack and Paul who were now in the back.

  Karen popped her head into the back of the van and announced to the two confused men, "I'll be two minutes." She then shut the back doors and locked them in. She then turned to face the fifty-six-year-old confused male.

  "What's going on?" Lee nervously asked with a fake smile that quavered with fear and confusion.

  "Look at my face," Karen ordered, ignoring the protests being made by Paul and Jack from inside the back of the van.

  "What?"

  "Look at my face." she repeated.

  Lee shuddered with apprehension and was almost crying. "I don't understand what you mean." His voice was pleading and almost begging.

  Unsatisfied with his response, Karen pulled out the handgun from the front of her jeans. "Get on your knees," Karen ordered quietly. She looked behind, making sure that Kerry and her son were in the front and out of earshot.

  Lee created a false, wide smile, scrunched his face with confusion, and leaned his head forwards as if he was hard of hearing. "What?" Thinking she was joking, he went to walk past her, but she pushed him back.

  "I said," Karen swung the pistol round and placed the barrel in the middle of Lee's forehead, "get on your fuckin' knees!"

  Ignoring the continuing protests and the slamming of hands coming from inside the van, Karen remained totally focused on the target in front of her.

  "Please." Lee began to lower into a squat, and finally did what he was asked to do, and got onto his knees. "Wh-wh-what's wrong?"

  Karen stood silently; the sight of the pistol was turning Lee into a broken man. An elongated cluster of seconds passed and Karen finally spoke. She asked the question, "Where's the other one?"

  "Other what?" Lee could see she was serious, and the venom in her face suggested that whatever her problem was, it must have been a case of mistaken identity.

  "The younger boy that was with you, where is he?"

  Lee's face was filled with surprise. "My nephew? He was killed. Wait. How...?"

  Karen grabbed Lee hard by the ear; he released a cry of pain. She yanked his head back and stuck the Browning into his mouth. By this time, fifty-six-year-old Lee Hayward had wet himself. Fucking crazy bitch! She's actually going to shoot me!

  She cocked the gun slowly, and her forefinger caressed the trigger, forcing Lee not only to release more fetid urine, but to enlarge his shocked eyes as wide as they could go and send his body into a spasm of panic.

  "Did you enjoy the use of the jeep?" Karen quizzed without her teeth parting.

  Lee waggled his head a little, as her riddles were confusing him.

  Karen sighed; she could see he genuinely didn't know what she was on about, so she decided to enlighten him. "Let me remind you. On that Sunday morning, you and your...nephew, cracked my windscreen at Draycott Park. You then dragged me out of my own vehicle, my Cherokee Jeep, and your...nephew, booted me in the stomach. Then you both left me there to die. Ring any bells now?" She took the gun out of his mouth, allowing him to speak.

  "Oh, Jesus Christ, was that you? I'm sorry. God, I'm so sorry! We were desperate. I thought eventually you'd be—"

  "Shopping? Picking flowers?"

  Lee shook his head, not picking up on Karen's dark sarcasm. "Er...no."

  "Dead?"

  He lowered his head, and bit his bottom lip shamefully.

  "Get up," she ordered. "Lucky for you I'm not on my period. Now get the fuck in, fat boy, before I tear you a new one."

  Lee slowly stood up and Karen opened the door, allowing the broken, and shamefaced middle-aged man inside. He was greeted by Paul and Jack; they asked him what was going on and if he was okay. The questions then angrily turned to Karen.

  "He'll explain," she said. She slammed the doors shut, drowning out their voices.

  Karen climbed back into the front of the van and started the engine. She playfully winked at Thomas, who smiled back, and moved away. She entered Heath Hayes a different way; this time she went by a few smaller streets. She saw one curtain twitch as she drove by and then heard Kerry tearfully say, "Oh, those poor people."

  As Karen drove on, she could see more and more of the creatures lurking about, a lot of them trying to get into one particular house. She was hoping that her own house was going to be okay. If any of those things saw these people running into the front door, it might cause unnecessary attention that her and Pickle didn't want.

  Karen wondered what Kerry was talking about with her those poor people comment and looked in her direction. She saw a woman holding her young daughter in the bedroom window; the mother was frantically waving, then begun banging the window with the palm of her right hand. Karen looked away, and could see Kerry glaring at her.

  Karen said, "Look, my friend ain't gonna be too pleased with me turning up with you lot, never mind any more. What do you want me to do? Put the rest of the village in the
back of the van? There's too many of those things there anyway, and I just don't have the bullets. It ain't gonna happen. I picked you guys up because it was clear. It’s not clear there, and I'm not putting my life on the line for people I don't know. I'm sorry."

  Karen looked at the digital clock in the dashboard, still feeling the cold glare coming from Kerry Evans. It was 11:07am.

  Chapter Thirty Six

  Jocelyn Parker and her daughter, Hannah, had had a late breakfast, and Jocelyn could see her daughter was already in a foul mood, simply because she was bored.

  God, she's started early.

  Jocelyn suggested to her daughter that they should play with the ornaments again, but the child was in no mood and announced that she had a 'stinky' in her nappy. For the last week, Jocelyn had been emptying the nappy into the toilet upstairs, and was wasting valuable water by putting it under the sink to rinse off the excess excreta, but the nappy was so full now that her untrained daughter was going to have to wear nothing, and casually do her business and hopefully her mother could catch her in time.

  Jocelyn washed Hannah's clothes with cold water in the kitchen sink every other day, but she was lucky enough to have clothes for herself in the wardrobe upstairs. The clothes weren't to her liking, but she was in no position to complain.

  "Mummy, I need a drink," Hannah announced. She was dressed in the same yellow T-shirt she had on a week ago, with a picture of an ice-lolly on the front. Jocelyn had put the black leggings on her daughter with no underwear.

  "Just stay there and don't touch anything," the flustered mother commanded.

  She ran upstairs and dumped the nappy in the sink. I'll clean that later.

  She stayed where she was for a second and a sad smile emerged under her nose. She thought about Paul. Where was he? She was only streets away from her own house, so she understood that he couldn't have got far, unless he had got it into his head that for some reason Jocelyn had decided to travel elsewhere. She was sure that Paul would stay around the area and knew that once this was all over, they would find each other again. She smiled at the irony that at this moment in time, they could literally be only streets away from each other, but at the moment, it felt to Jocelyn that they were worlds away.

  She finally left the bathroom and before she had time to gallop back down the stairs, she heard her daughter scream out.

  Oh no! Jesus, I've only been away for five seconds. What has she done now?

  Jocelyn almost twisted her right ankle as she bolted down the stairs quicker than she had gone down any stairs before, and could see her daughter standing next to the front window, in shock. Her fingers had pulled the curtains back and her face was inches away from the pane, but fear wouldn't allow her to move away from the window.

  "Oh, dear Lord. I told you not to go anywhere near the window!" Jocelyn screamed, and she then did the same. The curiosity was strong, and she peered out and saw a few of the things coming onto the front garden and approaching the window, now they knew that there was something inside that could be of use to them.

  She grabbed her hysterical daughter and jogged upstairs; the excessive weight she was carrying was making the task a little harder, but she managed it anyhow. She ran into the main bedroom—the bedroom that looked out onto the street—and shut the bedroom door. Hannah was still hysterical, and although it felt cruel, she shushed her daughter and had her hand over her mouth. After all, her screaming was not helping with this particular situation, and although the windows were shut, Hannah's screaming was still audible enough to be heard. It was almost like setting off a flare for the creatures.

  Then Jocelyn suddenly heard the glass in the front door smashing. They're getting in! Oh, Jesus, they're getting in!

  Jocelyn sat her crying daughter onto the carpet, stood up and grabbed the side-table and dragged the heavy thing with all her strength; she placed it against the bedroom door. She looked round to see if there were any other objects, but apart from the heavy-looking oak cupboard, there didn't appear to be anything else. She walked over to her sniffling little girl, and held her tight. She peered out of the window and could now see a mob of them, lazily slamming their hands against the front door and the living room window. The sounds were causing Hannah to shriek, forcing Jocelyn to put her hand over her daughter's mouth for a second time.

  "It's okay, baby, it's okay." Jocelyn kissed her baby girl on the forehead, as the slamming increased its volume.

  Jocelyn sat in the corner of the room with her knees up, and had Hannah by her side. She looked up to the ceiling all teary eyed, and began to pray. "Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name. Your Kingdom come, your will be done, on earth—" Jocelyn let out a shriek as she heard the living room window downstairs fall through with a heavy and audible crash. "Give us today our daily bread. Forgive us our sins, as we forgive those who sin against us. Lead—" She produced a short scream herself, as she heard the heavy, clumsy footsteps at the bottom of the stairs.

  They're in the house!

  She could hear the deathly sound of groaning from whatever was trying to make its way upstairs, and she covered her daughter's ears. "Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. For the Kingdom, the power and the glory are yours. Now—" The first smack hit the bedroom door, and both girls released terrified sobs. This was the end for Jocelyn and Hannah, she was convinced of it.

  Jesus, I thought they were unable to climb stairs!

  Despite the commotion occurring inside the house and the fact that the windows were closed, Jocelyn could hear the groan of an engine and decided to get to her feet, holding her daughter tightly. This was her and her daughter's last chance. She glared out of the window and saw a large white van that had small square tinted windows at the side. She waved at the van and knowing it was passing, she began slamming her right hand—her left holding her daughter—desperately against the panes of the bedroom window.

  She caught the eye of a woman sitting in the passenger seat, but they weren't stopping. They had no intention of stopping, and who could blame them? It was too dangerous.

  She sat back down with her distressed daughter and they hugged each other tightly, as the pounding of the bedroom door began. It continued, as more of them reached the top of the stairs clumsily, and Jocelyn was sure that it was just a matter of time before her and her daughter were about to experience an unimaginable death.

  Oh, Paul. Where are you?

  Chapter Thirty Seven

  His leg was beginning to throb badly, and the pain intensified as if it had been dipped in sulphuric acid. He dragged his right leg, and did his best to progress to the next town that was at least another mile away. His main fear wasn't just the infected that roamed the areas, it was also the fact that if he didn't get medical help soon, he was certain that he was going to pick up an infection or maybe bleed to death if the bandage didn't hold.

  It was a decent bandage, but he was still bleeding.

  Where was he going to get hospital treatment in this new world? This was when he thought that what Pickle had done to him was exceptionally cruel and vindictive.

  Not only was he now injured, but also there was a bullet in his thigh that would probably remain there for the rest of his days. He was pretty sure that hospitals were now vacant, with the exception of the cities that were quarantined, if that indeed was happening, and if the bullet did get removed, it would have to be a do-it-yourself attempt.

  He winced through every step, and the pain had been present for so long now, he seemed to have accepted it and never complained to himself as he progressed slowly towards the unknown. His mind went back to a few weeks ago, and even though he couldn't believe he was thinking it, he wished he was back in prison.

  He thought about his associate and cellmate, Kyle Horan, and wondered if his demise was as painful as it sounded. He did feel for him, but he was glad it was Kyle and not himself that had been taken down when they jumped the fence.

  He was sure that there was a village further up ahea
d, but felt that he was going the wrong way if he wanted to be safe.

  He didn't really have a choice as far as being dropped was concerned, and wasn't about to risk walking back the other way to get shot. He knew of Pickle, and knew that in the drugs world at least, the man never shied away from violence. And although Jason didn't want to be ripped to shreds by these things, he didn't want a bullet in his head either, so he continued to limp forward, hoping that the next village was like Heath Hayes and not too populated with the ghouls.

  He was concerned about the village he was heading for, as it was near Rugeley. He was hoping that the chances of this village being overrun by these things was low because the place was so small. He wasn't sure, as he didn't know the place as well as his two ex-housemates. He lived in hope that he would bump into another human, so that he could be cared for and looked after, and this time he promised to behave himself.

  Knowing his luck, he thought, he'd end up bumping into the Murphy family. Then he would be fucked.

  He limped for minutes in the sunless sky, and noticed that the light had dimmed due to the sudden grey army of clouds that fused together. He continued to painfully drag his leg along the main road and stopped suddenly; he straightened his aching back and tried to ease his erratic breathing.

  As ten minutes passed, Bonser had finally got to the tiny village of Londgon, a place with just a handful of streets, but it looked like a tiny ghost town. He sighed and rested his backside on the grass just before the village. His throat was dry and he could have murdered a drink of water.

  With his thigh throbbing more than ever, he winced as he dragged himself back to his feet. Bonser limped past the village's 'welcome' sign and hobbled his way along the main road. He had come to his first street. It was a cul-de-sac, and saw two of the things stumbling around as if they were lost. He quickly limped away from them before he could be seen and quickly veered right into the next street, hoping to be taken in eventually by a barricaded resident. He stood still, wide-eyed, and released a gulp and almost sobbed to himself. "Oh, Jesus Christ."