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

by Shaun Whittington

  "So what's your story?" Paul asked Kerry and Pickle.

  Pickle smiled. "Like yours; it's too long to tell. We could be here all night."

  "At least we're alive, though."

  "For now," Pickle responded, his tone drenched in negativity.

  Paul asked, "Do you have family?"

  Pickle sighed and glared at Paul. "Look 'ere, ma friend, don't take this personally—"

  "I get it," Paul interjected. "You don't want to get to know someone in case they get killed, right?"

  "We've lost some people in the last week."

  "Haven't we all?" Paul exclaimed.

  Pickle grinned at Parker, and was pleased that amongst the group, there was another man who had balls. He wasn't entirely sure about the man they called, Jack Slade, and Lee Hayward looked like he was ready to have a heart attack. In some ways, Hayward reminded Pickle of Laz.

  Karen watched in silence, as Jack walked out of the kitchen and headed upstairs to see his son.

  *

  There was a gentle knock on the door of the smallest bedroom in the house. Without waiting for an instruction, Jack slowly opened the door and went in to see his son and Kerry sitting on the bed. His son was drawing a picture on a scrap of paper with a dark green crayon that he had found on a dressing table. The table looked like it belonged to a girl.

  Jack sat next to Kerry on the bed, and was staring at Thomas in a state of self-hypnosis. Jack silently sat up and placed his hand comfortingly on Kerry's left thigh. She never responded and continued to glare. Jack could see her eyes were glassy and water from her eyes was ready to fall onto her lap. He didn't feel it was necessary to speak to Kerry, so he remained quiet. He knew what she was thinking and what kind of questions were probably swirling in her mind, like brown, fallen leaves on a windy October day: What's going to happen to us? To Thomas? When will this madness end? Will it ever end? Will we get through it?

  Jack looked around, what appeared to be, a girl's bedroom, and looked over Kerry's shoulder to assess his son's artwork. Thomas then sat up straight and wordlessly handed the scrap of paper to his mum. Before looking at the picture, she smiled at her son and kissed his head. He felt clammy. God, I hope he's not coming down with a fever. Our diets have hardly been tiptop since the outbreak.

  Kerry thought about her own diet. It had recently consisted of no fruit, mainly bread, and hardly any water, which was probably one of the reasons why she was getting pounding headaches. She was used to exercise and consuming two litres of water per day, but she was lucky if she had had two litres in the last seven days. Briefly, Kerry thought about the rest of the group from the village hall. She knew some were dead, but she hoped the remaining ones were okay. Then she thought of her mother. She was convinced that the stress of the outbreak had killed her, and was kind of glad that she wasn't around anymore to be going through what they were going through now.

  She then gaped at the picture at what her son had drawn. It took a while for Kerry to work out what the picture was, although Jack had actually worked it out before her. But when she did, it made her heart fill full of sadness. It was a picture of four people in the sky, and underneath them Thomas had drawn six figures with stretched-out arms.

  Kerry assumed that the six people were the ghouls that were plaguing them, and the four people in the sky was herself, her mum, Jack and Thomas, in heaven. She passed the picture to Jack.

  Although the young boy had witnessed someone being killed in his street when the outbreak was in its infancy, since then, he had been shielded from it by his mother, but no matter how much she tried to hide the horror from Thomas, it seemed frivolous, as the boy wasn't stupid. He knew what was going on. He might not have known how it had happened and the amount of people that had been slaughtered, but he knew the world, as he knew it, had changed for the worse.

  At last, Thomas spoke. "I miss grandma."

  "So do I," his mum spoke softly, while the tears rained down.

  "I'm tired."

  Kerry stroked his hair lovingly and asked, "Do you want a lie down?"

  Thomas nodded, and nervously looked up at his mum. "Can I be on my own?"

  "Sure you can," Jack said, before Kerry had time to protest. He knew what she was like. She would insist on sleeping next to him, but if Thomas wanted to be alone—despite only being six—then his mother should adhere to his wish.

  It was a strange request from a little boy who had been introduced to such a nightmarish new world, but both parents reluctantly agreed to leave him.

  "Come on," Jack said to Kerry, before she attempted to change her son's mind. "Let's go downstairs and get a drink of water."

  Chapter Forty One

  His breathing was similar to that of an old asthmatic man who had suddenly woken up in a bed of feathers. His heart felt that it was ready to burst, as it had been years since his body had been put under so much pressure as far as an aerobic workout was concerned. His head throbbed and pounded viciously, and the feeling in his injured leg had gone, but he continued to drag the heavy thigh that was slowing him down.

  His shirt was soaked with perspiration; his adrenaline was beginning to wane despite his fear being ever-present. Was his body giving up? Come on. Another hundred yards and I'm there. Surely someone will let me in.

  Bonser could now see some of the roofs of the houses in the main street of Heath Hayes. He was getting nearer. He originally adhered to Pickle's threat, but the situation was different now. If only Pickle hadn't have shot him, he would have had a fighting chance and wouldn't have come back to the village. But Bonser had returned, and he had about a hundred admirers following him, the closest being only twenty yards away.

  Jason was certain he was finished, and half-laughed at the scene that was unfolding. It was like a scene from Rocky, where Sylvester Stallone was running through the streets to be chased by hundreds of kids, only this was a slowed-down, horror version.

  He wondered if this was his punishment for being such a bastard in life. If it was, he was in for a painful demise. He never saw himself as a God-believing individual, and even if he suddenly had an apparition of Jesus Christ himself, he knew that even the Son of God couldn't forgive such a man who had not only behaved terribly before and during his incarceration, but had behaved badly as the new world began to unfold.

  He had felt nothing for the woman he raped and strangled when he turned up at Milford after his escape; and although he had twangs of guilt for leaving her baby to starve to death, he still did it.

  He also thought briefly about Pickle and Karen.

  In hindsight, he should have taken care of the two as soon as he arrived, but removing Karen and Pickle was never his original intention. He liked Karen as a person and was grateful for the lift. He thought that the temporary stay in the house would be good for him, but as soon as she reprimanded him for shooting one of the creatures, he was enraged and knew he had already broken her trust. He was certain that she was close to asking him to leave, but the house and the van would have been perfect to enhance his survival. That was when he decided to act. He had planned to rape Karen and kill her after he had taken care of Pickle, but he had underestimated the bed-ridden individual in the bedroom.

  He now came to one of the first houses of the main street to the right of the road, and could see two ghouls that were already there, but they were unaware of his presence and had their backs to him, moving away from the street. The house appeared to have a car on the drive and he pounded the doors to be let in, convinced there was someone in there, hiding. He knew that most residents had fled the area; it could be seen from the lack of vehicles in the street.

  After more seconds of pounding, he crossed the road towards another house where there sat a blue Sedan. The house was opposite where Pickle and Karen were staying; at this stage now, he would have quite gladly have taken a bullet off the ex-inmate.

  He could see them in their dozens, spilling onto the main road and knew this house was his last chance. He frantically ham
mered the door and screamed for him to be allowed in. He then tried to run at the door to break in, but the pain in his leg had highlighted that Jason Bonser's running days were over.

  He dragged himself into the middle of the street, desperately trying to get back to the house where he had stayed the night, hoping for a reprieve. Even, if by some miracle, he was given a reprieve, it was too late anyway. They encircled the panicky Jason Bonser, including the two that were initially walking away, and he sighed in defeat. Whatever happened to Kyle Horan back at the prison, he was about to endure the very same fate, the same horror, and the same pain.

  An exhausted Jason Bonser stopped to catch his breath and looked up to the house that gave him shelter for the night. He could see in the front bedroom window, a small boy who glared at him with wide, frightened eyes. The boy waved at Jason, who turned around to see the street infested with the things. It wasn't his fault. He had nowhere else to go. He was like an evil pied piper, who had brought the vermin back with him.

  Bonser turned and stared at the house and yelled at no one in particular, "This is your fault! What was I supposed to do? Just lie down and die? You should have killed me when you had the chance!"

  He held out his arms, exhausted, waiting for the first bite. He was pulled to the ground by the crowd of the contaminated. The pain was indescribable as he could feel parts of his body coming away from him, but he refused to scream, even when their rotting fingers went into his eyes.

  He remained silent and bit his bottom lip so hard with the pain, his top teeth had taken it off before they slowly pulled his head away from his neck.

  Chapter Forty Two

  Thomas Slade's mouth was so dry, it felt like his tongue had shrivelled to a third of its size, and once his sappy eyes slowly prised themselves open, he began to frantically lick his lips. His confusing eyes scanned round the small bedroom, and took him a matter of seconds to realise that he was in a stranger's house and that his young life had changed for the worse.

  How long had he been sleeping? He didn't have the answer to that particular question, but welcomed being in the room and being in a safe house where his parents were, as well as numerous others. This had been the safest he had felt in over a week. His mother tried her best to shield him from the reality that was unfolding, but he knew that something wasn't quite right. His mother constantly broke down in tears; he wasn't at school, and hadn't seen his friends in ages. Every time he asked after his friends, his mum would change the subject and cry once again. He was certain that something had happened to them. But what?

  It had only been days ago since his grandma had 'fallen asleep' and had to be buried in the woods. His mummy said she was in heaven, and although he missed her, he was pleased that she was now with God.

  Young Thomas Slade sat upright and swung his legs to his left, to prepare himself to get on his feet. He stood and stretched his body, bending his spine in the shape of a banana, and was unmoved that he had woken up to find his mother not by his side. The room was dark, and Thomas stood on a side-table and carefully pulled the red curtains back to allow the daylight to spill in and to reveal that the main street of Heath Hayes had a couple of Lurkers—as Paul Parker would call them, when they were back at Longdon Village Hall.

  Thomas felt unmoved by their presence, as they clumsily shambled around the street doing no harm to anyone but themselves. It appeared that they were moving away from the house. He giggled slightly as one stumbled and smacked its head off a streetlight. He knew the story would be different if he was out in the street himself, and was aware that these things would get a sudden burst of energy—like most predators—whenever they saw food, as he had now seen it for himself. The first time was when a neighbour was attacked when they were staying at their own house on Crabtree Road; the other time was when they ran from them in the woods only a few hours ago.

  His eyes became bored of the free slapstick entertainment that was being provided by the dead beings, and he stared across the road and saw in a bedroom window, from the house opposite, a young girl. She was no older than seven years old and Thomas smiled that—apart from Yoler—he had seen someone else of similar age for the first time in over a week. He slowly raised his hand in a kind gesture to say hello. Although she was a fair distance, Thomas could see fright on the girl's face, and was pleased to see that she returned the gesture by raising her own hand.

  The little man didn't know what to come up with next, so he pointed at the girl and then gave her the thumbs up. He wanted it to be interpreted as: "Are you okay?" The young girl had interpreted his hand gesture correctly, but gave him an answer that made him unhappy. She shook her head and pointed behind her. Thomas guessed that she was pointing at her bedroom door. Was someone trying to get in? Her own parents, perhaps?

  Thomas was told not to make a noise while in the house, but he was toying with the idea whether to open the window and bellow to the young girl about what he wanted to say next. What were his parents going to do to him if he did this? Ground him? He decided from a safety point of view that this action wouldn't benefit anyone that dwelled in the house, and decided not to take his idea any further.

  His eyes were distracted back to the street, and saw the two Lurkers moving away from view down the road, as if they were bored with the lack of activity. As his eyes glared at the figures that were moving away from the area, his eyes almost magnetically looked to the right, and saw a bloodied figure limping his way down the road. He looked human.

  Twenty yards behind him was a small crowd of the creatures entering the main road, following him.

  Thomas' heart increased its pump, and his shocked eyes widened as he looked on helplessly to see the man pounding the door of the house that was opposite him, the same house where the girl was. Thomas looked up at the girl and saw that she had disappeared, and wondered what had happened to her. He looked at the man once again, who was now standing in the middle of the road and was shouting something he couldn't really work out.

  Thomas could then hear the gallop of feet up the stairs, heading towards the bedroom. The door swung open, and his mother stood and commanded, "We're going." Thomas waved at the man who was being surrounded by the ghoulish creatures, and was grabbed by his mother as the man from outside had ceased his shouting.

  Chapter Forty Three

  "We're gonna have to leave," Pickle announced to the group.

  Pickle remained glaring out the front window, peering from the crack of the curtains. He saw the bloody leftovers of Jason Bonser, and there wasn't much left, apart from blood and entrails. In hindsight, he wished he had now killed him, but at the same time, he was a little angry with Karen and wondered how far she had actually driven him out.

  As if she could read his mind, Karen walked behind Pickle and placed her hand on his shoulder, and said, "I'm sorry. I thought two miles for an injured man was far enough. I thought the threat of us shooting him, if he returned, would have kept him away. He must have had literally nowhere to go. Meaning—"

  "Meaning, there could be fuckin' hundreds o' the things, everywhere!" Pickle interrupted with disdain. "And this place was the only place he could go. Load and grab what little ammo we have left, I think we're gonna need it."

  "Pickle? What's happening?" Lee Hayward was the first of the new group to speak, as the rest stayed a few yards away, standing in a daze. Was this nightmare ever going to end?

  "Why don't we just stay in here, it's safer, isn't it?" Paul Parker's question forced Pickle's audience to glare at the man in charge for an answer.

  "No, it's not safe," Pickle snapped. "If we take a gamble and hide, and they all walk by the house into another village, then great. But if it backfires and they surround the house, we're fucked. I'm not taking the chance." Pickle pointed out the window and showed Parker that some were already approaching some houses on the opposite side of the road, trying to get in. "Sooner or later, these things will get in. I'm assuming there'll be hundreds more. Once they charge the house, we'll be trapp
ed. There are a few out there now as it is. If we leave it too late, we won't be able to get to the vans' doors."

  "So what do you suggest?" Jack asked the question, while Kerry and Thomas gripped onto his sleeve.

  Pickle looked out of the window and said, "At the moment, it's clear enough for us to run out to the front door and get into the van. If we wait any longer we'll be screwed." He looked down on the floor, and remembered the time he, KP, Janine and Jamie parked up at Little Haywood to get the guns, before stopping off at the Wolseley Arms pub for the night.

  Pickle looked through the front window again, and could see dozens appearing at the top of the street, about fifty yards away. He knew they were wasting time with their hesitation, so he took the leadership role straight away. He turned to the group and yelled, "Let's go."

  They all hesitantly piled out of the front door; Pickle threw Jack the keys and told him to take Kerry and Thomas into the front of the van. They did just that and then Pickle took another gander and saw the things speeding up; they were getting nearer. "Right, the rest in the back. Quickly!"

  Pickle tried the door that led to the back of the van and the small cells, but the door wouldn't budge.

  Karen slapped her forehead. "Shit! I locked it."

  Knowing that Jack, who was now in the driver's seat, had the keys to the van and the fact that the things were yards away from the group, Pickle cried, "Right! Back in the house. We'll never make it in on time."

  They rushed back in and Pickle ushered everybody else to the bottom of the stairs and told them to make their way to the top of the landing. He then tried to shut the front door but dozens of rotting fingers of the dead grasped the door, preventing it from shutting properly. Pickle kept his body weight against it and knew that he couldn't hold it forever.