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

by Shaun Whittington

  Seeing that daylight was forcing its way through, Pickle stopped by a cluster of bushes and suggested, "Let's have a wee rest here, now that we can actually see our faces. I'll keep guard."

  No one argued with him, and all members of the clan sat on the floor and tried to sleep. Karen placed her hand in the bag she was carrying. It was nearly empty. She pulled out a protein drink and took it down in one.

  Karen then looked at Pickle. "Just have an hour on watch. I'll do an hour after you. Then we need to try and find a way out of here."

  Pickle nodded in agreement and looked around the woods. "Yep, it was good for a while, but we need to stock up on some food and get some kind o' liquid inside our dry bodies." He then shook his head and rubbed his stubbly chin.

  Karen looked to the side of her and asked, "What is it?"

  "I don't know how long I can keep this up. I'm fucked. Even if we had plenty o' food and drink, the sleep deprivation's killing me." Pickle stood with his hands on his hips and took a long breath in, puffing out his chest, and released it quickly. "This is our last day in these woods. Agreed?"

  "Agreed." Karen nodded, then looked over to Paul and Jade to see that they had already passed out. Jade and Paul were sat up against the same tree stump, their heads resting against each other.

  Chapter Two

  Johnny Jefferson looked around on the ground floor of the warehouse he had been living in for more than a week, and released a deflated sigh, which was something he had done many times before over the last week or so. He thought back to his Saturday nightshift, back on the 9th June. It seemed like a lifetime ago now.

  Johnny was due to have a few days off, but agreed to do overtime with one more shift so that the car-parts company could get their order out for Monday morning. There was five of them in all, and during the week, with a full house, the company employed over two hundred people doing alternative shifts in the specially-built building.

  During their Saturday overtime, one of the forklift drivers was outside and found a solitary person walking along the industrial estate. This was unusual as their company was based in Fradley, which was four miles from Rugeley, and there was nothing in Fradley apart from a dozen companies and a few residential houses. The person looked drunk and appeared to be staggering a little, which confused the forklift driver even more as there was no nightlife at all in Fradley. So where had he come from?

  The forklift driver was then caught in two minds whether to climb the secured gate, that led to the company's building and car park, to see if the man was injured in any way. It was normally controlled by a security man during the week who would check deliveries, but it was always closed on a weekend as overtime and deliveries were very rare, and the key to the gate was carried by the supervisor in charge whenever there was overtime. The forklift driver called after the lost soul, but there was no response, so he climbed over the gate to see if the loner was okay.

  A few minutes later, Johnny saw the fork-lift driver stumble into the building, claiming he had been bitten on his hand and told him the short story about the man that was alone outside. The man had gone for him, but he managed to push him away and climb back over the gate, despite his injury.

  The injured forklift driver was then taken to the boardroom by the supervisor and fell asleep. An hour or so later, two colleagues told Johnny that they were going to the boardroom to see how he was doing, as it had been a while since they had heard anything.

  Johnny was on a forklift truck when he saw three of his colleagues coming out of the office. Two of them were holding their injured arms, while behind, Ian David, the fork lift driver that had been taken to the boardroom, stumbled behind, but he looked different. He looked awful, drunk...dead!

  The two that were attacked told Johnny that Ian had attacked the supervisor in the boardroom and had fallen down the stairs after them. The dead Ian David continued to pursue the men around the factory floor; there was no letting up, until suddenly the dead Ian David tripped and impaled his head on the corner of a pallet. He had stopped moving and they all came to the correct conclusion that he was dead...again.

  All three were shocked at what they saw, and decided to call the emergency services, but they were constantly engaged. Then the other two colleagues began to feel unwell, and at this point Johnny was getting nervous and also was wondering how the supervisor was keeping. He went up to check on him and saw that he had been bit, had locked himself in, and refused to come out of the boardroom.

  Johnny went back onto the shop floor, turned on the radio near one of the sections, but it was playing music as normal. He had heard over the last few weeks that there had been reports of biting incidents and thought it was a new teenage thing like when 'happy slapping' first came about.

  His colleagues went into the canteen to have a sit down and a drink of water, and Johnny already knew that his two colleagues were beyond help; he wasn't stupid, he had seen the movies before. When he peered into the canteen a few minutes later, he saw that the two men were unconscious. He knew he couldn't leave them in there with the door unlocked. If this was anything like the movie he had seen the other week, these colleagues were done for. It seemed ridiculous, but they both had injured, bitten arms, and he was certain that it was only a matter of time that his colleagues were going to turn.

  He had been watching the news over the last couple of weeks. He had heard about the attack in Newcastle's Biomedical Research Centre, the attack at Birmingham Airport where two baggage handlers were bitten by a rogue being, and a week after, the riots in Mansfield that saw twenty-eight people arrested, where eleven officers were injured with bite wounds and were transported across hospitals all across the north of England. What confused Johnny when he watched the riot, was that it seemed different to any other riot he had seen, and wondered why this hadn't been picked up by the media.

  In normal riots, the crowd would be throwing missiles at the police and running away from the water cannons and tear gas, rather than walking briskly towards the riot team without a care in the world.

  He continued to go to work as normal, but stocked up his house with food and water in case of the unbelievable.

  It had been two weeks since those events had happened, and had spent two weeks of living at his workplace. For now, his plan was to bide his time and allow the country to get itself back on its feet while he hid in the building.

  From the offices, he had peered from the first floor window every now and again and was pleased that there was nothing around. When he first did this, his paranoid head would twist to the right to make sure that the supervisor, that Ian David had attacked those few weeks ago, didn't get through the boardroom window. Since Ian David had bit the supervisor, the supervisor had reanimated in the boardroom, but fortunately the creature never worked out how to unlock the door of the room. It appeared that these things were capable of ripping a man apart, but a simple task like opening a door was beyond them. For Johnny's own piece of mind he also kept the canteen locked.

  What irked Johnny, however, was that the supervisor was the guy that opened the factory, which meant that he had the majority of the keys to the place. The supervisor also was in possession of a set of keys that would have been perfect for Johnny, if only he could drive. The set of keys was for the supervisor's black jeep, and would have come in handy if Johnny could actually use a car, but he couldn't.

  Even if he had the keys in his pocket and needed to escape, he would still be forced to go on foot. Driving cars had never interested him; he had never taken the driving test at all and had never taken a lesson in his life. He thought they were too ridiculously-expensive and relied on lifts to get to work and back, as the bus service in a village like Fradley was pretty dire.

  The boardroom was locked; there was a solitary window, but with a thick pane. Every time Johnny went to the first floor, the former supervisor would get excited and stand near the office window, clawing at it. But Johnny was used to it now. He never flinched anymore. It wasn't June 9th a
nymore; it was June 23rd, and Johnny had become accustomed to living in fear and alone in the factory. What worried him the most was what he was going to do once he ran out of food and water.

  Chapter Three

  Pickle rubbed his hairy chin which annoyed him. He had never had a beard and was always a clean-shaven individual. His grey jogging bottoms and his black T-shirt were days old now, and he wondered when he was going to get himself a new set of clothes. For three nights they had slept in the woods, and they were now on the brink of starvation; their stomachs were empty and now they had to leave the area and venture somewhere where food was available.

  The woods were reasonably quiet, and the original plan was for the group to stay in there for as long as possible. The more days passed, the less chance there would be of those things to deal with, or so they hoped. But the hunger was now drawing them out.

  Karen sat down and the main unpleasant experience of the woods wasn't the fear of the Snatchers, but the fact that they had to do their business with no toilet roll for the last three days; leaves were all they had, and the twenty-three-year-old former nurse was paranoid about picking up infections.

  Karen watched as Paul and Jade were standing ten yards away, giggling to one another as if it was a private joke. The pair of them had become close over the last few days, but it was innocent, especially as far as Paul was concerned as his wife, Jocelyn, and his two-year-old daughter, Hannah, were constantly talked about by the thirty-one-year-old.

  She put her head in her hands and Pickle asked what was wrong. "I'm thirsty," answered Karen.

  "Tell me about it. I haven't drank water since the sports centre, just a coke and a bottle o' vimto."

  "I've been in and out of the woods for the past fortnight. I could murder a cup of tea and a hot shower."

  Pickle laughed, "A cup o' tea would be great. I've even thought about breakin' back into ma old prison."

  "Seriously?"

  Pickle shrugged. "There should be a generator o' some sort to keep the place goin' for a few weeks, but I suppose it'll be overrun with those things now; either that, or some gang have claimed it."

  "Probably," Karen said, then winced with the pain in her head.

  "What is it?"

  Karen looked over to Paul and Jade who were standing ten yards away, and seemed to be involved in their own conversation. Karen put her forefingers to her temples and winced again. "It's nothing. Just a headache." She then cupped her right hand, sharply breathed into it and took a sniff of her cupped hand. "My breath smells like shit."

  Pickle smiled. "Don't worry about it. We all stink."

  For the last three days, the four individuals had been trying to stay low, but the lack of food was beginning to entice them out. The group, after living off rations of crisps and juice, were finally running out of food, and Pickle knew that staying in the woods was not practical unless they came across a stream of pure water and a field of animals. This, of course, was nothing but a pipedream, because for the last three days they had remained in the woods, they had no idea where they were. They never had a plan; they just wanted to stay reasonably safe and away from roads and general population.

  Their thinking had now changed. They needed to be hydrated and have food in their bellies.

  When they left the sports centre, the goal was to somehow find sanctuary, because all Pickle, Karen and Paul had done since the beginning of the outbreak was to run away from those damn things. Even though being in the woodland made them less vulnerable to predators, they were also hidden from any chance of being picked up by a rogue driver or any other kind of help. They didn't know how many miles they had walked over the last three days, but it was becoming clear that the woods were thinning out and appeared to be coming to a halt, which now pleased them.

  Wordlessly, they all stepped out onto the edge of the area onto a country road. They were out in the open and it felt good. Being in the woods was the safest option, but the heat was stifling and it was good to feel the cold wind on their sweat-stained shirts.

  They were all desperate for washes; their mouths were rank with the stench of not brushing for days, and they seemed to itch all over from a concoction of the dirt and the heat. Throughout the nights, they had all slept on the grass with one keeping guard.

  Jade had estimated that she had probably had seven hours sleep over the nights, if she was lucky. Her body was sore; her mouth was as dry as sand paper; her teeth ached from the neglect, and she stunk. She had become used to this as the rest were also stinking; it seemed to be something that was just accepted now. Jade Greatrix was still a nervous wreck, even after three days of being outside, and Karen was still irked by Jade's presence and had hardly said a word to her over the three days.

  Jade was the first to speak while the rest of the group had their eyes closed and looked up to the dull sky, enjoying the breeze that caressed their frames.

  "So what happens now?"

  Nobody answered her straight away.

  Eventually Pickle spoke, "Not sure. I think we should have a wee sit down and discuss what our next move should be."

  Jade was the first to slump onto the grass bank at the edge of the road. Paul did the same and began moaning about the smell that was coming from his body. Paul Parker lowered his head and thought about Jocelyn and Hannah. He hoped they were okay, but he also knew that they may not be alive anymore. He realised it was pointless and now too far and dangerous going back to his house, but it was still killing him not knowing where they were or how they were doing, or if they were even still breathing.

  Pickle squinted his eyes; he was lost in thought and threw his head to the right, then to the left, looking down the country lanes.

  Noticing his confusion, Karen asked, "What's up?"

  His eyes narrowed, furrowing his brow, and began scratching his head. "I think I recognise this place."

  Karen coolly nodded her head. "That's because we've been here before."

  "What?" Pickle looked bemused. "When?"

  "We've practically walked in a circle. Don't forget, I've lived in this area all my life. This road..." Karen allowed her sentence to trail off and paused, until Pickle's raised eyebrows urged her to continue with her sentence. Karen cleared her throat. "This is the very same road where KP got out of the van."

  Pickle's face was emotionless, but he could feel a sick feeling in his stomach; his hand rubbed his thin beard in thought. "So...we're back at Stile Cop?"

  "More or less. It's just round that corner and up the hill. Do you think we should check it out?"

  The forty-three-year-old never answered her straight away; he was lost in deliberation. He stared down at the road and suddenly felt his body sway; he widened his eyes and looked back up to re-focus his blurry eyes. For a moment he thought he was going to pass out. "I don't know," he finally answered. "The last time we were there, we were swamped with the things. Don't yer remember what happened to Jamie and Janine?"

  "Don't forget Davina," Karen chipped in. "Anyway, that was nearly two weeks ago, these Snatchers ain't gonna hang around if there's no...well....food about, are they?"

  "Yer reckon the place could be empty?"

  Karen made a face as if she was unsure what the outcome would be if they went back there. "Won't harm to check it out, then we'll take it from there."

  "We're gonna have to eat...soon," Paul spoke up and began walking towards the pair of them.

  Both Karen and Pickle nodded in agreement. Both their stomachs were beginning to grumble with dissatisfaction of the lack of action they'd been getting. "I know there's a supermarket not far from here, but there might be fuck all in there now," Pickle half-scoffed.

  "We could always try and go back into Rugeley," Karen said, "after we've checked out Stile Cop."

  "Didn't yer tell me the town was swarming?"

  "A while back, yes. But who knows what could be happening? We could be hiding in the woods while the Rugeley residents have...I dunno...kinda taken control of their town. Maybe it'
s been quarantined by the army."

  "Or..." Paul smiled sarcastically at Karen's positive attitude, "maybe... there's no one left, because they've all been ripped to fucking pieces."

  Pickle and Karen looked at one another while Jade picked her teeth with her little finger. She was in a world of her own, and never reacted to Paul losing his temper. Both Pickle and Karen never responded to Paul's angry outburst either. He was still unsure whether his wife and daughter were alive, and they put his fury down to frustration.

  "Well," Pickle began, "food and drink isn't going to fall into our laps sitting here, is it? Something has to be done. We'll go to Stile Cop first, it's on the way anyway, see what's been occurring, then we'll go to Karen's hometown and see what we can get."

  "A set of wheels would be good." Paul spoke as if he was in a daydream. His eyes were wide; he looked like he was a million miles away, and his short-lived anger had begun to evaporate.

  "A set o' wheels would be great, but let's see what's about." Pickle investigated the inside of his mouth with his tongue and could feel the wrinkles in the roof. He was dehydrated. He knew he was dehydrated because his head was pounding and he hadn't shat for two days. "If any o' yer lot come across any thick branches, pick them up. I'm not going into that town unarmed. It's only Karen that's armed now."

  "I'm sure we can outrun those things, if there ain't too many," Karen piped up.

  "It's not just the Lurkers that we need to worry about," Paul spat; it sounded like he was becoming emotional; his voice shook as he spoke. "My friend, Gary, was raped and killed by two men," Paul looked over to Pickle, "in that very same supermarket you were talking about. I'm going nowhere, unless I'm armed with something."