Still feeling weak, Jack gave a solitary nod of his head and watched as Johnny walked over to the locker area and went through the lockers he had busted open earlier during the week.
"What boot size are you?" he shouted over.
"Nine," responded Jack.
After searching through his fifth locker, Johnny returned with a pair of boots in his right hand and a set of overalls under his left arm. Jack had managed to thank Johnny for his kindness, and the factory worker was pleased that this outsider hadn't forgotten all of his manners that he should have been taught by his parents.
Jack slowly took his rotten shoes off and threw them into a nearby pallet. He took a look at his dirty and holey socks and shook his head.
Without uttering a word, Johnny walked back over to the locker area and went through them again. He returned with a pair of thick black socks and handed them to Jack.
Jack inspected the new boots and checked them from the soles to the laces and knew with his old socks, the boots would cut his feet to ribbons if ever he needed to go back outside in the long-term.
Jack wondered why a worker would have a spare pair of socks in his locker, and noticing the small confusion on his face, Johnny explained. "Sometimes the guys would do eight to ten hours a shift, and when you work for that length of time, your feet tend to get a little smelly. So once the shift is over, we'd go into our lockers, change our shoes and socks, and go home without our feet smelling like a monkey's armpit." There was no response from Jack, and Johnny sighed with exasperation at his anti-social guest. "Fine."
A silence enveloped the pair of them and although Johnny's guest seemed content to just sit and stare into space, Johnny wanted to know more about this stranger. "I bet you've seen some mad shit out there, haven't you?"
"I suppose," Jack sighed, "but you get used to it."
"Used to it? How?"
Added Jack, "It's like everything." Jack nodded over to a fork lift truck sitting by one of the shutters. "Can you drive that vehicle?"
"Sure."
"Right," Jack continued. "How did you feel when you first jumped onto that thing?"
Johnny couldn't really see where Jack was going with this, but decided to answer him as honestly as he could anyway. "I was nervous, obviously."
"And are you still nervous when you jump on it now?"
"Of course not. I've been driving those things for years. I'm used to it now."
"Well, that's how it is out there. When you first smash one of those skulls in, you panic, you become nauseous, you freeze. Now, it's just normal, something that you have—need to do. Like sex; the more you do it, the less nervous and the better you become at it."
"I don't think I want to get used to that kind of life."
"Well, you'll have to." Jack was cold with his voice. He wasn't being threatening or trying to frighten Johnny, but the factory worker had been hiding since the virus had broke out. Jack thought that he needed a reality check. Jack added, "You can't stay in here forever; and if you freeze out there, you'll be dead within a day."
"You ever thought about doing stand-up?"
"I'm serious," Jack continued, ignoring Johnny's attempt at humour. "I spent the last few weeks on the run, and I've lost count how many heads I've had to pulverise in order to survive."
"Is it that bad out there?"
Jack nodded and added, "Think of your worst nightmare. Times it by ten, and you're not even close."
"Well, that's hardly the confident-boosting response I was hoping for, but at least you're honest." Johnny blew out his cheeks and wanted out of this nightmare. But what Johnny Jefferson didn't know was that the quandary he was in, would only get worse once the days ticked by.
Jack began to put his boots on and Johnny decided to give him some advice.
Johnny said, "I usually find it easier to put the overalls on first, then the boots. It's just that I find it hard to get the legs of the overalls over the boots."
Jack stood to his feet and asked, "So how much food is in that canteen?"
Johnny raised his eyebrows and puffed out his cheeks in thought. "In the actual canteen itself, I don't know if there's anything worth eating because I don't know if the food is off. The vending machines should be okay. Nothing will be cool anymore now we've lost power, but there's still bottles of juice, crisps and chocolate."
Jack seemed lost in thought and finally shook his head. Keeping his new boots on his feet, he nodded over to the boiler suit. "I'll put that on after."
"After?" Johnny began to scratch the top of his bald head. "After what?"
Jack walked over to the crowbar that Johnny had used to prise open the lockers, and picked it up. He then took a pair of plastic goggles from a works station and put them on.
Johnny had no idea what was going on and what was going through this man's mind. Where was he going? Surely he wasn't going to the canteen?
Johnny questioned with angst in his voice, "Where are you going?"
Jack walked away, dressed for 'battle'. "The canteen."
"The canteen?" Johnny scowled in confusion. "Didn't I already tell you that two of those things are in there?" Johnny had now ran over to Jack and was now briskly walking alongside him.
"Yes you did," Jack Slade finally answered the man, "but I fancy a coke."
Johnny ignored his 'coke' remark, looked at the insane man and asked, "And what are you going to do when you get inside?"
Without breaking his face, Jack told Johnny. "I'm going to walk in and give them both a Swedish massage."
"No," Johnny sighed; he placed his right hand on his forehead and waggled his head in frustration. "I mean, seriously."
"Oh, seriously?"
Johnny nodded.
"I'm gonna smash their brains in with this crowbar."
Johnny gulped and his voice was full of consternation. "I was afraid you were going to say that."
Both men had arrived outside the canteen door and Jack turned to Johnny. "Watch and learn. You're gonna have to do this yourself, one day." Jack held out the crowbar.
"It's okay," said Johnny. "I've got a key for the canteen."
Johnny unlocked the canteen with the key, his juddering hands making the task harder than it should have been. Jack said, "As soon as I go in, you keep well back."
"I think I can manage that."
Chapter Seven
All four waved their arms frantically at the pick-up truck that was getting nearer, and all looked at one another and smiled once they saw it was slowing down. They needed information on the town they were about to enter.
The vehicle pulled up alongside the group and they were greeted by a middle-aged couple. A man popped his head out of the window and said, "Don't go to Rugeley Town."
Paul Parker asked, "Why not?"
Beside the middle-aged man sat a woman about the same age. Both individuals were very heavy and the woman added, "It's mental in there. Houses are on fire, people are beating up one another for food, and those...monsters are everywhere."
"A lot of people are leaving now," the man continued. "It's alright the radios telling us to stay barricaded in our houses, but why? There's no one coming to help us and we haven't eaten properly in two days," he patted his large belly, "believe it or not."
Pickle went into his rucksack and pulled out a few mars bars. They were a bit melted, but still edible. "Yer can have these if yer give us a ride somewhere. I've got some water as well."
"It's okay." The man's eyes were full of kindness. "We have a few things in the back for when we're really desperate, but we'll give you a lift anyway. You seem like nice people. Where do you wanna go?"
"Well, now the town is out o' bounds, we have no idea." Pickle looked at his group then turned back to the driver of the truck. "Where are you two going?"
"We're not entirely sure." The man then gaped over to his wife; they both smiled and held hands briefly. "We really want to go to Skelmersdale, to see our only son."
"That's miles away," Karen spoke,
the negativity in her tone almost diluting the excitement of the couple's dream.
"I know." The man nodded, and even his face suggested that Skelmersdale would be a risky mission that could end in abject failure, costing their lives. "Our son's there. He said that his village is safe and has been cordoned off by the villagers themselves. If we arrive, he promises that they'll take us in."
"Well," Pickle began. "At least yer got hope. We've been runnin' round in circles for the last couple o' weeks and still have no idea where to go and what to do."
The woman said, "We just want to go somewhere where it's safe, where there's some kind of order. We heard about a place in Armitage, but we want to be with our son."
The man added sadly, "In our street, bandits broke into the end house, looted the place and then set fire to it. "
Karen shook her head in exasperation. "Why would people do that? What's the point in that?"
The man looked down at his chest, sadly. He was appalled the way some individuals were behaving after just weeks of this mess. "There is no point."
"Anyway." Pickle clapped his hands together and looked at his three companions, then back to the male driver of the truck. "We appreciate the lift." Pickle then urged his three friends to jump in the back of the truck. He was surprised that the back of the pick-up truck was reasonably empty. There wasn't much food; there was a few bottles of juice and carrier bags of tins, and that was it. There were no clothing or anything else.
Once the group were in the back, Pickle told everyone to sit down in case there was a danger of falling out.
Karen was initially unsure of going back to her hometown, but now felt a little disappointed that she was only a quarter of mile away from Rugeley, and now it appeared that she was definitely not going back. It would have been interesting to see how the old place had managed to cope over the last couple of weeks. She then thought about her old house. If she somehow got back into her own place, if the street was safe enough, there was still the problem of removing the fiend that was once her fiancée, Gary. If he was still trapped in the house, it would have been an awful sight to see how he had decomposed over the few weeks that had passed, and the smell...
Maybe it was just as well that Rugeley was now a no-go area. Wasn't all populated areas? It was only a town of thousands and she wondered how the likes of Cardiff, Edinburgh, Birmingham and London were coping with this nightmare. It was only a few months ago that Gary and Karen had stayed in Edinburgh for the weekend, at a place in Cockburn Street, just yards away from the Royal Mile. Karen managed a small smirk when she remembered that Gary had joked that 'Cockburn' sounded like an STD.
She snapped out of her emotional daydream as the vehicle started to move and her body jolted forward, along with the rest of the group. The truck continued to move and the group could see down the road, in the distance, more vehicles leaving the town, but going straight along the Hednesford Road, rather than turning left onto Stile Cop Road where they were.
The vehicles were probably heading to other towns like Hednesford and Cannock, Karen thought.
As they passed the Stile Cop beauty spot for the second time, the truck went straight across the crossroads where Karen had met Pickle and KP during that terrible, early morning when they escaped the ghouls that appeared through the woods in their hundreds at the beauty spot.
It appeared that the middle-aged couple were heading for Upper Longdon.
It was a place that was very exclusive and had a few mansions in the area. Karen knew the couple would eventually be heading for the M6, and had no idea where Pickle was thinking about getting off, so she asked him. "Do you have any idea where to go?"
"I haven't a Scooby," Pickle admitted. "But I want away from these woods. I'll be glad if I don't see another tree again."
Karen chuckled and placed her arm around the ex-inmate, while Paul and Jade sat silently, staring at their shoes, exhausted.
"There're a few mansions around here." Karen looked at Pickle for a reaction.
"And?" Pickle stared at Karen. "A mansion is fine and dandy, but it also makes yer a target for bandits and looters. And what happens if yer break into the place and it's already inhabited? I don't wanna get shot, Karen. The emergency services are now defunct, and I don't want to be walking around for the rest o' ma days with a severe limp."
"Like Jason Bonser?" she teased.
"Yeah, well." Pickle shifted his bum to get comfortable. "That fucker deserved everything he got."
Another two minutes had passed as they went through more country lanes. It appeared that they were coming to the end of Cannock Chase, which meant that the nearest place was a town. Pickle had been told by the male driver that once the group found a place or an area where they wanted dropping off, he should hit the roof a couple of times to let the driver know when to stop the truck.
"Uh-huh." Paul Parker's announcement forced them to look at what he was looking at.
Jade couldn't really see properly and asked Paul, "What is it?"
Paul peeked at Karen and Pickle, then he turned to Jade. "Keep your head down. I think there may be trouble ahead."
Jade placed her hands on her head and cursed under her breath, "Now what?"
The pick-up truck that they were in, was beginning to slow down.
Chapter Eight
Once the two things in the canteen had been killed, Jack Slade had returned to the factory floor with a shocked Johnny in tow, who walked behind him, dragging his feet. Jack placed the crowbar on top of a pallet, removed the safety goggles off of his head and asked Johnny, "Whose is that vehicle outside?"
Johnny, still trying to shake off the image of Jack pulverising the heads of those things, snapped out of his self-hypnosis and gawped at Jack, blankly. "Sorry, what?"
Jack continued, "The canteen's window looks out onto the staff car park. There's a few cars outside, and I noticed that there's a black jeep."
"The cars belonged to the guys I worked with. I can't drive myself; I came here with Terry."
Jack turned to Johnny. "Who's Terry?"
"The first guy you smashed up in the canteen."
Jack looked confused. When he stormed into the canteen he swung the crowbar so much he pretty much put them both down almost at the same time. "Was that the one whose skull fell away."
"No." Johnny gulped and shook his head at the surreal conversation that he was having. He swallowed hard, trying to keep down whatever was left in his stomach. "That was Martin. Terry was the one that collapsed into the wall."
"Did he have a beard?"
Johnny nodded.
"Well," Jack exhaled hard, "if I was you, I would have stolen one of their car keys and driven out of the place ages ago."
"Well, like I've told you before," Johnny sighed, exasperated that he wasn't being listened to. "I can't drive, and I wanted to stay in here anyway 'cos it's safer."
"Anyway. The black jeep. Whose is it?" It was clear by his face that Jack had no interest in what Johnny had to say, and after witnessing Jack putting those things down, Johnny refrained from moaning about his rudeness.
"The supervisor's car," Johnny finally answered.
"And where's he?"
"Boardroom. He's one of them. He locked himself in as soon as he was bit. It was almost as if he knew."
Jack checked his clothes and inspected his old rags. He could see they had fresh blood on them, to add to the old dried-in ones from the last couple of days. Most of the bloodstains were mainly from the episode when he was trying to escape the sports centre, swinging the kettle bell as if his life depended on it, which, of course, it did.
He finally took his boots off and removed his clothes. Once he threw the rags into a pallet, the same pallet he had disposed his shoes, he put on the boiler suit and then put the steel toecaps back on.
"We'll see what there is in these vending machines." Jack began to scratch at his hairy neck and groaned. He badly needed a shave, on his neck and his face. "I'm guessing that we'll be lucky if the f
ood lasts us a week."
"What about Martin and Terry?"
"Who?"
Johnny sighed. Are you not listening to me at all? "The men you killed in the canteen."
"I don't think they'll be eating anything," Jack commented, without cracking his face.
Johnny glared at this strange man and wondered if he was serious or not. Trying to ignore his early remark, he said, "Are we just gonna leave them in there? That's what I mean."
Jack nodded. "Yes, we are."
"What if you're right about the food that's left?"
"I am right." Jack seemed confident in what he was saying. "Look, you're not gonna like this, but we need to be out of here, soon."
Johnny nodded in agreement, reluctantly. He knew Jack was right. "And go where?"
"Somewhere where there's food. Somewhere safe...ish."
"I suppose it removes some problems now that you're here, someone that can drive. We can now get a set of wheels from the car park."
Added Jack, "But it also opens up other problems, like being carjacked. Me and a few other guys went into a supermarket to get food and only two of us made it out. It's not just those things that are a danger; there's some bad, desperate people roaming around."
Johnny's eyes widened and didn't want any more details about the short story that Jack had just announced. "Look, my place is about eight miles away. I'm already stocked up."
"Eight miles? That's too far. We'll never make eight miles without running into hordes, bandits—even getting a puncture puts us at risk."
"When are you thinking about going?"
"I think we should gather what food is left and then go in the morning."
Johnny's eyes widened with surprise at Jack's announcement. "Seriously? That soon? I've managed alright so far."
"True, but now the food's short. We can either stay in here and go until the food has gone, then go on the road while we're hungry. Or—"
"Go on the road with food."
Jack gave Johnny a mocking wink as if to say; You're catching on, buddy. "We're gonna have to do it sooner or later."
Johnny smiled, but Jack could see the sadness in his face. Jack got to his feet, still with the safety goggles attached to his head, and walked away from Johnny and picked up the bloody crowbar lying on one of the pallets.
Snatchers: Volume One (The Zombie Apocalypse Series Box Set--Books 1-3) Page 62