With a surge of rage running through his veins, Pickle went over to the only surviving assailant. He groaned, holding onto his leg where Pickle had struck him, and looked up to see that Pickle was now standing over him. The man reached for his blade, but Pickle stood on his right hand before he could inflict any damage.
“How many o' yer are here?” Pickle snarled.
The man looked up and laughed. “Too many for you lot to handle. We're everywhere, and came over at the same time.”
“What are yer talking about?”
The bearded man looked at his digital watch and showed Pickle that it was a minute after nine. “We had planned to attack at nine, on the dot.”
“How many?”
The man laughed, “A lot.”
Pickle bent over and grabbed each side of the man's head and gave it a twist, breaking his neck. He stood up straight and began to leave the garden, intending on leaving for the main gate, but a male scream from the other side of the street made him rethink his plans.
He took his machete and was now heading for the wall.
*
Ian and Derek Ferguson were experienced when it came to danger. They had been on many runs, had killed many of the dead, and had even been in situations where they had nearly lost their lives, but this situation was new to them.
Two leather-wearing individuals tried to climb their fence, but as soon as their heads could be seen, Derek and Ian rained down their bats on their skulls. Despite the blows, both men managed to get themselves over the fence, but were both mildly concussed.
One of the men tried to scramble to his feet, but Derek put him down. Ian killed the other that was lying flat on the floor with two strikes, then turned to the side and vomited on his grass once his eyes realised he had smashed a man's brains in.
“Well, that was easy enough,” said Derek. He looked at his Casio digital watch. It was after nine.
Ian nodded and asked, “What now? Stay here or see if everyone else is alright?”
A male scream came from the distance, making both men gaze at one another in horror.
“That sounds like it came from the wall,” Derek cried.
Ian nodded. “Let's go and see.”
Both men were still near the fence and tried to get their breaths back. They turned their backs on the fence and were about to make their way over to the street, but a dull feeling was felt in Ian's back and he fell to the floor. Derek turned around and saw a knife sticking out of his brother.
“Shit. Ian!”
Two more men climbed the Ferguson's fence and Derek decided to stand his ground. He didn't want to leave his brother alone, even though he was now dead.
The two WOE men pulled out knives. Derek lunged at one, but a swiping blade slashed his left cheek. Derek screamed out, dropping his weapon, and gasped as the two men approached him.
They stabbed him in his midriff five times and he fell to his knees, sobbing, knowing he was fucked. He felt one of the men walking around and then standing behind him. Derek knew what was coming next.
Derek Ferguson knew that there was no point fighting it. He remained on his knees and lifted his head, giving the man easier access to his throat.
The blade, of the man standing behind him, finally touched Derek’s throat and was dragged across it. Blood gushed out onto his T-shirt, and the last thing he heard before he died was the laughter of the two WOE men.
*
A cry from the wall shocked Karen and Vince, and both could see that Gareth and James were dead. Before they had the chance to go over, two intruders ran down the drive of the Ferguson's house and were in the middle of the street, and both men were spotted by Karen and Vince who were by the main gate.
“Shit!” Vince cried.
“They must have come from the back gardens,” Karen cried out. “Shit, Vince, they're coming over the garden fences.”
“They're coming from everywhere.” Vince pointed over to the concrete wall. More could be seen climbing over and Rowley and Bonser were clearly struggling. The two WOE men began to run at Karen and Vince.
Both men released shrieks, like war cries, and raised their bats as they ran at Bradley and Kindl. Karen and Vince were both holding their machetes, but Karen lowered hers and reached for her knife in her back pocket with her free hand. She took out the knife and held the tip with her thumb and forefinger, then threw it at the advancing man on the right.
The blade stuck into the left side of the man's chest and he fell to the floor. The man on the left continued to run and when he got near, Vince put him down with one strike to the side of the head. Both Karen and Vince looked at the bodies on the floor, then looked at one another. Both men were groaning, on their backs, and both were still alive for now.
Vince nodded towards the knife that was sticking out of the man's chest that Karen had thrown. “Where the hell did you learn to do that?”
Karen hunched her shoulders. “First time I've tried it.” She then looked around and then over at the wall where Rowley and Bonser were trying to fight a few off. Pickle had appeared, ran over to the wall and was now trying to help Bonser and Rowley out.
Karen said, “Seems like they're entering from the sides, over the fences, and over the wall. I thought they'd get at us through the main gate.”
“Nah.” Vince shook his head. “Too obvious.”
“We need to go and help out Pickle and the rest.” Karen raised her blade and was about to run, but Vince held her back.
“Get off me, Vince,” she cried. “I can't leave Pickle alone.”
“No need to go over,” he said. “Look!”
Pickle and the rest were overwhelmed by the sheer numbers and decided to run down the street and flee to the main gate. There were no other residents of Colwyn Place to be seen, and Karen assumed that they were still in their gardens, dead, or had fled back into their homes, but strangely enough not a lot of the gang members had come down the drives of the houses. Maybe not many came over the fences, Karen thought. Either that, or the people of Colwyn Place had done themselves proud and had killed some or had forced some of the WOE men to retreat.
Pickle turned around once he was at the gate with Bonser and Rowley, staring at the WOE men that were advancing, more were still climbing over. Now there were five at the main gate. Pickle, Karen, Vince, Bonser and Rowley didn't fancy their chances, but if they were going to go down, they were going down fighting.
“Stand yer ground.” Pickle stepped in front of Karen, Vince, Rowley and Bonser. “If we die today, then that's just the way it is.”
Nobody responded. They were too busy gazing at the eight men that were coming towards them. One more came over the wall; two came from the side of the houses and must have climbed the back garden's fences. Now there were eleven men, all holding a weapon of some sort, jogging towards Pickle and co. Two of the WOE men were in front of the rest of their group and seemed to be leading the other nine towards the main gate.
“I think we have a chance,” said Vince. “Eleven against five. That's not too bad.”
Another eight climbed over the wall and Rowley sighed, “Then again, chap.”
From out of the front of his house, Craig Burns ran out with his hockey stick in hand and hit one of the WOE men from behind. The man fell and was helped up by one of his comrades. Now, the group that were heading towards the main gate turned and went for Craig, apart from the two men that were leading the gang. Craig put another man down temporarily and was overwhelmed with the sheer numbers. Jez came out of the house and the frightened young man ran straight towards the main gate; Craig did the same. It was either that or die.
Craig was a matter of yards from Pickle and the rest when he stopped in his tracks. They could hear it. They could all hear it.
The sound of a vehicle was advancing towards the street.
Chapter Twenty Two
The noise came from behind them and Pickle was the first to turn around. A red pickup from outside was heading for the main gate. It
gave off a quick blast of the horn which confused Pickle. Why would the gang give off a warning before approaching the main gate? He then realised Paul was in the vehicle and that the crazy bastard was going to ram the gate if they didn't hurry up and open it.
Pickle went for the handle of the steel barrier and pulled it back, grabbing Karen and taking her with him. He yelled to the rest, “Move to the side. Now!”
Vince, Craig, Jez, Bonser and Rowley turned quickly to see a red truck heading towards the entrance, and all ran towards the pavement, out of the way.
The vehicle went through the opened gate and whizzed by Pickle and the other residents, heading towards the gang in the middle of the road. Slowly realising that the red pickup was theirs but was not being driven by their gang member, one of the two men that were leading the herd to the main gate screamed at his pals to run.
The front two were hit by the pickup, one of them bouncing off the bonnet and the other going under the wheels, but instead of ploughing through the rest of the crowd, the vehicle suddenly stopped.
Paul Dickson stepped out of the vehicle, shotgun in his right hand, and raised the gun calmly at the first man that ran at him. Paul squeezed the trigger and saw the man's chest take a hit, killing him instantly. At this point, the crowd began to back off and started to sprint away. Paul pointed the gun at the now-fleeing gang and released another shot. Pickle and the rest began to charge at the men, and watched as the frightened WOE members climbed back over the wall and ran down the old part of Colwyn Place.
Pickle glared out over the wall, at the old part of Little Haywood, with Karen, Craig, Jez, Bonser and Rowley next to him. All were now panting heavily, and as soon as the last man had disappeared from their view, Rowley asked Pickle a question he had no answer for.
“Where do you think they parked their bikes?”
Pickle shook his head and all could now hear the faint sounds of revving engines.
They hadn't parked them too far away and were now fleeing, back to Stafford, or at least the Colwyn residents hoped.
Pickle turned around and looked down at the street. He saw the pickup, the same pickup he was driving when they fled Sandy Lane, the same one he had hit Ina with. There were three men on the floor, two that Paul had hit with the pickup and the other that he had shot. Two of the men were clearly dead, but the one that had bounced off the vehicle was alive and moaning. They all watched in silence as Paul Dickson, still holding the shotgun, nonchalantly walked over to the groaning man, turned the gun around, and rammed the butt of the gun onto the man's head, twice, cracking open his skull.
Unflustered at what he had just done, Paul Dickson stood up straight and looked at Pickle and the rest of the shocked faces that were glaring at him.
“Are there any more?” Paul asked.
Pickle shrugged his shoulders and suggested, “Let's check out the houses, just in case.” He then flashed Paul a stare and added, “It would be good to have one alive and try and get some answers.”
Pickle turned to Karen and told her to go with him. Vince and Rowley were to pair up together, and the rest to stay near the wall. Pickle and Karen were going to check the houses, starting from 1 Colwyn Place. Vince and Stephen were going to start at 20 Colwyn Place and work their way down until they met up with Karen and Pickle.
“What about me?” Paul asked. “What do you want me to do?”
“Shut the gate,” Pickle ordered. “Stand by it, hold that gun like a boss and look fucking mean. Basically ... be yourself.”
“The gun's empty, Pickle.”
“Aye, but they don't know that.” Pickle looked around at the carnage and sighed, “We'll clear up later, but these houses need to be checked before we even think about relaxing.”
*
Stephanie was nodding off in the armchair whilst Chris, their male captor, was tying his shoelaces, his eyes always looking up at Elza and Ophelia who were still sitting on the couch.
He leaned against the armchair and said, “Sometimes I wonder what happened to the folk that used to live here.”
“They must have fled,” said Elza.
“More than likely.” Chris nodded. “I suppose the dead turning up in the field a few weeks ago kind of protected me. In a way, they're the reason why I didn't get more visitors. Who's gonna try a farm that has so many dead in its field? Apart from you crazy bastards.”
“Why didn't you just hide?” asked Elza.
“I had no intention of hiding from you girls.”
“No, I mean, why didn't you hide and then take one of us hostage, rather than sitting in that armchair, in the dark, like some kind of Bond villain?”
“I had wanted to ask nicely first.” Chris laughed and pointed at his knife, then Stephanie. “This is not me. I'm doing this because I'm desperate. I'm actually a nice guy.”
Elza sighed, “So you keep saying.”
He nodded over to the woman sitting next to Elza. “She doesn't say much, does she?”
Elza shook her head and decided to be honest and pleasant to the man for Stephanie's sake.
“The pair of us went through a traumatic time months ago,” Elza began. “It was our first experience that it wasn't just the dead that was our enemy.”
“I'm sorry.” Chris seemed genuine with his apology. “And this isn't helping, is it?”
“This is nothing compared to what we've been through since.”
Chris gulped and pointed over at Ophelia with his knife. “How did she get that scar down her face?”
Elza smiled. “A bad man with a knife.”
“You don't give much away, do you?”
“Not if I can help it.”
Chapter Twenty Three
Pickle and Karen had been checking the houses quicker than Vince and Stephen.
They had crossed the road and checked on Paul and Gail Smith from number twelve, and then they approached 14 Colwyn Place. They were now on Beverley's premises and went round to the back garden.
They approached the back door and noticed it was slightly ajar, which concerned them both. They chose not to call out and entered Beverley's house with their machetes in their hands. Pickle went first as they entered the kitchen.
The whole of the ground floor was clear, and now it was time to go upstairs and check out the first floor. Pickle turned to Karen and placed his finger against his lips, telling her to be quiet. She had no idea why he did this. She wasn't fucking stupid.
Pickle led the way and took his time, aware that one of the steps could creak. Karen kept close behind, and once they were on the landing, they could both hear muffled cries and took a quick look at one another. Pickle went to the door where the cries were coming from. All doors were shut, leaving the landing in almost darkness now that night-time was near, and Pickle and Karen stopped by the door where the sound had come from.
He could hear more muffled sobs.
It was definitely Beverley behind the door, but who was with her?
Pickle gazed at Karen. He desperately wanted to speak to her. He wanted to know if he should open the door, or knock it and speak to whoever was with Beverley.
Karen gritted her teeth impatiently, waiting for Pickle to make a decision, but he was too hesitant for her. She huffed and placed her hand on the door handle, pushing the door open, and both individuals raised their machetes.
Both peered inside and saw one of the WOE men standing up with Beverley. He was behind the frightened woman and had his arm around Beverley's neck, and with his other hand he had a knife and placed the tip of it on her temple.
“Don't do anything stupid.” Pickle raised his hand and tried to calm the man before he did anything.
“Pickle,” Karen gasped. She lowered the machete and put her hand over her mouth, tears forming in her eyes. Pickle looked at a distraught Beverley, then his eyes gazed at the same thing Karen was looking at.
On the floor, by the side of the bed, lay the toddler that Pickle knew simply as James. He was lying on his back, was wearing his Po
stman Pat T-shirt and a pair of grey jogging bottoms. The little boy was dead; any fool could see that.
The nervous gang member protested, “He started to cry. I wanted to keep him quiet, but...”
“So he smothered him,” Beverley cried.
“Look, all I wanna do is get outta here,” the man said. “I don't want no trouble.”
“You won't be leaving this place alive,” Karen snarled and took a step forward.
“Karen!” Pickle snapped, and pulled her back. “For God's sake, think straight.”
She snarled, “This prick's just killed a child.”
“Just let me go, man,” the gang member cried. “That's all I ask.”
Pickle said, “Yer know we can't allow that.”
“I think you can.”
Pickle took in a deep breath and sighed, “Just let the woman go and we can talk, what do yer say?”
“Bollocks to that. I killed a child. You lot are gonna kill me for this.” The man's hand shook and pushed the blade in by a millimetre, making Beverley cry out. “You have to let me go.”
Pickle shook his head. “It can't happen.”
The man nodded, admitting defeat, and huffed, “Fine.”
He lowered the blade and dragged the knife across Beverley's throat, making Pickle and Karen cry out in surprise. Beverley's eyes rolled, blood pissed out of her neck and her heavy frame slumped to the floor. The man then plunged the knife into his own chest before Pickle and Karen could get to him. He dropped to his knees; then fell backwards with the knife sticking out of his heart.
Pickle and Karen both stood in shock. It wasn't what they were expecting. They were expecting the man to eventually drop his weapon and give himself up, considering he was in a hopeless position. He had been underestimated, and it had cost Beverley her life.
Snatchers Box Set, Vol. 4 [Books 10-12] Page 36