“That was strange,” Stephen remarked.
“Maybe she’s touching cloth and suddenly realised she’s ran out of toilet paper.” Vince scratched his head. “Or she’s on the blob and needs to get a tampon from Karen.”
Stephen flashed Vince a glare, a glare reminiscent of a father annoyed with his son. “Do you have to be so vulgar all the time?”
“Most of the time,” Vince said nonchalantly.
Pickle exited the house with Joanne and instructed her to go back to her own home. He then waved at Vince and called him over.
“Looks like I’m needed,” Kindl sighed.
Chapter Two
“What’s up?” Vince called over to Pickle.
“Need a word with yer, Vince,” Pickle said.
Vince moved away from Rowley and approached Pickle with slow feet.
He could see that the ex-con had had a rare shave and his skin looked smooth. Vince rubbed his own chin and said to Pickle, “Could do with a shave myself.”
“Had to use one o’ those one-blade Bic razors.” Pickle raised a smile and added, “Had to make do with a cold shave, no soap.”
“Ouch,” Vince snickered.
“I’m used to it. Same kind o’ razors we used to use in the prison.”
“So what’s the problem?” Vince asked, already tired of the small talk. “I saw Joanne running to your house.”
“She said she saw a couple o’ guys in the distance, near the river.”
“A couple of guys walking by. So what?” Vince laughed and hunched his shoulders. “Man, she certainly scares easily, doesn’t she?”
“Just thought we should check it out.”
“Why? It’s probably just a couple of poor survivors, Pickle. We don’t own the river.”
Pickle smiled. “I thought that maybe we could have a word with ‘em. Maybe they could come back here. Maybe they’re looking for somethin’ like this place, some kind o’ sanctuary, and they don’t realise they’re passing such a well set up camp.”
“Admit it,” Vince said with a smirk. “Nothing’s happened for days and you, Harry Branston, are bored.”
Pickle said with a smirk, “Are yer coming or not?”
“I’m coming.”
“Good.” Pickle nodded. “Go and get yer blade. We go on foot.”
“Now?”
“Aye, now. Problem?”
“Well…” Vince rubbed his tummy, raising his eyebrows at his friend and said, “I was about to drop the kids off at the pool.”
Pickle moved his head back and screwed his eyes. “Er ... what?”
“I was gonna honk out a dirt snake.” Vince could see that the penny hadn’t dropped with Pickle and sighed, “Go for a shit.”
“Oh.” Pickle rubbed his chin and added, “Can’t you just hold it in? I wanna have a word with these fellows before they disappear. If they’re okay, they could be a welcome addition to this place.”
“Okay,” Vince sighed. “I’ll just clench my cheeks together.” Vince turned and headed towards his house. He entered his place and reappeared just half a minute later, tucking the machete into his belt at his left side. He walked over to Pickle and the two men headed for the gate that was being guarded by Terry Braithwaite.
Without saying a word, Terry pulled the gate back and watched as the two men walked through, turned right, and then began to walk down Wolseley Road.
“We turn right,” said Pickle, “just before the bridge, and we’ll meet them down at the bank o’ the river.”
“What happens if they become hostile?” Vince asked.
“I don’t think they will.”
Vince sighed, wanting a straight answer, “But if they do?”
“That’s when the machetes come into play.”
The two males strode for a few more minutes and stopped when they reached Wolseley Bridge. They turned and began to make the descent down the bank, and as soon as they reached flat ground and was on the grassy bank, the two men could be seen up ahead.
Pickle and Vince stood still and waited for the men to approach. The two men stopped walking once Pickle and Vince had been spotted, and a nervous standoff ensued.
“Morning, gentlemen,” Pickle decided to start talking and try and relax the tetchy looking men. Both of them had their hands on their pockets, telling Pickle that they had blades, but they were no match for the large blades that Pickle and Vince were carrying. “How are we today on this fine morning?”
The two men were both average in height, had dark features, and both had a beard on their faces. The one on the right was dressed in a black jacket and combats. The one on the left had a brown jacket and also wore combats. The man on the left was the first to speak.
“How are we?” he said. “Thirsty, that’s how we are. Thirsty and hungry. And before you say anything … that river tastes like piss.”
Pickle nodded once and said, “I know. Yer definitely need to filter this water.”
This time the other stranger decided to speak. “We don’t have anything for you,” he said, “so just leave us alone.”
“We’re not here to harm you,” said Vince. “So stop shitting a brick, ladies. We’ve come here to offer you a place to stay.”
The two men gawped at one another for a few seconds, and then the man on the left said, “And why the fuck would you do that?”
“Um ... because it’s the Christian thing to do.” Pickle stood and waited for a further response from the two men, but he didn’t get what he was expecting.
The two men looked at each other once more and burst into hysterics, confusing both Harry Branston and Vincent Kindl.
Still giggling, the man on the left said, “Are you two priests or something?”
“No,” Pickle said sternly. “We’re just good people. And we have a place where a few o’ us are staying.”
The man on the left groaned, “The last time we were offered a place to stay, the people tried to eat us.”
“It’s up to yer guys.” Pickle shrugged his shoulders. “It’s no skin off ma nose if yer decide to turn us down.”
Both men’s faces began to relax and it was clear on their features that they thought Pickle and Vince were genuine.
“Where’re you headed?” Vince asked the pair of them.
“Rugeley. We’ve come from Cardiff,” the male on the left spoke. “We’re brothers.”
“Cardiff? You don’t sound Welsh.”
“We were working down there, on a construction site when it all kicked off.” The man on the left then introduced himself. “My name’s Peter.” He then pointed at his brother. “This is Roger.”
Pickle smiled and pointed at Vince. “This is Vince. I’m Harry, but most people call me Pickle.”
No hands were shaken, just a nod of the head from all four men as the introductions took place.
“So, has it took you this long to travel from Cardiff?” Vince asked.
Peter nodded his head. “We had a vehicle, but we got as far as Warwick before getting jumped by some gang. Been staying here and there, but we’ve always planned to get to Rugeley ... eventually.”
“And who’s this mob that ... tried to eat you?”
“Fuck knows.” Peter shrugged his shoulders. “It was a group we met in Bristol, as we were passing through, near Queen Park.”
“Never been.”
“Don’t bother. The place was a mess.”
“Obviously,” Pickle chuckled gently. “Yer end up gettin’ desensitised from all the blood and guts, don’t yer?”
“No, what I mean is ... the place was obliterated, bombed to fuck. We spent most of our time walking along the Kenner and Avon canal to avoid the rubble after we escaped that mob.”
Pickle and Vince looked baffled. This could be seen by Peter and Roger, and Peter shook his head and said, “You guys have always been around this area, haven’t you? You’ve never been anywhere near a city?”
Vince shook his head. “No. Why?”
“Because after a
while NATO or the RAF, or ... whoever the fuck it was ... bombed the shit out of our cities to dilute the problem. They probably did this to most countries in Europe as well. Probably did it to Cardiff after we left.”
Vince looked at Pickle as both men remembered Elza Crowe telling them about a conversation they had with a Londoner at a farm who also claimed that parts of London had been bombed.”
“After Bristol,” Peter continued, “we went from one town to the next. We reached a place called Tamworth and bumped into four guys, but they were horrible people, especially the leader. We agreed to join them, but we fled during the night. The leader was called Hando.”
“Hando?” Pickle shook his head and dropped his bottom lip. “Never heard o’ that name before.”
“Anyway, another two miles and we’ll be in Rugeley. That’s where we need to be.”
Vince asked Peter, “Why Rugeley?” but it was Roger that gave Kindl an answer.
He said, “It’s our home town. Our Mum stays at Hagley Road.”
“I know where Hagley Road is,” said Vince with a single nod. “It’s just before the town centre.”
“I’ll tell yer what,” said Pickle. “Why don’t yer fine gentlemen come back with us to our place? Yer can get some rest and refreshments, and then I’ll take yer to Hagley Road maself.”
“You have wheels?” Roger asked.
Pickle smiled. “Does a bear shit in the woods?”
Roger looked confused and said, “I don’t know. Does it?”
Chapter Three
Karen Bradley stepped out of her house and had a quick scan around the street. She had checked Pickle’s room, but he wasn’t there. She could see Terry by the gate and Rowley by the concrete wall.
Still dressed in the clothes she had on for bed, Karen strolled over to Rowley in her bare feet, wearing a long Snoopy night shirt that came to her knees and a pair of black pants underneath the shirt.
Rowley turned and could see Bradley approaching.
His head dropped and his eyes magnetically gazed at her legs. Realising what he was doing, he shook his head and raised his head.
“You getting a good look,” Karen teased the man. “You putting these legs in your wank bank for later?”
“Er ... no, chap.” Stephen blushed, cleared his throat, and became jittery. “I ... I was just...”
“Relax,” Karen laughed. “I’m just pulling your pisser. These legs haven’t seen wax in months and are probably hairier than yours. Where’s Pickle?”
“He left with Vince. I don’t know where they went.”
Karen nodded, turned around, and could see Elza Crowe leaving her house. Without saying another word to Stephen, Karen walked away and called over to Elza.
Elza Crowe was dressed in black dirty trousers, a black shirt, trainers, and was wearing a long grey cardigan on top of her shirt. Her blonde hair was tied in a ponytail, as it usually was. She turned around and saw Karen coming over. “What’s up, Bradley?”
Elza seemed a little short with Karen, but Karen chose to ignore it.
“You all set for this run?” she asked.
Elza nodded and said, “Just waiting for Ophelia and Stephanie to get their arses in gear. Terry’s going to show me how to use the RV ... the motorhome ... or whatever the fuck you call it.”
“Well, good luck.” Karen smiled and added, “If you come back with a van full of those tins, that’ll be us set up for the next few months. We’re really excited about this.”
Elza produced a faint smile. “No pressure then.”
Karen laughed. “None at all.” Once she finished chuckling, she asked Elza, “I know you, Ophelia and Stephanie are pretty tight, but don’t you think an extra person should go along?”
Elza smiled cynically. “You mean ... you?”
“Well ... not necessarily me.” Karen licked her lips and began to chew the inside of her mouth. “I heard Joanne was interested.”
“That dopey bint from number four?” Elza scoffed. “No chance. I’d be better off taking a dead cat.”
“Aw, come on. She’s okay, when you get to know her.” Karen felt obliged to stick up for Joanne Hammett. Elza and Ophelia were hardly popular in the street. Some people thought they were strange; others were afraid of them, and the two characters didn’t do themselves any favours. They were hardly sociable at the best of times.
“Joanne’s a fanny,” Elza continued with her Joanne bashing. “Any sign of the dead and she’d shit into her silky knickers.”
“She has to learn,” said Karen. “We all have to learn … eventually.”
“Not on my run. Anyway, I thought Pickle was going to teach Joanne and some others how to kill those freaks. We don’t have room for passengers that have come to simply enjoy the ride.”
“He took Joanne and young David out a few days ago,” Karen began, “but there were no Snatchers about. Haven’t seen any for a while.”
“Anyway, like I said before: I’m having no passengers,” said Elza. She turned and smiled at Karen. “Three’s enough, although I’d take you, if you’re interested.”
“Loved to. Haven’t been on a run for ages, but it’d leave a lot of inexperienced people behind. Pickle doesn’t want that.”
“Pickle,” Elza snickered. “That guy’s on a power trip.”
“No, he’s not.” Karen was taken aback by Elza’s comment and protecting Harry Branston came instantly, without a thought. “You hardly know him.”
“I’m not gonna argue with you, Karen.” Elza looked the twenty-three-year-old former nurse up and down. “I know you and Pickle have a bond.”
“Just don’t slag him off again,” Karen hissed, clenching her teeth together. “He’s doing his best.”
“Or what?” Elza laughed, making Karen’s blood boil. “What are you gonna do, Kaz?”
“What’s wrong with you? One minute we were having a decent conversation, and the next…” Karen scratched her head and was confused why Elza’s attitude had suddenly changed for the worse. “Is it that time of the month? Do you want me to go and get you a blood plug?”
“Just fuck off, Karen.”
“You know, I used to like you,” Karen began. “But today ... not so much. In fact, you’re a bit of a cunt.”
“You’ve got an ugly mouth for such a pretty girl,” Elza said with a smile. She then took a step forwards and pressed her forehead against Karen’s. “Fancy your chances, do you?”
Suffocated by confusion, Karen shook her head. “Why are you being like this? We’re on the same team.”
“Sometimes you can be okay, Karen. But other times you can be a right whiny bitch.”
Karen looked at Elza with perplexity. How do you respond to a comment like that?
“Excuse me.” Elza looked over at Terry and gave him a wave. “I need to see a man about an RV. Enjoy washing those clothes today.”
Karen watched as Elza walked away from her and headed for the main gate. Maybe she should give the woman a break. Karen didn’t know the woman well, and thought that maybe she was so abrupt and rude because she was hurting today, missing a loved one.
She huffed, her blood still boiling, and went back to her place.
It was time to get dressed.
Chapter Four
The sound of boots made a tired and clearly bored Terry Braithwaite more alert. He stretched his eyes and gave them a quick and fierce rub.
He nervously clasped his baseball bat and went nearer to the gate as he heard footsteps, trying to get a look at who was approaching, putting the whistle in his mouth and ready to blow, just in case. Each guard now wore a whistle around their neck whenever it was their turn to guard. The whistles were a new thing, and came from a sports shop in Hednesford that were brought back from a rare run by Stephen Rowley and Craig Burns.
He breathed out a relieved breath once his eyes picked up Pickle and Vince, but there were two other guys with them that Terry didn’t recognise.
The four men stood silently by the gate a
nd waited for Terry to slide the gate open, but all the guard did was stare at the men in confusion.
“Any time this week, Tezza,” Vince moaned.
“Um...” Terry scratched his head. “Who are these two guys?”
Vince explained, “Just two fellows that need our help.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s the Christian thing to do,” said Pickle with a smile, but deep down he was becoming annoyed with Terry’s reluctance to open the gate. “Now, Terry, please open up.”
Terry glared at the two strangers that were with Pickle and Vince, and eventually opened up.
“Thank fuck for that,” Vince huffed, and was the first to walk through and entered the street of Colwyn Place.
“Just being careful,” Terry snapped at Kindl. “Just making sure our people are safe. For all I know, these two could have taken you hostage.”
“Don’t be so melodramatic,” Vince laughed. “And as for making sure people are safe... Didn’t you keep your dead daughter in your cellar for months?”
Terry bit his bottom lip in anger and turned around. He paced over to Vince. Pickle remained at the side, standing next to Roger and Peter, and decided not to get involved.
“You say anything about my daughter again,” Terry snarled, “and I’ll kill you with my bare hands.”
“No, you won’t.” Vince smiled and walked away from Braithwaite and looked to be heading back to his place.
Pickle cleared his throat, clearly embarrassed, and said to Roger and Peter with a sprinkle of sarcasm, “As yer can see, we’re pretty close, a tight unit in here. Almost like family.”
“So I see,” said Roger with a mocking tone.
“Why don’t yer two gentlemen go to my ‘ouse at number ten. Help yerself to drinks and stuff in ma kitchen. I’ll see yer in a minute, and then we’ll take yer both to Rugeley.”
The two men nodded and strolled over to 10 Colwyn Place whilst Pickle jogged over to Vince.
Vince turned around on hearing the noise behind him, and for a second he thought it was Terry, ready to have a go.
Snatchers Box Set, Vol. 4 [Books 10-12] Page 53