“Something the matter?” Pickle asked him.
“Yeah.” Danny grumbled, “I miss John.”
“I understand.” Pickle smiled thinly, rattled the keys that were in his hand, and pointed over to the pickup, urging Danny to get inside. “Let’s go. It’s only a short trip, so it’ll hardly touch the petrol.”
Once the two males were comfortable in the pickup, Pickle pulled the vehicle away and exited the street once the gate was pulled back.
The two men remained silent as the pickup crept through the windy lanes at a steady twenty to twenty-five mph, and both looked to the left and raised a smile when they passed the first cafe. It was the same cafe that Danny ran away from when he thought Pickle was being attacked.
Pickle looked to the side at Danny, revealing a smirk.
Feeling Pickle’s eyes on him, Danny said, “Don’t say a word. I’m not like that anymore.”
“I know,” Branston chuckled. “Yer have definitely improved since then.”
“I have.”
“Here we are.” Pickle pointed up ahead.
He slowed the vehicle down and pulled in at the cafe where they had been two weeks ago. Pickle had gone round the back, when checking the place out a while back. He came across a man who was reluctant to come out and also claimed that he was with his two kids.
They both stepped out of the pickup and inspected the front of the place. It hadn’t changed since the last time they were here. It was a tired-looking wooden building, and Pickle was certain that there were people inside.
Pickle looked down to his left to make sure that Danny was carrying his weapon, and said to the young man, “We’ll check round the back first. Then we’ll go inside.”
“What if there’s no one there?” Danny asked.
Pickle hunched his shoulders. “Then we go home. Just want to give the guy the opportunity to change his mind, if he’s still here. Things could have turned a lot bleaker for him and his kids after two weeks.”
The two men made careful steps on the noisy gravel and reached the back of the place. Pickle was almost standing in the same spot where he had his short conversation with the man two weeks ago.
He picked up a handful of gravel and threw the pebbles at the top window—a bedroom, Pickle presumed. After a few seconds had passed, he threw more gravel, but there was no appearance from the man he had spoken to a fortnight ago.
“We can either go through that back door,” he said to Danny. “Or we can go through the front door to the cafe area.”
“I’m not fussed,” was Danny’s verbal reaction.
“Okay.” Pickle approached the back door and managed to break down the door with one front kick. He turned and looked at Danny. “Well, that was too easy.”
“What now?”
Pickle took a look up the dusky stairs and said to Danny, “Wait out here. I’ll go on my own.”
Danny never said a word. He simply watched as Pickle disappeared upstairs and waited for three long minutes before he came back. Once Harry Branston returned, empty-handed, Danny knew that the place was bare.
“Nothing?” Danny queried.
Pickle shook his head. “The place is completely empty. No idea why or how he left.”
“So...” Danny paused and continued, “Back home then?”
Pickle nodded. “Looks like it.”
The beleaguered men traipsed around the back, walked by the side of the establishment, and both stopped when they saw two men walking around the pickup, inspecting it.
Danny gulped and began to shiver with fear, but Pickle remained calm and cleared his throat to get the two individual’s attention.
The two men were by the front of the pickup and ten yards from Pickle and Danny. They both looked up when Pickle had cleared his throat, and then looked at each other.
The man on the left was tall, thin, had a thick moustache. He reminded Pickle of the character Basil Fawlty from the Fawlty Towers sitcom. The man on the right was heavy and bald. He was muscular, but had a large belly.
Despite the arrival of the apocalypse, it seemed that these men kept well and looked clean. Pickle didn’t like the look of them straightaway, and guessed that these men looked reasonably healthy because they had spent their days taking off others by any means necessary.
“Alright, boys?” The heavy man spoke up. He seemed to be the dominant of the two and pointed at the pickup. “Is this yours?”
“Sure is.” Pickle rattled the keys and smiled at the two guys. “Where are yer based?”
“Around,” the heavy man replied, not giving much away. “Yourselves?”
“Same.” Pickle nodded at the pickup and moved closer to the driver’s door with Danny behind him. “Now, gentlemen. If yer will excuse us.”
The tall man with the moustache stood against the driver’s door, not allowing Pickle to get in. The heavy guy took a few steps forwards and gave Pickle a push.
“No need for this kind o’ behaviour, gentlemen,” Pickle said with calm. “Just tryin’ to get back into ma vehicle, if that’s okay with yer.”
The heavy man looked both Pickle and Danny up and down and said, “You have somewhere to stay? You look like it. You look clean and well fed.”
“Yer don’t look too shabby yerselves,” Pickle guffawed.
The bald heavy man reached into his pocket and pulled out a knife. He then folded his arms and said, “I’ve got an idea. You give us the vehicle and we’ll let you walk away from here with not a single stab wound to your bodies.”
Pickle took a quick gape over at Danny, who was out of the way, and gave the young man a wink. Danny couldn’t believe how cool Pickle was in such a situation, and could feel his own heart galloping at a frightening pace.
“Well, that’s quite a generous offer.” Pickle stroked his chin in thought and contemplated on what to say next. He then smiled and clicked his fingers. “I’ve got a better idea. Yer two clowns leave right now, and I’ll let yer both live.”
Danny Gosling was now physically shaking with nerves. In his head, a frightened Danny Gosling was telling Pickle to shut the fuck up. Please, Pickle. Just give them the pickup and let’s just fuck off. Please, don’t do anything stupid.
The two men were now both by the driver’s door; Pickle was a couple of yards away from them, wanting to get in, and Danny was behind Pickle. Pickle and Danny’s machetes were still in their belts. The thin and heavy man were standing with a knife each in their right hands, and Pickle thought they were either brave or really stupid.
A machete against a knife? There could be only one winner, surely.
It was a stand off. Both the thin and heavy man continued to glare at Pickle, but was unconcerned about Danny. It was as if they knew that the young man was hopeless in these kinds of situations.
Pickle placed his hands together and placed them by his crotch. “So what happens now?”
Simultaneously, both the heavy and thin man lunged at Harry Branston with their knives, but the Basil Fawlty look-alike was put down straightaway with a sidekick to his right knee. As soon as he collapsed to the floor, Pickle jumped backwards a yard, as the heavy man lunged at him again, and then threw a jab at the man. But it wasn’t a normal jab.
Pickle had the car keys in his left hand and the ignition key was exposed, sticking out between his fingers. The bald man cried out as the ignition key punctured his left eye, dropped his knife, and ran away onto the country road, heading in the direction of Colwyn Place.
Pickle was in two minds whether to chase the man and finish him off, but looked down to see Basil Fawlty trying to get to his feet. Pickle kicked the man’s knife away and then picked up the one that the bald man had dropped. He put the blade in his pocket and bent over and grabbed the thin man’s head, twisting it hard to the right, breaking his neck and killing him instantly.
Pickle stood up straight, panting, and looked down on the damage he had caused.
“Right,” Pickle stretched his back and looked at a shocked Danny. �
��Get in the vehicle.”
Danny did what he was told, and Pickle wiped the bloody ignition key on his trousers before getting into the driver’s side.
Pickle fired the engine and turned to Danny. “Don’t be shocked. This happens now and again when yer go out. It was either them or us.”
The pickup started to move and turned right onto the country lane. Pickle went through the gears quickly, and once the road straightened they could both see the injured heavy man. He had his back to them, still clutching his eyes and staggering along the road, trying to escape.
Pickle pressed harder on the gas pedal and told Danny to prepare himself for a couple of bumps. Danny watched in aghast as the pickup struck the man, and both males jumped as the wheels went over the bald heavy guy.
Pickle slowed the vehicle down and gazed in the rear view mirror, whilst Danny looked in the side mirror and could see the man’s arm moving.
“He’s still moving,” Danny remarked.
Pickle stopped the vehicle altogether and put it into reverse. The pickup shot backwards and went over the man, and again once he pulled forwards. Pickle stopped again and gazed in the mirror once more. He was certain that the man was now dead.
He slipped the vehicle into first and now the vehicle was moving away from the fields. Pickle had a quick look in the rear view mirror again before going round a bend.
Pickle chuckled, “He ain’t moving now.”
He could feel the eyes of Danny Gosling glaring at him
“Yer okay?” Pickle asked him.
“Just a bit shocked,” replied the man in his twenties.
“Yer will get used to it.”
“Will I?”
“Yer gonna have to.”
Chapter Twenty Seven
“Are you sure about this?” David asked Vince as the two of them were now by the gate of the farm. It was now a small matter of opening or climbing the metal gate and taking the twenty yard walk up the dirt path to the main door of the place.
Vince shrugged his shoulders, finally answering David’s query. “It’s worth a shot.”
Vince was the first to go through the gate and David soon followed. Vince was already at the main door, a green door with a brass lion knocker, and David began to jog as he was lagging behind.
Vince placed his left hand on the top handle of his machete and knocked the green door three times. By the time he knocked again, young David was by his side.
“And if we get no answer?” David asked Vince.
“We break in and hopefully find the keys for that thing over there.” Vince pointed over to the tractor that was parked near a barn. “I have a better chance of killing a lot of those bastards with that than with that jeep.”
“Aren’t tractors slow, though?”
Vince ignored the teenager and knocked again.
David gasped once his eyes clocked a man with a grey beard, staring at the pair of them from the front window. David slapped Vince to get his attention, but by the time Vince looked to where David was pointing, the man had disappeared.
Then the door opened.
Both Vince and David placed their hands on the handle of their machetes, but never drew their weapons.
Vince took a step back and could see a tall gentleman greet them. The six foot-one man had a heavy grey beard and gave his two visitors a smile. He was wearing boots, blue jeans that looked like they hadn’t been washed since the apocalypse began, and had on an old burgundy jumper that gave off an assortment of smells that wasn’t too pleasurable to Vince and David’s senses.
“Well, fuck me!” The man released a chortle and added, “Let me guess. You want your ball back, don’t you?”
Vince and David never said a word. They looked at the man glumly, unsure how to respond.
“You guys are in the middle of nowhere, so I take it that you’re after something. Am I right?” The man in his late fifties scratched his grey beard and looked down at their machetes.
There was no response from Vince or David.
“Have you two cunts come to rob me? If so, come in. I can’t find anything decent in this house to rob, but if you can, best of luck, gentleman.”
“We need your help,” Vince spoke at last.
“Ahh, it speaks.” The owner of the farm folded his arms and said further, “And how the fuck can I help you two pair of cunt lickers?”
David opened his mouth to speak up, but only a noise came out. In truth, despite being armed and being with Vince, he was intimidated by the presence of this man, even though he looked to have no weapon on him.
The farmer held his hand up and shushed David; he then pointed to Vince. “I want the adult to talk. It doesn’t look like your balls have dropped yet, son.” He glared at David for a second and added, “How the fuck did you ever get this far? You look like you’d shit your kegs at a moment’s notice.”
“Friends of ours are in trouble,” Vince began to explain, trying to ignore the insulting words coming from the bearded man towards his young companion.
“And how the fuck is that my problem?”
“I’d like to borrow your tractor.”
“Is that right? And how do you know it works?”
“Um ... I don’t.”
“Well, it does, but you’re not borrowing anything.”
“Please, there’s a fourteen-year-old girl’s life at stake.” Vince folded his arms and kept eye contact with the cantankerous individual. “And a couple of others.”
“Oh.” The man’s attitude seemed to have changed once Vince had mentioned that the life of a minor was in danger, a teenage girl.
To save confusion, Vince decided to explain to the man that the people had gone out on a run and never returned, so he and David left their camp in the jeep to see what the hold up was.
“You took him out?” the man laughed, pointing at young David MacDonald. “This little tosspot looks like he couldn’t beat up a two legged dog.”
“He came out for the experience,” Vince sighed, trying to defend an embarrassed David. “You have to start somewhere.”
“You just show me the problem and I’ll deal with it.”
The man stepped outside and shut the door behind him.
Vince held out his hand and introduced himself to the man. The man gave Vince and David a quick nod each and introduced himself as Quint, but never shook their hands.
“Right.” Quint clapped his hands together. “Let’s assess the damage, you couple of fannies.”
Quint strode forwards, with Vince and David behind, and said to the two of them, “This way?” Quint pointed to his left, and both Vince and David nodded.
Quint strode with quick steps, and once he cleared a bend he stopped walking as he reached the jeep, and could see the horde of the dead around the RV from a distance.
Once David and Vince were by Quint’s side, Quint pointed over to the RV and asked, “So, are your people inside of that?”
“I think so,” Vince answered. “There should be three females in there.”
Quint put his hands on his hips, staring at the dead from twenty yards away. “Now, I haven’t seen anything like that before. I hate those filthy cunts, I really do.”
“I was thinking about getting in the jeep and sounding the horn,” said Vince, “and then driving slowly so they could follow us. At least then they be moving away from the van and the RV could get moving again, but I’ve got a feeling that it’s stuck.”
“Nah.” Quint shook his head. “Be probably best just to massacre the dead cunts. You did the right thing coming to see me, but I don’t think the tractor will do much damage.”
“So now what?” Vince asked.
“Only one thing for it.”
“What?”
Quint laughed and slapped Vince on the back. “Be back in a minute. And after this, you lot are joining me for a cup of tea before you fuck off, got it?”
Vince nodded, unsure what he was talking about.
They both watched as Quint headed b
ack to his farm.
Minutes later, the growling sound appeared from behind them and was now beginning to turn the heads of the dead by the motorhome. From around the corner a combine harvester appeared with Quint behind the wheel of the huge vehicle.
The dead slowly turned and meandered in the direction of the jeep and towards Vince and David, then the combine squeezed by on the left and then went into the centre of the road once it had passed the jeep, the large blades spun as the dead got nearer. Vince and David was about to witness a massacre.
*
Only three Snatchers had ‘survived’ Quint’s combine, and Vince had put the three standing ghouls down with ease. Quint turned the large vehicle around and told Vince that he was taking the combine back and that he would meet him back at the farm for a cup of tea. Quint told Vince that he would use the tractor to pull the RV out of the swampy conditions once they finished their tea.
Vince approached the RV and the door swung open and Stephanie Perkins jumped out. The two embraced as David awkwardly hung behind. They finally broke away and Stephanie gave David a small wave once her eyes clocked him.
Vince put his head inside the motorhome and said, “Jesus fuck. Look at all this food.” He then turned to Stephanie when he realised something. “Where’s the other two? Where’s Elza and Ophelia?”
Stephanie shook her head. “They’re gone. Had to drive this back myself.”
“Dead?”
Stephanie’s eyes filled and she dropped her head.
“Shit.” Vince could see she was upset. He reached out and placed his hand on her shoulder and gave it a rub. “You don’t have to say anything just now. You can tell me all about it in your own time.”
Vince could see in the distance Quint parking up the harvester. He jumped out and beckoned them to come over.
“Can’t we just go back?” Stephanie said. “I don’t really want to leave all that food in there, unattended. Not after all I’ve gone through to get it.”
“Not just yet.”
She huffed, “Why not, Vince?”
Snatchers Box Set, Vol. 4 [Books 10-12] Page 64