Snatchers 2: The Dead Don't Sleep

by Shaun Whittington

  By the time I had snapped out of my self-hypnosis, I had three of them pawing at the glass, desperate to rip me to pieces, one of them actually vomited dark blood over a part of the glass which twisted my guts.

  Poor souls, I thought.

  ***

  With nothing in my hands, I knew I was a potential victim. The only tool I had was the ability to run away, but for how long could I keep that up? Now my train of thought was back on track, I had realised that my presence hanging around outside the hotel's foyer was doing my daughter no favours whatsoever. There was no way of me getting in and she wasn’t answering her phone, so it appeared that my little run was a complete waste of time. I was hopeful that she'd be safe and knew that if she did return home eventually, I'd be no good to her dead.

  I looked around the area where I was on Argyle Street. I decided to walk under the Central Station Bridge, and carefully peered around the corner. There was no sign of life, apart from a silver Meriva that squealed its way out of an NCP car park that quickly disappeared from view. I texted my youngest daughter one more time and basically told her that if she was still at the hotel she should stay where she was and that I was heading back home, which in hindsight, is where I should have stayed.

  With a small chance of her waiting for me at home, I decided to head back and gently jogged down Jamaica Street, away from Argyle Street, and away from the city centre. Now that I could see it was reasonably clear ahead of me, I ran a little harder and went past a pub called Macsorley's with the youth hostel to my left. I then hit a slight incline as I began to cross the Glasgow Jamaica Bridge as my body was now beginning to head back towards Tradeston.

  On a night, on a rare occasion when I went out for a drink and couldn't get myself a cab home, I would take this route home on foot and worry in case I bumped into a bunch of neds or a bunch of drunks, or both, and end up getting beaten up or stabbed. Now it was daytime, and the fear I had was far greater. Yes, these things were slower, but one wrong turn could end up becoming the most painful and indescribable way of dying any man or woman could imagine.

  I looked at my watch and realised it had been nearly an hour since I jumped into my car and headed towards the city centre. I thought about those poor people outside of the police station. I know the police are only humans dressed in a uniform, but to unleash that kind of violence on them was terrible. The public were just frightened, and probably wanted answers. The same people that were paid to protect and serve the community had gunned some of those people down, and for what? Because they thought that the people were them? Or was it something more sinister than that? Were they making too much noise and decided to shut them up to save their own skin? When something like this happens, you do realise that humans are selfish and it really is survival of the fittest and fuck everyone else.

  My brief running came to a stop when I got to a corner of a wall. I was standing opposite a pub called The Laurieston, and peered my head around the corner to see if the new street I was about to enter was safe. It was, so I began my jog once again and my destination was Paisley Road West once more. With my confidence growing and still baffled why the streets weren't plagued with these things, I turned two corners and whether it was karma giving me a reality slap because of my newfound confidence, or just plain old coincidence, I was greeted by two of the things who were heading my way, but still a good twenty yards away from me. Their features were hideous; one of them, a female—I think—had the skin of her bottom jaw stripped away. I didn't know how this came about, but it wasn't something I had time to sit down and ponder over. The only thing my mind screamed inside of my head was RUN!

  That was exactly what I did, and because of the new fear, it appeared to have excited my body and gave it another new lease of energy. I don't know how much adrenaline one human could produce in one day, but I certainly took advantage of it and sprinted quite easily away from the two potential attackers, although their slight increase of speed still startled me somewhat. The scenario kind of reminded me of a documentary I watched on alligators or crocodiles—I can't really remember.

  The reptile would seem docile, almost statue-like, while its potential victim strutted around where it dwelled. Then in a flash, the reptile would strike and the victim was dragged into the water and devoured. They weren't exactly that quick, but their slight acceleration was something I was going to have to watch.

  I passed a set of apartments and to my right was a gaping hole where the Co-op funeral directors were, before it had burnt down. Once I passed the Springfield Quay and saw that the majority of Paisley Road West was barren, I slowed my pace and bent over with the palm of my hands on my knees, trying desperately to get my breath back.

  I heard in the distance a set of engines and as I turned around, I could see two cars, one a black Quashqai that had a family in it, and another, a burgundy Renault Clio, that had a female and a male in the front seats. The family zoomed past me and never noticed me, but the couple in the Renault glared at me as they followed behind the Nissan Quashqai. I didn't know whether they were together and that both drivers of the vehicles knew each other, but the female passenger of the Renault urged her male counterpart to stop for me. But as they went by, I could see by the panicky facial expressions of the driver that in no uncertain terms was he going to stop for anybody. I didn't really blame him, and I made no effort to flag any of the cars down anyway. I still don't really know why I didn't bother. I think I was still numbed and bewildered with the whole 'the world's going to the shitter' kind of way, and of course, worried about my baby girl.

  ***

  I decided to take a detour when I got to the La Fiorentina restaurant as I had clocked six of those fucktards swarming about near one of the betting shops. Thankfully I wasn't spotted but I didn't want to even get remotely close to one of those things. Just looking at them from behind a pane of glass back at the hotel made my guts do somersaults. My unprepared and unplanned Sunday morning exercise session had continued, and I began to jog through a children's play park.

  I looked up occasionally to see nettings and curtains twitching from residents who were most probably wondering what the fuck I was doing. I could already see or hear what was going through their minds. Is this man insane?

  I ended up back on the main road once another two were seen on their knees with their back towards me eating something I didn't really want to see. The only thing I saw was the female, stuffing entrails of the victim into her mouth rapidly as if someone was about to steal them off her. For reasons I still can't explain now, I stopped to look at this, and yet again, my stomach twisted and turned.

  I knew that this epidemic was in its infancy and was certain that it was going to get a whole lot worse before it got better, but I had seen enough vulgarity to last me a lifetime and was happy to get home, have a cup of tea and wait for my daughter to call me if she wasn't already there. I didn't have to wait long when my phone went off. I put my clammy hands into my pocket and pulled out my phone. My hands shook with trepidation and looked at my phone screen. Indeed it was my daughter, and I answered with a half-cry. "Baby, where are you?"

  "I'm okay," she was also in tears. "I'm at a...friend's house."

  I knew that tone in her voice; she was with a male, but it didn't bother me. All that mattered was that she was alive.

  "Look," I said. "It doesn't matter who you're with, are you safe?"

  "Yes. Anyway, where've you been? I've been trying to call you for ages." I looked at my phone and she was right, I had five missed calls, all from her. But it was kind of understandable that I didn't feel the vibration go off in my pocket, considering the shit I had seen so far.

  "Are you in a safe place?" I questioned her; that was all that I cared about.

  "Yeah, James lives in a flat on the fourth floor in Partick. We've locked the doors and gonna wait till it all dies down. Have you phoned Karen, I can't get through?"

  "Don't worry about her, she can handle herself." I then sighed, and began to fight back t
he tears, "Okay. Just don't you move anywhere. I'm gonna head back home."

  "Back home? Where the fuck are you?"

  Wow, I'd never heard my daughter swear before, but considering we were in a precarious position and that it wasn't the time and place for a dressing down—and the fact that she was nineteen year old, I refrained from reprimanding her for using such foul language towards her old man. I figured she said what she had said through concern.

  "I went looking for you," I confessed. "But it's okay, I'm nearly home now." I had to lie to her, as I didn't want her to worry any more than she needed to. The truth was I was still about two miles away from home, and it seemed to be taking a lot longer to get back home than it did to get to the city centre.

  In the distance, I could hear an engine moaning and told my daughter that I had to go, and I told her to be safe—again—and that I loved her. She tearfully hung up, and in the distance I could see a green Ford heading my way. As it got nearer, I braced myself to be shunned but thought it was worth the effort. I held out my arm as if I was flagging down a cab, and to my astonishment, the car actually stopped, very abruptly.

  ***

  Once the car stopped, I wasn't prepared for the carnage that awaited me. I opened up the passenger door to be greeted with a distraught man, tears fell from his face as he screamed, "You gotta help me!"

  I looked at him and saw that there was blood over his yellow shirt. I then looked to the back of the car to see a half-unconscious boy, no older than the age of six, lying in the back, bleeding heavily, and still wearing pyjamas.

  The man begged, "Please, can you drive me home while I jump in the back to see to my boy? I need to see my wife."

  I didn't have to be asked twice, I just nodded and walked around to the driver's side and the man got into the back with his son, took his shirt off and began to add pressure to the wound that was coming from the boy's left forearm.

  "Where do you live?" I asked him, and I remembered casually adjusting the rear view mirror as if I was preparing myself for a driving test.

  "Just turn left at the Corkerhill Road and head for Barrhead."

  Selfishly, I was kind of pleased, as it was on the way to my own house. I asked him how his boy was, but he never answered me. I slipped the car into first and pulled away without checking my blind spot. The car squealed away and I progressed up to forty quite speedily. I kept on gawping into the rear view mirror and saw the man pressing down on his son's wound. Despite the roads being barren, I kept my wits about me in case a vehicle zoomed out of one of the junctions. The traffic was non-existent, but all it took was one person in a panicky rush to make impact with myself. The Highway Code did not apply now, and the sets of traffic lights may as well not have been there. I eventually passed my own abandoned car once I got to Corkerhill Road and turned left.

  The boy never made a sound and I assumed at this point the little guy had passed out through the pain or loss of blood. Curiosity had got the better of me and I had to ask what had happened. The man eventually spoke, "The wee man was in for a routine appendix removal. I came in this morning to pick him up and all hell had broken loose. Me and the wife were nervous as hell about taking him to the Southern General because of what happened at The Royal Infirmary a few days ago."

  The father was referring to a handful of attacks that had occurred in a hospital just outside the city centre. All hospitals had now been under police guard because of the small 'pockets' of violence that had been occurring since the beginning of June. It was now June 10th, and it took the fuckers too long to reveal to the country that actually we were in the middle of an aggressive virus and they had probably known about it for days, maybe weeks, but they didn't want to startle the public.

  I think the government arrogantly thought that it was pretty much in control despite the random attacks that had occurred and the occasional riot, but once the news was showing these things in their droves eating people on live TV, I think they knew that we were pretty much fucked.

  The father continued to speak, "The hospital was under guard, but I even noticed on the way in that there were a few souls wandering around, and they didn't look drunk, I can tell you that. I was with my boy and I heard a load of screaming." He turned to stroke his son's face and began to shush him as the boy began to mutter while he remained unconscious. He wiped his own brow with his bloodied arm and wiped his tearstained face with the palm of his left hand. "I just took him out and carried him back to the car park. As I was getting to the car park, one of them jumped out and bit Toby on the finger, before I managed to push it away. Then I saw that a woman had three of the things on top of her. As you could imagine, especially in the sheltered car park, the screams were deafening. I didn't want to look, but I had to in case one of them decided to come our way. But thankfully it didn't happen. In a weird kinda way that woman probably saved us as I'm not sure I would have had the strength to fight three…four of the fuckers off."

  At this point, the man broke down, but he fought hard to keep himself together and it worked for a while. He kissed the top of his son's head and I began to feel emotional about the whole ordeal that was unfolding. I looked at the man and his son and knew stories like this were in its thousands across the UK and it almost broke my heart.

  "Where's your wife?" I asked. I didn't know he was married, as a lot of people didn't see the importance of marriage these days. But I assumed he had a partner of sorts.

  He answered, "At home. We just came back from the hospital on Saturday night and once these idiots decided to let the public know that these pockets of violence had become widespread, I jumped into my car and went straight to the hospital before they decided to close the building off to contain the problem, and of course, keep those things from outside, getting in. I wasn't alone either; it was pandemonium in the hospital and even some of the staff had left once the news broke out. My son would have just been left there...to...to..." He broke down again and suddenly began to shake his son. "Toby, Toby." I knew this wasn't a good sign and correctly guessed that the boy had stopped breathing.

  "How long has he been unconscious for?" I asked.

  "I don't know," the man cried. "An hour. Maybe half an hour.

  "What shall I do?" I began to panic. "Shall I stop the car?"

  He never answered my questions, and it was no wonder when I caught a glimpse of him, as he was overcome with grief. I didn't know if stopping the car would be of any use. They had just come back from the hospital so there was nowhere else for me to take him. He initially wanted me to take him home so I assumed that whatever the outcome, his goal was to take his son back to his family home where his mother was waiting for him. I continued with the driving and had now reached the roundabout and turned right. Once I passed the Waterside Inn to my left, I heard this God-awful scream from behind me.

  The scream had frightened the shit out of me. As I jumped, I automatically twisted my neck to see what was happening and had lost control of the car. I was suddenly thrown forward, hit my nose on the steering wheel and my head was thrown back against the cushioned-head restraint. I had collided with the metal fence that was situated outside the crematorium.

  The car was still on its four wheels, but the vehicle had made it to the other side of the road and had hit the fence. Predictably, smoke poured upwards out of the engine, stopping me from seeing anything in front of me—although all there was to see was a mangled fence and a set of headstones.

  Everything hushed around me and it took a while for my brain to register that I had been in a smash, and that I should have put on my seatbelt. I slowly lifted my head off from the head restraint, paranoid that I may have broken my neck, and slowly turned my head to the right and then to the left.

  Convinced I hadn't received any serious neck injury, apart from a little soreness, I looked into the rear view mirror to see how much damage there was to my nose. It was bleeding a little but I was sure it wasn't broken, although I was surprised that the airbag never inflated considering the
magnitude of the crash.

  I released an elongated and relieved sigh and suddenly stopped exhaling when I heard a strange noise coming from behind me. I then realised the reason why I had crashed the car in the first instance. I had heard a scream from behind me coming from the father who had never introduced himself.

  I leaned forward and twisted my body around so that I was sitting sideways and twisted my head to see what was happening in the back of the car. I remember my eyes widening once I saw what I saw, and I felt my stomach doing cartwheels, which was something I was beginning to be accustomed to, but if the vomiting process did take place, I knew there'd be little too bring up. I had no breakfast before jumping into my car and my last meal had been at five o'clock on Saturday evening, and even that was just a light chicken salad.

  My eyes witnessed the six-year-old back to life—if that's what you want to call it, and sinking his little teeth into his father's neck. Blood poured out at a furious rate from the man and I could see scratches on the boy's face, as if his own father had tried to fight him off while he was being attacked, but now he was out of it. I then realised this had been going on while I was slightly unconscious and was semi-relieved that my own body hadn't been devoured while my body was in a coma-like state.

  The sloppy noises coming from the devouring of the side of his neck was beginning to sicken me and my brain began to scream at me to get out, but my legs had other ideas as they were like stone. I didn't know whether it was fear that paralysed me or the lactic acid from the running I had participated in on this particular morning.

  I couldn't go into detail about what part of the neck was being devoured before my eyes, as I have no anatomy knowledge, so whether the little boy was feasting on the man's trachea or even his meaty tongue, it was hard to know with all the blood that surrounded the wounds and the boy's face, and it was impossible to see how deep he had gone in. I placed my handle on the door ready to leave the vehicle, but was paranoid of two things: The first thing I was scared of was whether the noise of the door opening would arouse the thing. The other thing that worried me was if I could get the door open at all. I had noticed that it had caved in a little, and I wasn't certain the door would open in the first place, but I decided to give it a try.