The Dead Don't Fear

by Shaun Whittington

  “Those four men you have just mentioned,” Shelley said. “Was one a tall guy, with long hair and a beard?”

  Pickle nodded. “His nickname is Manson.”

  She placed her hand over her mouth and looked close to tears.

  “What is it?” Drake questioned with a pinch of impatience.

  “He tried to rape me one of the nights.” Shelley said. She could see the confusion on the faces of her small audience and decided to start at the beginning. “Basically … those guys turned up a few weeks ago and took over the village. They beat up people who stood up to them, killed a few guys, and basically was running the place within hours. They managed to win round some of the villagers and get them on side, but the rest of us lived in fear. Some tried to escape.”

  “Tried?” Karen said.

  “Yes.” Shelley nodded sadly. “Before I left, some had had enough. Six people had tried to leave. Two had managed to escape, but the four that were caught were murdered by Marsden and his pals. Fucking scum.”

  “I’m not aware o’ this Gnosall,” said Pickle. “Is it far from Little Haywood?”

  “No, not far.” Shelley shook her head. “A couple of miles or so.”

  Pickle and Karen looked at one another and Pickle turned back to Shelley and said, “Thanks, Shelley. That’ll be all.”

  Shelley Tavernier smiled and then turned and walked back into the main building.

  Pickle could see the concern on Karen’s face and said to her, “Are yer thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?”

  Karen nodded. “I’m worried for the people left at Colwyn Place. Most of the fighters have left. I know Terry can handle himself, but the rest...”

  “Fuck me,” Drake snapped. “I hope you’re not thinking about another pointless, petrol wasting trip just to check if your old pals are okay.”

  “Shelley said that Marsden and his pals had been there for two weeks or so,” Karen said. “They were there when we were at Colwyn. So it looks like all is well so far, but I do think that the next time we’re on a run, or any of your other guys for that matter, the people at Colwyn should be warned about these guys.”

  Pickle nodded. “I agree.”

  Drake said, “Personally, I don’t think it’s anything to worry about. There’re arseholes like this all over the place now. The only reason we’re okay is because we have the numbers and a big fuck-off wall that surrounds the place.”

  Drake could see the concern on Pickle and Karen’s face and added, “Look, guys. I did give them an offer to come here … and they refused. But when you see them next time, tell them about these guys and remind them that the offer to come here is still on the table.”

  “And in the meantime...?” Karen probed.

  “In the meantime, we carry on as normal.” Drake turned to walk away and suddenly remembered something. “Oh. I may have something for you next week.”

  “Something?” Karen queried.

  “We’ll discuss it another day,” he said. “It involves taking a trip to Amerton Farm.”

  “Amerton Farm.” Pickle looked mystified. “Where’s that?”

  “Um … Amerton,” Drake laughed. “It’s a place that used to be open to the public and has a large… You know what? We’ll talk about it later.” Drake looked at his watch. “See you two in the morning.”

  Drake walked away and Karen lowered her voice and asked Pickle what he thought about what Drake had said about the residents of Colwyn Place.

  “We’re just goin’ to have to go with it.” Pickle turned and spat on the ground. He wiped his mouth and said further, “The next run we’re on, we’ll tell Terry and the rest to be wary, okay?”

  Karen nodded. “I suppose that’s all we can do.”

  *

  The noise alerted the man straightaway. Paul Dickson stood up in the dark and for a second he had forgot where he was. He rubbed his eyes and felt his way over to the main door. He stood near the chair that was pressed up against it, wedged under the doorknob, and placed his ear against it.

  He could hear the sounds of shuffling feet and held his breath as they stopped behind.

  Dickson could hear the individual breathing and could hear the door being tried. The man tried the door again and appeared to have given up. The feet moved away and Paul could hear the man, he assumed, going upstairs.

  Paul began to relax and sat on the floor. It was a large building, so he didn’t mind other people using it.

  He leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes, hoping to nod off after the interruption. His hope was soon quashed when he heard the boots returning. The sound grew louder and they stopped once more behind the door.

  What is this guy’s problem? It’s a huge building and there’s many rooms, so why the interest in this door?

  The door was tried and Paul jumped when a bang occurred.

  It was either punched or kicked, and Dickson decided to speak and try and warn the individual away. Another bang occurred and Paul spoke up.

  “Nothing in here for you, friend,” he said. “No food. It’s just me trying to get some sleep.”

  There was no verbal response from the man, and the individual could be heard walking away.

  Paul remained where he was and it took a few more minutes before Paul could relax again.

  Eleven minutes later he had fallen asleep.

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  Drake shut the staff room door and prepared himself for a night of sleep. He opened the cupboard above the sink and pulled out a mug. He slammed the mug on the table and crouched down and opened the bottom cupboard. He had a choice of two bottles and opted for the whiskey. He unscrewed the cap and poured the urine-coloured liquid into the mug and took two gulps.

  He had been waiting hours for this.

  The whiskey sloshed around inside of him and the glorious heat it generated brought a smile to his face. He took two more gulps and sat down on one of the plastic chairs. It was going to be an uncomfortable night, sleeping at the table, but he had done it many times before, especially when he was intoxicated. He was the leader, but if he was spotted drunk or with a bottle in his hand, questions would be asked and residents would not be happy that he was allowed to have such a luxury.

  Drake finished the mug and poured himself another large measure. He then went to the bottom cupboard and pulled out a photograph of his son. It was a picture of him at the park. He sat back down and gazed at the photo that he was holding in his left hand and picked up the mug with his right. He took another large gulp, placed the mug back on the table and broke down.

  *

  Vince was doing the night stint on the main gate and knew he was going to be exhausted by the end of the shift, but Drake promised him that he would be ‘paid’ with chocolate for his services.

  Vince was alone and knew it was going to be a long night. He kept his machete in his belt and began to pace up and down, along the main gate. He could see Joanne Hammett outside one of the buildings, smoking a cigarette, and Vince called her over.

  She walked over with the cigarette hanging from her lips, and asked Vince what was wrong.

  “Nothing is wrong,” said Vince. “I was just bored, so I called you over. Where did you get that cigarette?”

  “Managed to get a few off Drake,” she replied.

  “Oh, right,” Vince guffawed. “Are you two...?” Vince raised his eyebrows and flashed a cheeky smile.

  “No, don’t be foul.” Joanne was in two minds whether to leave Vince alone.

  “I would never whore myself out for a couple of cigarettes,” she huffed. “Jesus, give me some credit.”

  “So he gave you cigarettes in exchange for nothing?” Vince smiled and said with suspicion. “Wow. That was nice of him. I hope he doesn’t want anything in return for his kindness.”

  Joanne was becoming a little paranoid and thought that maybe Drake did want something in return. She threw the half cigarette to the floor and stubbed it out with her shoe.

  “Put you o
ff, did I?” said Vince.

  Joanne never answered.

  Vince knew he had upset her and didn’t want her to go so early, so he tried to make amends. “By the way, I like what you’ve done with your hair,” he said.

  “What are you talking about?” Joanne ran her fingers through her blonde hair. “It hasn’t been washed.”

  “Well, you should not wash it more often. It’s a good look.”

  “Piss off, you psycho.” Joanne cracked a smile. “You’re not blessed with the chat are you?”

  “I do okay.” Vince feigned hurt on his face.

  “You do make people laugh, I’ll give you that.”

  “That’s half the battle,” he said. “If I make the girls laugh, then hopefully they see past this.” He pointed to his scarred face and then raised his left bandaged hand. “And now this.”

  “It’s been a while since I’ve had sex,” Joanne admitted.

  “Me too.” Vince smiled. “I may not be easy on the eye, put I’ve got a knobgoblin that can go like a sewing machine.”

  Joanne laughed. She bit her bottom lip and looked up at Vince for, what felt like, an eternity.

  “What?” Vince laughed.

  “You know what? Maybe we should meet up now and again. Just for quickies, if you know what I mean.”

  Vince felt giddy all of a sudden and exclaimed, “Um … what?”

  “You heard me,” Joanne giggled nervously.

  “Are you serious?”

  Joanne nodded and shrugged her shoulders. “Why the hell not?”

  “You know what? You make me melt like an ice cream under the summer sun.”

  “Enough of the corny lines, Vince,” Joanne snickered. “You won. I’ll see if I can get protection from Karen tomorrow.”

  “No need, I’ll bring my crash helmet.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Well, I hope you have some room in your mouth for another tongue?”

  “I do.” Joanne smiled and walked away, and a smile stretched over Vince’s face. She wasn’t joking. He knew she wasn’t joking.

  “Wow,” he muttered under his breath and watched as she walked away. “Well, Vince, looks like you’re gonna be hammering Hammett.” He shook his head, became nervous all of a sudden, and added under his breath. “Gonna have to smash one out. Can’t get with somebody that hot with a loaded womb broom. I’d be a one minute wonder.”

  Vince then clocked Stephanie Perkins and David MacDonald walking to the right of the inside wall. He whistled them over and the two turned and headed towards the main gate.

  “Does Drake know you two are out this late?” he joked.

  “We’re going inside in a few minutes,” David said, not picking up on Vince’s sarcasm.

  “I saw you talking to Joanne earlier,” Stephanie spoke up.

  “Did you now?” Vince smiled.

  “I’ve hardly spoken to her since we got here.”

  “I know what you mean. There’re a hundred people here, and I know about ten of them. I’ve hardly said a word to Peter and Roger since we arrived. Drake’s put them outside since we got here.”

  “Do you like it here?”

  Vince nodded. “I think so. It would be nice if it becomes a long-term thing. I just hope nothing bad happens. The ecrement always seems to hit the fan with us lot.”

  “Ecrement?” Stephanie giggled. “You mean excrement?”

  “I was trying not to swear.”

  David also started laughing, making Vince flush red with a mixture of anger and embarrassment.

  “I don’t know what you’re laughing at,” Vince snapped at the young boy. “It wasn’t that long since you pissed yourself, remember?”

  “Anyway,” Stephanie intervened. “You can say shit if you want, Vince. I’m fourteen, not four.”

  “Oh, can I?” said Vince. “Thanks for the permission.”

  David decided to walk away and leave Stephanie with Vince alone.

  “Haven’t seen you out practising much,” Vince remarked.

  “I’ve done a bit,” she said. “Just can’t seem to be bothered a lot of the time.”

  “That’s quite a talent you have. I’ve seen you put down a Snatcher from thirty yards. Don’t give it up.”

  “I won’t.”

  “It could save your life, as well as others, having something like that in your locker.”

  “Ecrement,” Stephanie laughed, changing the subject.

  “Alright, alright.”

  “If you were twice as smart as you are, you’d be half as smart as you think you are, but I still love you.” Stephanie leaned over and planted a kiss on Vince’s cheek.

  “I don’t get that.”

  “Goodnight, Vince.” Stephanie turned and walked away.

  “Good night, pest.”

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Drake sank his second whiskey and jumped when he heard a knock at his door.

  “For fuck’s sake,” he muttered, and then yelled at whoever was behind the door, “This better be good!”

  He stormed over to the door, removed a chair out of the way, and opened it to see a tearful Betty Gorman with Patricia Johnson consoling the woman.

  “What’s going on?” Drake was aware that his breath was probably reeking of whiskey and tried not to breathe in their direction.

  “Betty was attacked,” Patricia blurted out.

  “Attacked?” Drake rubbed his eyes, stifling a yawn.

  “Jason Bailey,” Patricia continued to speak as Betty was in no condition to. “He had her pinned to the bed in the ward; her shirt ripped open, and she had a sock in her mouth. As soon as I walked in on him and screamed at him to get off her, he bolted.”

  “I’ve always hated that bastard,” said Drake with a hard sigh. He then told Patricia to take a seat and get Betty sat down.

  Drake went over to the cupboard above the sink and pulled out a mug, then grabbed the whiskey and poured a large measure and handed it to Betty. “Drink,” he ordered, and then looked at Patricia and nodded at the bottle. “You never saw that.”

  Patricia nodded. He could trust her.

  He put the bottle away and then headed for the door and called on a guard. A guy called Derek.

  Derek Smalls appeared and Drake told him to get a couple of guys and bring Jason Bailey to the main gate. Smalls nodded and jogged away. He never asked why.

  Drake exited the room and headed outside, with Betty and Patricia staying behind in the staff room.

  Drake reached the gate and said to Vince, “Get ready to open that gate.”

  “Why, what’s happening?”

  “I need to evict someone,” was Drake’s short explanation.

  “Another one?” Vince laughed. “What did this one do? Leave the toilet seat up?”

  “Attempted rape.” Drake glared at Kindl. “Betty Gorman was attacked.”

  Vince dropped his head. “Oh.” Vince didn’t know who Betty was, but he was saddened by what had happened.

  A few minutes had passed and three guys were seen dragging out a man who Vince assumed was Betty’s assailant.

  “That was quick,” Vince spoke up with a sinister grin on his features.

  “Found him hiding in one of the greenhouses, Drake,” one of the guards said.

  Drake nodded and his face was devoid of any humour. “Bring that cunt over here.”

  They threw the man to the ground and he began to beg, “I’m sorry, Drake. I don’t know what came over me. I—”

  Drake held his hand up to silence the man and sighed with disappointment, “So it’s definitely true then.”

  “I don’t know what happened. I just…”

  Drake shushed the man and told his guards to help him up to his feet. He then pulled out his knife and approached a petrified Jason Bailey.

  “A couple of years ago,” Drake began. “My wife was physically attacked by some scumbag. Fortunately he never did the deed. She was too strong for him, but it still affected her deeply. I’ve hated
guys like you even before that incident, and I simply can’t let this go without being unpunished.”

  “I’ll leave.” The man lowered his head. “I’ll leave now.”

  Drake turned around and thought about cutting the man’s throat. Rape could not be tolerated and he had to send a message, especially now more people were exiting the building and wondering what the commotion was about. He could see Karen and Pickle and many others making their way over.

  Drake could see two Snatchers, behind the gate, many yards up ahead and released a sharp whistle, making the pair of them turn and stagger slowly in their direction.

  “What going on?” Pickle called over to Drake.

  Drake pointed at the accused and said, “Tried to rape someone.”

  “Jeez, we can’t have that.”

  “Yes, I know,” Drake snapped and looked annoyed. “I’m dealing with it, Pickle. Okay?”

  “Relax.” Pickle held up his hands and added, “I wasn’t interfering, just asking what was goin’ on.”

  “And I said I’ll deal with it.”

  “I’ll leave now,” Jason said.

  “Yes, you will.” Drake nodded and was now fuming. “But before you go...”

  He went over to Jason and stabbed him once in each leg. The man screamed out and immediately hit the floor, and Drake told the guards to take him out of the grounds, and instructed Vince to pull the gate back. Vince did as he was told and closed the gate once Jason was thrown out.

  Jason desperately tried to stand, but the wounds he received were making it impossible.

  Every time he tried, white-hot pain shot through his legs and crippled him. He lay on the floor, with his fingers holding onto the gate’s railings and begged people to help him.

  No one moved. No one dared move.

  The two Snatchers got closer, and the panic overwhelmed Jason Bailey once he realised that Drake wasn’t just trying to frighten him. He really was being left for the dead and a lot of people he knew were just going to stand and watch.

  “You can’t do this!” Jason screamed. “You can’t let me die like that!”