The Dead Don't Fear

by Shaun Whittington

  Karen took a step forwards, but Pickle grabbed her arm and slowly shook his head.

  “That guy’s a scumbag,” she snapped at Pickle, “but he can’t die like that.”

  “It’s not our camp,” Pickle said softly. “Not our rules.”

  “Please!” Jason continued to scream as the two male dead were now yards from him. “Somebody help me!”

  Most people turned away when the two creatures grabbed Jason by the face and began to sink their rotten teeth into his neck and cheeks, but Pickle, Vince, Karen, Drake and Findlay watched on and most shuddered when Jason’s screams pierced the air. With his neck torn open and half of his face missing, he still managed to beg, and all witnesses jumped when an arrow buried itself into the top of his head, putting him out of his misery.

  Drake looked in the direction of where the arrow came from, and could see Stephanie Perkins, thirty yards away, sitting at the top of the shed David MacDonald had painted many hours ago, and reached for another arrow in her bag and took aim once more. There was plenty of room, but people moved out of the way to give her a clearer shot.

  They had confidence in the girl, but it was getting dark and the arrow had to travel through the railings of the gate.

  They moved out of the way not only so she could get a better shot, but also in case they were somehow struck themselves. Stephanie didn’t disappoint. She fired two arrows and each arrow put the dead down.

  Drake looked over to the girl and she shouted over to him, “I think he suffered enough.”

  She then climbed down off the shed and made the walk back to the building where she slept, holding the bow with her right hand and her bag hanging off her shoulder.

  “She’s some girl,” Drake spoke and looked impressed.

  “She sure is,” Vince said with pride.

  “I knew she was good, but I didn’t realise how good.”

  “I’ve seen her in action a few times,” said Pickle. “But not from that distance, with this little light.”

  “Now what happens?” Karen asked Drake. Some people had seen enough and were beginning to move away and return to their quarters.

  Drake rubbed his eyes and yawned. A couple of more whiskeys once he returned to his room and then he was going for a sleep. “I’ll move the bodies,” Drake groaned. “My idea, my mess.”

  He looked at the mess of Jason, from behind the gate, and shook his head.

  “What is it?” Pickle asked him.

  “I dunno.” Drake ran his fingers over his hairless head and admitted, “Maybe I overreacted.”

  Vince looked down on the body of Jason, his throat torn, half of his face was pulled away, and an arrow was sticking out the top of his head. “Might be a little late to make amends now.”

  Drake exited the grounds and began to drag the bodies, starting with Jason’s.

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  September 2nd

  “It shouldn’t take long,” Pickle told Drake. “An hour ... tops.”

  The two men were conversing with one another whilst waiting on Vince, and finally could see the thin Kindl exiting the A and E building and making his way over. Vince had done the night stint and hadn’t slept yet, but told Drake he was happy to tag along. Vince had a little friend with him. It was Small Chris.

  It was going to be a quick trip to a hardware store and all that was needed was barbecue accessories, including gas.

  Drake muttered to Pickle, “What the fuck does this little cunt want now?”

  Vince flashed the two men a wide smile as he approached and pointed at Chris, “He wants to come along.”

  “What?” Drake snapped.

  “I used to work at one of their chains years ago,” Small Chris began to explain to Drake. “I worked at the one in Lichfield. I’ll know where to go.”

  “It’s a different town.”

  “But the set-up will be the same, dingbat,” said Chris. “We can go straight in and out, no messing.”

  “What did you call me?” Drake took a step forwards and leaned in threateningly, making Chris shudder. “Dingbat?”

  Chris stammered, “I ... I was just...”

  “Just…?”

  “Just banter, Drake.” Chris tried to laugh off what he had said. “Between two men.”

  “Look here, cunt,” Drake snarled. “If you’re gonna be cunty to me, then I’m gonna be cunty straight back. And believe me, you short little skin-tagged freak, I’ll outcunt you every day of the cunting week. Cuntprende?”

  “We’ll look after him.” Vince placed his hand on Chris’s shoulder and felt bad for the man after the verbal lashing he received.

  “It’ll probably be bare when you get there,” said Drake, “but if you could get a barbecue, even a shitty one, then that would be great. One of the guys came back from the wholesalers with a shitload of burgers and chicken breasts.”

  “I’ll drive,” Pickle spoke up. “I know where this place is.”

  Vince looked at Chris. “You sitting in the middle or do you wanna sit on my lap?”

  Unsure if Vincent was joking or not, Chris said that he would like to go in the back of the pickup like last time when he was in there with Mildred.

  Drake told Pickle to take his time and sarcastically said that something better not happen to Chris whilst they were out.

  Vince and Pickle made sure they were hydrated before they left and Chris was the first to get into the truck, in the back.

  Pickle pulled the vehicle away once Vince made himself comfortable, and turned right onto Gaol Road. Pickle guessed, providing there were no hazards, that it should take around five minutes to get there.

  Four minutes later, they had arrived.

  *

  Karen Bradley had set up a chair and table near the door of the ward and looked at the shelves full of medical gear and medication; she was reasonably happy with the set-up. It needed tinkering here and there, but she was happy with the way it was so far. She had worked hard and she couldn’t have done it without Darren’s help. He was still present and was about to leave, but Karen called him back.

  “And where do you think you’re going?” she jokingly queried him.

  “I think one of the women in Ward 19 wants me to help her move two beds together for her and her young daughter.

  “She can wait,” said Karen, and passed Darren a half full bottle of water. “Sit down and stay and have a drink with me for five minutes. You deserve it. You’ve worked hard this morning.”

  “Just five minutes then.” He smiled and took the bottle and had a swig. He sat down on the seat behind the table and Karen remained on her feet.

  “So is this the best place you’ve been to so far,” Karen began. “You know, since this thing had started.”

  “I suppose.” Darren looked uncomfortable and Karen persisted with her queries. Darren wasn’t opening up. It was like trying to get blood out of a stone.

  “How did you get here? Where did you live before?”

  “Jesus.” Darren shifted in the seat uncomfortably. “What’s with all the questions?”

  “Just trying to get some chat out of you,” Karen laughed gently and scratched at her ear. “It’s not difficult.”

  “I just don’t like talking about myself.”

  “Why? It’s easy. I’ll start.” Karen brushed her dark hair behind her ears. “I was engaged before it all kicked off. I used to work here.”

  “I knew that,” Darren sighed.

  “I came back to find that my partner had turned, so I buggered off in my jeep and two dicks ended up carjacking me. I ended up on foot and eventually met Pickle at Stile Cop.”

  Darren got to his feet, prompting Karen to ask where he was going. She had only just started her story and his actions were rude.

  “I’m going to Ward 19,” he said, and stormed out of the area, making Karen perplexed.

  Karen called after him and told him, “If you see Rowley tell him to come and see me.”

  She received no response.
/>   “Well, that was weird.” She rubbed her head, seconds after the strange incident and muttered, “Something I said?”

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  The trip went without incident and apart from swerving around three Snatchers on the way there, there wasn’t much sign of the dead. They spotted their fourth sighting when they reached the car park of the establishment.

  Vince opened the door as soon as Pickle pulled up by the entrance and was carrying his large blade in his right hand, heading towards the lone ghoul.

  “Wait!” Chris exclaimed.

  Vince turned and could see Small Chris trying to climb his small frame out of the back of the pickup.

  “What is it?” Vince groaned.

  “I’ve never put one down,” Chris spoke and had managed to get out without breaking any bones.

  “You surprise me,” was Vince’s sarcastic response.

  Pickle had stepped out and was wondering what the hold up was.

  “Please,” said Chris, and Vince could see the guy was serious. “I would like to put it down. Get it out of my system.”

  Vince looked over to Pickle who shrugged his shoulders.

  “Okay,” Vince sighed. “Hurry up about it, eh?”

  “Um...” Chris lowered his head and said, almost apologetically, “I don’t have a weapon on me.”

  “Jesus Christ!” Vince walked over to Chris and handed him his machete. “Right, don’t mess about. Straight through the head, if you can reach it.”

  The diminutive man took the blade and was confident he could put the blade through the male Snatcher that was of average height.

  He went over and took Pickle and Vince by surprise by driving the blade through its skull with zero hesitancy. Chris took a step back and watched as it fell to the floor. He turned with a smug smile and went over to the two men, now buzzing that he had put down his first one.

  “What a feeling,” he said. He was clearly shaking with adrenaline and added, “Did you see that? I just went straight up and put it down, no bother.”

  “Very good.” Vince nodded. “Although you’ve forgot one thing.”

  “What?”

  Vince pointed over to the dead body and said, “My machete. Go and get it.”

  *

  Karen had a walk round the area where her new clinic was set up; she decided to double check the stock and make sure it was in alphabetical order before leaving. There was one of Drake’s guards by the door. Drake had mentioned putting a guard on the door twenty-four seven, as they didn’t have a key for the place and couldn’t lock it up.

  She headed for the door and said cheerio to the guard out in the hallway, and could see Stephen Rowley making his way down. He was in a wheelchair and was being pushed by Mildred Huxtetter.

  “Darren said you wanted to see me,” he said.

  “I wanted to give you a fresh strap on your ankle. Can’t be too tight because it’s sprained,” Karen told him. “Are you still taking the painkillers?”

  “Of course, chap.”

  “Shame we had no ice for the swelling.”

  Karen returned to Ward 22 and told Stephen and Mildred to enter.

  Karen went over to the drawers and pulled out a white bandage that was rolled up.

  “Be careful, chap,” Stephen said. “It’s agony when I’m just resting.”

  “Relax, Stephen.” Karen smiled and winked at Mildred. “I have done this before, you know.”

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  Small Chris was buzzing after making his first kill and Pickle and Vince couldn’t shut him up. They entered the establishment without Chris. Because he wasn’t carrying a weapon, he was told to stay in the back and wait. He told the pair of them that Aisle 2 was where they usually kept the barbecues.

  When they reached their destination, they could see that the aisle was clear. It had been almost wiped out. Amazingly, two gas canisters were present and Pickle looked ahead and told Vince that they should check the back where the storage place was. Maybe there were more behind the scenes.

  The two hesitantly stepped through the back and could hardly see in the area. Pickle decided it was too dangerous, but Vince had already spotted two barbecues boxed and on the second shelf of the aisle. Both boxes were banded with plastic straps to keep them secure.

  “Do yer think yer can carry one o’ them?” Pickle asked Vince.

  “Probably not, but we can drag them out by the straps.”

  “Nah.” Pickle didn’t agree and waggled his head. “Too noisy. I’ll go and get one o’ those flat trolleys. Be right back.”

  Vince sighed and watched as Harry Branston left to go back out onto the shop floor. He looked around the dusky and eerie place and felt a shiver run down his vertebrae.

  It was haunting when it was deathly quiet, but its creepiness soon multiplied when he could hear the sound of dragging feet not too far away from him.

  Vince pulled out his blade and turned in the direction where the noise was coming from. It seemed to take an age for the presence to turn up and when it did appear from around the corner, it was in the shape of a dead woman in her sixties.

  She had on the homestore uniform. She was wearing green trousers, a red polo shirt and a name badge pinned on her left chest area. Her name was Mavis.

  Vince waited for the dead woman to get closer and then he put her down with a single strike to the head.

  As Vince was wiping his blade he could hear the wheels of a trolley getting closer. Pickle wasn’t far away. Once he arrived, he spotted the body on the floor.

  “Who’s that?” Pickle asked, pointing to the body.

  “Pickle, this is Mavis,” said Vince. “Mavis, this is Pickle.”

  Pickle scratched his head and asked no further questions. The two of them grabbed the barbecues, placed them on the trolley and left the building altogether, whilst grabbing the two canisters on their way out.

  Chris jumped out of the pickup, once he spotted the two men, and was excited to see what they had.

  “We’ll be able to put these and you in the back,” Vince told Chris. “Unless you want to join us in the front.”

  “No, I’ll be fine.” Chris smiled and shook his head.

  “Okay. If that’s what you want.”

  “I’ll make sure the barbecues don’t wobble about too much on the way back,” Chris said.

  “Thanks.” Pickle nodded. “Good idea.”

  The little man watched as Pickle and Vince lifted the goods into the back of the pickup, including the two canisters, and then climbed in as the two men got into the front of the vehicle.

  The pickup moved away and Chris held onto the cab with one hand and had his other on one of the boxed barbecues. He sat on the side of the vehicle, clinging on as the vehicle did a steady thirty along Gaol Road.

  *

  “Did you see how excited he looked after killing that Snatcher?” Vince asked Pickle, referring to Chris. “I thought he was gonna cream his pants.”

  “Aye, bless him.” Pickle chuckled and slowed down as the vehicle approached a couple of bodies in the middle of the road. “It was relief. It was his first one. I suppose it’s like losing yer virginity.”

  “Okay. That’s a weird comparison.”

  The two men travelled in quiet for a minute before Pickle broke the silence.

  “At least we managed to come across a couple o’ barbecues,” Pickle said, and then pressed on the accelerator harder, taking the vehicle up to forty on the straight road. “We can get those chicken breasts and burgers on and have a proper barbecue, instead of making fires. Good, eh?”

  Pickle turned to the side after receiving no response from Vince. Kindl was yawning and rubbing his damp eyes.

  “Did yer hear me, Vince?”

  “What?” Vince yawned.

  “I said—”

  Vince sat up straight all of a sudden, widened his eyes and yelled at Pickle to brake.

  Branston turned to look out the windscreen and saw a horse galloping out of a s
ide street and across the road. Pickle slammed on the brakes and a thud could be heard from the back as the barbecues hit the back of the cab. Both men watched in aghast as they saw Chris flying in front of them, over the vehicle and their heads, and Vince winced when Small Chris landed hard on the road in front of them.

  Pickle gasped and kept his mouth open, whereas Vince managed an, “Oops.”

  They both gazed in astonishment and Vince spoke first. “Where the hell did that horse come from?”

  “A field, perhaps,” Pickle said. “From a farm? Never mind that, do yer think Chris is okay? He’s not moving.”

  Vince scratched his head and narrowed his eyes. The man’s little frame remained motionless and Vince said, “It doesn’t look good, does it?”

  Pickle shook his head slowly.

  Chris’s legs began to budge and his hands moved and slowly placed themselves flat on the road, as if he was about to attempt to get to his feet.

  Vince smiled on seeing this and Pickle said with a smile, “He’s moving. That’s a relief.”

  Three Snatchers came stumbling out of the same side street where the horse had come from, and went over to Chris’s body and wasted no time ripping the man apart.

  Both men sat in shock and knew going out there would be pointless. In a few seconds Chris was going to be dead.

  Vince dropped his head and Pickle turned to the side, refusing to look at the demise of a man of surname he didn’t know.

  The screams were short and by the time they both looked up, they could see nine of them and four at the driver’s side.

  “Go, go, go!” Vince yelled.

  “I’m trying.” Pickle tried the engine and it started on its third attempt, and now had another three of the dead at Vince’s side and had sixteen to contend with.

  He selected first and the wheels squealed as he moved away, leaving the seven at the side of the vehicle grasping at air, hitting the small crowd of the dead in front and going over what was left of Chris’s body.

  The windscreen was decorated in blood and the driver had to slow down because his vision was severely impaired. He used the screen spray and put on the wipers, but this seemed to have made it worse.