Snatchers Box Set | Vol. 5 | Books 13-15

by Whittington, Shaun

  “I hope to God they’re okay,” Pickle murmured as the vehicle left Stafford.

  “I don’t know.” Karen wasn’t so sure. “Why would she say she heard one of them, if not both, screaming.”

  “Why would someone dig a deep ditch in the middle of the field anyway?” Vince asked.

  “No clue,” Pickle said. “Unless people who lived nearby had dug a few to capture something edible.”

  “What like?” Karen asked.

  “Anything.” Pickle slipped the pickup into fourth as the road straightened up and speeded up. “Deer, escaped farm animals, domestic pets.”

  “I couldn’t eat a dog,” Karen said. “Or a cat.”

  “We’ve never been that hungry before, Karen. We’ve had it easier than most folk. We’ve been hungry, but we’ve never been starving.”

  “I could eat a dog,” Vince admitted. “I don’t like the idea of Poodle soup or an Alsatian with salad, but if you’re hungry enough...”

  “What about cats?” Karen asked her passenger.

  “Well,” Vince cleared his throat. “I have been known in the past to have munched on the odd pussy.”

  “For God’s sake,” Karen wasn’t sure whether to laugh or not. “They must have been odd to go with you in the first place.”

  “Now, now, Karen,” Vince giggled. “I’ll have you know I have a tongue like a snake.”

  Pickle slowed down and Karen asked him what was wrong.

  “Could have sworn I saw two people run into the bushes.”

  “Probably Snatchers,” she said.

  “Runnin’?”

  “Just carry on,” she snapped. “It could be two desperados that would stab us as soon look at us.”

  “Or people wanting refuge.”

  “We’re not on a scouting trip, Pickle. Not today. We’re looking for our friends.”

  Pickle continued on and could hear two bangs on the top of the cab.

  It was from Mildred, who was in the back of the pickup. She was pointing to the left and Pickle slowed the vehicle as he reached the junction and turned left. He was on the road for two minutes and another bang was heard. The driver looked in the rear view mirror and could see Mildred mouth the word Stop and Pickle pulled over.

  “We’re here.”

  *

  Stephanie and David walked side by side along the inside of the wall. The clouds were threatening but no rain had fallen yet. Stephanie had a bag over each shoulder and had a hold of her Jaguar bow in her right hand.

  “I hope they find them alive, or at least one of them,” she exhaled noisily, and then hooked her arm through David’s. “I really liked Stephen and Craig.”

  “Me too.”

  David was surprised and pleased that Stephanie had moved physically closer to him. It was perfectly innocent as far as Stephanie was concerned, but a naive and impressionable David MacDonald thought that there may be an attraction between the pair of them. There certainly was as far as he was concerned, but she never saw David in that way. They were the same age, but Stephanie had no intention of having a boyfriend. Nothing could be further from her mind, especially with the way the world was at the moment.

  The two of them could see the large shed that David had been painting, and Stephanie smiled and passed him her bow and bag and said, “Hold this.”

  “What are you doing?” David asked her, annoyed that physical contact had been removed.

  She climbed up to the roof of the shed and then walked to the end of it and could see there was a foot distance between where the shed ended and where the wall was. She peered over the wall and could see a guard that was underneath. She climbed up to the wall and sat down with her legs dangling on the outside. She then turned and could see a baffled David.

  “It’s nice up here,” she called. “You should come up.”

  “I’m fine here, thanks.”

  Stephanie could see a lone Snatcher in the distance. It was also spotted by Roger below her who raised his bat in preparation, but it didn’t alarm the guy underneath her. The dead individual wasn’t heading for the wall. It was meandering around a street, and then fell onto its front as it tripped over a kerb.

  She turned and told David to pass her the bow and arrow.

  “I’d rather not climb up there,” he said, “if it’s all the same to you.”

  “Come on,” Stephanie laughed. “Don’t be such a scaredy cat.”

  “Okay,” David sighed.

  He slipped the bag over one shoulder and the bow over the other, and climbed up to the roof of the shed. He passed her the bow and an arrow from the bag, but remained on the shed and refused to sit by her on the wall.

  Once she was ready, she aimed her arrow at the dead. It was a fair distance, but there was no wind, which was going to make the shot easier. The ghoul got to its feet and turned and looked to be heading away from the area, and Stephanie decided to shoot before the distance became too great. The arrow was released and she watched as it buried itself into the back and centre of its head. It collapsed to the ground and this baffled Roger who was below her.

  Roger looked up at Stephanie, his eyes wide with surprise. He was impressed with the kill, but out of his mouth came the words, “There was no need for that.”

  She giggled, “You’re welcome.”

  *

  The two men struggled to move and the progress they were making along the road was painstakingly slow. They had just met. One was able bodied with a beard and the other was an injured, portly individual and couldn’t walk.

  The able bodied individual had his arm around the injured man and was trying to help him.

  He stopped and said to the portly man, “This is hopeless.” He pointed into the woods that was to their right and added, “We’re gonna have to see if we can find something that would be like a crutch or a walking stick to help. We’re both getting exhausted already.”

  The injured man nodded in agreement.

  “I’ll leave you on your own once you’re near your destination, and then I’ll split.”

  The sound of an engine alerted the two men and the two of them immediately went into the trees to hide. They crouched down and watched as a red pickup went by.

  “Shit,” the injured man cussed.

  “What is it?”

  “We shouldn’t have hid.”

  “Why?” the able bodied man asked.

  The injured man explained why.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  The five had left the vehicle and made their way over to the field. Karen, Pickle, Vince, Mildred and Small Chris made hesitant steps towards the field and Mildred acted as a guide.

  “I know whereabouts it is,” she said and had a quick scan around. “At least the dead are away.”

  “That’s because they’ve been put down,” Karen said, and pointed to an area where some of the long grass had been disturbed. They could see some of the dead lying in the grass. They didn’t know how many had been put down, but it seemed like a few.

  “This place was swarming when I left,” Mildred said.

  “Craig.” Karen smiled. “Craig must have got out and put these cocksuckers down with his hockey stick. Who else could it have been? It wouldn’t be Stephen. He’s not really a fighter.”

  “Follow me.” Mildred made baby steps through the grass and the other four followed behind.

  She raised her hand as she approached the ditch, but couldn’t look in. She shook her head. “I can’t.”

  Pickle stood by her side and looked down. He lowered his head further and said a short prayer. He opened his eyes and could see Vince and Karen standing next to him. Small Chris was the last to appear and seemed reluctant to stand near them.

  Six Snatchers were present and four looked like they had been put down, going by their head injuries. There was so much blood, it was impossible to recognise the clothing and the shoes, but what they could all see was Craig’s hockey stick in the corner of the ditch. He would never have left without that.

&nbs
p; “Well...” Pickle released a sad sigh. “That confirms it then.”

  Small Chris’s senses picked up that unmistakeable smell of death and eventually found the courage to look down into the ditch.

  “Oh dear!” he exclaimed.

  He could feel his stomach doing cartwheels. The smell, the blood, guts and the swarm of flies was too much for Chris and without warning he threw up, with most of the vomit slapping the head of one of the dead.

  “Jesus Christ!” Vince exclaimed.

  Pickle pulled out his machete and released a whistle. The dead looked up and as they stood, Pickle rammed his blade into the skull of each one, putting them down, and stood up straight and told the rest of the group that they may as well head back.

  Small Chris felt a bit giddy with the shock of it all and grabbed a hold of Vince’s sleeve.

  “You alright there, buddy?” Vince asked him. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “Maybe these runs aren’t for me,” the little man admitted.

  “Probably, but you get used to it,” said Vince. “For example, I was like you in the first week. I bet you’re hungry bringing all that up. I bet you could murder a soggy runny egg sandwich right now.”

  “Oh, God.” Small Chris turned away and could feel his head becoming clammy.

  Pickle sighed, “Vince, really?”

  Kindl hunched his shoulders. “What?”

  “We’ve just lost two of our friends and yer makin’ jokes,” Pickle scolded.

  “I didn’t really know Craig,” Vince admitted. “But I’m sad about Stephen. Terrible way to go.”

  “Two good men are gone,” Karen groaned. “Will we ever have a week where we have zero incidents?”

  “Correction! One man has gone!” a voice bellowed out.

  All five gasped and could see a male individual stepping out from behind the bushes at the opposite side of the fence. His hair and clothes were in a terrible state, had a scruffy beard, and his grey hair stuck up and looked like it hadn’t been washed in months. He looked like a down-and-out and his frame was thin, like he was severely malnourished.

  “Who are yer?” Pickle asked the man.

  He walked over to the five of them and said, “I wasn’t sure if you were bad guys or not, so I hid, but you’re not bad guys. I can tell.”

  “Who are yer?” Pickle tried again.

  “My name’s Brad.” He held out his hand and Pickle shook it. “Brad Pitt.”

  “O’ course it is.” Pickle looked at Karen and Vince, who were both smirking, and then cleared his throat.

  “Okay.” The man held up his hands and said, my real name is Bradley Pitcher, but back in the day my pals used to call me Brad Pitt.”

  “So what did yer see ... erm ... Brad?”

  Brad cleared his throat and began to explain, “I saw two guys and this girl,” he pointed at Mildred, and then pointed to the ground. “In this field. There were loads of the dead and the two guys fell in the ditch. There was nothing she could have done. She would have died if she hung around any longer.”

  Mildred smiled thinly and said to the dishevelled looking man. “Thanks. I appreciate that.”

  “We never doubted yer, Mildred,” said Pickle.

  “I know, but still...”

  Small Chris then suddenly slipped and Vince grabbed him and pulled him back before he fell into the ditch.

  “There were too many of those things,” the stranger added. “Then this guy came out of nowhere.”

  “Guy?” Karen scowled. “What guy?”

  “Some lunatic with a machete.” He pointed at Pickle and Karen’s that were tucked in their belts. “Same as what you have. When this young lady left, this guy with a beard turned up seconds later and took them down with his large blade. He was like a maniac. Don’t know how many he took down, maybe ten. There were three left standing, and the crazy guy with the beard went over to the ditch, and helped out some guy that was climbing out.”

  “Some guy?” The story wasn’t making sense to Pickle. Two men had fallen into the ditch. One man had been pulled out. He guessed that it was Craig that had perished because his stick was still there.

  “The guy that the bearded man pulled out was a bit on the chubby side and had a limp.”

  “It’s Stephen,” said Mildred. “He got his foot caught in a trap before we were attacked.”

  Pickle rubbed his head and moaned, “And yer didn’t seem to think to tell us about that?”

  “Sorry.”

  “So Craig’s definitely dead.” Karen lowered her head sadly.

  “At least one of them survived,” said Vince.

  “Anyway,” the stranger continued, “this guy put another one down as they left.”

  “I suppose that makes sense now,” Vince said and then turned to Pickle. “Now what?”

  “Well,” Pickle scratched at his chin, “We never saw Stephen on the way here, so I’m guessing that he’s staying with this guy that helped him out, unless he’s heading to Stafford a different way. I don’t think Drake would appreciate us using up petrol to find a needle in a very large haystack, but at least we know now what happened. Brad can’t be lying, because it all makes sense.”

  Karen asked the man, “Where do you live?”

  “In a tent, not far from here,” said Brad. “All I have with me is a sleeping bag, a small shovel and a plastic bottle.”

  “Okay.” Karen smiled.

  “It was my ditch.”

  “What?”

  “I’m really sorry about your friends, but I didn't know people would come here and I need to eat. I dug it to catch animals and stuff. I cover it on a night.”

  They all looked at one another and they were all thinking the same thing. Do we ask this guy to come back with us?

  As if he could read minds, the man said, “I like it on my own, so don’t ask me ‘cause I’ll refuse.”

  “Okay.” Pickle nodded and held out his hand once again. “Thanks for the info ... Brad.”

  “No worries.”

  Brad walked away and they all watched as he disappeared behind a bush. They knew he was still walking, but now couldn’t see him.

  “Brad Pitt, eh?” Vince laughed. “More like Brad Shit. Did you smell him?”

  “Come on, Vince.” Pickle shook his head. “The guy has done well to get this far. I would have taken him back.”

  “He smelt like shite.”

  “Let’s go back.”

  They turned to walk away and Vince noticed a wet stain at the back of Small Chris’s jeans.

  “Chris, you’re soaking at the back.”

  Small Chris blushed and told them, “When I nearly fell into the ditch I ... I wet myself.”

  “For fuck’s sake,” Vince huffed

  “Vince!” Karen scolded. “It’s only his first time out.”

  “That’s fine,” said Vince, “But he’s sitting in the back again and I’m going nowhere near him.”

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Drake asked his guard to open the main gate and stepped out on his own. He walked around the perimeter of the wall, passing by some guards that used to be a part of his WOE team, back in the day when they were just bikers that met up on a weekend before the apocalypse. He spotted the two new guys Peter and Roger, and told them that he wanted a word.

  “What is it?” asked Roger. “Anything we have done?”

  “No, no, no,” Drake laughed. “I’ve hardly spoken to you since you arrived. Just wondering how you both are getting on?”

  Roger looked at his brother and they both shrugged.

  “We’re okay,” Peter spoke up.

  “Must take a while to adjust, eh?”

  “To a certain degree,” Roger replied. “We’ve been on the road pretty much since the start. In the last few days we’ve never had it so easy.”

  “What you’ve done here is great,” said Peter. “And long may it continue.”

  “Why wouldn’t it?” Drake smiled, but he was a little antagonised by
the comment. Maybe I’m being too sensitive, he thought.

  “It’s just that we’ve heard some of the stories from Pickle. Him and his group don’t seem to settle for too long.”

  “They didn’t have to leave Little Haywood because of danger. They were given a better offer to come here, that’s all.”

  “Before all of that. There were times in the early stages that they constantly moved on.”

  “We have around a hundred people in this place,” Drake said sharply. “We’ve got vehicles, we’re growing produce, and the runs are still producing results. Okay, so now we have to travel a bit further out, which means using up more gas, but it’s all about getting through the winter. That’s why we’ve got this clinic set up. With Karen on board and an influx of medical gear, we’ll be prepared to fight the winter bugs.”

  “Sounds like you’ve got it all planned,” said Peter.

  Drake saluted both men and told them, “Right, I’m off back to the office. I’ve got a run to plan. Be going on this one myself.”

  “Really?”

  “Absolutely,” Drake scoffed. “I’m the leader here, but I like to get my hands dirty now and again, otherwise the people here won’t respect me.”

  “What kind of job is it?”

  “A big one. I’ll need six people and one of the vans. A place called Amerton Farm. Apparently it houses a shit load of hens.”

  “How do you know the hens are still alive?”

  “Because the people on the farm are still there,” said Drake. “I’d like to do another medical run and visit this couple and persuade them to come back here.”

  “Along with their hens?”

  Drake smiled and nodded the once. “Along with their hens. Right, I’m going back to the staff room. See you guys later.”

  Drake put his hands in his pockets and walked along the rest of the wall, and eventually went back inside and into the staff room.

  He sat back and gazed into nothingness.

  He looked at the photograph of his wife Coral and his son Jack, and ran his finger down his son’s face. He and his mother were smiling, had their heads together, and were standing by the baby swings, near the pond.