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

by Whittington, Shaun

  “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.

  “Just fucking drive, Pickle!” Vince spoke with panic in his voice.

  “I can’t see in front o’ me!”

  He looked to the side and wound his window down when he could see no dead, and stuck his head out. He looked in front of him and could see it was clear and all that was ahead of him was the long stretch of road and Stafford Prison’s high brick wall to his right.

  He turned and jumped when he was grabbed by the hair by a lone Snatcher. Pickle punched it in the face and tried to push it away, but it made no difference. He grabbed the creature by the hair, pulled its head into the truck and slammed his foot on the accelerator pedal. The truck shot forwards and Pickle turned the steering wheel and mounted the pavement, getting closer to the wall. The dead being’s body was dragged against the brick wall and eventually came apart, until there was just its head, arms and upper body left. Pickle punched it repeatedly and eventually the Snatcher let go and the remains of its body fell under the wheels of the truck.

  Pickle stopped the truck, panting hard, and looked to the side to see how his passenger was. He got out and asked Vince to pass him some water. Vince took out a bottle that was half full and Pickle used some on his face to wipe a small spray of dark blood that came from the being when it came apart, and then used the rest to clean the windscreen. He got inside, used the wipers twice, and was satisfied that he could see better than before.

  “We’ll be okay,” Pickle said. “A few minutes and we’ll be there.”

  “Shame about Chris.”

  Pickle nodded in agreement. “I’ve got a feeling that Drake isn’t gonna be too bothered.”

  Vince nodded in agreement. “I hope the barbecues aren’t too damaged.”

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  Karen had just left the new clinic area, and headed down the corridor and back to her own ward and where she slept. She decided to get some air first and stepped outside to see the line of vehicles along the wall that were near the two greenhouses. One of the vehicles was the large prison van that they had returned with. She thought she had heard Drake mentioning it being a good prop for a barrier, but he had obviously changed his mind.

  Karen lifted her head and took in the air, smiling as a breeze glided over her features and her eyes dampened when she thought about Craig.

  “Hiya,” the voice came from the side of her, making her jump.

  She smiled when she saw Darren looking at her and greeted him with a small smile. She never asked why he had left so abruptly earlier and decided not to bring the subject up, but he did anyway.

  “Sorry about before,” he said.

  “Don’t worry about it.” She smiled. “I’m a nosey bitch.”

  “I’m just not handling it as well as others,” Darren said. He lowered his head and added, “You, Drake, Pickle... You guys seem to be coping really well.”

  “Let me just stop you there. Maybe on the outside we look like we’re handling it, but not everybody wears their heart on their sleeve. Pickle and I have had many wobbles over the months, and I’m sure Drake is a different man when he’s left alone.”

  Darren wiped his clammy hands down his jeans and used his thumb to wipe the tear that was about to fall from his eye.

  “I was at work when it happened,” he began.

  Karen smiled. “You don’t have to explain.”

  “No, I want to.”

  Darren gulped and continued, “I saw numerous incidents on my phone, but brushed it off and finished my shift. When I got home, I could see that my parents were out. I stayed in the house and watched the news.”

  “And your parents?”

  “They never came back,” Darren responded. “I did what the TV told me. You know, about filling your bath and barricading your door, but starvation makes you leave eventually.”

  “Didn’t you have...?” Karen tried to choose her words carefully. “Didn’t you have a special someone to go to?”

  “I hadn’t had a special someone in two years.”

  “Oh?”

  “She died a couple of years ago,” he confessed. Karen dropped her chin an inch and told him she was sorry.

  He continued, “She was coming back from a pub and this piece of shit hit her with a car. She was found lying in the street.”

  “And what about the person that ran her over?”

  “Never caught him.”

  “I'm sorry.”

  Darren released a depressed sigh and rubbed the palms of his hands over his face. “She was in hospital for three days, critical condition, but she died.”

  “This is going to sound a bit weird,” Karen said. “Maybe even a bit cruel, but...” She paused.

  Darren smiled. “I’m looking at the positives,” he said, “if that’s what you mean. She could have turned, like your partner, and that would have killed me to see her like that. Even if she survived, I don’t think she’d cope with everything that’s happening. She wasn’t the toughest person.”

  “Neither was I,” Karen said, “but when you’re in a corner and you get prodded, you can either cower or snap like any other animal.”

  “Did you snap back?”

  “Well, in the second week I blew a man away with a Browning handgun for raping another man in a supermarket.”

  Darren widened his eyes and knew she wasn’t kidding. Why would she make something like that up? “Handgun?”

  “Long story.” Karen snickered. “I’ll tell you about it one day.”

  “I wonder...”

  Darren was distracted and Karen also turned her head on hearing the sound of a vehicle.

  She looked at Darren and said, “Main gate.”

  The two of them walked around the building to the front and could see a red pickup outside the fence. Findlay pulled the gate back and watched as the vehicle parked up beside them and Pickle and Vince quickly got out.

  Drake exited the building on their arrival and started laughing when he clocked the two barbecues and the gas canisters in the back.

  “Excellent,” he cried. He then looked around the truck. “Something’s missing.”

  “Um ... yeah.” Pickle scratched his head. “About that.”

  Vince decided to speak up. “We had an accident. Pickle had no choice and had to slam on the brakes and Chris flew out the back and was flung about twenty yards.”

  “Dead?” Drake asked.

  Vince thought it was a bizarre query. “Of course he’s dead. We wouldn’t just leave him out there if he wasn’t.”

  Pickle nodded and said with regret, “He’s definitely dead.”

  Drake asked, “Why didn’t you bring him ... bring his body back?”

  Vince and Pickle looked at one another; Pickle cleared his throat and decided to speak up this time.

  “He was alive when he hit the road,” he began, “but these Snatchers came out o’ nowhere and killed him. We barely got out ourselves.”

  “So...” Drake squinted and held his finger up in the air. “Chris was thrown from the truck, survived that, and then was ripped apart by the dead?”

  Both men nodded sullenly.

  Drake burst out laughing and said, “Talk about rotten luck. No pun intended.”

  “It’s not funny, Drake,” Pickle snapped at the man that was still cackling. “He really suffered.”

  “Yeah, yeah, whatever. At least you came back with some goodies, eh?” He slapped Pickle
on the shoulder, started to walk away, and added, “I’ll get a few guys to give you a hand with getting them out.”

  Karen approached her two friends as Darren hung back.

  “Are you two okay?” She asked them. They both nodded. “That Drake has a heart of stone, doesn’t he?”

  Pickle said, “I’m beginning to believe that.”

  Vince yawned and moaned that he needed his bed.

  “Bed?” queried Karen.

  “Haven’t slept for nearly a day,” Vince moaned.

  “That’s right,” Karen said. “You did the night shift, didn’t you?”

  “Well, most of it.” Vince yawned once more and said, “See you two later on.”

  “Right.” Pickle watched as Vince walked away and then turned to Karen. “What have yer been up to?”

  She turned and pointed to Darren who was ten yards away with his head down. “Just hanging out with Darren.”

  Pickle could see she was crestfallen.

  He put his arm around her and gave her a kiss on her cheek. He asked her, “Are yer okay?”

  Karen nodded. “Just thinking about Paul.”

  He released his arm and nodded over to where the reception area was, where two guys walked out, one of them cracking his knuckles.

  Pickle took a look at the contents in the back of the truck and then back over to the approaching men. “Looks like the cavalry have arrived.”

  *

  Paul Dickson’s eyes opened and he sat up, rubbing his back. Whether it was the hard ground of the woods or the floor of a building, he would never get used to hard surfaces. He should have chosen a house on Sandy Lane.

  He pulled out some water from his bag, had a sniff of the plastic bottle and took a swig, then took out a toothbrush and started brushing his teeth. He had no toothpaste, but it was better than nothing.

  A minute had passed and he left the office with his bag and blade, crept through the dusky corridor with his senses on high alert, and exited the Lea Hall building.

  He turned right and walked a few yards towards the hut. He had one last glance at his son’s grave, this time not stopping, and then exited the grounds of Lea Hall and walked down Sandy Lane.

  A couple of minutes later he turned right, onto a road called Horsefair, and walked by the Globe Island, which was basically a roundabout in the town centre, avoiding dead bodies and abandoned cars. He continued to move and went by the old clinic, went under the railway bridge and continued on Armitage Road, as if he was going to Brereton, spotting two of the dead up ahead. Two females.

  Pulling out his machete, Dickson released a wolf whistle and enticed them over. He brought the machete behind his head as the first female approached. He brought the blade down and watched as it buried itself into its head and went down to the bridge of her nose. He held onto the handle of the blade and front kicked the dead female in her midriff, pushing her to the floor and freeing his blade.

  Female number two went down by the same method.

  After wiping the machete’s blade on the tattered yellow summer dress of the second female, Paul tucked his weapon away and continued with his walk, passing The Ash Tree pub and eventually reaching the top of a long road. Once he reached the top of the steep road, he looked down and could see The Plum Pudding pub on his left and The Spode Cottage and the caravan park on the right, Vince’s old place.

  Paul revealed a small smile and began the descent to the bottom of the road. He never stopped walking as he passed the caravan site, but he did turn his head to the right and gazed at the caravans, including the one that he and Kyle had briefly stayed in.

  Paul Dickson passed the company Armitage Shanks and pulled out his blade once more when three Snatchers were seen up ahead.

  “Jesus,” he moaned. “Same shit, different day.”

  He was heading north. He didn’t know specifically where he was going, but he needed to be away from this area.

  Book 14: The Dead Don’t Hate

  Chapter One

  September 8th

  The prison van was deemed perfect for the Amerton Farm trip. Two WOE bikers had returned from the farm and the owners, Mr and Mrs Greendale, both agreed that coming back to Stafford would be a safer option for themselves.

  Drake didn’t care about the health and well-being of the couple in their twilight years, and deep down they knew that. All he was interested in was the fifty to sixty hens they possessed on their land. Every other animal they used to have had died by their own hands to survive, apart from the cows. The four cows that they possessed in their humble farm were killed by the dead.

  Mr Greendale woke up one morning to find over twenty of the dead in the field and devouring the cows. The dead left on their own accord, once there was nothing left to devour.

  It had been known for days that a potential trip was on the cards, but with the couple confirming that they wanted pastures new, it was time to pick them up as well as their produce which would benefit the camp greatly. Even before he left, Drake had asked two of his guys to set up a pen of some sort, in the patch of grass, near the large shed that had been painted by David MacDonald days ago.

  Drake didn’t want to take too many people to Amerton, but he also wanted the trip to go without a hitch. Drake, Vince and Pickle were in the front of the van, whereas Mildred Huxtetter and young Stephanie Perkins were in the back. Not only could the girls give the guys a hand, but if ever they were car jacked on the road, Mildred and Stephanie would be waiting in the back as the potential jackers opened the doors of the van. They were insurance, but could also keep the Greendales relaxed on the trip back to Stafford Hospital, as they weren’t as intimidating as the men in the front of the van.

  “Thankfully this thing has holding cells,” Drake began, as Pickle started the vehicle. “We can put so many hens in each cell. At least they won’t be flying about on the way back.”

  “Can hens fly?” Vince questioned. Pickle was driving, Vince was at the passenger window, and Drake was in the middle.

  “Um ... I think so.” Drake scratched his chin, unsure of his answer.

  “I’m sure they can.” Pickle turned onto Gaol Road and released a small chortle. “Maybe not far, but...”

  “Right, that’s enough,” Drake moaned. “We’re not even out of Stafford yet and you two are boring the cunt off me.”

  “Let’s change the subject then,” said Pickle, and then took a peek at Vince to his left. “For the last couple o’ days I’ve been hearin’ a little rumour about yer, Mr Kindl.”

  “Oh?” Drake smiled.

  “Is that right?” Vince shuffled in his seat uncomfortably and looked agitated, as if he knew what was coming.

  “Aye, I have,” Pickle said further.

  “Well, do tell,” Drake persisted.

  Pickle looked at Vince, and Kindl hunched his shoulders and said, “Come on then. Spit it out.”

  “If yer really want me to.”

  “Jesus Christ!” Drake stormed. “Hurry up! I’m getting bored of this!”

  “According to some o’ the guys,” Pickle began. “Vince and Joanne Hammett are a bit o’ a thing now.”

  Vince released a sigh and said, “We’re just enjoying each other’s company. That’s all.”

  “You and Joanne?” Drake scoffed. The thirty-seven-year-old ran his fingers over his shaved head. “How the fuck did you manage that?”

  “We just get on,” said Vince. “No big deal.”

  Pickle was told to take a left by Drake, and once that was achieved, he fired another question at the man he had known for three months. “How come yer never said anything? Yer the kind o’ person to brag about things like this.”

  “Just...” Vince paused and tried not to bite. “Just drop it, Pickle, will you? Please.”

  Pickle noticed Vince was unusually serious and decided not to probe further. He had no idea why he was so sensitive about being with Joanne, but for whatever reason, he wasn’t comfortable talking about it.

  “If I’ve sa
id something to piss yer off,” Pickle said. “Then I apologise.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” said Vince. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”

  “Another ten minutes and we’ll be there,” said Drake, gazing out of the window. “I’ll keep you right.”

  The prison van was in the centre of the road and went by the sign for Amerton, and the vehicle passed three Snatchers that were on the left side of the road. Their rotten hands managed to slap the van as it passed, but there was no harm done.

  Chapter Two

  Mildred Huxtetter and Stephanie Perkins sat on the floor of the van, inbetween the open holding cells that were to the side of them, and started to tell one another about where they were from and the perils they had to endure at the beginning. Both stories were similar, and the subject of Drake popped up.

  “I know you’re a bit young for all of this,” Mildred began, “but I do think he’s kind of hot.”

  “Who?” Stephanie queried with confusion. “Drake?”

  Mildred nodded. “There’s just something about him. I can’t quite put my finger on it.” Mildred was bisexual, but chose not to share the information with the youngster.

  “Ew.” Stephanie screwed her face in disgust. “I’m only fourteen. Change the subject.”

  “Okay,” Mildred laughed. “So what’s happening with you and young David these days?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, he obviously has a crush on you.” Mildred giggled and teased further, “Are you two gonna be boyfriend and girlfriend?”

  “Shut up!” Stephanie said with a smile. “He’s just a friend.”

  “If you say so.”

  Mildred smiled and turned to her left and could see the teenager now with her knees up and her head down, resting on her knees.

  “Tired?” Mildred said.

  Stephanie waggled her head slowly, keeping her head on her knees, and said, “Not really. It’s this journey. Making me feel sick. And the fact that we can’t see where we’re going doesn’t help.”

  “Paranoid, eh?”