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

by Whittington, Shaun

  She wondered if Fleming had survived. She doubted it.

  Her mind wandered and she thought about Jason Bamford. He was a married ambulance driver and had a reputation for coming on to the young nurses. Two years ago, when Karen was twenty-one, he asked her to come outside as he needed to show her something. It was April time, near Good Friday. He opened the doors to his ambulance and revealed the biggest Easter egg Karen had ever seen, a bouquet of flowers, and a teddy bear.

  Karen was confused and told him so, so Jason explained that he and his wife weren’t getting along and wondered if they could ‘see’ each other now and again. Karen was taken aback and disgusted by his proposal. She was a twenty-one-year-old with a boyfriend. He was married and twenty years older, and he wanted to use her as his plaything until the next daft young nurse came along. She told him to go and fuck himself, and two weeks later he had put in a transfer to another hospital.

  Karen ran her fingers through her greasy hair and could see Findlay at the gate and three Snatchers in the distance.

  “You okay?” he called over.

  She nodded and pulled out her machete that was tucked underneath her belt near her left hip.

  She walked closer to the entrance and released a sharp whistle, making all three turn around.

  “What are you doing?” he asked her.

  “Getting rid of the vermin,” was her response.

  Findlay pointed at his radio and told Karen that he had just contacted Peter and Roger from outside, and that they were going to take care of it.

  “And why should they have all the fun?”

  Karen went to open the gate, but Findlay grabbed her arm. “Don’t be stupid.”

  “Let go of me.”

  “What the fuck are you doing?” Findlay yelled.

  “I’ve missed this.”

  “What?”

  “Just getting my fix.”

  Karen had managed to release herself from Findlay’s grip and was about to open the gate, but Roger and Peter had arrived and headed for the three advancing dead.

  Karen and Findlay watched as the experienced men put the three down with their bats, caving their heads in to mush. They wiped their weapons on the dead’s clothes and dragged the bodies to the side of the road. They then walked away and approached the entrance and waved at Findlay and Karen before turning left, and continuing their walk around the perimeter of the hospital wall.

  “Cool fuckers, aren’t they?” Findlay beamed with admiration.

  Karen hunched her shoulders nonchalantly. “Don’t really know them,” she said, and placed her blade back under the belt.

  “Anyway, how are you?” Findlay smiled. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “I was thinking that you looked nice today.”

  “For fuck’s sake,” Karen huffed and began to walk away. “I’m not in the mood for this shit, Findlay.”

  “I’m just saying.”

  “Bye.”

  Chapter Twelve

  The drive back so far had been uneventful, and once the van had reached an old warehouse, Drake had taken the wheel and decided to pull the vehicle up.

  “Why are we stopping?” Vince was the first to ask.

  “Thought I’d give the girls in the back some proper air,” said Drake.

  He stepped out, leaving Pickle and Vince in the front, and slammed the driver’s door.

  “Think he’s pissed off about something?” Vince asked.

  Pickle chuckled, “And what gives yer that idea?”

  They heard the doors to the back of the vehicle open and Pickle decided to step out, and shuffled along and went out of the driver’s door. He asked Vince if he was coming, but Kindl couldn’t be bothered to move and told Pickle no.

  Branston stepped out and could see the girls shielding their eyes and gabbing to one another as Drake quickly shut the back doors.

  “Five minutes,” Drake announced, “and we’ll head back.”

  Pickle stood at the side of the van and asked Drake for a word. The two men stood face to face and Pickle asked the leader of Stafford Hospital what was wrong.

  “Why would there be anything wrong?” Drake snapped, and ran his fingers over his shaved head. He began to pick at a tiny scab at the back of his head where he had nicked himself when using the cutthroat razor to shave his scalp, and waited for a response from Pickle.

  “Yer seem annoyed,” Pickle finally spoke. “Is it anything to do with the chickens we took?”

  “It’s a fucking joke, if you ask me,” he huffed, and began to clench and unclench his fists.

  It was obvious from the beginning that Drake had anger issues, but Pickle knew he could take him if he had to. It was a road he didn’t want to go down. They had only been at the hospital for a couple of weeks, and Drake had already hinted that the ‘Colwyn lot’ were cheeky, disrespectful, and were finding it hard to let go of their old camp. Karen, Pickle and Vince were making stops at Colwyn Place whenever they went out on runs, Joanne Hammett had made it clear that she missed her house, and Pickle had sent Ronnie to the place without Drake’s knowledge.

  “What’s a joke?” Pickle eventually asked Drake.

  “We wasted all that fuel to then give away a fifth of the stock.”

  “It was me that took the van full o’ fuel from the prison. Don’t forget that.”

  “I just think it’s about time you left them to wipe their own arses, Pickle.”

  “Right,” Vince had popped his head out of the window and said, “Shall we go back before you two start arm wrestling?”

  Drake stared at Pickle and then went to the driver’s side.

  Stephanie and Mildred went into the back as Pickle headed for the other side of the door of the prison van.

  The drive back was a silent one until a figure could be seen up ahead. Straightaway they knew it wasn’t a Snatcher, but Drake pressed the accelerator harder and had no intention of stopping for the man. Pickle kept his mouth shut at Drake’s selfish behaviour. Drake wanted to add people to the camp, so why was he going by him? Was the man too old? Did Drake think he wouldn’t be an asset, or was he simply still annoyed with Pickle?

  As the van got nearer, the man began to wave with both hands, and Vince narrowed his eyes as he clocked the heavy grey beard and his large frame.

  “I know him,” said Vince.

  The van went by the desperate looking man and Vince asked Drake to stop the vehicle.

  “Really?” Drake moaned. “Again?”

  “Just for a minute,” Vince said.

  “Fuck’s sake.”

  Drake pulled the van to the left and slowed down, eventually bringing it to a stop.

  Vince jumped out of the van and walked towards the elderly man who was striding towards Kindl.

  Vince raised a smile and said, “I thought it was you!”

  “Vince!” the man exclaimed.

  Pickle had now left the vehicle and Vince looked at the approaching Branston and asked him to open the back. Pickle did as he was told without firing a single question, and Stephanie stepped out and clocked the elderly man.

  “Recognise him?” Vince asked her.

  “Quint?” Stephanie nodded.

  “Who?” Pickle was confused and wondered how they knew this man and he didn’t.

  Vince noticed Pickle’s confusion and began to explain. “Remember when Stephanie, Elza and Ophelia went out on a run in the RV, and young David and I went out looking for them because we were concerned for them?”

  “O’ course.” Pickle nodded.

  Drake had now left the van and headed to the back of the vehicle where the discussion was taking place.

  Vince pointed at Quint and said to Pickle, “This is the guy that pulled out the RV from the mud, and he also killed a shit load of Snatchers with his combine harvester.”

  Pickle shook the old man’s hand and then Vince asked him what happened and why was he outdoors, in the middle of nowhere, miles from the farm that was his home.
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  “Too many of the dead turned up,” Quint huffed and ran his fingers through his beard. “Bastards.”

  “So yer had to leave?” Pickle asked. “Yer had no choice?”

  “Pretty much.” He nodded and began to unashamedly pick his nose, making Drake wince. “There were four of those smelly bastards in my field one evening, so I went to bed and hoped it’d be better by the morning. I hoped they had gone.”

  “But they never?”

  “The complete opposite.” Quint released a short chortle. “Cunts were everywhere by the time I woke up in the morning. House was more or less surrounded and I barely made it out. All I had was the clothes on my back. Even had to drink my own piss yesterday. That wasn’t pleasant, I can tell you.”

  Vince pulled a face at the thought of drinking his own urine. He had never been in a position where things had been that bad, however, he had come close once or twice.

  “So you’ll vouch for him, Vince?” said Drake.

  Vince looked at Stephanie, and she gave him a reassuring nod.

  “Well, he’s a bit old school and has a bit of a mouth on him, but so does Karen and yourself.”

  “We can’t just leave him,” Stephanie said.

  “Well, we’ve stopped now.” Pickle said. “If we leave him and drive off that’d be just cruel.”

  Drake released a heavy sigh and said, “Well, old man.”

  “What?”

  “Looks like you’re coming back with us then.”

  “Thanks.” Quint smiled, and went to shake Drake’s hand.

  “Don’t thank me,” said Drake. “If it were up to me, I would have left you.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Karen Bradley had been sat in the new clinic area for the last ten minutes. The monotony was killing her and she decided to get her head down for an hour or so. She wasn’t used to being sedentary, and this new role she had been given was beginning to bore her already. She wondered how Pickle and the rest were getting on with the trip to Amerton, and thought about their escape from the Stile Cop beauty spot in the first week.

  She thought about the scene where Pickle and KP needed to get to the van whilst Karen tried to hold off the crowd of the dead that had just killed Jamie and Janine.

  She laughed, thinking back to that frightening episode, and thought to herself that if she had been watching an apocalyptic Hollywood movie and there was this twenty-three-year old nurse with no experience with firearms but now had a Browning in each hand and was putting down the dead, it would have been criticised in some quarters. But it really happened.

  She stood up and decided to leave Ward 22 once more. She told the guard that she was going for a wander, again, and headed outside.

  She stepped out with her left hand resting on the handle of her machete that was tucked in her belt, and headed for the reception building where her old accident and emergency department used to be, and decided to have a sneaky coffee in the staff room where Drake stayed a lot.

  She approached the corridor where the staff room was based and could see a bored guard loitering in the corridor. Instead of sneaking in, she decided to be brash and marched up to the room and placed her hand on the doorknob.

  The guard, whose name she didn’t know, looked to be one of the WOE group. He wore blue jeans, black T-shirt, and was wearing a leather jacket with the three initials sewn onto the back of it.

  “Where the hell are you going?” he called out, striding towards her.

  “Going into my old staff room,” Karen remarked.

  “Um ... what?”

  He obviously didn’t know what she was talking about, so Bradley explained to him.

  “I used to work here,” she said, and then pointed to the staff room door, “and this used to be where I took my breaks, when I could.”

  “So are you taking a nostalgic look around?” the guard queried.

  “Yeah. Don’t mind, do you?”

  “Well, Drake uses it as his office.”

  Karen flirtingly smiled at the man and said, “I won’t tell, if you don’t.”

  “Oh, go on then.” The guard looked uncomfortable and said, “Just don’t be long, okay?”

  Karen saluted the man and stepped inside and quickly shut the door behind her.

  She sat on a chair and sat where she would normally sit if she fancied a quick coffee or tea.

  She revealed a smile and thought about her colleagues.

  She decided to look in the cupboards and remembered that there were many mugs in the cupboard that were situated above the sink. Were they still there?

  She had never thought to do this in the past whenever she had been here. The thought had just come to her.

  She got on her feet and went over to the cupboard that was situated above the sink. She smiled as she could see the cups, not all of them, were still present.

  There was a picture of a football on one of the cups with ‘Matt’s Mug’ on it, and a black mug that had white lettering written on it with ‘Another Eight Hours Of Pretending To Work.’ She clocked a Liverpool FC mug that one of the porters used to use, and a cup Karen used to use herself. It was a pink mug with, ‘I’m not bossy. I’m the boss,’ written in white lettering.

  Feeling emotional, she took the mug and then looked at the side of the sink. A pan was available, camping stove, and some filtered water in a jar.

  “Fuck it. He won’t mind.”

  Karen decided to go into the cupboard and look for some coffee. She peered in, but couldn’t see anything. She slowly dropped to her knees and rummaged through and could feel a bottle, which she pulled out. It was a half bottle of Irish whisky and she became immediately annoyed.

  “Cheeky bastard.” She shook her head and began to feel anger towards the leader of the camp.

  She put the whisky back where she had found it, or at least hoped, and continued to look for coffee. Even tea bags would have done, but it was a decent amount of caffeine that she craved.

  She rummaged further and pulled out a photograph of a boy and his mum at the park.

  She knew straightaway that it was Drake’s family. She just knew.

  Her anger for Drake began to dissipate. Yes, he was still selfish for keeping a bottle of booze for himself, but the photograph showed her what he had lost. Karen had lost her fiancée and unborn baby, as well as other family members such as cousins, but Drake had lost more. He had lost a wife, a woman he had known for years and probably deeply loved, and a boy that was probably his world.

  She stopped looking for the coffee and decided to get out of there after the discovery. She decided to keep the whisky a secret.

  She was sure there had been other bottles. And then she remembered something Pickle had said, mentioning that Drake was smelling of booze one of the days, and then she thought about the food runs. It was always his men that did them. Were they all taking liberties? Karen then suddenly started to think rationally and thought that if they were out there, risking their lives so they could feed others, then why should they not get some perks?

  Karen was calming down and decided to leave. She headed for the door and a knock was heard before she opened it.

  The door was opened and Karen told the guard she was on her way out anyway.

  “Just had a call,” the guard spoke, pointing at his radio.

  “Oh.”

  “Stephen Rowley’s looking for you. He’s waiting for you outside the clinic.”

  “Great,” she sighed.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The prison van had two miles to go before they reached Stafford, and could transport the birds out of the vehicle.

  Vince, Pickle and Drake never mentioned the colourful character of Quint, who was in the back with the girls.

  All three had been silent until Drake hit a bend and could see a straight road with an unwelcoming sight that made Drake hit the brakes.

  “Jesus suffering fuck!” Vince exclaimed.

  “That’s what I was thinking,” Drake groaned.

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sp; All three looked out and could see a horde congregating in a circle, in the middle of the road. Some were staggering in a circle, like some kind of drunken maypole dance, and the three guys could just about see scores of the dead on their knees. They were feasting on something, but they didn’t know what.

  The screech of the van’s brakes had been noticed by some of the horde, and some of the dead began to struggle their way over towards the van.

  Drake slipped the vehicle into neutral and looked at his passengers for some advice. “So what now?”

  “Just ram through them,” said Vince.

  “I’m not sure.” Pickle was in two minds and both men could see the confusion on his face. “What if we get stuck? We have three other people to think about in the back.”

  “I suppose.” Drake sighed and slipped the van into reverse. “I can go another way. May take a little longer, though.”

  He began to perform a turn in the road, and by the time the van was straightened up and facing the opposite way, some of the dead had reached the vehicle and were slapping the side of the van. It was almost as if they knew that there was something inside that they could devour.

  Drake took the van into Cannock and went into a place he hadn’t been to in a while.

  He reached the roundabout and passed Cannock’s small hospital to see that it looked abandoned. It didn’t have the security of having a wall around it like Stafford. The hospital was on the main road, near the roundabout. Vince and Drake gazed out as the vehicle went by the outskirts of the town, passing the humble college, the bus station and the Prince of Wales Theatre where he took his son a year ago to see The King and I and where he and Coral, on one of the few times they could get a babysitter, saw The Bootleg Beatles.

  He tried to shrug off the memories that had ambushed him and increased pressure on the accelerator pedal, speeding up the van to fifty, almost its maximum speed.

  They passed by Cannock’s leisure centre and this had conjured up memories for all three men.

  This was a place that Drake and Coral used to take their son for swimming lessons, and Drake also used to use the gym, because it was cheaper than the overpriced private gyms that were available.