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

by Whittington, Shaun

  “Yeah.”

  “What about Julie, and…?”

  “There’s no easy way to say it,” Vince began, “but we found Paul and his son a couple of months ago. His wife and daughter were already dead. He met some guy called Bentley and they went to a supermarket car park and found their bodies in the family car. Bentley shot them both. They had both turned.”

  Mildred placed her hand over her mouth and could feel the tears fill her eyes. “She texted me on the Saturday morning, asking if I wanted to meet with them afterwards. I said no. I was too busy.”

  Vince looked at the woman with sympathy and was about to speak, but she threw a query at him.

  “Where’s Paul and Kyle now?” she asked.

  “We went to a few camps and young Kyle was killed by a Snatcher. Paul was devastated, obviously. And that was the beginning of his decline. I think Kyle kept him sane, but when he died...”

  She assumed they’d be dead, but Vince Kindl had just confirmed it. Only Paul was alive, maybe. She felt sadness. There was a little hope that they could have made it somehow and was surprised by Paul’s behaviour, but the apocalypse had turned or killed most people. Mildred Huxtetter was officially a killer, a lot of survivors were, but the thought of her friend and her children dead, and her grieving husband turning into a loose cannon, saddened her.

  Paul Dickson may still be alive, but what was his quality of life going to be like from now on?

  “Wait a minute.” Vince placed his hands on his head. “You two weren’t that far away from each other the other week, you and Paul.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Well, it was Paul that turned up at the field and killed all those Snatchers when Craig and Stephen were stuck in that ditch.”

  “Was that him?” Mildred gazed for a while and added, “I know they mentioned the word Paul... I didn’t realise it was him.”

  “You must have missed each other by minutes. He put down the dead and helped Stephen out of the ditch, whilst you were hiding under the bridge.”

  “Jeez, don’t say it like that,” said Mildred. “You make me sound like a coward. I had no choice.”

  “Sorry.”

  Vince looked at the outline of Mildred’s face and could feel that she was upset from the news he had just given her. The silence between the pair of them lasted a few minutes and Vince decided not to speak. It sounded like Mildred was doing her best to fight back the tears and Vince leaned his head back and closed his eyes, but Mildred spoke up.

  “My name isn’t Mildred,” she blurted out.

  “What?”

  “You heard.”

  “I’m not gonna ask you your real name,” Vince said. “You must have changed it for a reason.”

  “New world, new me.” She smiled.

  “Why change it to Mildred?” Vince snickered gently. “And I have no idea where you got the weird name Foxtrotter from.”

  “It’s Huxtetter,” she laughed. “Mildred Huxtetter.”

  “Oh, that’s so much better,” Vince said with sarcasm.

  “You should Google it, and then you’d know where I got it from.”

  “Yeah, very funny. Bloody muppet.” He laughed, “Google it.”

  Mildred sniggered and Vince asked what she was laughing at.

  “Forget it,” she said. “It doesn’t matter.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Karen had gone for a walk around the grounds and was called over by a guy of name that escaped her. He gave her a mundane and short tour of the two greenhouses. She was impressed with the amount of produce that was there, including peas, tomatoes, potatoes, onions, carrots, plus more that she couldn’t remember.

  She thanked the man for going out of his way to show her what was being produced and looked over to the patch of grass near the large shed. Darren was creating a small barrier around the patch of grass, using broken branches stuck in the ground and string tied around them. It didn’t look great, but once he was finished, the chickens were going to be let out of the large shed and allowed to roam on the grass. It hadn’t been established whose job it was going to be bringing them into the shed on an evening.

  Maybe the shed would be left open and they could go in and out when they please, she thought. It wasn’t something that plagued her thoughts. She was worried about Pickle. Her mind was always clouded with concern whenever Pickle was out on a run without her. She feared that one day he would never return.

  “Hello, Karen.” The voice had given her a fright, and the twenty-three-year-old gasped and turned to see a smiling Findlay.

  “You not on the gate?” she asked him.

  “Just finished,” he said. “Big Gordon is on for a few hours.”

  “I don’t know who Big Gordon is,” she mumbled, and tucked her hair behind her ears. “Where’re you off now?”

  “Um...” Findlay looked agitated all of a sudden and Karen immediately found his behaviour suspicious. “Gonna have a game of cards.”

  “Game of cards?” Karen eyed Findlay. “You don’t seem so sure about that.”

  “See you later, Kaz.” He tapped her on the arm and made a hasty escape. She watched as the young man entered the outpatients building and decided to follow him, if she could.

  “Karen!” a voice called over. She turned and could see Stephen Rowley at the exit of the outpatients building at the opposite end.

  “You want me?” she called over to the man who was almost thirty yards away.

  “Yes, chap!” he called back. “I need to talk to you about something.”

  “It’s gonna have to wait.” She waved him away and walked briskly, almost jogging, towards the door where Findlay entered.

  She stepped inside and walked down the open part of the building and could hear voices coming from around the corner of the wall, down the hall. Karen approached the corner and peered her head round and could see a long hall, with the doors to the wards on the left. It was a hall she had walked down many times over the years, but the days of her being a nurse at this hospital seemed like a million years ago now. Some days she would feel nostalgic and emotional, but on other days she wouldn’t feel anything.

  “You keep watch,” a voice spoke up. The voice was female. It was a voice that Karen didn’t recognise.

  A male voice responded, “Why don’t you keep watch?”

  Somebody stepped out and Karen immediately moved her head back.

  Something sinister was going on and Karen was more than intrigued.

  It seemed that whatever the meeting was about, it didn’t involve Drake. He was nowhere to be seen. What was going on? Was it some kind of rebellion? Drake spent a lot of time telling people what to do, was violent, and drank.

  Were they plotting his downfall? Karen was aware that Drake was hardly the perfect leader, but he was taking on this added pressure that most people didn’t want, and for what?

  Karen was reluctant to peer around the corner again in case she was spotted. She had no idea if the individual that was asked to keep watch was still there. She hoped they weren’t, as she wanted to progress down the corridor and listen in on what was being said. Something was happening, but she didn’t know what.

  If she peered her head around the corner and was spotted, then that would make out that she was snooping. Instead, Karen decided to walk around the corner as if she was just taking a stroll. If somebody was still out there, she could use the excuse that she just wanted to stretch her legs.

  She made a decision to wait a few minutes and then walk around the corner.

  “Is everybody here?” she heard someone ask. It sounded like Findlay.

  Maybe she was blowing this all out of proportion. Maybe they were playing cards and Drake had banned it because of betting. She shook her head. Her mind was conjuring up all kinds of ridiculous scenarios.

  She took in a deep breath and walked around the corner, as casual as she could, and could see the back of a man, standing outside the ward door. He never spotted her, so she
turned and crept back around the corner.

  Whatever was happening, Karen was certain that cards wasn’t being played. It was some kind of meeting.

  She peered around the corner once more and could see it was clear. Talking commenced, but in hushed voices, and Bradley had her back against the wall and slowly crept down. Most of the words that were spoken were inaudible, but Colwyn was mentioned, along with Pickle and Drake.

  Chairs could be heard scraping along the floor, which suggested to Karen that people were getting up. It had been a short meeting.

  She ran as lightly as she could, trying to get round the corner before she was spotted.

  She had managed it and left the building, walking briskly. She went over to the patch of grass where Darren was still setting up a fence, and had a sneaky look when she saw six figures leaving the outpatients building the same way Karen had left.

  She could see a man called Bill who she had only spoken to once.

  A young woman called Helen was part of the group as well as Ronnie’s pal, John, a sixteen-year-old called Christopher, Drake’s brother, Alan, and Findlay.

  Karen watched them walking towards the greenhouses and then they dispersed and went their separate ways.

  Karen puffed out a breath and placed her hands on her hips. “What the fuck is going on?”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Harry Branston told the group that he was going to go after Vince and Mildred in one minute. They had been away long enough, Pickle thought. He was confident that they were fine, but was wondering what the hold up was. The ground floor of the place was clear, and if there was anything untoward on the first floor, he knew that Vince and Mildred were more than capable of handling themselves.

  Pickle paced the road up and down, whilst the rest were by the back of the vehicle, doors open, and made a decision to look for them.

  “I’m gonna go in and see what the hold up is,” he said to Stephanie.

  Stephanie and David were leaning against the passenger door of the vehicle, and the female nodded and said, “Okay, Pickle.”

  He headed for the Workout World establishment and looked around the industrial estate, wondering if the pair of them had decided to check out the other places. Pickle looked at a shop called “Electricals Are Us’ and shook his head.

  Why would they check an electrical store in this day and age?

  He looked up to the first floor of the Workout World establishment and wondered if they were still in there. Only one way to find out.

  He stepped inside with his machete still in his belt, still wedged under, and crept through the place. It was a lot spookier when there were less people around. He reached the bottom of the stairs and looked up and called Vince, in almost a whisper, but loud enough to be heard.

  No answer.

  Pickle placed his hand on the machete handle, ready to get it out, and placed one foot on the stairs that led to the first floor, but that was the furthest he progressed. His ears picked up the sound of an engine and this stopped him from going upstairs because he had left a seventeen-year-old Richard and two fourteen-year-olds on their own.

  He headed for outside and jogged his way over to the van. His heart sank when his eyes clocked a black Range Rover with Marsden and three other guys standing outside it.

  Marsden was holding a shotgun, facing Pickle from twenty yards away, and waved at him as if he knew he was coming. Hutty, Jamo and a face Pickle didn’t recognise were also with him. There was no sign of Manson, and Pickle put this down to his two mutilated hands he received the day before. He was probably back at the village, recovering, Branston thought.

  Pickle stood straight, placed his hands together, and asked, “Is there a problem?”

  “Not for me, no.”

  “I see yer managed to replace yer tyres.”

  Richard Marsden nodded and smiled. “That was a low thing to do.”

  “Had no choice. Needed to make sure yer weren’t gonna follow us.”

  Pickle had a quick look over Marsden’s shoulder and wondered where the other three were.

  As if he could read his mind, Marsden told him, “They’re in the back, which is where you’re going.”

  “Do yer really need a gun?” Pickle folded his arms and nodded at the two-barrelled weapon Marsden was holding. “Why don’t we sort this out? Just me and yer.”

  “I’m not stupid,” Marsden laughed, and pointed to his bruised face. “I’d come off second best if I went toe to toe with you, Harry.”

  “Just shoot him, Rich,” Hutty spoke up. Pickle noticed that Hutty was carrying Stephanie’s bow and the bag of arrows. He probably had Richard and David’s knives as well, Pickle thought. “The kids will come in handy, but I don’t trust this prick. We don’t need him.”

  “Shooting him is too easy.”

  “I agree with Hutty.” Jamo spoke up.

  “I don’t give a shit!” Marsden snapped. “Don’t you remember what he did to us yesterday? Have you seen the state of Freddie’s hand? That poor bastard has been off his face with painkillers since we arrived back at Gnosall on foot.”

  “He had it coming,” Pickle called over.

  “We really hit the jackpot today, lads,” Marsden said, ignoring Pickle’s comment. “We caught Harry Branston that attacked us and mutilated Manson, we get food and also a van. That’s revenge, supplies, and a set of wheels in one swoop. Not a bad day’s work, but I ain’t killing this man for what he did to us. That’s too easy. He’ll be our prisoner.”

  They all started laughing and Hutty, Jamo, and the other individual patted Marsden on the back and continued to giggle.

  “I could have killed yer yesterday,” Pickle said. “I spared yer life.”

  “That’s where you fucked up, Harry. You’re a tough bastard, I’ll give you that, but you’ve got too much of a heart. Always have done. Now get in the back of the van, or I’ll start bashing in heads.”

  “Is that right?” Pickle smiled.

  “Yeah, that’s right.” Marsden said, “Maybe I’ll start with the young girl. Now, get the fuck in the van.”

  Pickle puffed out a breath and walked towards the back of the van, glaring at Marsden. “Okay.”

  “Give your machete to Hutty before you go in.”

  Pickle did as he was told and tossed the blade over to Hutty, who failed to catch it, making him look stupid.

  Pickle eyeballed Marsden and said, “If yer really want me, take me, but they’re just kids in there.”

  “One of those kids put an arrow in my mate’s hand. Kids can be just as dangerous as adults in this world. Age doesn’t matter to me. They’re with you, so I’m taking them.”

  “Yer should let them go.”

  “Oh, yeah? And what if I let them go and they go running to Stafford and they come back with Drake and a crew?”

  Pickle opened his mouth to ask how he knew the name Drake, but never bothered. They had met the day before, but introductions never took place.

  “They’ll come looking for us,” Pickle snapped. “We know about yer lot and the way yer treated the villagers in Gnosall. Shelley Tavernier told us about the way yer treated people.”

  “Shelley Tavernier?” Marsden rubbed his chin. “Name rings a bell.”

  “She escaped. She’s now with us.”

  “Let them come.” Marsden shrugged his shoulders. “They’ll die. Every single one of them.”

  “At least let the kids go.”

  “Not gonna happen, so don’t bother mentioning it again. Now get in the back.”

  Marsden raised the gun, so it was now in line with Pickle’s face. He thought about turning the gun around and using the butt end to hit Pickle in the stomach, but the thought of Pickle grabbing the gun and then turning it on Marsden did cross his mind.

  Pickle said, “I thought yer didn’t want me dead yet.”

  “I don’t.” Marsden still had the gun raised. “But if I have to shoot you, I will.”

  “I can’t let yer take those kids.”r />
  “They’ll be fine.” Marsden smiled. “We have four individuals from a camp that knows where we stay. We’re short on supplies, so maybe we can start doing a trade. Let’s see how much Drake values your lives.”

  “I don’t believe that,” Pickle said. “Yer takin’ us because yer can. Yer saw an opportunity, so yer took it and like yer said, yer have supplies, a vehicle, and with me and Stephanie who shot an arrow in Manson’s hand, yer can get yer revenge.”

  Marsden took in a deep breath and caressed the trigger of the gun. He was becoming impatient with Pickle’s reluctant behaviour.

  “We’re a rough lot.” Pickle turned and spat on the floor. He then lied, “We have a lot o’ inmates from our prison with us.”

  “We have our fair share as well,” Marsden laughed. “We have Robert McCallum with us, as well as Kyle Horan and Jason Bonser.”

  Pickle smiled at Marsden’s desperate lies. He was thinking about keeping quiet, but he couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

  “Kyle Horan died at the prison,” Pickle laughed. “And I watched Jason Bonser getting ripped to pieces by the dead in Heath Hayes, so nice try.”

  Marsden’s face was like thunder. His face reddened and his lips quivered with anger. “Last chance.”

  Convinced that he would do it, if he had to, Pickle threw the keys on the floor and stepped into the back of the van and the door was quickly closed and locked.

  Hutty got into the van and Marsden went into the driver’s side and could see Jamo and another guy getting into the black jeep.

  Hutty took the gun off Marsden as he tried to start the engine.

  “I didn’t think he was going to back down for a minute,” Hutty snickered.

  “Tell me about it.” Marsden slipped the van into first and pulled away. “If he had grabbed the gun, we would have been fucked. The only two shells we had left were wasted yesterday, when that traitor Richard fucked things up.”

  “Hopefully we’ll come across some shells on the next run.”

  “I wouldn’t hold your breath.”

  Hutty cleared his throat and added, “So what are we going to do with Pickle when we get back to the village. Are we gonna kill him?”