“How do you like Drake?” she asked him.
Vince looked at Mildred and said, “That’s an out of the blue question, is it not?”
Mildred shrugged her shoulders and elevated her eyebrows, demanding an answer.
“Why do you ask?”
“I dunno,” Mildred sighed and added, “Just wondering.”
“Must be a reason why you’re asking.”
Mildred shrugged her shoulders and said, “He’s a bit...”
“Yes?”
Mildred stopped walking and Vince did the same. “I...” Mildred looked up and could now see Vince’s attention was elsewhere and was looking to his right.
“Well, that’s a first.”
Vince pulled out his machete and the pair of them gazed at the dead thing. It had emerged from around the corner of a building that used to be a pub called The Grapes.
The male Rotter, as Vince mainly called them, was slower than the average one and both could see why.
It had a dog lead wrapped around its wrist and had two dead pugs being dragged along, four feet behind it, as it made its slow progress. The two small dogs were on their sides and both had been clearly dead a while, but apart from the rottenness, they were untouched.
“He must be one of the many that were attacked on the first day, maybe even the Saturday before it was announced.” Vince gazed at the rotten corpse coming towards them and added, “No one in their right mind would take their dogs out for a walk after the announcement, so it must’ve been Saturday morning or afternoon when he was attacked.”
“Why didn’t he eat them?”
Vince turned to Mildred and asked, “What?”
“Why didn’t he eat his own dogs?” she elaborated. “Obviously when you turn, you are oblivious to who or what you were close to.”
Vince had no answer for Mildred’s query, initially. He shook his head and guessed, “Maybe they just starved to death.”
“But why didn’t he eat them?”
“I don’t fucking know,” Vince snapped. “Maybe he didn’t know they were behind him as he walked along in his dead world. I’m not entirely sure the dead can see. If they can, then probably not that well.”
Vince put the Rotter down and walked by it with Mildred as it was slumped on the floor. The pair of them continued with their brisk walk and knew they weren’t far away from the hospital now.
“Anyway,” Vince began, wiping the blade on the dead’s clothes. “What was you going to say to me earlier? About Drake?”
Mildred clocked the entrance to the hospital and could see a female guard she had never seen before. “Later. It can keep.”
“No, now,” Vince laughed. “You sounded pretty serious earlier on.”
Mildred lowered her head an inch and rested the tip of her tongue on her bottom lip. “The old woman of the farm, Mrs Greendale,” Mildred began at last. “Drake killed her and her husband.”
“What?”
“Both of them had been attacked by Drake, but she was still alive and—”
“You serious?”
Mildred nodded. “She told me herself. I went inside, she was dying, and she described the man that hurt her.”
“Okay.” Vince held his hand up and said, “We’ll talk about this later.”
The two approached the gate and it was slid back with no hesitation, but confusion on the face of the female guard.
“Where’s the van? Pickle?” were her queries to the two of them, which they had no answer.
“Where’s Drake?” Vince asked. “Usual place?”
The guard nodded.
Vince and Mildred entered the reception building and could see a guard by the staff room.
“Is he in?” Vince asked.
The guard nodded.
“Right.” Vince grabbed the door handle and entered the room with Mildred behind him.
Drake was at the table, holding a pencil and a large sheet lying on the table, trying to sort out a rota of some sort.
“Not heard of knocking?” Drake snapped. “How do you know I wasn’t tugging one off?”
Ignoring his comment, Vince announced, “We’ve got something to tell you.”
Karen walked in and was out of breath.
She had heard that Vince and Mildred were back and wondered where the rest were.
“Where’s Pickle?” were the first words out of her mouth.
“We don’t know,” said Mildred.
“What the fuck do you mean, you don’t know?”
“Right!” Drake banged his fist on the table and told everyone to shut up. “Close the door and tell me what happened from the beginning.”
Karen closed the door and stood in the corner with her arms folded. Drake remained seated, and Vince and Mildred took a seat opposite him.
“We all went into Workout World and managed to almost fill the van,” Vince began to explain.
“Just give me the short version,” Drake moaned. “I’m trying to do the guard rota for next week.”
“Mildred and I went back in to check out the first floor, because there was still some room left.” Vince paused and clocked his left hand. He needed a change of dressing on what was left of it. “We came back and Pickle, Stephanie, Richard and David and the van were gone.”
“You … you mean they fucked off?” Drake was just as confused as Karen with the story.
“He wouldn’t,” she chipped in. “He wouldn’t do that.”
“I know,” said Vince. “The only reason they would leave or move the van would be if a large horde turned up. There were a couple of Rotters, but no sign of a horde.”
“So they’ve been taken?” Karen asked.
“Possibly.”
“Pickle wouldn’t allow that without a fight.”
“But the people he was left with were kids, and what if the people had guns on them?”
“Well, you know what’s going to happen now, don’t you?” Karen spoke up.
“No fucking chance.” Drake shook his head. “It’s not happening.”
“We have to go out there,” Karen said.
“It’s too dangerous,” said Drake. “It’s bad enough going out there getting supplies, but Pickle can look after himself. You know that.”
Karen paused for thought and Drake could see that she was concerned.
“Look, maybe I’ll send out a couple of riders in the morning,” he tried to appease them. “If I send out a lot of people to look for them and then they go missing, then I’m gonna have to send out more people that we’re looking for the original missing people. It’s too much of a headache.”
“You know Pickle better than anyone,” Mildred said to Karen. “He’ll be okay, won’t he?”
“He has three kids with him,” said Karen.
“Richard’s seventeen years old,” Vince intervened. “Richard’s been out there and Stephanie is tougher than most. Okay, David’s a bit wet behind the ears, but they’ll look after him.”
“So do you agree with Drake?” Karen asked Vince.
“I think they could be anywhere, but my guessing is that it was Marsden’s lot and they’re at Gnosall. I think we should wait till the morning with clearer heads and a new day.”
“I better break the news to Tracy,” Karen said.
Vince said, “They’ll be okay. Pickle’s been in worse scenarios than this and has managed to come through.”
“I’m going back to the clinic.”
“I’ll walk with you,” said Vince.
They strolled away from Drake and Mildred, and headed for the outpatients building.
“I need to talk to you about something,” Karen said. “About Drake’s brother.”
Vince nodded. “And I’ve got something to tell you as well. About Drake.”
Chapter Forty-One
Once the van had been parked up, they were told that they were being moved to an abandoned garage.
Pickle, Richard, Stephanie and David were warned that if they tried any ‘funny business�
� then they would regret it.
The four individuals could hear muffled voices from outside and had no clue what was going to be done with them. They weren’t blindfolded or even tied up. They had more than enough people to restrain them if they tried to retaliate.
All four sat on the cold floor of the garage, apart from Pickle who was pacing up and down. He had no idea what was going to happen, but was certain they had been taken for two reasons: for revenge and to find out where they stayed. The others knew it as well.
“I’m scared, Pickle,” David cried.
“I know.” Pickle nodded. “I’m not comfortable with this either. Just stay calm. We’ll get through it.”
“What do you think they want?” Richard asked.
“I think we all know,” Pickle sighed.
“I don’t.” David wasn’t sure and wanted clarification.
“Taking the van was an opportunistic moment. Unfortunately for us, they were passing while we were parked up. Then they see a guy they’ve hated for years, a young girl who shot an arrow through their friend’s hand, and Richard who’s a traitor and left, along with his girlfriend, to another camp.”
“We were at the wrong place at the wrong time,” said Richard, “and they were at the right place at the right time.”
“What do they have against me?” David cried. “I’ve done nothing wrong.”
“It has nothing to do with yer,” Pickle said.
“Vince and Mildred would work out what happened,” said Stephanie. “They know where Gnosall is.”
“That’s our only hope, but I’m not sure Drake would want to get involved, lose more guys, and possibly start a war.”
“A war?”
“Okay,” Pickle managed a chuckle. “Maybe war is a strong term o’ phrase.”
“I don’t want this, Pickle.” David began to sob and sniffled, “I don’t want to come out with you guys anymore. I’m not cut out for this.”
Stephanie shuffled over to David and put her arm around him, telling him it was going to be okay.
“You don’t know that,” he snapped, raising his voice. “Stop saying that, will you?”
“Keep yer voice down.” Pickle stood up and made the short walk to the large garage door and placed his ear against it, trying to listen in what was being said.
He could hear the sounds of feet walking away and Pickle continued to listen. There was silence and Pickle then could hear the sounds of boots coming his way. He had no idea how many, but there were definitely more than two pairs. They were growing louder and Harry Branston was sure that they were heading to the garage and would be coming through the side door.
He hushed the group, mainly David, and went over and sat back down where the other three were.
The side door was opened and Hutty, Jamo, and a man Pickle had never seen before walked in. There was no sign of Marsden or the injured Manson.
The man that Pickle didn’t know was holding a machete. It was Pickle’s. He walked over to Branston and placed the blade against Pickle’s throat, telling him not to move an inch.
Jamo then pointed at Richard, clicked his fingers and told Richard to get up and go towards them.
Richard looked at Pickle but received no response. Stephanie and David also never looked at the man and had their heads down, scared out of their wits.
“We don’t like traitors,” Jamo snapped. “You’re worse than Pickle, despite what he did. You, Richard ... we took you in—”
“I thought you were good people,” Richard tried to protest. “I wanted what was best for me and Tracy.”
“So you went with other people and then came back to the village and took her as well?”
Richard nodded.
“Let me show you something.” Jamo grabbed Richard and took him outside.
Richard shielded his eyes once he was out and could see a body sat up against a tree on the pavement. Jamo asked Richard if he recognised the man. Richard couldn’t see properly because of the blood on the man’s face and shook his head.
“Derek Love,” Jamo said. “He was the guy in charge at the gate when you picked up your slag girlfriend.”
“Why’d you kill him?” Richard shook. “He never had a choice.”
“He’s not dead yet,” Jamo laughed.
“It wasn’t his fault.”
“Doesn’t matter. He was still in charge while we were out and allowed a resident to leave.”
“Why are you showing me this?” cried Richard.
“I’ll tell you once you’ve watched this.” Jamo pointed over to the body.
“Watch what?”
Jamo released a sharp whistle and a guy, dressed all in black, walked over to the body and pulled out, what looked like, a small sword or a large dagger. He pulled Derek’s head back, by grabbing the hair, and placed the large blade across his throat.
Richard winced and was told not to look away.
For fear of punishment, he did as he was told and retched as the blade-wielding man sliced through Derek’s throat and eventually took his head off.
Richard placed his hand over his mouth as the blood gushed out of Derek’s neck, and watched in horror as the executioner placed the head on the ground. He then picked up a sack and calmly picked the head up and placed it into the sack.
Jamo pointed over at what was left of the body and said, “At least the dogs will have a good meal tonight.”
“Look,” Richard shook with nerves. “I don’t know what you want—”
“We want revenge,” Jamo snapped. “And we want to know where you’re staying.”
“I can’t tell you that.”
“I thought you’d say that.”
“Now what?”
“Now, back inside.”
Jamo grabbed Richard by the hair and the two of them entered the garage. As soon as Jamo let go of Richard’s hair, the youngster ran to the corner of the garage, threw up, and then sat down.
“What did yer do to him?” Pickle yelled, but received no answer.
Richard wiped his mouth and was told to sit back down with the rest.
“Right,” Hutty said, glaring at Pickle. “Where are you staying?”
Pickle spoke with a straight face. “We have a camp in the woods.”
“Bullshit!” Hutty laughed.
“It’s true.” Pickle nodded.
“Whereabouts?”
“Hard to say.” Pickle lifted his knees up and wrapped his arms around his legs. “Take us all there and I’ll show yer.”
“You don’t live in the woods,” Jamo snapped. He turned to the guard with the small sword and told him if Pickle moved, cut his throat.
The guard nodded and Hutty nodded at Jamo, who then walked over to Richard and booted him in the face.
Richard collapsed to the floor, and Jamo grabbed his legs and dragged him five yards away from the other three.
Ignoring the protest from an angry Pickle and Stephanie, Hutty stepped to the side as Jamo continued with his attack on seventeen-year-old Richard. The seventeen-year-old received a kick in the stomach, forcing Richard to moan and curl into a ball. Jamo then bent down and punched Richard’s head a couple of times. He then stood up and kicked him three times in his midriff and then stamped on his head.
Stephanie and a frightened David had their heads down, but Pickle could see that Richard was out of the game. A few more kicks to the head would kill the young man, but Pickle couldn’t tell them where they stayed. Almost a hundred lives would be at stake. Jamo looked down at Richard’s body and looked annoyed. He then looked up at Pickle and smiled.
“You want me to do him?” the man holding the large blade to Pickle’s throat said.
Jamo shook his head. “We’ve been told to leave him ... for now. Manson wants him.”
“Manson’s out of his face on painkillers.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Right,” Hutty groaned, and pulled out a blade and headed to the three captives. He stepped behind them, making all thr
ee paranoid and nervous, especially David, and began to whistle a tune no one recognised.
He said, “Still keeping our mouths shut, eh?”
There was no response.
Hutty bent down and whispered in Stephanie’s ear, “What about you, Goldilocks?”
“Piss off, creep,” she snapped.
“Creep? Me?” Hutty laughed. “You think I’m bad? Wait till Manson comes along. I’ve got a feeling he’s gonna take a shine to you, if you know what I mean.”
“Leave the girl alone, dickhead,” Pickle yelled.
“Tell me where you’re staying,” Hutty continued, ignoring Pickle’s remark, “and I’ll make sure he doesn’t lay a finger on you.”
“Leave me alone.”
Hutty stood up and could feel his blood simmering.
“You know what?” Hutty snarled. “I’m getting fucking bored of this.”
He grabbed the back of David’s hair and placed the cold steel against his throat. “I’m gonna kill this little fucker, and then maybe you two will start speaking.”
“Don’t kill me!” David cried out. “Please! Pickle! Help me!”
David sobbed and Pickle and Stephanie made their verbal protests.
“I’m sorry, son,” Hutty whispered in David’s ear.
“We’re staying at Stafford Hospital!” David called out. “We’re at Stafford Hospital.”
Hutty released David’s hair and said, “There you go. That wasn’t so bad, was it? Get Rich in here,” Hutty said to Jamo, referring to Richard Marsden.
Jamo nodded and left the garage.
A sobbing David wiped his eyes on his sleeve and looked over to Harry Branston, and said, “I’m sorry, Pickle.”
“It’s okay, son,” Pickle responded. “It’s gonna be okay.”
Chapter Forty-Two
The month was September, the temperature had dropped, but the woods were suffocating and Paul Dickson left his cabin to take the short walk to the country road to get some vital air. He had a half bottle of water left and hadn’t eaten in two days, which was a thing of the norm these days.
He vowed to finally leave the area where he lived, but he couldn’t quite do it. Where would he go? Initially he wanted to go north, but what new obstacles would he have to face?
He was making his way north after his brief encounter with Karen and had found a cabin. He was then struck down with a fever for a few days and did nothing but sleep. At one point he thought he was going to die, but had managed to struggle through it. If he was at home, back in the normal world, he was convinced he would have been over it by now, but food, plenty of water and vitamins were not available these days.
Snatchers Box Set | Vol. 5 | Books 13-15 Page 39