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

by Whittington, Shaun

  Paul was sat up with his knees up and scratched at his scruffy beard and needed to make a move. As the months went by, the harder it was to get food, but he needed to try something in order for him to survive.

  He was a mile away from his old village of Little Haywood. He decided to visit the place and also see if there was anything left to eat, which he doubted.

  He stood up, threw his empty rucksack over his shoulder, and began to walk out of the woods and descended down the grassy hill.

  He reached the desolate Stafford Road and climbed over the rotten wooden fence. His worn boots made their way across the road, and Dickson headed for the small bridge up ahead that led into the back of the village of Little Haywood.

  He remained in the centre of the road and rested his left hand on top of the handle of the machete that was tucked into his belt. He went over the bridge and entered a street that was all too familiar to him. He looked around and could see drives without cars, overgrown lawns, and some houses that had their main doors wide open. Dickson wasn’t sure if the owners had fled or if they had been broken into by desperate survivors.

  Another quarter of a mile walk and he’d be at the concrete wall that divided Colwyn Place, but he decided to keep away for now. It had been four months since the announcement, but he had to check the houses for anything that could be devoured. He was going to check every house until his bag was full.

  He went down the drive of one house and approached the open door. He gave it a quick knock and then waited five seconds before stepping inside.

  He peered up the stairs and sniffed the air. He could smell death and heard the buzzing of flies coming from the living room.

  Dickson brought his right arm across his chest and pulled out his machete. He passed the kitchen and peeped in for a second to see it was empty, and then stepped into the living room to see a Snatcher.

  He sighed and shook his head. He took a seat and stared over at the poor thing.

  It was a female and was crawling along the floor, very slowly, once she spotted Paul Dickson.

  Behind the crawling Snatcher was a wheelchair lying on its side that she had obviously fallen out of, and he waited for her to get near him and touch his boot before putting an end to her dead existence. He checked the rest of the house and left empty handed. He had checked six other houses and never came across another Snatcher.

  He could see his old house as he slowly progressed down the street, checking each place on the right side. He had managed to come across a jar of jam, some crackers, and a bottle of coke that he had downed as soon as he saw it.

  Apart from the people from Sandy Lane, most of the people hated him when he stayed at Colwyn Place, so it wasn’t a place he wanted to approach. The day was getting dimmer and Paul decided to stay in one of the houses.

  He was now in the old street of Colwyn Place and could see the concrete wall that divided the old street and the one that was inhabited by the survivors.

  He crept into a house that was six down from the wall and checked it out before settling down. The cabin could wait, and Paul didn’t know if he was going to stay there tonight. Apart from a tatty sleeping bag, there was nothing else to go back for.

  He picked what he thought was the main bedroom, peed in the defunct toilet first, and then entered the room.

  He placed the bag on the floor and wanted to keep the jam and crackers for his breakfast the next day. He grabbed a chair from the corner and wedged it under the door handle before lying on the bed fully clothed.

  He slept for two hours.

  *

  Paul Dickson’s dreams were plagued about the recent past, as they usually were. Over the last few weeks he had suffered dreams that replayed certain events in his life that had occurred since June 9th.

  Everything, from hiding with Kyle in a caravan when Vince’s camp was awash with the dead, to burying his son, was projected in his mind when sleeping, but this time he experienced something that happened when he hooked up with Bentley Drummle.

  When he met Bentley and was at his camp, he told him that he needed to go to the local supermarket to find his wife and daughter. Bentley decided to go with him. Bentley’s partner agreed to look after Kyle, whilst the two guys went to the supermarket in Bentley’s car. They reached the supermarket and went inside, then when they left Paul Dickson spotted his wife’s car and spotted her and his daughter inside. They had both turned and Bentley, a handgun carrier, shot them both with Paul’s permission. Dickson never witnessed anything. He only heard the shots, but the realistic dream still made the man wake up with tears in his eyes.

  Paul wiped his eyes and ran his fingers through his beard. For a moment he had forgot where he was and had a look around in the bedroom. He rubbed his face when he realised he was in a house in Little Haywood, just a few streets from where his own house was, which was now burnt out, all thanks to the Murphys from a few months back.

  Dickson decided to get some air. When he stayed at Colwyn with Pickle, Karen and Vince, very little action was seen by the wall, apart from one major incident.

  He galloped down the stairs and stepped outside after removing the chain off the main door.

  He peered from around the corner of the house and looked down the street. In the distance he could see a face behind the concrete wall staring back at him. Dickson wasn’t sure if the figure had spotted him or the man was just staring into space. He wasn’t sure, but he did recognise the man. He recognised that ginger beard anywhere. Terry Braithwaite was never a fan of Paul Dickson, and when Paul used to go out for his walks to beat the cabin fever, Terry used to moan and complain to Pickle and John Lincoln about him.

  Paul moved away and decided to make the walk back to the cabin. He felt it was safer there, out of the way.

  Torn between leaving for pastures new, as he had been for weeks, he threw his bag over his shoulder and headed back to the woods for the day. He had threatened to leave before. Only a week ago he walked through Rugeley and reached Armitage, past Vince’s old camp, but once he found a bed for the night and slept till the morning, he woke up and made the four mile walk back to the Wolseley area. This wasn’t the first time he had left and had changed his mind, and it wouldn’t be the last, but he would leave for good.

  One day.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Karen Bradley went to her quarters and checked if anyone was around. Satisfied that she was alone, she sat on her bed and released a sharp whistle. Vince Kindl, who was hiding round the corner at the end of the corridor, emerged and eventually entered Karen’s area where she slept and shared with a few others.

  Vince sat on her bed next to her and said, “Right. You go first.”

  “Okay.” Karen took a deep breath in. “Something weird is happening in this place.”

  “I know,” Vince responded with a straight face.

  “You know?”

  Vince nodded. “I saw Findlay taking one of those chickens into the toilet with him.”

  “I’m being serious, Vince,” Karen huffed. “I followed Drake’s brother earlier and he had arranged some kind of secret meeting with a few others, Findlay being one of them.”

  “And?”

  “I don’t feel safe here,” Karen confessed. She huffed and brushed her hair behind her ears. “Maybe they’re plotting something.”

  ”Findlay seems okay.”

  “Yeah, to our faces. But Paul Dickson had killed his best friend, so I hear.”

  ”Okay.” Vince could see the concern on Karen’s face and decided to lay off the jokes. ”All we can do is be vigilant. Does Drake know?”

  Karen nodded. “He said he’d talk to Alan.”

  “Speaking of Drake...” Vince raised his eyebrows, prompting Karen to tell him that if he had anything to say then hurry the fuck up.

  “Mildred told me that when we went to Amerton Farm, she said Drake killed the old couple. He claimed that the place had been attacked by other survivors, and the elderly couple were attacked and left for d
ead. The old girl was alive, according to Mildred, and she told Mildred that her and her husband had changed their minds, which enraged Drake, so he attacked them. She spoke to her and told her what happened before she died. She described Drake’s appearance to Mildred.”

  Karen lowered her head and it took a while for her to process the information that Vince had just given her.

  A noise could be heard in the corridor and Karen told Vince that they’d talk about it later, when Pickle returned.

  The unusual noise grew louder, and both Karen and Vince stood up and could see Stephen Rowley going by.

  “Stephen,” Vince called out.

  “Alright, chap?” Rowley was in his wheelchair and had stopped moving. “Thought I’d cut through the building and head towards the gate, get a change of scenery.”

  “I’ll come with you,” Vince said. He then looked at Karen as if to ask if that was okay.

  She nodded and told Vince she was going to go back to Ward 22.

  Vince stepped out of Karen’s quarters and started to push Stephen. They were halfway down the hall when Stephen asked about the disappearance of Pickle, Richard, Stephanie and David.

  “Mildred and I left the Workout World place and they and the van were just gone,” Vince tried to explain.

  “Any idea where, chap?”

  Vince hunched his shoulders. “We’re guessing Gnosall, but Drake is reluctant to go out there.”

  “Don’t blame him, chap.” Stephen grunted and twisted his neck. “A bit perilous as it is, going out for supplies. But to go out there and try and find them would be too dangerous.”

  “We went out and found you, didn’t we?” Vince actually agreed with Rowley, but it had escaped Stephen’s mind temporarily that Pickle went out looking for him and Craig a week ago.

  “That’s true.”

  “Anyway,” Vince sighed. “Humans, especially ones that have had criminal records, are probably worse than the dead.”

  “Except Pickle, chap.”

  Vince nodded. “Except Pickle, of course.”

  The two of them managed to get outside and Vince found it difficult pushing Stephen on the uneasy road.

  “For fuck’s sake,” Vince snapped.

  “I know, chap,” Rowley laughed. “It’s a bit tricky.”

  “Tricky? The sooner you can walk the better, fucking lump.”

  “Ah, don’t be like that, chap.” Rowley cleared his throat and circled his neck slowly. “I was losing weight before the accident, but with me being wheelchair bound it’s halted a little.”

  “Well, you’ll certainly lose a few pounds in the next few months. When the winter kicks in, we’ll all be on rations.”

  “I thought we were doing okay.”

  “We are,” said Vince. “But we need to start again come the spring. Supply runs will be useless after the winter. They’ll be fuck all left, unless we run out of petrol first.”

  Rowley waved and Vince looked up to see he was waving at Joanne. Vince was behind Rowley and blew her a kiss and she waved at him, making Stephen think she had waved at him twice, so he waved at her again, making Vince smile.

  Vince could see that Rowley was blushing and shook his head.

  “Eyes off, Stephen,” Vince said with a chuckle.

  “What, chap?”

  “I know what you’re thinking.”

  “She’s lovely, chap.” Stephen produced a smile and added, “Even back at Colwyn I thought she was nice.”

  “Well, you may as well hear it from me.” Vince coughed and felt a bit bashful for what he was about to say.

  “Hear what, chap?” Stephen turned around so he could get a good look at his helper.

  “Me and Joanne are seeing one another.” Vince flushed red when he revealed the announcement.

  Stephen screwed his face up and was finding it hard to compute what had just been said to him. Eventually the man in the wheelchair spoke.

  “You and Joanne?”

  “I know.” Vince smiled.

  “I don’t believe it.”

  “Lucky girl, isn’t she?”

  Rowley could tell by Vince’s face that he wasn’t joking, and wondered why a beautiful young woman would be attracted to a man like Vince.

  “It’s like a real life Beauty and the Beast tale, chap.”

  “Steady on, Stephen. Pickle said that earlier. I’m not that bad.”

  “What I mean is ... how the hell did you manage it?”

  Vince shrugged. “We like each other’s company. What can I say?”

  “It’s a lot to take in.”

  “That’s what she said the other night,” Vince laughed. “Come on, let’s go up to the gate and then go inside. It’s not that warm.”

  Vince turned and clocked Sadie Jenkins. She was five months pregnant and was a lovely woman that everyone liked.

  “Hiya guys,” she called over.

  “You okay, Sadie?” Vince said with a smile.

  She nodded and replied, “Heard the news?”

  “What? Someone actually fancies Stephen here?”

  “No,” she laughed. “Christine Lantern from Ward Five is pregnant.”

  “Oh, right.” Vince didn’t have a clue who Christine Lantern was. “I thought Karen had a stash of condoms at the clinic.”

  “She was seeing one of the guards and it must have just happened.”

  “Seeing one of the guards? You mean shagging him?”

  Sadie looked unhappy with Vince’s choice of words and said, “Well, yeah, I suppose.”

  “And it must have just happened? What do you mean by that?”

  Sadie patted her swollen belly gently and said, “There must be something in the air.”

  “Yeah, her legs by the sounds of things,” said Vince, and then walked away continuing to push Rowley. “See you later, Sadie.” Vince walked away with Stephen, leaving Sadie dumbfounded.

  “That wasn’t nice, chap,” Rowley remarked.

  Vince groaned and said, “Shurrup, Steve.”

  Chapter Forty-Four

  The four prisoners were passed a litre bottle of water to share. Jamo and another individual were present. The prisoners remained sitting for nearly ten minutes, before the side door to the garage opened, and Hutty stepped in with Marsden in tow. Marsden told the guy with his blade to Pickle’s throat to leave, as he was needed elsewhere.

  There was no expression on Marsden’s face and he nodded at Harry Branston as a gesture of a salutation.

  “Keeping well?” Marsden spoke with a straight face.

  “Been better,” was Pickle’s response.

  “Well, I’m sorry it’s come to this, Pickle,” Marsden began.

  “I’m sure yer are.”

  “Truly, I am.” Marsden nodded. “You could have killed me when we did that roadblock of ours, but you didn’t. I appreciate that, but Manson isn’t so forgiving.”

  “I’m not surprised.”

  “He has two hands that don’t work properly for the time being, Pickle.” Marsden released a breath out and tucked his lips in. “Driving his knife into his only working hand after Goldilocks over there put an arrow in his other was a tad strong.”

  “She saved ma life, yer know.”

  “I know, but stabbing his other hand was uncalled for.”

  Pickle looked to each side of him and could see Stephanie and David were despondent.

  “What about Richard?” Pickle asked. “Where is he?”

  “He’s fine. We put him somewhere safe.”

  “There was no need to beat the poor kid.”

  “We needed to know where you guys stayed.” Marsden elevated his shoulders and added, “And it worked once your young guy started singing.”

  Pickle never asked why they were so desperate to know where they lived. Did Marsden have plans to attack the place?

  Pickle guessed that Marsden didn’t have the amount of people that Drake had, and any kind of attack would make Marsden come off second best, but casualties on Drake’s side wou
ld still be felt and he didn’t want that. Maybe Marsden wanted to trade the prisoners for other things like vehicles or food. What was the release of Pickle and the rest worth? A pickup truck? Everything that was available in the clinic?

  “You know where we live, now we know where you live,” Marsden said, as if he could read Harry Branston’s mind. “Nothing sinister in it, but if we’re ever attacked, then we know where to go.”

  “They’re camps everywhere,” said Pickle. “If yer get attacked it doesn’t necessarily mean it was us.”

  “But you would have more reason to do so.”

  “We’re not like that.”

  “Everybody’s like that now.”

  Marsden looked at his three captors and clapped his hands together, making David jump.

  “Anyway, enough talking.” Richard Marsden folded his arms and whispered something to Jamo. Jamo nodded and told David to get to his feet.

  “What do yer want with him?” Pickle asked.

  “Just a quick chat in private. We’ll bring him back in five.”

  “Pickle,” David cried.

  Pickle winked at the scared teenager and told him not to make a fuss and that it’d be okay.

  Jamo and David left the garage.

  “We have mouths to feed in this small village of ours, and the van and supplies in it couldn’t have come at a better time, so we thank you for that.”

  Pickle half-laughed, and sarcastically responded, “Our pleasure.”

  *

  Young David shielded his eyes once he was outdoors. Once his vision began to restore, he could see a body with no head on the other side of the road, but no sign of Richard. It was a normal street he was out in, but the place seemed desolate and the end of the street to his left was the barrier that they were only twenty yards from. The barrier had three guards there and two cars were parked to stop unwanted visitors.