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

by Whittington, Shaun

  “Pickle will go wherever Karen goes.”

  “We’re just not welcome here,” Karen began. “And I saw Drake’s brother, as well as a few others, having a meeting. I’m certain it was about us. I don’t really feel safe here.”

  “A secret meeting?” Quint chuckled at the hypocrisy from Karen Bradley. “Isn’t that what we’re doing now?”

  Karen never verbally responded to Quint and flashed him a hard stare.

  “I would like to go as well,” a voice spoke up.

  They all turned around and could see Darren and Shelley Tavernier standing side by side.

  “Me too,” she said.

  The pair of them stepped inside and a smile stretched over Karen’s features. She was glad Darren was coming.

  “Why do we have to wait until Saturday to get him?” Darren asked. “Why so long?”

  “So we can plan it,” Vince responded.

  “And how are we going to do that?”

  “With your help.” He pointed at Shelley. “You’re from the village. We’ll need a detailed plan, name of the streets, places that are being occupied. Even people you can trust.”

  “What do you mean by that?” Joanne asked.

  “I know what he means.” Shelley nodded. “There are some people there who are against Marsden and his crew. I can give you a list of people and where they stay.”

  “We need a plan of the place. And it has to be precise.”

  Shelley groaned and told Vince, “That may take days.”

  “We have days,” a voice called out from behind them.

  Vince looked up and gasped, making the rest turn around. Drake had his arms folded and a smile stretched over his face.

  “May I join the party?” he spoke with a hint of sarcasm.

  “Did you hear all of that?” Karen asked him.

  Drake tucked in his bottom lip and nodded. “Most of it.”

  “It’s not that we don’t appreciate you inviting us here.” Vince stepped forward, but Drake held his hand up and said that it was okay.

  Drake said, “I think you’re doing the right thing.”

  “Really?”

  Drake reluctantly nodded his head. “It’s not working with some people, and I’m sorry about that. I don’t think going to Colwyn Place will be a bad thing for you guys or our community. We can trade. We can help each other out.”

  “If ever your guys are on a run,” Vince said, “and you need respite, or whatever, you can stop at Little Haywood.”

  “And the same for you,” Drake said with a smile. “Shit, I’m liking this idea already. But first let’s get Pickle back and then we can sort out the move.”

  “Agreed.” Karen and Vince both spoke in unison.

  The sound of running feet could be heard coming down the corridor and all turned and gazed at the open door, waiting for the individual responsible for the running to show their face.

  It was a guard called Alan Foster.

  “Guys. Stephen has been stabbed,” he announced.

  “What? Where?” Drake queried.

  “Outside. Round the back of the hospital. Near where the vehicles are parked.”

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  Vince, Drake and Karen ran out of the building, with a small crowd behind them following, and all individuals, including the guard that had found him, stopped when they reached a wounded Stephen.

  “What the fuck happened?” Karen cried.

  “Some guy stabbed me,” Stephen replied.

  His eyes rolled and his face was as pale as snow.

  Vince bent down and tried to comfort the man, but he was behaving like he was intoxicated and was now slurring his words. He noticed the letter and passed it to Karen. She took the letter, quickly read it, and then bent down and tried to put pressure on Stephen’s wound. Deep down, she thought he was fucked.

  “I’m sorry, guys,” Stephen moaned.

  “Sorry?” Vince had no idea what he was talking about, and queried further, “What for?”

  Stephen then beckoned Vince to get closer to him. At first, Vince thought that Stephen wanted some comfort, but Stephen whispered in his ear.

  Vince moved his head back to look at Stephen and said, “Don’t worry about that now. It’s not important.” Vince then turned and asked Karen what it said on the letter. Drake was now reading it.

  Karen continued to put pressure on the wound with just her hands, but knew her efforts were fruitless. “Some kind of vigilante group that don’t want us here. If Stephen wasn’t in the wrong place at the wrong time, another one of us could have been attacked.”

  “Who could do such a thing?” Mildred asked.

  “I know.” Karen nodded her head and said, “first, we’ll get Stephen moved to the ward. I’ll need to stop the bleeding and then get—”

  “It’s too late for that,” Vince sighed. This had been the saddest and most surreal day of his life so far. “He’s gone.”

  Stephen’s eyes were closed and his face as pale as it could be.

  Karen could feel her throat stiffening and could hear Joanne weeping behind her.

  Karen turned around and saw Alan and Findlay by the greenhouses; they were looking over and conversing with one another.

  “What do you do with your dead?” Karen asked Drake.

  “Burn them, mainly.” Drake hunched his shoulders.

  “Okay.” Karen nodded. “So let’s burn him.”

  “Karen?” Vince was stunned by her coldness and could see the rage on her face.

  “Come Saturday I’m gonna be more than ready for those pricks at Gnosall, but first we have another battle to contend with. One right here.”

  Drake said, “I promise, I’ll find the man or men responsible—”

  “Don’t need to,” Karen snapped. “I already know who’s behind Stephen’s death.”

  Karen wiped her bloody hands down her trousers, then stormed over to Alan and Findlay, prompting Drake to ask Vince where the fuck she was going. Drake, Vince and the rest remained where they were and watched as Karen Bradley went over to where Alan and Findlay stood.

  Findlay clocked Karen approaching, once she was yards away, and he nudged Alan.

  Alan turned with a big smile on his face and asked her, “What’s happening over there?”

  Karen right hooked Alan, catching him off guard, making him stagger back. Findlay stepped in and received a punch for his troubles. Karen caught him on the nose, and the man screamed out as his eyes began pissing out water and his nose started to bleed.

  Drake and the rest ran over and Karen threw her right leg forward, pushing Alan over onto his back and kicked him twice in the head. She straddled the man and began to rain blows to his face, giving him punch after punch, and was eventually pulled off him by Vince.

  “For fuck’s sake!” Drake yelled. “What the fuck is wrong with you, woman!”

  “Karen, calm down,” said Vince.

  Mildred, Quint, Darren and Joanne stood back and were in shock. Karen had always been short tempered, but hadn’t beaten two men up before. Findlay was crouched over, his hand over his dripping nose, and Alan was moaning and half conscious.

  Karen was out of breath and bent over with her hands on her knees. Drake was demanding answers off Karen as he was crouched down and seeing to his younger brother.

  “I fucking told you they were up to something!” Karen yelled at Drake. “Now we know.”

  Quint scratched at his long beard and said, “Can someone tell me what the fuck is going on?”

  Karen turned to Quint and also addressed everybody else present.

  “I saw Findlay acting suspicious earlier. I followed him and he was attending some secret meeting. I had my suspicions, but now I definitely know now what it was about.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “They don’t like us being here, the Colwyn lot. It’s not just these two. There’re others.”

  Quint scratched his head and said, “But I’m not from that area and neither is Mild
red.”

  “But you’re associated with us, so that could make you a target.”

  “She’s talking shite, Drake,” Findlay spat. “Don’t listen to her.”

  Karen stepped forward and slapped Findlay across the face, almost knocking him over, and told him to shut his fucking mouth.

  “That’s enough!” Drake yelled. “Fuck’s sake! Vince, take that crazy bitch away from here!”

  Vince grabbed Karen by the arm and the pair of them retreated back, yards from the two injured men, and the others did the same.

  “Is this true?” Drake stood up, stopped seeing to his younger brother, and looked Findlay in the eye.

  Findlay paused and his hesitation alone confirmed to Drake that he and Alan were behind this vigilante group.

  “Who did it?” Drake asked Findlay. “I know it was one of you two.”

  “It was me.” Findlay didn’t think there was any point lying.

  Drake sighed and rubbed his head in exasperation, “You stabbed a cripple outside a fucking toilet. What a big man you are.”

  “I know.” Findlay gulped.

  “You fucking coward!”

  “He was the first available one to get.” Findlay hunched his shoulders. “We needed to send a message to the rest of the Colwyn lot.”

  “And what message is that?”

  “We don’t want you here. It’s time to leave.”

  “So...” Drake ran his fingers over his shaved head. “You’ve just said that Stephen was the first available one to get.”

  Findlay nodded. “That’s right.”

  “Let me get this straight. You would have killed Joanne or even Vince to send your ... message?”

  “Why not?” Findlay shrugged his shoulders again.

  “No more violence,” Joanne pleaded with Findlay. “Once Pickle is back, we’re leaving anyway.”

  “Is this true?” Findlay looked shocked.

  Drake nodded. “You just killed an unarmed man for nothing. Who’re the other cunts that were involved with this? And don’t lie to me, ‘cause I’ll fucking find out eventually.”

  Findlay told Drake the truth and who else was involved. It was him, Alan, young John Collins, Bill, young Helen, and a sixteen-year-old called Christopher.

  “Okay,” Drake moaned. “Tomorrow morning, you, Alan, and the other four cunts can fuck off somewhere else. You’re not welcome here anymore.”

  “But Drake…”

  “Don’t Drake me, cunt. You’re lucky I haven’t kicked you to death, pricko.”

  Drake turned to Karen who was calmer now and said to the group, “I’m sorry about Stephen. He was an annoying cunt, like Small Chris, but he didn’t deserve that. Let’s get the body and burn him with the...” Drake paused, but Karen knew what he meant. He wanted to remove the sack full of heads from the large shed and placed alongside Stephen’s body and she agreed.

  They all agreed.

  *

  Drake released a depressed breath and headed over to the reception building. He rubbed his head and could feel a swelling in his throat.

  He looked over his shoulder to see if anyone was looking his way. He headed over to one of the portaloos and locked himself in.

  He sat down on the toilet seat and dropped his head in his hands. He had seen many horrific sights over the last few months, but this had been the worst day since his guys had been killed at Colwyn Place.

  He had seen people he knew being eaten before his eyes, but this was a different horror, something new to him.

  He had sent his people to kill others for supplies and as an act of revenge, and he even kicked one of his own men to death in a fit of anger, but the sack incident unnerved him.

  “What have I brought here?” he moaned. “Jesus Christ.”

  He rubbed his eyes and the images of the heads from the sack polluted his mind, especially the two severed heads of the fourteen-year-olds. He thought about the brief conversations he had with young Stephanie. She was such a sweet girl and a mean shot with that bow of hers. She didn’t deserve this.

  A small smile developed under his nose when he thought of her shooting that arrow that put Jason Bailey out of his misery. He released a short laugh once his mind replayed the incident, but as for young David MacDonald… He hardly conversed with the youngster and had no memory of him. He had hardly spoken to him since he had arrived.

  Nevertheless, Drake was saddened by the deaths of the three individuals, who were all under the age of eighteen.

  Seconds later, Drake broke down.

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  Stephen and the remains of Richard, Stephanie, David and the unknown individual were placed in a ditch, outside the hospital grounds, and set alight, then buried.

  Hours had passed and Vince Kindl sat on the small brick wall that was situated near the reception building. He looked out over the main gate and could see a woman at the gate called Stacey Delta. She was a heavy woman and used to be a prison officer at Winson Green prison in Birmingham, so she was no pushover.

  Vince dropped his head and could feel his eyes filling up when he thought about Stephanie’s demise and what she could have gone through. He wiped his eyes when he could feel a presence approaching him and looked up to see Joanne Hammett looking down on him, smiling thinly.

  “Want to be left alone?” she asked him.

  “I’m okay.” He nodded.

  Joanne remained standing and looked up to the murky heavens. The evening was drawing in.

  “I’m going to turn in,” Joanne told him. “Wanna join me?”

  Vince smiled. “In a few minutes.”

  She leaned over and kissed him on his head. “I’m really sorry about Stephanie. As well as the others.”

  Joanne walked away and just as Vince thought he was being left alone, he could see Karen Bradley heading towards him. She sat down on the wall next to him and asked how he was.

  “Numb,” he said honestly.

  She rubbed his thigh and said, “I know this doesn’t help Stephanie and David, but we’ll get Pickle back. I’m sure of it.”

  “I wish I had your confidence,” Vince groaned. “I hope you’re right, but ... I don’t know.”

  “You’re usually a positive person, Vince,” said Karen.

  Vince smiled thinly. “I know.”

  “But you’ve just received a blow. It’s understandable.”

  “He’s not gonna live.” Vince folded his arms and lifted his head up.

  “Who, Pickle?”

  Vince slowly moved his head side-to-side and responded, “No. I meant Marsden and that other long-haired sick prick that hangs about with him.”

  “The main goal is to get Pickle out first.”

  “Agreed.” Vince nodded. “But, even if it means going back on my own, I will return to Gnosall and I will kill those cunts and anyone that gets in the way.”

  “Just as well we’re not going until Saturday. It may take you a few days to calm down.”

  Vince rubbed his palms over his face and groaned, “I won’t change my mind. No chance.”

  “Maybe,” said Karen. “Let’s pick Shelley’s brains over the next few days and see what would be the best way to get in and out of that place.”

  There was no response from Vince, and Karen could see the man staring into space.

  She stood up and patted the man on the shoulder and bid him farewell.

  “Where’re you going?” he asked her.

  “I’m turning in,” she said. “It’s been a stressful day.”

  “You’re not kidding.”

  Karen turned and then a thought came to her. “Before he died,” she began. “Stephen said something to you, and you told him that it didn't matter.”

  Vince revealed a small smile, like a stitch sitting under his nose and said, “And you want to know what it was?”

  Karen nodded the once.

  “Okay.” Vince took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Stephen told me that when he and Craig fell into the ditch, he
pushed Craig into the dead to buy him some time and save himself.”

  “The little—”

  “What does it matter now?” Vince groaned. “He’s dead. They’re both dead. Stephen has always been a coward. He should never have gone out with Craig in the first place. Drake allowed that to happen.”

  Karen raised her eyebrows and allowed a few seconds of silence to let the information sink in about Craig’s demise. She rubbed her forehead and asked Vince, “Anyway, are you okay?”

  Vince smiled and said, “You know what?”

  “What?”

  “I do miss living at Colwyn Place.”

  “Me too.” Karen leaned over and kissed Vince on the cheek. “Let’s get Pickle back first.”

  Vince rubbed his hands over his head and gazed into nothingness. The day had been a bizarre and stressful one, and the consuming of booze as well as the brief meeting with the weird guy in the cabin with the dead lover didn’t help.

  Vince stood up and brushed himself down. He took a look around the area and muttered, “We’re coming for you, Pickle.”

  Book 15: The Dead Don’t Hurt

  Chapter One

  September 15th

  Harry Branston woke up to a new day, and the first thing he did was sit up and rub his throbbing head. He had been left alone for a few days in the garage and was even treated well, but he knew that his time would be up if there was no word or positive response from Drake and the rest.

  There was no hint of a reprieve if Drake didn’t come up with the goods. It hadn’t been discussed. There would be no ‘join us or die’ offer from Richard Marsden. If Drake didn’t come up with the goods, Harry Branston was going to die if their demands weren’t met. He was told by Marsden that it was as simple as that.

  Marsden would never give Pickle an offer to join them and was smarter than that. He hated Branston anyway, and vice versa. Marsden’s sidekick, Manson, would also have something to say if an unbelievable and miraculous offer like that should be brought to him, but they knew what would happen. Pickle would play them for weeks, possibly months, then kill all four, or at least Marsden and Manson, and then leave to go back to his friends.