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

by Whittington, Shaun

  Karen smiled. “That’s what I was thinking.”

  Mildred clasped onto the box and sat back, chewing her lip. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Depends what it is.”

  “Was...?” Mildred paused and thought before asking. “Was the baby planned or...?”

  “No.” Karen waggled her head. “I didn’t even know I was pregnant in the beginning.”

  “When you say, in the beginning, you mean post apocalypse?”

  “I suppose.” Karen then turned the tables on Mildred and had a query of her own. “Now, my turn.”

  “Okay.”

  “How did you cope with periods since June? I was okay, because I was up the duff.”

  “In July,” Mildred began, “I had an incident when I was staying at this abandoned house. I bled right through my clothes and had to change them. Ended up using a tea towel.”

  “God, that’s awful,” said Karen, trying not to laugh. “I forget about the female survivors and how they cope with that kind of stuff. Imagine being heavily pregnant during this, or even with a baby.”

  “Don’t,” said Mildred. “I used to wonder how people going through cancer treatment were coping. In the old world, I remember one time my period came a day early and came rushing in. I bled through my underwear, onto my office chair, and through my pink skirt and the blood was running down my leg. Not a great way to start a Monday!”

  Karen laughed and said, “I stayed at Gary’s house, before we got a place at Draycott Park, and bled during the night. I got into the shower before having the awkward conversation, but he already woke up when I was in the shower. I heard him screaming, thinking that it was his blood. I ran into the room naked and could see him standing up, frantically checking his body. Bless him.”

  Mildred smiled at the story and Karen asked if she wanted a game of cards.

  “May as well.” Mildred sighed, “Can’t do anything or move until Vince and Pickle come back.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  The sound of the jeep could be heard moving away. As soon as the sound faded into silence, he began to move. He’d be safer in the woods, as far as he was concerned, away from these people, but he needed to check on his three pals first, just in case there was a small possibility that they had been spared.

  He doubted it.

  He moved through the woods, in the same direction where he had come from, and finally reached the place where the vehicle had crashed. It was gone, but he could see the three bodies of his pals on the grass. Hutty and Jamo were slumped on the floor, and Marsden was up against a tree with his throat slit.

  “Well,” Manson sighed. “I suppose that confirms it. Where to now, Freddie?”

  He couldn’t go back to Gnosall. The people would kill him for sure, especially the way he behaved last week.

  He had an argument with a guy called Bill Hurcombe. Bill refused to clean Manson’s boots and was given a public beating.

  Even after the beating, Bill told Manson to go fuck himself, so he was dragged inside his house and tied up. Manson then held Bill’s wife by knifepoint and she was forced to pleasure him orally as a shocked and disgusted Bill Hurcombe was made to watch. Minutes later, Hurcombe was polishing Manson’s boots.

  Manson looked around and released a groan. “The woods it is then.”

  *

  It took a while for Pickle to get used to the jeep, but he and Vince reached the entrance of the Gnosall village and waited at the entrance. Standing behind some vehicles that had been purposely parked there to block the way in, were the same guys that Pickle had assaulted when leaving with Graham.

  As soon as Pickle and Vince exited the vehicle that was parked ten yards from the entrance, the two guards began to tense up.

  “Relax.” Pickle held up his hands. “We’re not here to cause trouble.”

  “What the fuck do you want?” the guy on the right asked. It was the same guy that Pickle had kicked in the balls earlier. His name was Barry. His eyes then squinted and pointed at the vehicle. “That’s Marsden’s jeep.”

  “Was.” Pickle smiled. “We’ve come here to let yer know that yer free, if that’s what yer want.”

  “What are you talking about? And where’s Graham?”

  “Graham has gone to the hospital with some o’ ma guys.”

  “And Marsden?”

  Pickle looked at Vince, and Vince decided to speak up.

  “Dead,” he said. “Along with his two other pals.”

  Seeing the confusion on the two men’s faces, Pickle explained briefly what had happened, and it was clear that there was relief on the guard’s faces.

  “You said Marsden’s dead, along with his two other pals. Your words, not mine.” Barry spoke up. “There were four in that jeep.”

  “That’s the thing,” Pickle began. “Manson escaped. He’s still out there.”

  The panic on the guard’s faces was predictable, but Pickle told them that they had nothing to worry about.

  “Nothing to worry about?” Barry exclaimed.

  “He’s just one man,” Pickle said. “Even if he does show up at yer village, I suggest yer should kill him. Tell everybody inside that Marsden is no more.”

  Both guards obediently nodded.

  Pickle and Vince entered the jeep and pulled away.

  They made the beginning of the journey back to the hospital in silence.

  Vince gazed out of the window and was soon snapped out of his self-hypnosis when Pickle cleared his throat to get his attention.

  Vince turned and looked out of the windscreen to see a lone figure up ahead. The figure was staggering in the middle of the road, and both men knew what it was.

  Pickle slowed down and tried to get a better look. They could see that the Snatcher was a male, with a thin black beard attached to its face.

  “Just drive around it,” Vince said.

  “Looks like the Yorkshire Ripper.”

  Vince leaned forward and narrowed his eyes. “So it does. Run him down.”

  Pickle pressed on the accelerator pedal and the moment the heavy vehicle hit the being, it severed in half. Its legs went under the wheels and were ran over by the jeep, whilst the other half, from the torso up, was still on the bonnet, still gnashing and grabbing at the windscreen wipers.

  Pickle hit the brake, and both men watched as the Snatcher comically slid down the bonnet and disappeared as it hit the road. Both men jumped as the wheels went over the rest of its body and Vince took a peek in his wing mirror. The arms were still moving.

  “That fucker’s still alive.”

  “He can’t harm anybody in that condition.”

  “But he’s still alive?”

  “Alive?” Pickle chuckled.

  “Well, you know what I mean. It’s still moving.”

  “Fuck it,” said Pickle. “It won’t harm anyone there.”

  “Now where?” Vince asked. “Straight back to the hospital?”

  Pickle thought for a moment and said, “Little Haywood isn’t far from here.”

  Vince looked at the driver strangely and Pickle explained what he meant about his comment.

  He said, “We may as well pop in and see Terry, let him know we’re coming back.”

  “I thought you were going to surprise him?”

  “A man can change his mind, can’t he?”

  “That’s gonna go down well,” Vince snickered. “Imagine the look on his face when we show up.”

  “He’ll love the news, deep down. Trust me.”

  Pickle turned onto the Stafford Road and they were both soon in familiar territory.

  They could see The Wolseley Arms up ahead and the driver turned left, by the two mini roundabouts, passing the garden centre on the right. The jeep went over the Wolseley Bridge that stretched over the Trent, and the ex inmate pulled up a few yards from the entrance to Colwyn Place.

  Before they had a chance to get out, a familiar face stepped out of the street once the gate was slid back. It was Terry Braithwai
te. He was holding a bat, nervous, and was unsure who was in this unfamiliar vehicle until Vince and Pickle finally stepped out.

  Terry felt relieved, but he tried his best to hide it and adopted an annoyed approach.

  “What the fuck are you two doing?” he snapped. “Sneaking up like that.”

  “Hardly sneaking up, Tez,” said Vince. “Didn’t you hear the engine?”

  “So what is this?” The confusion on Terry’s face was apparent. “What do you want?”

  “It’s just a flying visit, Terry,” said Pickle. “No need to invite us in.”

  “What?”

  “I have some exciting news for yer.” Pickle smirked and added, “We have had a few issues with the people at the hospital.”

  “So?”

  “So ... we’re coming back.”

  Terry’s eyes widened. This was news he wasn’t expecting to hear and he began to stammer.

  “So ... so you think you can just turn up and announce that you’re coming back?”

  Vince nodded. “Kind of.” He then took a step forward and looked into the street and said, “If you don’t want us back personally, we could always put it to a vote.”

  “It’s up to you.” Terry hunched his shoulders. “I don’t care either way what you fucking do.”

  “Great.” Pickle clapped his hands together and said with sarcasm, “Well, seem as though yer begged us, the answer is yes, we would love to rejoin Colwyn Place.”

  “Very funny,” Terry huffed.

  Pickle informed Terry that the jeep was rammed with supplies, and they decided to empty it and moved the supplies temporarily into Terry’s living room. Pickle told Terry to keep it a secret from Drake as they now belonged to the people of Colwyn Place.

  Once Vince and Pickle were ready to leave, Branston told Terry, “We’ll be coming back in a few hours with a few new faces, as well as some old ones. We’ll come tomorrow, first thing, so tell everybody.”

  “Okay.” Terry looked still in shock.

  “What about Stephanie, David and Stephen?” Terry asked.

  “About that...” Pickle paused and cleared his throat. “We have to fill yer in about a few things that’s happened.”

  “I don’t like the sound of this,” Terry said.

  Pickle shook his head. “It’s not good news.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Karen Bradley had been talking to Darren, whilst watching the chickens on the patch of grass. She had told him about Vince and Pickle still being out there earlier on, which Darren thought was brave, yet reckless. Darren was made of softer stuff compared to Vince and Pickle, but he did understand that they wanted revenge and that removing Marsden and the rest would be advantageous to the hospital, or any other camp for that matter.

  Karen could see Joanne Hammett talking to one of Drake’s men, Frank. She was being flirtatious with the man, and Karen smiled, knowing that Joanne was more than likely trying to get cigarettes, as Frank was Drake’s main man when it came to runs.

  Karen asked Darren about Drake’s whereabouts. She wanted to try again and convinced him to release some of the medication that was available in the clinic to go to Colwyn Place. She wasn’t sure when the move was going to happen, nobody was, but she was convinced it was going to be either today or tomorrow morning. It depended what time Vince and Pickle came back. If they came back.

  “I think I saw him go into the reception building,” said Darren. “Why, what’s up?”

  “Just wanted a chat with him.” Karen was vague with her words.

  “Oh.” Darren took the hint that Karen didn’t want to tell him the reason, and murmured, “I see.”

  Karen could sense there was disappointment in Darren and asked him what was wrong.

  “Nothing. I’m fine.” His response was far from convincing.

  “Come on, Darren. Spit it out.”

  “It’s just that…” Darren gulped and was brave enough to say, “If Drake was a sailor he would have a girl waiting for him in every port.”

  Karen pulled a face and tucked some of the stray hairs behind her ears. “Um ... what?”

  “You know what I mean?” Darren sighed.

  Bradley rubbed her forehead and the penny finally dropped. Karen said, “You think I’m shagging Drake?”

  “Well…” As soon as Darren heard the tone in Karen’s voice, he knew the answer to her question and felt terrible for suggesting such a thing.

  “I had a miscarriage three weeks ago or so, maybe four, I can’t remember. The last thing I want is to be with another guy.”

  “But I thought...” Darren was hurt by her comment and didn’t know how to explain.

  “You thought what?” Karen shook her head.

  Darren looked scared to answer, so Karen tried for him.

  “You thought you could get in my knickers, is that it?” she said. “Didn’t you get the hint when you tried to kiss me the other week and I dismissed it?”

  “I just...”

  “Darren,” Karen said with a sigh, and seemed less irate within seconds. “Let’s put our cards on the table, so to speak.”

  “Okay.”

  “Am I attracted to you? Yes, I am, despite you being a bit of a drip, but it doesn’t mean I want to sleep with you. I had a miscarriage and lost the love of my life only four months ago.”

  “I know.” Darren nodded and shame was scrawled over his face. “I’m sorry. I’m a dick.”

  “I’ll admit, Drake has a certain attraction to him, and so did Findlay, but although I can still recognise a man is attractive, doesn’t mean I want to be physical with him or them. It’s the last thing on my mind. Losing your partner, a baby, and being in the middle of an apocalypse isn’t a great turn on, if I’m being honest.”

  Darren smiled and said, “Good point. Can we still be friends, though?”

  “Of course.” Karen smiled thinly and added, “Besides Pickle, I get on with you better than anyone.”

  “Even Vince?”

  “Vince and I have known each other for a while, but we’re not that close. Not really. He’s just somebody who likes to wind me up now and again.”

  “He is a character,” Darren laughed.

  “That’s a polite way of putting it.”

  “I remember when he first came here, he told Patricia Johnson that if she was a vegetable, she’d be a cutecumber and that pizza was his second favourite thing to eat in bed. She reported him and Drake had to have a word with him.”

  “He once said to a woman at Sandy Lane...” Karen smiled as she reminisced. “I forgot her name now, that if she was his waitress, she wouldn’t just get a tip, she’d get the whole thing.”

  “And this guy is your friend?”

  “You get used to him.”

  “Really?”

  “He told me months ago that he would like to give me an Australian kiss.” Karen smiled as she remembered exactly when it was. It was on Sandy Lane, and she was with Sheryl Smith at the time.

  “What’s that?”

  “Well, according to Vince, it’s like a French kiss but down under.”

  “That’s gross. How come you didn’t slap him?”

  “Because...” Karen shrugged her shoulders. “It’s Vince. That’s what he does. That’s why we love him.”

  Karen excused herself from Darren and told him she needed to see Drake. She walked around the patch of grass where the chickens were and headed for the reception building.

  Karen could see a bored guard by the staff room door. She didn’t know his name, but he knew hers and smiled when he saw her.

  “Hi, beautiful,” he said with a sneer, quickly elevating his eyebrows. “How’s it going?”

  Ignoring his comment, she said, “I wanna see Drake.”

  The guard stood straight and said, “He said he doesn’t want to be disturbed. Sorry, cherry pie.”

  “Oh, right. Wanking again?”

  “No.” The guard flushed and said, “He doesn’t want—”

  “—to be
disturbed, I hear you.” Karen finished the man’s sentence for him and then raised her hand to knock the door, but the guard put his arm across her chest, preventing her from approaching the door.

  “Remove your arm, dickhead,” Karen growled.

  “Why don’t you suck my cock, bitch?”

  Karen laughed at his response, angering the guard. “You'll never need birth control with a personality like that.”

  “What do you know about birth control?” he responded, sniggering at her as he looked her up and down. “I’ve heard about you?”

  The guard felt the object against his crotch and gulped, slowly lowering his arm, paving the way for Karen to reach for the door. “Is that...?”

  “It’s my knife,” Karen hissed. “And I don’t take too kindly people mocking me for losing my baby.”

  The guard looked petrified and apologised to Karen for his behaviour.

  “Look at you, you sad cunt.” This time it was Karen’s turn to look the man up and down. “You’re so inbred, you may as well be a sandwich. Next time I’ll cut open your sack. Okay, Rocky?”

  The perspiring guard nodded frantically, and took a couple of steps back when Karen removed the blade.

  Karen knocked the door and got an immediate response.

  “What is it?” Drake cried from behind it.

  “I’m sorry, Drake,” the guard stuttered. “It’s Karen. She said she—”

  “Fuck me,” Karen huffed. “I can speak for myself, you know.” She stepped closer to the door and said, “Are you decent? Because I’m coming in.”

  Drake never answered, so Karen tried the door and stepped inside. Drake was sitting upright, a grin on his face, but Karen could sense something wasn’t right.

  “Are you okay?” she asked him.

  He nodded, still wearing his grin, and Karen realised what was the matter with him.

  “Been drinking, by any chance?” she said, shutting the door behind her. “What is it? One, two in the afternoon?”

  “What are you?” he yelled. “My mother?”

  “I wanted to discuss further about the medical situation?”

  “I’ve already told you how I feel about that,” Drake slurred.