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

by Whittington, Shaun

Karen shook her head and half-laughed. “I can’t talk to you when you’re in this state. You’re no better than your brother, Alan.”

  Drake stood up quickly, pushing the chair back, making it fall over. Anger was etched on his face and he walked around the table to confront Karen.

  Panic ran through Karen’s veins as Drake approached, and was in two minds whether to reach for her knife or not. She pointed at the man with a shaky finger and told him, “You come anywhere near me and I’ll...”

  “You’ll what?” An unsteady Drake grabbed Karen by the shoulder who retaliated with one single punch to Drake’s stomach.

  She took a step back and watched as Drake groaned and bent over. He remained in that position for a few seconds and Karen immediately apologised. She didn’t think it would be that easy.

  “I panicked,” she said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know what to do.”

  Drake remained bent over and waved at Karen, as if to say it was okay.

  He slowly stood up straight, taking in a deep breath, and his face looked like chalk. He took in a few deep breaths and wiped his clammy forehead with the back of his hand.

  “You okay?” Karen asked. “You look like you’re gonna throw up.”

  “I’m fine.” His response wasn’t very convincing.

  “You sure?”

  Drake tucked his lips in and nodded the once. He then ran over to the sink and vomited. He remained over the sink and continued to be violently sick. He spat in the sink a couple of times, making Karen wince, and then used some water from a bottle to rinse his mouth and remove the chunks that were in the sink. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

  The door suddenly opened and in stepped the guard, asking if everything was alright. He clenched his fists and took a step toward Karen, ready to drag her out of the room, or at least try.

  “Get out, you cunt muppet!” Drake snapped. “Did I tell you to come in?”

  “Um ... no, Drake,” the guard mumbled.

  “Then fuck off.”

  The guard shook his head and looked to the floor, feeling embarrassed, and quickly left the room, closing the door behind him.

  Drake wiped his mouth again and shook his head. He looked over at Karen and held his hand up as a way of apologising. “I shouldn’t have reacted like that,” he said.

  “Why don’t we forget this ever happened,” Karen sighed. “Sleep it off and I’ll see you in the evening, or in the morning at the latest.”

  Drake staggered to his seat and placed his elbows on the table, dropping his head in his hands.

  “I need a coffee,” he groaned.

  “You need to be hydrated,” Karen told him. “All coffee does is keep a drunken man awake.”

  “I don’t have a drinking problem.”

  “I didn’t say you did.”

  Drake rubbed his hands over his face and reached for the water at the side of the sink. He drank the few mouthfuls and received more advice from Karen.

  “Alka Seltzer is what you need,” said Karen. “Then some water and a sleep to follow.”

  Drake saluted Karen as she left, and jumped when she slammed the door behind her.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Vince was still gazing out of the window and could see Shugborough Hall. It was a place he had visited once with the school. A perfect place to be at during this time, he thought.

  Pickle snickered when he saw Vince staring at the entrance gates as they drove past.

  “Do yer think I never thought about that?” he said, almost as if he could read Vince’s mind. “Too much o’ a target. We wouldn’t last a week with thugs around. Besides, it’s probably already taken.”

  “I suppose it’s too big anyway,” Vince sighed.

  Pickle and Vince had entered Milford and could see individuals up ahead. It was unclear if they were dead or human.

  “What now?” he moaned.

  “Can’t we ever go out and just have a straightforward journey back?” Vince then cussed under his breath and asked Pickle what he was going to do. There were six of them and they could now see that they were human, not Snatchers.

  Pickle slowed the vehicle as the six turned and stood in the middle of the road, all holding a weapon of some sort.

  “I don’t like the look of these,” said Vince.

  As they got closer, it could be seen that these six were all male, beards, and had short hair.

  “Wait a minute.” Pickle began to chuckle as he eventually stopped the vehicle, confusing Vince. “I know these guys.”

  “Know them?” Vince queried. “From the prison?”

  “Not exactly.” Pickle opened the driver’s door. “I used to supply them with drugs. Very good customers.”

  “And now you’re a God loving stand up pillar of the community.”

  “Hardly,” Pickle snickered. “Although I have to admit, it’s been a while since I’ve prayed.”

  He stepped outside and told Vince to stay inside. He was confident nothing was going to happen. Vince watched nervously from inside the jeep and saw Pickle approaching the six men.

  One by one the men started to relax and lowered their weapons when Pickle approached and got closer.

  It seemed pleasant and Vince relaxed as the seven men conversed from almost twenty yards away.

  Moments later, Harry Branston shook hands with all six men and walked away, the men moving to the side.

  He entered the jeep and Vince asked who they were.

  “I told yer,” he said. “I did business with them. Not the greatest o’ characters, mind yer.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Well, they used to buy a lot o’ hash off me and used it for partyin’. I thought they were sellin’ it on at first, because it was a lot o’ gear, but they used it for themselves and friends.”

  “Dope heads then?”

  “And skinheads.”

  “What?”

  “That’s what I meant about not being the greatest o’ characters. They used to get drunk and high and beat up anyone that wasn’t their own skin colour.”

  “They sound ... lovely.”

  “Didn’t agree with what they did, but business was business, and who was I to judge anyone?”

  Pickle started the engine and pulled away. He saluted the men as he drove past and Vince asked his driver another question.

  “Didn’t they ask to come along?” Vince tried to explain himself and added, “I mean, you’re driving around in a jeep and they’re on foot.”

  “They have a place,” Pickle said. “They seem quite settled. The tall guy with the wispy hair is a good guy, very funny, despite what happened.”

  “And what happened?”

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  “Oh no. You can’t leave it at that, Pickle.”

  Branston could see the sign, telling him it was one mile to Stafford. He decided to enlighten Kindl. “When I first started doing business with the guys, one or two decided to rip me off. Yer see, sometimes I’d let guys have gear on tick, and they can pay me at a later date. Two didn’t, including the guy’s brother that I mentioned.”

  “So you gave them a bit of a slap until they coughed up?”

  “They never coughed up.”

  “Never?”

  Pickle shook his head. “Nope.”

  “And you left it like that? I thought in that game you needed to be hard, to maintain a decent reputation.”

  “I haven't finished the story yet.”

  “Okay. Go on.”

  “So, I had one o’ the men shot in the legs outside his house. Not ma greatest idea. Brought a lot o’ heat on me. And this frightened the brother o’ the tall guy I pointed out. His brother came to ma door with the money, all apologetic.”

  “What happened next?”

  “I played it cool and was all friendly and invited him in. I took the money, then knocked him out. I tied him to a chair and smacked his shins with a rolling pin until he started crying. Then I let him go.”

  “You old softie,
” Vince said sarcastically. “Still, with you driving this jeep, I’m surprised those six didn’t jump you.”

  “Them?” Pickle smirked. “They wouldn’t dare.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Drake couldn’t get to sleep and decided to go out for some air. Vomiting in the sink earlier had sobered him up a little, but he still felt weary and his head was throbbing.

  He stepped out of the reception building and could see Darren talking to Joanne.

  “Fucking traitor,” Drake huffed. Drake was still annoyed that Darren had opted to go to Little Haywood, and was surprised that Shelley Tavernier also wanted to leave.

  He started to walk away from the area, but Joanne had spotted him and called him over.

  He groaned, turned on his heels, and then dragged his feet towards Joanne as Darren decided to make a hasty exit.

  “What is it?” he snapped.

  “Just wondering how you are,” Joanne enquired. “Haven’t seen you around for hours.”

  “Missing me, were you?”

  “I wouldn’t go that far,” she started to laugh.

  “Well, don’t worry. Lover boy will be back soon.”

  Joanne could sense the disquiet in Drake’s tone and asked him if everything was okay.

  He apologised and told Joanne, “It’s not you.” He shook his head and rubbed the front with his fingers.

  “Drake!” a voice called from behind.

  He knew who it was right away and released a few expletives under his breath.

  Joanne smiled and told Drake she’d see him around and walked away.

  Drake turned and saw David Marshall approaching him.

  “I wish this cunt would leave me alone,” he muttered under his breath.

  “Hi, Drake.” David Marshall wore a big smile and waved at the leader of Stafford Hospital.

  “Let me guess.” Drake smiled. “The cucumbers are a funny shape? The tomatoes have turned a funny shade of purple?”

  “Um ... no.” David wasn’t picking up on Drake’s sarcasm and was confused by his ramblings.

  “The leeks have the face of Jesus on them?”

  David shook his head and wore a confused smile, which was shrinking by the second.

  “Then I give up.”

  “Um...” David Marshall began to shake and his eyes filled.

  “No, no, no.” Drake took a step back and pointed at David. “I can’t deal with grown men crying. Don’t do that.”

  “I’m not handling this well at all, Drake,” David cried.

  “Handling what?”

  “This apocalypse,” David sniffed.

  “It’s not my ideal scenario,” Drake sighed. “But we’re still breathing. We should be glad about that.”

  “Over the last couple of days I can’t stop thinking about them.” David was now crying.

  Drake scanned the area to see this wasn’t being witnessed by many, thankfully.

  “About who?” Drake hardly knew David at all and didn’t know what or who he was talking about.

  “My family,” David continued to cry. “My girlfriend and my baby boy.”

  “Died when?” Drake realised that he had never had a proper conversation with David and knew nothing of his background.

  “Right at the beginning,” David sniffed. “They went out to the shops on Saturday afternoon and never came back. Then there was the announcement on Saturday evening and I feared the worst.”

  “We’ve all lost people.” Drake had empathy for David Marshall, a man he normally mocked and verbally abused, but refrained from comforting the man physically. “You just need to get on with it.”

  “And how are you supposed to do that?”

  “You can talk to someone,” said Drake. “Or you can bury it in here.” He pointed at the side of his head. “That’s what I did.”

  “And does it work?”

  Drake shook his head. “Nope. Only time will make it seem easier. Time is a great healer is a common phrase, but it’s the truth.”

  The sound of an engine could be heard and the guard by the entrance called Drake over.

  “What is it?” Drake yelled.

  “It’s not one of ours!” the guard yelled.

  “Fuck.”

  Drake excused himself from David and ran over to the entrance to the hospital. He stood by the guard and they both watched as a black jeep approached.

  Drake smiled and said, “I recognise that jeep.”

  “Who is it?” the guard asked.

  “It’s either Marsden himself. Or Vince and Pickle have taken it, meaning they killed them.”

  The vehicle slowed and the passenger window was rolled down. Vince stuck his head out and yelled, “In your own time, lads! No rush.”

  The guard pulled the gate back and the jeep crept through. Pickle pulled the vehicle up and both men got out.

  “Everything okay?” Drake asked them.

  “Aye.” Pickle nodded. “There were four o’ them in the jeep. Three o’ them dead.”

  “Three?” Drake said. “You let one go?”

  “Not exactly.” Vince decided to join in. “The Manson character ran off. He was gone before we could get to the jeep.”

  “Was that the crazy one?”

  Both men nodded and Pickle said, “I’m sure our paths will cross, but for the meantime...”

  “I won’t settle until he’s dead,” Vince snapped.

  “Granted. He was the worst o’ them.” Pickle spoke with a nod. “He was the one that actually did the killings, but what can we do? We can’t go out there looking for him.”

  Vince said, “Our only hope is for him to return to Gnosall and the villagers capture him.”

  “Well, the next time we visit that place, and we will, and we find he’s there, then we’ll take him. But we can’t get obsessed with this one prick. Our paths will cross. I’m sure o’ it.”

  Pickle smiled and walked away from Vince, Drake and the guard, telling the men that he was going to see Karen and then have a lie down.

  The guard moved away and went back to his post, and Vince turned to Drake and announced he was going to see Joanne.

  “Lucky you,” Drake sniggered.

  “What does that mean?” Vince yawned and waited for an answer.

  “Well, she’s a hot piece of ass, as they’d say in America.”

  “She’s definitely too good for me.” Vince smiled.

  “I would have loved to have had a go at her.” Drake raised his head and closed his eyes in thought. “I bet she sucks like a hoover.”

  “Um...” Vince scratched his head and stood awkwardly.

  “Ah.” Drake still had his eyes closed and was still thinking about Joanne. “I’d be up her like a ferret up a trouser leg.”

  “Right, I’m off.” Vince walked away, leaving Drake alone.

  Chapter Eighteen

  September 16th

  Drake had stepped out of the portaloo toilet, white as a sheet, and ran his fingers over his clammy head.

  “Well, that’s not good,” he sighed.

  He looked around the grounds and was dreading the Colwyn group leaving. He was going to miss some of them, especially Karen, Vince and Pickle. However, Mildred, Quint, Tracy, and even Darren and Shelley weren’t going to be missed.

  He decided to take a walk to the outpatients building, to Ward 22, to see if Karen was there. There was something he needed to discuss with her.

  He had no idea of the time; he guessed that it was around seven or eight in the morning. He walked down the long corridor and could hear noises coming from the ward. He took a quick peep and was pleased, and a little surprised, that she was there.

  There was no guard present at this time, and he guessed correctly that Karen had just arrived herself.

  The door was already open and Drake gave it a gentle knock and stepped inside.

  “Up early?” remarked Karen as soon as she clocked his face.

  “Yeah. You?”

  “I woke up around five,”
she started to explain. “Couldn’t get back to sleep.”

  Drake nodded, and Karen could see that the man was behaving like a child, reluctant to ask their parent for something.

  “Okay,” Karen sighed. “What is it?”

  “What?” Drake tried to play dumb, but he wasn’t fooling Bradley.

  “Come on, Drake. You’re a fucking adult. Speak up.”

  “I might have a little problem,” Drake blurted out.

  “Oh?”

  Drake pointed downward and said, “Down there.”

  “I don’t have any viagra, if that’s what you’re hinting at.”

  “No. It’s a bit more serious than that.”

  “Okay.” Still sceptical, Karen leaned back in her chair and said, “Go on. I’m all ears.”

  “I went to the toilet this morning.” Drake paused and looked up at Karen. She raised her eyebrows quickly, telling him that she was listening. “Anyway, a clot came out, a blood clot.”

  Her eyes widened in surprise and she said, “Go on.”

  “And then I started pissing blood. I mean, proper blood, almost pure blood.”

  Karen’s eyes widened further and she folded her arms. This was news she wasn’t expecting.

  “Anyway, I wanted some advice. What do you think?”

  “I’ve seen it before,” said Karen. “In runners.”

  “Runners?”

  “Did you go for a run this morning? I’ve heard that you like to run around the hospital first thing in the morning.” Karen then flashed Drake a grin. ”When you’re not too hungover, that is.”

  “Actually, yes, I did.”

  “And did you hydrate yourself before this run?”

  Drake shook his head.

  “Don’t worry, Drake,” said Karen. “I don’t think it’s kidney stones or bladder cancer, if that’s what you were worried about.”

  “What do you think it is?”

  “You developed a hematuria when running. Your dry bladder has probably been hitting something as you ran. It’s quite common. Ever heard of March hemoglobinuria?”

  “What do you think?” Drake laughed.

  “This occurs when haemoglobin is seen in the urine after repetitive impacts on the body, particularly affecting the feet. The word march is in reference to the condition arising in soldiers who have been marching for long periods.”