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

by Whittington, Shaun

  He could see his old friend Frank emerging from around the outpatients building, and both men waved at one another simultaneously.

  Frank made his way over and elevated his eyebrows at his friend.

  “How’s things?” Frank asked the man.

  “Not bad.”

  “I hear that’s the Colwyn lot away.”

  “You hear right.” Drake revealed a disappointed smile and continued talking. “Shelley and Darren went with them as well.”

  Frank smiled thinly and managed a single nod. “So I heard.”

  “Doesn’t really surprise me with Darren. Sad bastard has had a hard on for Karen for weeks. He can go and shit himself thin somewhere else. At least those portaloos won’t be as stinky.”

  “Bit surprised with Shelley going,” said Frank.

  “We still have people.”

  Frank cleared his throat and decided to change the topic of conversation. “Missing your brother?”

  “Alan?” Drake shook his head and cleared his throat. “Can’t let people go over my head and take matters into their own hands, even if it is my little brother. You let that shit continue, you’re going to have chaos.”

  Frank never responded and looked over his shoulder before speaking.

  “Me and a couple of Wrath of Evil guys are nipping out to Eccleshall to check out a wholesalers we could have missed.”

  “Wrath of Evil.” Drake shook his head and revealed a smile. “Seems ridiculous now, doesn’t it?”

  “It was your gang, Drake.”

  “Gang? We were just a bunch of guys that met up at the weekend and went riding in the country, hitting the pubs.”

  “Good days,” Frank laughed.

  “They certainly were,” admitted Drake. “How none of us came off our bikes with what we used to put away, I’ll never know.”

  “Well, Daley Shankly was pulled over by the police on the way home and received a two month sentence.”

  “That’s right. Poor bastard. Hardly ever saw the police, then Daley is pulled over going back to his home in Brereton.”

  “Shame he didn’t make it,” said Frank.

  Drake dropped his head and thought about Daley. He wasn’t a close friend, but he did think about him every now and then.

  “Is it okay to go then?” Frank asked.

  Drake hunched his shoulders. “How are we for fuel?”

  “Not great, but we’re stocking up for the winter, aren’t we?”

  “Well, I suppose if there’s stuff still out there, we may as well be the one to profit from it. It’s okay to grow your own food and put in a water well, but what are we going to do about transport in the next few months?”

  “There’s a bicycle place in town. Hasn’t been touched.”

  Drake smiled. “Bicycles? Now why the cunt didn’t I think about that?”

  “Well, what do you think?”

  Drake nodded. “You check out the wholesalers.”

  I’m gonna grab Deaf Derek and take the pickup out.”

  “He’s in the reception block, last time I looked.”

  Drake nodded and walked away from Frank, heading for the nearest building to the entrance of the place.

  Drake stepped into the ward where Derek and a few others stayed and could see the man sitting up, reading a Richard Laymon book.

  “Derek!” Drake called out, making the man jump, which was Drake’s intention. “What are you up to today?”

  Derek was a man in his thirties, heavy, with a thick dark beard, and had gone partially deaf in his right ear, which was something that had happened when he worked at the garage in Hixon.

  “Not much.” Derek got off the bed and stood up. “Was going to help Chris with—”

  “Yeah, well, forget about that,” Drake intervened. “You’re coming out with me.”

  “Yeah?” Derek seemed delighted that he was invited out and was having a break from emptying the toilets. Not only was he going out; he was going out with the number one man.

  “Take a piss, and then we’ll go.”

  “I’m fine,” Derek told him. “Where are we going, Drake?”

  “We’re going into town, past the college and get some cycles.”

  “Unicycles?”

  “No,” Drake sighed. “Just ... come with me.”

  The two men headed out of the building and went for the red pickup.

  “Definitely don’t need a piss before you go?” Drake asked him.

  “No, I’m good to go now.”

  Drake put his hand in his pocket and pulled out the keys to the vehicle, giving them a shake.

  Both men got in and Drake told Derek, “We’ll go straight to the bike shop, no messing about, and put as many in the back of the pickup as possible.”

  “If you say so.” Derek wasn’t entirely certain what Drake had said, but responded verbally and nodded anyway.

  The vehicle crawled through the grounds and approached the gate. The guard let Drake by and they were on Gaol Road, heading for the town centre.

  “Want a drink?” Drake could see Derek gazing out of the passenger window.

  “No, thanks,” said Derek. “Seatbelts make me feel trapped in, if you know what I mean.”

  Baffled by Derek’s response, Drake chose to ignore it and could see the bike shop up ahead. Unfortunately, six Snatchers were also present by the shop window, and congregating near the door. Three were stood up, and the other three were on their knees, devouring the carcass of a dog that was once a Siberian Husky.

  “You’ve been out on runs before, Derek, haven’t you?” Drake asked, as he wasn’t quite sure. He knew that Derek wasn’t as experienced as most guys.

  “Of course.”

  Derek pulled out his knife and marched towards the dead group with zero hesitancy, with Drake trying to catch up.

  Derek was the first to ram his knife at one of the standing dead and soon put down another, whilst Drake threw his right hand to the side, with half of his blade hitting the side of the head of the one that was standing. Two that were on their knees slowly got up, but the other remained munching on what was left of the canine, which wasn’t much.

  The other two dead were never given the time to stand up straight and were soon put down.

  “Well that was easy enough,” said Drake, panting slightly.

  They were both standing five yards from the Snatcher on its knees and Derek pointed and said, “Um ... Drake.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Drake laughed. “I haven’t forgotten, you know.”

  Derek took a step back and Drake stood over the ghoul, that still didn’t seem bothered by him, and rammed his knife into the top of the creature’s head like it was some kind of sacrifice.

  As soon as he removed the blade and the creature fell to the side, Drake said, “Goodnight, Vienna.”

  Derek looked at Drake and thinned his eyes. “What’s an antenna gotta do with anything?”

  “Forget it,” Drake groaned. “Let’s just grab some bikes and fuck off, you deaf cunt.”

  “Oi, there’s no need for that, Drake.”

  “Oh, you heard that then?”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Terry Braithwaite was waiting outside the gate to Colwyn Place and raised his hand as the jeep appeared in his vision. The vehicle slowed and Terry slid the gate back. The vehicle crawled through into the street and Pickle and co could see Old Tom, Ronnie, Brenda Hatchet, Paul and Gail Smith and young Kelly standing in the street.

  Terry smirked as they got out.

  Terry had been told about Stephen Rowley’s death, an original resident of Colwyn Place. The residents had been told about the deaths of Stephanie, David, Craig and Stephen.

  They didn’t know Richard, but the news was sad for them all to hear when Terry told them.

  “Well, this is a nice welcome,” said Pickle.

  Terry and Pickle shook hands and could see Karen walking over to the Smiths and giving Kelly a cuddle. She then went inside with the family.

  Th
e ex inmate introduced Terry to Mildred, Quint, Tracy, Shelley and Darren, and Joanne went over to Brenda for a chat with her old neighbour.

  Vince stood and leaned his back against the front of the jeep. The street was clear of vehicles. Not one was present, unlike when they first arrived here a couple of months back.

  Eight people had arrived in the street as well as turning up with a jeep. No wonder Terry looked delighted, Vince thought. Although the man was trying to hide it.

  Ronnie and Old Tom retreated back into their house, whilst Brenda and Joanne continued to talk, and Terry turned to the new people and told them that they would be getting a home soon.

  Terry looked over to Vince. “What about you? Happy to go back to number eleven?”

  “Um...” Vince’s face reddened and scratched the back of his head.

  Pickle smiled and explained to Terry that Vince would probably stay with Joanne, at her old place at 4 Colwyn Place. As they were now a couple.

  Terry gazed at Pickle, wondering if he was joking or not. He ran his fingers through his large ginger beard, and then looked over to Joanne, and then Vince.

  Terry burst into laughter and was clutching his sides. “Nice one, Pickle. I see you still haven’t lost your sense of humour.”

  “Well, this is a huge confidence boost to my ego,” Vince mumbled.

  “It’s true,” Pickle said with a straight face. “They’ve been seeing each other for a week or so now.”

  “Really?” Terry stopped laughing almost immediately and his face was a picture of astonishment “You serious?”

  Pickle nodded.

  “Wow.” Terry looked over at an embarrassed Vincent Kindl. “You must be hung like a moose, if she’s hooking up with you. It’s like a—”

  “Don’t mention Beauty and the Beast,” Vince stepped in. “I’ve heard it all before, a few times. Yes, I’m a lucky guy, now let’s get over it.”

  Terry turned to a smiling Pickle. “Touchy, isn’t he?”

  “Anyway,” Pickle tried to change the subject. “We haven’t brought much with us, in terms o’ supplies, but we have a bag o’ medical stuff.”

  “We’ll sort all that out later,” Terry said. “Sit down. Relax.”

  “How are you doing for supplies?” Vince asked Braithwaite.

  “Not bad. What you dropped off yesterday will help.” Terry nodded. “We’re using the back gardens to grow our own. I have a greenhouse and the ten hens you gave us are producing eggs. The only trouble is, we don’t really want to kill them for their meat. We have no male to produce more chicks.”

  “Never thought about that,” Vince groaned. “I think we have three at the hospital. I’ll ask Drake if we can nab one.”

  “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but I could have done with a cock.”

  Pickle sighed, “I know the feeling.”

  Vince and Terry guffawed at Pickle’s deadpan line, and a wide smile emerged under Pickle’s nose.

  “We need to go for a run soon,” said Terry. “Just to stock up. That jeep is going to be a lifesaver. Please tell me it has enough fuel.”

  Vince responded, “Half a tank.”

  Pickle looked at Vince and sighed. Terry picked up on the vibes straightaway and asked the forty-three-year-old what was the matter.

  “Just need to get ma head down.”

  “Go back into yours and Karen’s old place and have a lie down,” Terry suggested.

  “Yer know what? I might just do that.”

  “But there’s someone else you should meet before you do. A new addition to the street.”

  “Oh, right.” Pickle rubbed his eyes and yawned. “Where’s he staying?”

  “He’s gone to the Trent to get some jars of water,” said Terry. “Seems like a nice guy. Turned up on his own yesterday, just after you left.” Terry turned and pointed over to the gate and released a short chuckle. “There he is now.”

  Terry walked over to the gate and the young man stepped in and his face dropped once his eyes clocked Pickle and Vince.

  Pickle could feel Vince’s stare and Harry Branston patted his pal on the shoulder, telling him to remain calm.

  Pickle approached the young man and said, “Well, this is weird, isn’t it?”

  The man with the heavy rucksack full of jars of water on his back nodded, but no words fell out of his mouth.

  “Yer try and drive people out o’ yer camp, only to end up in the very same camp where yer want them to fuck off to.”

  “I’m only here for a few days.”

  “What happened to the rest, Findlay?” Pickle snarled. “What happened to Drake’s brother and the other pricks?”

  “Dead.” Findlay lowered his head. “A gang jumped us. Some guy called Hando and three others.”

  “I’ve heard that name before.” Pickle nodded.

  “So...” Findlay looked sheepish and stammered when he asked, “So, what happens now?”

  “Let me think.” Pickle rubbed his chin in thought, then stopped, and dropped his arms by his side. He managed a thin smile and asked Findlay, “Ready?”

  “For what?”

  Pickle threw his right fist into Findlay’s stomach, forcing the man to groan, bend over, and almost drop to his knees. He then threw up on the pavement.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” Terry yelled. “Jesus, you’ve only been here for five minutes. Findlay’s a good guy.”

  Vince grabbed Terry by the shoulder and whispered in his ear a summary of why Findlay wasn’t in Pickle’s good books, or anybody else’s for that matter. He was quickly told that Findlay and others weren’t happy about Pickle and co’s presence at the hospital, and a group was formed and Findlay inflicted the first fatal blow, killing Stephen Rowley.

  “I’ll let yer digest all that information in,” Pickle told Terry. “I’m off.”

  “And where are you going?”

  “Sleep.”

  Pickle walked away from the two men and tossed Vincent the keys to the jeep and told him to park it up near the concrete wall.

  “How long are you gonna have?” Vince called over.

  “About an hour or so. And I suggest yer do the same.”

  “Why?”

  “Because we’re going out on a run this afternoon. And Findlay is coming with us.”

  “I am?” Findlay managed to blurt out. He was still bent over and was finally getting air back into his lungs.

  “Aye, yer are. And after that, yer getting dropped off at Gnosall.” Pickle looked over to Kindl and said, “Yer better break the news to Karen before she sees him and kills him.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Drake and Derek had loaded eighteen bicycles into the back of the pickup. The shop floor of the establishment had only been checked, and Drake was ready to check out the rest of the place before going back to the hospital.

  “Can’t we just go back, Drake?” Derek almost begged, noticing that Drake wasn’t quite ready to go yet.

  “We have eighteen bikes. There’s fourteen left, so we’re coming back anyway. May as well check it out now.”

  Derek continued to moan, but he was ignored by Drake who went into the dusky storage area to have a quick look around. Derek reluctantly followed him, and both men knew there was nothing of value for them or the residents on the hospital grounds.

  A rattling was heard above them and Drake turned to Derek and said, “Upstairs.”

  They stepped out of the storage room and had a look round to see where the stairs were. Once they were located, Drake stood at the bottom and looked up. There was a window with no curtains or blinds at the top of the landing and light beamed in, making their journey to the top of the stairs a visible one.

  Drake and Derek pulled out their knives respectively, and Derek closely followed Drake to the top of the stairs as the rattling continued.

  There was only two rooms at the top of the stairs, doors both closed, and both men knew that the noise was coming from the door furthest away from them.

 
; “We’ll try the nearest door first,” Drake whispered to Derek.

  “Okay.” Derek scratched his head and Drake could see the confusion on Derek’s face.

  “Did you hear what I said?”

  Derek sighed and shook his head, admitting, “I have no idea what you just said. That was just a noise to me.”

  Drake spoke up, “Just follow me.”

  Drake tried the door and swung it open. Both men were greeted by the smell of death and swarms of flies. It was a bedroom.

  Derek ran out of the room and threw up, the vomit splashing on the hard wooden floor. There were two bodies lying on the bed, fully clothed. The owners of the place, Drake guessed correctly. Both persons had slit their wrists and the sheets were stained in a dark colour.

  The irritating flies hit off of Drake’s face as he stepped inside, but he had already seen enough.

  He closed the door behind him, when he went back onto the landing, and could see a pasty faced Derek wiping his mouth.

  The rattling had stopped and the moment Drake placed his hand on the door handle, the rattling started up again. He looked at Derek and the man responded with a nod, urging Drake to hurry up.

  An impatient Derek snapped with a whisper, “Come on, Drake. We’ve left eighteen bikes and a pickup outside. Hurry up.”

  Drake took his rare reprimand and opened the door, pushing it wider with his fingers. His eyes could see a small figure and it took a few seconds for his brain to register what he was seeing.

  His heart dropped when he saw a dead boy of five. He was a Snatcher.

  Ignoring the putrid smell, and the winged pests that were also present, Drake and Derek could see that the poor thing was tied to the radiator by some rope. The rope was short, tied to the boy’s left ankle, and he fell over trying to get to Drake and Derek.

  “Poor mite,” Drake huffed. A lump was lodged in the man’s throat and Derek could see his companion was upset. Derek knew that Drake used to have a boy and seeing this must have hurt him.

  Derek told Drake to go and that he would sort out the young lad. Drake responded with a solitary nod and left the room, quickly galloping downstairs and wiping his eyes.

  He stepped outside and moments later Derek joined him.