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

by Whittington, Shaun

  “I know he’s not really himself anymore,” Derek began, “but you can’t leave the kid like that.”

  “I know.”

  “I suppose it’s easy to work out what happened,” said Derek.

  “Oh, yeah?” Drake turned to the side to look at his companion and questioned, “And how was that, Einstein?”

  “The child turned, the parents couldn’t bring themselves to kill him, and killed themselves.”

  “Well done, Sherlock!” Drake snapped.

  Derek rubbed his hand over his face, just under his nose, trying to process what Drake had just said to him. He asked him, “Drake, what’s Shergar got to do with anything?”

  “Come on, you deaf prick.” Drake groaned. “Let’s fuck off.”

  The two men stepped outside and a pasty faced Drake wiped his clammy forehead with the back of his hand.

  “Let’s drop these bikes off and come back,” Drake sighed. “We’ll need other accessories like pumps, puncture repair kits, and—”

  Derek could see that Drake was miles away and asked, “Are you okay?”

  Drake released a hard sigh and an unconvincing nod. “When you see that most of the land is awash with death and you’re still standing...”

  “Yes, go on.” Derek urged him to continue.

  “It makes you wonder if it’s just luck or...”

  “A miracle?”

  Drake smiled and realised what he was thinking was ridiculous, or at least ridiculous to him.

  “Do you believe in miracles?” Drake asked his partner.

  “Do I remove umbilicals?”

  “No.” Drake sighed and shook his head. “Don’t be so fucking stupid. Why would I ask you that? I said: Do you believe in miracles?”

  Derek hunched his shoulders and said, “To a certain degree. You?”

  It took a few moments for Drake to answer, and when he did, he snapped, “Not a chance.” Drake picked the inside of his nose with his thumbnail, cleared his throat, and gave his eyes one more wipe before getting in the vehicle.

  “You okay now?” Derek asked.

  “I had some dust in my eye.”

  “No, you didn’t,” Derek began to laugh and added, “I saw you. When you saw that little boy—”

  “Derek!” Drake yelled, making him jump. He went face to face with Derek and widened his eyes. “Don’t tell anyone about this. Otherwise I will have you gang raped during the night.”

  “I won’t.” Derek gulped and shuddered with fright. “Don’t worry, Drake. You can trust me.”

  “Good.” Drake released a wide smile and threw his arm around Derek and said, “Right, let’s go back and drop these off.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Karen and Vince decided to make the most of the fresh air, and told Terry to take a break and that they’d watch the gate until Pickle woke up. Then they were going to go out. Karen and Vince were relaxed and placed their machetes on Terry’s lawn before sitting down on it.

  Vince released a long moan, making Karen snicker, and asked the man what was the matter.

  “The people that we’ve lost,” he said. “It’s just so depressing.”

  “I thought that Graham Fellows would have come with us, but he seemed happy enough to stay at Stafford.”

  “I think he wanted away from Gnosall as far as possible, especially with Manson still being out there.”

  “Do you think we’ll ever see him again?” Karen asked, referring to Manson.

  “Probably not.”

  Karen looked up to the murky clouds and then scanned the area. It was good to be back and she began to reminisce with a thin smile. Noticing this, Vince asked her what she was thinking about.

  “I’m thinking about when we first came here,” she said. “This was down to you. If you hadn’t gone to Little Haywood to avenge your son’s death, John Lincoln would never have invited us here.”

  “Obviously, Terry still stays at 1 Colwyn Place. Number two was used as storage, remember? And then briefly Stephanie stayed there with Elza and Ophelia. Old Tom is at the third house, and at number four is my new home with Joanne.”

  “Five was empty when we came here,” said Karen. “I’m sure of it. And Stephen Rowley was in the next house.”

  “No.” Vince shook his head. “When we first got here, Danny Goslin was at number five and John Lincoln was in the next one.”

  “Danny Goslin,” Karen said. “I forgot about him. Remember Freddie Johnson, Danny’s pal, who lived with his mum?”

  Vince nodded sadly and added, “A lot of those names were victims of Drake’s gang when they attacked us over a month ago. Weird how things work out. Ronnie now stays there. Are you and Pickle gonna live together at number ten, like before?”

  “I assume so.” Karen turned to the side, away from Vince, and emptied her nostrils on the lawn, making Vince laugh. He hadn’t seen her do that in a while.

  “I see Findlay was staying at the next house, where you and Gareth Broadgate used to live.”

  The Smiths lived at 12 Colwyn Place and Vince tried to recall who stayed at 13 Colwyn Place when they first arrived. Quint had been given the house, but he smiled when he remembered that it was empty and was used by Paul Dickson. Jesus, he was a pain in the arse, going for his strolls outside the grounds and pissing everybody off, but he had only lost his son a week ago.

  “Where are Mildred and Tracy staying?” Vince asked Karen. “I heard they wanted to stay together.”

  “Number fourteen,” Karen responded. “Beverley and that toddler, Ben, used to stay there. She gave us welcome packs when we came here.”

  Vince smiled. “I remember.”

  “She also complained to John Lincoln that Paul Dickson was creeping her out.”

  “Paul Dickson.” Vince shook his head, laughing. “I think as time ticked on, Paul creeped most people out.”

  “Those names are more victims of Drake’s gang. To be fair, Drake did kill the man responsible for smothering the child.”

  “James Thomson was at fifteen and brothers Derek and Ian Ferguson lived at 16 Colwyn Place. These guys killed Jason Murphy. Tied him to his bed whilst he slept and stabbed him to death.”

  “After they died, Craig took the place,” Karen sighed sadly, “and that youngster, Jez.”

  “Ah, Jez.” A sadness smothered Vince Kindl. “Another youngster stabbed to death by Drake’s men. Drake admitted himself that he couldn’t control all his men, and that some were out of control.”

  “Jesus, it makes you wonder why we went with them.”

  “I know,” Vince laughed. “No wonder Terry still hates him. Not only did they kill his dead daughter in the cellar, which was a little strange anyway, they killed some people he had known for years from his street. No wonder he’s still bitter.”

  “Who stayed in the next house?”

  “A guy called Brian Marley, but we never met the guy. He died before we arrived and that was where we, and still do, put the food and medical stuff.”

  “Eighteen?”

  “The Dansons.”

  “Of course. Better not tell Shelley what happened in there, cause that’s where she is staying. She’d freak if she knew that the father went mad and stabbed his son and wife to death, before putting the knife through his own neck in his kitchen.”

  “That was a horrible day.”

  The flashback of that scene in the kitchen polluted Vince’s mind. He had no idea why someone would do such a thing. Surely there were quicker ways of killing yourself.

  Vince tried to erase the picture and continued with the reminiscing with Karen. “Remember Lynne Smithers and Sandra Roberts at number nineteen?”

  Karen nodded the once. “Briefly. But I do remember, quite vividly, Stephen Bonser, Jason Bonser’s brother, at 20 Colwyn Place, Darren’s new place.”

  “Stephen owned a pub that I broke into when I first arrived at Little Haywood, looking for the Murphys.”

  “I remember you saying.” Karen smiled. “Didn’t he knock
you out and tie you to a chair?”

  “Yeah,” Vince laughed. “I think he was at Colwyn only a few days before us. And you think a pub would be a good place to stay.”

  “Being in a place like that makes you a target, though. That’s the trouble.” Karen remembered Bonser. He was a smoker, and he and his brother were like chalk and cheese. “I wonder how Peter and Roger are getting on.”

  Vince waggled his head and said, “That was a strange one, them leaving like that. Unless you’re Paul Dickson, who the fuck would rather be out in the open than in a safe camp?”

  “They were bored.” Karen turned to Vince and added, “I can actually relate to that.”

  Vince lay down and put his arms behind his head and said, “Maybe I’ll go for forty winks, if you don’t mind. All this nostalgia talk is making me feel tired.”

  “Go and see how Joanne is settling into her old house, if you two want some alone time.”

  “I’m gonna leave her for a bit. Let her get the feel of the place and reminisce. Then after that, I’ll probably pump the crap out of her.”

  Karen shook her head, but couldn’t help a smile. “You really are a foul man, Vincent Kindl.”

  “I’ll never change.”

  Karen smiled. “Don’t.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Drake dropped the bikes off at the front of the gate and told the guard to get them inside the reception building. Drake went back into the pickup and told the guard that he would be no longer than ten minutes as they were going for the rest. Before going into the pickup, he went to the side of the gates and told Derek he needed a piss.

  “Jesus,” Derek mumbled. “Couldn’t have made it to one of the portaloos?”

  Drake couldn’t bear to look down. He tried to keep hydrated, like Karen suggested, and this had only been the second time he had gone since they had left. The first time he couldn’t look. He was too nervous.

  He took in a deep breath and looked down to see that he was still passing blood, but it wasn’t as dark as the first time it happened.

  “It’s getting better,” he sighed and managed a smile. “Maybe it was the running. You little star, Karen.”

  He got into the vehicle once he was done and they were at the bike shop in less than four minutes. The vehicle was loaded with little fuss, and the two men, especially Derek, were eager to get back.

  “What’s to be done when we get back, Drake?” Derek asked.

  “Not sure, pal,” was the response. “You could always ask Frank if he needs a hand with those mopeds he’s trying to fix. Just take the day off, I know I am.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Dunno.” Drake put the vehicle up to fourth as they cruised along the desolate Gaol Road. “I might just read a book and sit in my pants.”

  “Shit in your pants?” Derek gasped.

  “No,” Drake groaned, contemplating breaking Derek’s nose. “Don’t be so fucking stupid.”

  *

  Pickle had only slept for forty-seven minutes and had woken with a start, tears in his eyes. The moment he fell asleep, the nightmare began.

  It wasn’t a surreal nightmare or something fictional; it was a flashback that happened in the garage when Manson killed the three teenagers.

  After Richard, he couldn’t look. He just couldn’t.

  Richard and David called out Pickle’s name before they were killed, but Stephanie’s death was the worst. What she had to endure before it was terrible in itself.

  She called out to Pickle many times, but he was helpless and all Harry Branston could do was struggle with the ropes that bound his limbs together and blur his vision with his tears, apologising to the frightened girl over and over again as she was being raped and then finally beheaded.

  He never witnessed the deaths of David and Stephanie, but their screams and cries of help would always haunt the forty-three-year-old ex-inmate until his dying day.

  He sat up, swung his legs to the side, and dropped his head in his hands. He wiped his eyes and looked around the bedroom he used to sleep in for just over a month before going back to Stafford.

  He walked over to the bedroom window and looked out, reminiscing about how the street was when he first arrived. He looked over at Karen and Vince who were chinwagging and sitting on Terry’s lawn. Karen looked up and noticed Pickle staring over from the window. She waved, and he waved back.

  He turned from the window and headed for the stairs.

  They had a run to go on.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Pickle stepped out and walked over by the truck. He could see Karen and Vince still sitting on Terry’s lawn. He released a wolf whistle and called them over.

  They slowly rose to their feet and strolled over to the ex inmate.

  “Maybe four is too much,” Pickle said. “We’ll drop Findlay off at Gnosall before going to the wholesalers.”

  “What’s the priority?” Karen asked. “I mean, what do we actually need?”

  “Anything you can get your hands on,” Terry called over, standing on his doorstep.

  “Fuck me, Tez,” said Pickle. “Yer must have the ears o’ a bat.”

  “We have food, medical stuff, but now the population of this place has practically doubled in a matter of minutes...”

  “Okay, okay.” Pickle held up his hand. “I hear yer.”

  “Right.” Vince looked over at 11 Colwyn Place. “I’ll go and get Finners. Are you sure you want to keep him alive?”

  “Despite what he did,” Pickle began. “I don’t think he’s all that bad. I’m not gonna kill a man in cold blood.”

  “He stabbed Stephen to death,” Vince spoke up. “I know he was an annoying, grunting, neck twisting prick, but he was alright. And he saved my life.” Vince held up his bandaged hand, or what was left of it.

  “Now that Terry knows, I don’t think people will be comfortable with him here anyway. If I thought he was another Manson, Theodore Davidson, or Jason Bonser, I’d kill him maself, yer know that.”

  Vince walked over and chapped the door of the house.

  The door immediately opened and Findlay stepped out.

  “Change of plan,” Vince muttered. “We’re dropping you off at Gnosall first, instead of taking you with us to the wholesalers.”

  Findlay looked confused and said, “May I ask why?”

  “We need the room.”

  “Okay.” Findlay was clearly happy with the change in plan and asked, “Why not two of you, instead of three?”

  “Because every time we go out, there’s trouble. And having those two,” Vince said, referring to Karen and Pickle, “is like having seven or eight people, the way they fight.”

  “Look,” Findlay paused and licked his bottom lip before continuing. “I’m really sorry about what happened to Stephen. I was taken in by Alan. We all were.”

  Vince could see that Findlay regretted what he did, but he couldn’t accept the apology. He had killed a man. An apology wasn’t enough.

  “The people of Gnosall are okay. You’ll be fine there.”

  Findlay nodded, unsure, but knew he had no choice in the matter. It was either Gnosall, or out in the unknown, and he was sure that he wouldn’t survive for long on his own.

  Findlay could feel Terry’s glare as he made his way over to the jeep. He had found out that he and Stephen were neighbours and friendly, and staying in the street was impossible. He got into the back of the jeep, along with Vince, and the driver, Pickle, and the passenger, Karen, made themselves comfortable in the front.

  Pickle fired the engine and the jeep did a three-point turn before crawling towards the gate where Ronnie was now standing.

  “Where did he come from?” Vince said, but nobody responded.

  Being a resident of Stafford Hospital himself, Ronnie was forlorn that Findlay had to leave, but understood after Terry quickly explained to him what had happened back at Drake’s place.

  “There’s a wholesalers four miles past Hixon,” Pickle f
inally spoke.

  Karen responded with a nod, whilst the other two remained quiet in the back. The three of them began to talk about when they first met Vince, and Findlay decided to stare out of the passenger window and take in the scenery.

  There was a sign up ahead. Half a mile to Gnosall.

  Pickle slowed down as they reached the entrance to the village, and two faces that he recognised were nervously standing in front of a car that was parked at an a angle in an attempt to block the way in.

  Pickle parked the vehicle up and told his three passengers that he wouldn’t be long. He stepped out, once the door was opened, and told everybody to stay where they were.

  The two men, recognising Pickle straightaway, looked at one another, and the man on the left looked behind his shoulder, contemplating making a run for it. What did this guy want now?

  “Relax.” Pickle held out both hands and then placed them on his chest. “I come in peace.”

  “What do you want now, Pickle?” the man on the left sighed. “You can’t keep away, can you?”

  Pickle was impressed that the man knew his name. He said, “I’ve come to drop somebody off, somebody to join yer community.”

  The man on the right was brave enough to ask why, and Pickle explained to the pair of them.

  He said, “He’s a good guy, but he has upset a few people and his stay is not possible. Maself and a few others now stay at Colwyn Place, in Little Haywood. The people from Stafford Hospital are now our allies, and yer should join us.”

  The two men started to relax and their bats were lowered.

  The man on the right announced, “We have a new person in charge. Our new guy in charge wants a word with you, Pickle.”

  “Sure. Where is he?”

  “She is having a meeting with most of the folk in the community hall.”

  “Tell her to come to Colwyn Place. We have to run. I’m not waiting for her.”

  Pickle turned around and beckoned with his finger for Findlay to get out of the vehicle.

  Findlay stepped out and sheepishly walked over to Pickle.