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

by Whittington, Shaun

  “And about Alan…”

  “Fuck ‘im.”

  Findlay had no reply to Drake’s surprising remark. Alan certainly wasn’t perfect, but he was still his brother. Findlay had no response to Drake’s harsh words, so turned on his heels and walked away from the gate.

  “Davey,” said Drake, stopping Findlay in his tracks. “Jump on one of the mopeds and take this cunt back to Gnosall.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  September 17th

  Frank had placed a large bag with nibbles and three litre bottles inside the pickup. Drake opted to drive. Drake had a meeting at Colwyn Place, but first he wanted to try Patricia’s idea of going back to his place. If it didn’t work, he had nothing to lose.

  Patricia sat next to him, and Frank opted to sit in the back. He claimed he could do with the fresh air, but in truth he didn’t want to be a gooseberry with Drake and Patricia’s sexual history.

  “It’s eight miles to Brereton,” Drake began. “And then we need to go back on ourselves two miles to Little Haywood.”

  Frank nodded, and climbed into the back of the pickup. “I might try and catch a few Zs, so don’t be going over any bumps or anything.”

  Drake got comfortable in the driver’s seat, whilst Patricia was putting on her seatbelt in the passenger seat.

  “Are you okay?” Drake asked her.

  Patricia nodded, but her face told Drake that she wasn’t so sure. Patricia never went out, and her experience of killing the dead was pretty minimal. But Drake had assured her that she would be safe in his company, and she believed him.

  “Well, just remember, this was your idea,” he tried to tease.

  She snapped back, “The meeting wasn’t my idea.”

  “No, but checking out my house and dealing with my ghosts was something that you told me to do to get some kind of closure,” Drake reminded her. “Going into Rugeley, then Brereton, is the cunt part of the journey. Leaving the place and going to Little Haywood is the easy part. At least now, with the closure and the meeting, I’m killing two birds with one stone.”

  “That’s two days on the trot you’ve left the hospital,” Frank spoke up. “People will start to talk.”

  “Let the cunts talk.”

  The vehicle travelled at a high speed along the Stafford and Rugeley road, and only slowed down when they reached the roundabout with the Stag’s Leap pub to their left. Patricia could see a few people inside the establishment that she used to go to for Sunday dinner, which was now a camp for over a dozen people, and wondered how they were getting on.

  “What time’s the meeting?” Frank asked his old friend. Drake had his window down, and Frank was sitting in the back, literally two yards away from the driver. “Midday, did you say?”

  “Yeah.” Drake nodded. “Plenty of time.”

  The pickup turned right at the roundabout and hit sixty along the Western Springs Road, and continued along Horsefair, on the edge of the town centre, passing Sandy Lane to their right.

  They were soon in the town of Brereton. Drake made a left by the Mossley Tavern pub and was about to enter his street, but automatically hit the brake when his eyes clocked that his street was in ruins.

  It was a humble place, with only twelve houses in the cul-de-sac, but this had been one of the worst he had seen. Only two cars remained in the street and Drake guessed that the others had been either stolen or the residents fled for safety. Normally, there would be a car on every drive, but no more. He told Patricia and Frank that he had to do this alone and that he wouldn’t be long.

  He switched the engine off and got out. Keeping his knife tucked away, Drake walked slowly down the middle of the road, his head turning every other second to check out the damage to the street. Windows were smashed, some main doors wide open, and one house looked to have been on fire a while back. His house was at the end of the street.

  He didn’t know everybody in the street, but he was sad to see number seven was in a bad way. Every window had been smashed, the door was open, and a dead female body lay on the overgrown grass of the front lawn. His own family had been moved and were no longer present on the grass. Somebody had moved the bodies, but who?

  Drake shook his head with sadness. Mr and Mrs Baker lived there. They were a couple in their seventies and Drake knew they wouldn’t have been able to survive this catastrophe. He didn’t want to go inside and check on them. He wasn’t there for a rescue mission. He assumed the street was empty, and the only individuals in the houses were dead ones.

  He looked at number nine with sadness, a place that belonged to the Davies family, and could also see windows smashed. He didn’t know if this was desperate people trying to get in, or the Davies were trying to get out.

  He took a step closer to the house and could see shattered glass at the end of the lawn, underneath the window. They were trying to get out, he thought. The Davies’ daughter used to play with Jack. The adults weren’t really friends, but they’d all go to soft play together. Coral and Grace Davies used to chat away, whereas Drake and the monotonous Ben Davies used to almost sit in silence and struggle to come up with any kind of conversation.

  It wasn’t days that he missed.

  Drake pointed over to his home and told Frank and Patricia that he wouldn’t be long.

  There was no sign of his son or wife’s remains at all and he looked up at his main door. It wasn’t wide open, but slightly ajar. Old blood stains were on the concrete path that led to the main door that Drake eventually pushed open.

  He stepped inside and felt a chill rattle his vertebrae once he was standing in the hall. He thought about his home every day since he had been away, but now he was standing in it, he felt nothing.

  With careful, slow steps, he crept through the ground floor of the house and checked the living room and the kitchen. The place had obviously been raided. The sofa wasn’t there anymore, a lamp had been knocked over, and his drinks cabinet was empty.

  “Bastards,” he muttered.

  The kitchen drawers and cupboards had been emptied. Food and knives had been taken, and Drake gulped and felt anger when he could see that the microwave that was bought for the pair of them by Coral’s sister had been thrown onto the floor. This told Drake that not only desperados had entered his house, but vandals as well. Maybe the house had been visited on more than one occasion and the microwave was thrown out of frustration because the people couldn’t find supplies.

  He reached the bottom of his stairs and looked up. He gulped and slowly made his way to the landing. Once he was at the top, he could see the doors to the two bedrooms and bathroom were closed. His son’s room was avoided as he headed for his old room. Drake didn’t think he could handle going into his son’s room.

  He pushed down the door handle and gently pushed his bedroom door open. The bed was unmade, but apart from that, the room was tidy. He went to his cupboard and smiled when he opened it to reveal some old clothes he hadn’t worn in over four months.

  He grabbed a suitcase that was on top of the cupboard and began to fill it with his old shirts and a few pairs of jeans. He threw in a couple of belts as well, which he thought he would need. Drake was certain he had lost a lot of weight since the apocalypse and would need the belts if he wanted his jeans to be comfortable. He then went to his bedside drawer and opened it.

  “Ah,” he purred. “Fresh socks and pants.”

  He grabbed the underwear and threw them in the case. His eyes clocked the bottom bedroom drawer that he hadn’t opened.

  He sat on the side of the bed and placed his hand on his thighs. He took in a deep breath and opened the drawer. He took out a photo album and flicked through the pages that were of Jack when he was a toddler. Inside the photo album, in the middle, were some drawings that the youngster had done when he was at nursery.

  Drake held one of the pictures up, a picture of the family on the beach, and broke down.

  It took him a few minutes to get himself together and knew if he was too long, Fra
nk would probably come looking for him.

  He placed the album in the suitcase and zipped it up. He grabbed the handle and took one last look around in the room where he used to sleep, where he used to play with his son, make love to his wife.

  He left the room, paused and placed his hand on his son’s bedroom door for a few seconds. Tears welled up and, for reasons he wasn’t sure, he wanted to go inside and take a look. The door handle was pushed down, but he didn’t have the courage to open the door and step inside. He moved his hand from the door handle, called himself a pussy, then headed for the ground floor.

  With his suitcase in his right hand, Drake stepped outside and walked over to the pickup. Nothing was said to him as he put it into the back of the truck.

  Patricia stuck her head out of the window and politely told Drake to hurry up.

  “Why?” was the man’s response. He was in a daze and Patricia’s words brought him out of it

  “Just hurry up.”

  “What’s the problem?” Drake asked her.

  “Look.”

  Drake could see a little girl staggering out of house number three. The door was open and the little girl clocked Drake and the speed of her walk increased, but it was still slow and clumsy, as if she had injured her leg.

  Drake gazed and focused on the girl’s features. Her hair was greasy, her face was dirty and bloody, but he could still make out her face.

  Drake pulled out his knife and ignored the calls from Frank and Patricia to leave the girl and just go. Their advice fell on deaf ears. Drake had to do this. He couldn’t just leave her like that.

  With a heavy heart, Drake grabbed the girl’s matted and greasy hair with his left hand and rammed the knife into the side of her head. He withdrew the knife, but didn’t let her fall. He wiped the blade on her worn and dirty clothes, put it away, and then carried the girl back into house number three and lay her on the couch.

  He looked around the living room he had been in a few times over the years, and could see a blanket hanging over the armchair. He took the cream blanket that was scattered in rose patterns and opened it out. He placed it over her face and body, revealing only her ankles and feet, and he left the place and casually walked back to the truck.

  “You didn’t need to do that,” said Patricia as he approached. “We could have just left.”

  “I know why you did it.” Frank revealed a smirk and started to bite his fingernails. “You believe it’s cruel, especially with a child, that they should walk around like that.”

  “Something like that.” Drake fired the engine and slowly moved away. “The little girl was called Hayley Davies. She and Jack used to play together. I couldn’t leave her that way.”

  The pickup left the street and Drake asked Frank how the time was. It was half past eleven.

  “Good.” Drake nodded. “Plenty of time to get to Little Haywood.”

  “Don’t wanna be too early.”

  “No, you’re right.” Drake cleared his throat and told Frank and Patricia that he was going to go for a slow drive.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  “We have a visitor,” Vince announced. Kindl was standing at the gate and Terry, Karen and Pickle were standing on the pavement.

  Karen had spent the morning with young Kelly, drawing pictures of Kelly’s happy times with her family. Karen was no therapist, but she thought it would be good for the youngster to focus on the good times, before her father became mentally unwell.

  They all knew it was Drake, and Pickle told Terry to behave himself.

  “We’re trying to build bridges here,” Pickle spoke softly to Terry. “He’s actually alright when yer get to know him.”

  “In case you’ve forgot,” Terry snapped. “He’s killed people.”

  “So have I, and so has Karen and Vince.”

  “Just...” Terry looked annoyed and chose his words carefully. “Be quick about it. I’m going inside.”

  Terry Braithwaite stormed off into his home of 1 Colwyn Place, and Pickle admired the man. This was difficult for Terry, but he allowed it to happen for the benefit of the camp.

  Vince greeted Drake and the pair shook hands.

  “Patricia and Frank are in the pickup outside,” Drake told them. “They didn’t want to come inside.”

  “We could do with someone guarding the gate anyway,” Pickle said, and then watched as Karen exited the gate to say hello to the pair of them, especially Patricia.

  “No sign of the Gnosall leader yet?” Drake asked Pickle.

  Branston shook his head. “Shouldn’t be long, though.”

  Karen returned and asked if this was going to be conducted in their house. Pickle nodded and told Drake that as soon as Gail Spot arrived, they would have talks at the kitchen table.

  “I’ll just go and say hello to Patricia and Frank,” said Pickle.

  “I’ll come with you,” said Drake.

  The two men strolled out of the opened gate and turned right to the pickup, disappearing from Karen’s view. She turned and spotted Ronnie in one of the bedroom windows. She waved at him and knew he was terrified of Drake’s arrival. He told them that he wasn’t leaving the house until he was gone.

  Mildred Huxtetter left her place at number fourteen, a place she shared with Tracy, and strolled over to Vince and Karen. She had her bat over her shoulder, being clasped in her right hand. Being in Colwyn Place she had never felt safer, but being outside and without her bat she felt naked.

  “So what the piss is happening?” she asked all three.

  “They’re trying to look for G Spot,” Vince chuckled.

  “Typical.”

  “Terry wanted you to take a trip to the river with Quint. Got some jars to fill up.”

  “I thought Quint was struggling with diarrhoea.”

  Vince shrugged his shoulders. “First I’ve heard of it.”

  “Well, he is.”

  “Even better,” said Vince. “Take Joanne instead. She said to me days ago that she wants to learn to fight. Maybe you’ll come across a couple of Rotters when you’re down there.”

  “You sure?”

  “Not really, but it’s what she wants.” Vince looked uncomfortable, and said to Mildred further, “If a Rotter turns up on your travels, let her kill it, with guidance, of course. Just don’t let anything happen to her.”

  “Will do, boss.” Mildred saluted Vince.

  “I’m serious.” Vince adopted a humourless face and Mildred was touched how much Joanne meant to the man.

  “I’ll go grab her now.” Mildred started to walk away and then suddenly turned on her heels. “What about Tracy and that new kid?”

  “No, just one at a time. Tracy can wait. And Thomas is just settling in with Darren at number twenty.”

  Mildred headed over to Joanne and Vince’s place and Kindl jumped when a voice bellowed, “She’s here!”

  *

  Mildred and Joanne had a rucksack on each of their backs and eight jars each. It was only going to be enough for a day, but Vince told them that they’d take the jeep out tomorrow and fill up a few buckets.

  Gail Spot had been dropped off earlier by a guy on a bike and was welcomed immediately into the street. She was told that she would get a ride back and the biker rode away after Gail had informed him of this.

  Mildred was happy with her new surroundings, but was happier to be out with female company. She had a good feeling about this place. The two women headed for the gate as Drake, Gail and Pickle headed for 11 Colwyn Place, and Mildred continued walking as Joanne stopped to say cheerio to her lover, Vince Kindl.

  Mildred went over to the pickup and started chatting to Patricia and Frank. Moments later, a nervous Joanne Hammett stepped out, as Vince closed the gate, and walked with speedy steps to the pickup and Mildred.

  “Ready?” Mildred asked her.

  “Is this part of your ... training?” Frank asked Joanne.

  “Kind of.” Joanne blushed. “It’s just a jaunt to the river, but if we run in
to trouble...”

  “You have to deal with it?”

  “With my guidance, of course,” Mildred stepped in. “I’m not just gonna leave her to fend for herself if she starts to struggle. Vince would kick the piss out of me.”

  “Well, good luck,” said Patricia. “I really need to do something as well. I’ve been hiding for too long.”

  “Same here.”

  The two women started to stroll along the Wolseley Road and started to chat once they were a hundred yards from the pickup.

  “Don’t be nervous,” Mildred said to Joanne. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  “I do want to get the first one out of the way,” said Joanne, “but I’m also kind of hoping they don’t turn up.”

  “I know what you mean.” Mildred smiled and added, “It’s terrifying killing your first, and still nerve wracking killing more after, but afterwards they just become an inconvenience. I’d rather not come across a single one ever again, but that’s in an ideal world. And we don’t live in one of them.”

  “I was always protected when this thing happened, but I have killed a man before.” Joanne was embarrassed and ashamed of her confession, which surprised Mildred.

  “I thought you never—”

  “I know, I know.” Joanne nodded.

  “What happened?”

  Stephen, Vince and I were down at the river, washing clothes, and some guys attacked us. I stabbed the man in the back. Cowardly thing to do, but I was protecting the guys.”

  “Don’t beat yourself up about it. If I could have hidden, I would have, but I didn’t have a choice. Most people were thrown into the deep end, some drowned and others managed to tread water.”

  “Nice way of putting it,” Joanne said, hoping her comment didn’t sound sarcastic. “I like that.”

  They could both see the bridge up ahead and Joanne told Mildred that there was a dirt path to descend, just before the bridge, to get to the river.

  Once they reached Wolseley Bridge, Mildred took Joanne’s advice and made a right turn, her feet picking up speed as the hill increased her momentum. Both girls reached the riverbank and took their rucksacks off their backs.