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

by Whittington, Shaun

  Dickson slowly raised his head and the driver could see his passenger sobbing. Carl hadn’t seen a man cry like this before and was stunned.

  “I’ll keep going,” was all he said, and pulled the van forward.

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Vince, Joanne, Quint and Mildred were by the concrete wall. Vince told the two newbies the story of when dozens of the dead approached it and the whole street came together and put them down.

  Quint and Mildred had buried the hatchet, and Mildred admitted that maybe she had overreacted earlier.

  Mildred and Quint told Joanne and Vince that they were having a game of cards with Darren, Shelley and Tracy, and asked if they wanted to join them.

  “If it’s not strip poker, I’m not interested,” said Vince.

  “It’s not,” said Mildred, with a straight face.

  “Then I’ll leave you to it.”

  Quint and Mildred walked away, leaving Joanne and Vince alone, standing by the wall.

  Vince placed his arm round a forlorn looking Joanne Hammett, and asked if she was okay.

  She nodded, unconvincingly, and told him that she could have murdered a cigarette.

  “Maybe it’s time to give up,” he said.

  “I know.” She nodded. “You’re right. I just need something to wean me off, rather than go cold turkey. I need something to suck on.”

  Vince flashed Joanne a look and elevated his eyebrows.

  “Oh, please,” she said, sounding unimpressed.

  “Come on,” Vince laughed. “The material writes itself with the things you come out with.”

  “Chewing gum could help.”

  “Well, the next time we go out on a run, I’ll put it on the list.”

  Karen and Pickle stepped out of their place. Joanne said she was going in and with Terry on the gate, only Vince, Karen, Pickle and Terry Braithwaite were present on the street.

  Vince walked over to his friends and told them that he was thinking of turning more back gardens into vegetable patches.

  “Well, we should be receiving a lot of veg from Drake’s camp,” Pickle said. “In exchange for the weapons we have in house two, but we could go on a garden centre run tomorrow, if yer want. Get more seeds and stuff.”

  “Deal.” Vince patted Pickle’s shoulder “Hopefully we get another month of sun before the winter kicks in.

  “So that’s the plan for tomorrow then,” Pickle said.

  “Good. May as well, while we still got a bit of petrol left. Maybe we could trade for more with Gail at a later date.”

  “I hope so, Vince. I certainly hope so.”

  “Right.” Vince clapped his hands and told them that he was turning in.

  “It’s not that late,” said Karen.

  “I’m still turning in.” He then flashed Karen a cheeky smile. “She’s probably in the house, gagging for it. I better go.”

  “Do yer think?” Pickle groaned and was becoming tired of Vince’s talk for the day.

  “Absolutely,” Kindl snickered. “I mean, she’s not gonna shag herself, is she?”

  Kindl walked over to 4 Colwyn Place, leaving Karen and Pickle alone, and Branston was pleased to see the back of the man.

  Pickle folded his arms and had a look round the street, and watched as Vince entered 4 Colwyn Place. “Thank goodness for that.”

  “Doing your head in, was he?” Karen smiled.

  “Sometimes I just can’t be bothered with him.”

  He released a crooked smile and Karen asked him what he was thinking.

  “I was just thinkin’ that this was probably ma favourite o’ all the camps we’ve been in.”

  “Agreed.” Karen nodded. “Stile Cop, Wolf’s cabin, the caravan site, Sandy Lane and the hospital, but I agree this is the best out the lot.”

  “Sure is.”

  Karen sighed and said, “If someone told me in May that the world will become apocalyptic and I’ll lose my partner, a baby I didn’t realise I had, become friends with a gay guy that had escaped from prison, and move places half a dozen times over a four month period, I wouldn’t believe them.”

  “I suppose technically I didn’t escape from prison,” Pickle tried to correct her. “We were released.”

  Karen flashed Pickle a rude look and said with a smirk, “Don’t be so pedantic, Branston. My version makes it sound more dramatic.”

  “Dramatic?” Pickle laughed. “I think the apocalypse is dramatic enough, don’t yer think?”

  The two stood in a few seconds of silence and both seemed comfortable in each other’s company, despite the quiet.

  “It’s funny,” Karen began. “We always talk about Jack and Shaz, but we don’t mention the others like Paul Parker and Jade.”

  “Jade.” Pickle smiled and added, “Jade Greatrix. She was the girl that we met in the sports centre when we had to abandon the prison van. Yer never liked her.”

  “We never got on,” Karen admitted, nodding. “That’s true.”

  “Remember young David Watkins?”

  “Remember him? He was the kid that brought all the dead to Vince’s camp. Bloody idiot.”

  “To be fair,” said Pickle. “Kyle made the hole in the hedge because he befriended a rat or something.”

  “Aye, well poor David paid the ultimate price before they came in.”

  The two of them looked over to Terry, who looked bored out of his brains, and Karen suggested to Pickle that maybe she should take a stint on the gate.

  “I’m sure Terry would appreciate that.” Pickle nodded, proud of Karen. In truth, he was going to volunteer himself. “He seems to be on there a lot, and I reckon he was always there when we were in Stafford.”

  The two of them remained silent for a few seconds and Pickle turned to Karen and asked, “Remember that chat we had in the first week?”

  Karen looked genuinely baffled. “What chat? We’ve had many a chats in the first week, Pickle. I specifically remember you telling me that your nickname was Horse.”

  Pickle’s face began to redden. “I’m talkin’ about our talk on top o’ that multi storey car park?”

  “After the Stile Cop incident?”

  Pickle nodded. “After KP left the van.”

  “Was that the talk where you were giving me a bible lecture?”

  “I wasn’t giving yer a lecture. I just reeled off a few quotes, predictions, that made sense since this started happening.”

  “It’s just a coincidence,” said Karen.

  “Well, that’s where yer and I differ, Bradley.”

  “I think Christians believed the apocalypse would be Jesus coming back and the world on fire. Not dead people walking around and eating other humans. You keep your religion. God hasn’t kept me alive, I have.”

  “I’m not getting into an argument about religion.”

  “Good,” Karen huffed. “God doesn’t stop catastrophes. So, for me, he either doesn’t care or doesn’t exist. And do you know what that tells me?”

  “No.” Pickle looked annoyed and was biting his bottom lip.

  “He’s either evil, or he’s imaginary.”

  “Anyway,” Pickle groaned, not wanting to get into a pointless argument with his feisty female friend. “The point I was going to make was that I said something to yer back then.”

  “I know what you’re going to say.”

  “Is that so? What then?”

  “You told me that the lucky ones are already dead. Do you remember saying that?”

  “I do.” Pickle nodded. “Yer right. I did say that. And I was wrong.”

  “I don’t get it.”

  “What don’t yer get, Bradley?”

  “Why survivors want to live. Why do you want to live, Pickle?” Karen stood up straight and tucked her hair behind her ears. “Don’t get me wrong, I do. I just don’t know why.”

  “Yer a long time dead,” he said. “Even if yer not enjoying life, still try to live it, because once yer dead, it’s for good.”

  Karen was s
urprised by Pickle’s statement and said, “But you believe in the afterlife.”

  “I do, but I still want to live and breathe on this earth until it’s time for me to go. But once I do, it’s for good.”

  “I think being dead is like when you go to sleep and you don’t have any dreams. It’s just blackness. Nothing.” Karen then turned to look at her male friend and said to him, “So is that you retracting your comment about the lucky ones being dead?”

  “Retracting?” Pickle chuckled. “Bit melodramatic, but aye, I suppose I am. I was wrong. I want to live.“

  “But why?”

  “I want to build something and get a community going, but time will tell if it’ll work out that way.”

  “If we get through a winter, I think I’ll have more hope then.”

  “Let yer past make yer better, not bitter, Karen.”

  “Was that another quote from Mental Mickey from your old wing?” Karen revealed a cheeky smirk and knew that that wasn’t a quote Pickle had just made up.

  Pickle sighed in defeat and smiled. “It was.”

  He placed his arm round Karen and gave her a kiss on the top of her head.

  “Right,” she said. “I’m going over to the gate.”

  “And I’m goin’ to head for ma bed.”

  Bradley walked over to Terry whilst Pickle watched, and the man from 1 Colwyn Place seemed pleased that she offered to stay on the gate. It looked like he had taken her up on her offer.

  “I love yer, Karen,” Pickle muttered under his breath, and could feel his eyes moistening.

  She turned around, as Terry went into his home, and clocked Pickle staring at her with a daft smile on his face.

  “What are you looking at, you weirdo?” she called over. “Get to bed.”

  Pickle laughed to himself and turned on his heels, heading back to the house that he and Karen shared.

  THE END