“When I arrived here, I told Findlay about it. At first, I thought we were friends, but that prick told Drake and they had a laugh about it with the other guards. That’s when they started calling me Double D.”
Darren had stopped talking and looked up to Karen. She looked at the man and wondered if he had finished. The few seconds of silence gave Karen the opportunity to ask what condition he had, as she had no idea what he had been talking about.
“I have IBS,” said Darren.
Karen raised her eyebrows.
“Irritable Bowel Syndrome.”
“Yeah, I know what it is,” Karen giggled. “I’m a nurse, remember? I thought you were gonna tell me you had something serious.”
“Jesus, Karen.” Darren was unhappy with Karen’s response and it showed. “You were a nurse. Where’s your empathy?”
“I’m not mocking you, Darren.” Karen ran her fingers through her dark hair and added, “With the whole build up and the seriousness on your face, I just thought it was going to be something really bad, something life threatening. To a certain degree, we all have IBS in some sort of way.”
Darren lowered his head, feeling ridiculous, and was in two minds whether to walk away. He was feeling emotional and didn’t want to be teary in front of Karen, but he didn’t want to walk away and be rude either.
“Anyway, I noticed that we have Viberzi.”
“Yes, we do.”
“I used to take that back in the old world. It helped me to have less bowel contractions and less trips to the toilet.”
“I think we have Viberzi and Xifaxan, but I don’t know how much.”
“I would like to go back on it,” Darren said with almost pleading in his voice.
“Okay, but once it runs out—”
“I know. I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.”
“Okay,” Karen sighed. “I’ll give you a packet and follow the instructions. You’ve taken it before, so I assume you have a gallbladder, because it can play havoc with your pancreas.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know all that.”
“Okay.” Karen went over to the left and grabbed a packet of Viberzi.
She sat back down and reached for her A4 size book and opened it. She passed the packet to Darren and began to put the entry in the book. She dated it and asked Darren to sign and print his name at the end, on the right of the page.
“So, is that it?” he asked.
Karen nodded.
Darren got to his feet and put the packet in his jeans’ pocket. He looked sheepish and said, “So I suppose you wanna know why Drake calls me Double D.”
“I really am not that bothered, Darren,” Karen said. “Especially if it is something that’s cruel.”
“It stands for Diarrhoea Darren.”
Karen groaned, “Well, I’ll have a word with him about that. That shit just isn’t funny.”
“No pun intended,” Darren giggled.
“Sorry.” Karen smiled and stood up. “That was an accident.”
“I know.”
“Anyway,” she moved over to Darren and placed her hand on his shoulder, “let’s hope those bad boys work. God knows what you’re going to do once we run out.”
“Like I said. I’ll cross that bridge when it comes to it.”
“Okay.” She nodded and released her hand off of his shoulder.
Darren took a step forward and tried to plant a kiss on Karen’s lips.
Karen moved her head back and said, “What are you doing?”
“Sorry.” Darren looked mortified and Karen felt for him straightaway. He stormed out of the clinic, the old Ward 22, and Karen called after him, but a clearly embarrassed Darren had exited the building by the time Karen had left the ward and was standing in the corridor.
“Shit, Karen.” She stroked her forehead and moaned, “Maybe you could have handled that better.”
Chapter Eight
Pickle pulled up the van a few yards before the gate and stepped out once the van had stopped. He asked the leader of Stafford Hospital how much they should give them.
“Just ten chickens,” Drake snapped. “That’s generous enough. Haven’t travelled all this way to give shit away. We have around a hundred people at our place.”
“It’ll help heal some wounds if they know they’ve come from yer.”
“I don’t give a shit about that. I’m not fucking Santa Claus.”
Pickle never asked for a hand from Drake to transport the hens to the gate. Instead, he got out of the van, with Vince following suit, and went to the back of the vehicle.
He opened the doors and told Mildred and Stephanie to get out and where they were and why.
“Stretch yer legs for a bit,” Pickle said. “I’m going to have a word with Terry first, or whoever’s at the gate.”
Pickle approached the gate and could see Terry Braithwaite sitting on his front garden, legs crossed, holding a bat, and head down. He looked bored beyond recognition and Pickle could see that there was nobody else in the street.
The ex-inmate cleared his throat, which stirred Terry.
Braithwaite looked up, groaned, and shook his head once his eyes clocked Harry Branston. He slowly got to his feet and stretched. Mildred, Vince and Stephanie turned up and stood near Pickle.
Terry raised a smile on seeing Vince and Stephanie, but the other girl he didn’t know.
Without uttering a word, Terry opened the gate and stepped out to welcome them. He looked to his right and saw the prison van, then his eyes became thin as he looked at the figure sitting in the passenger seat.
He turned to Pickle and growled, “Why the fuck did you bring that cunt with you?”
“Relax, he’s not coming in.”
“Too right he’s not coming in.” Terry snarled and gripped his bat tighter with anger. “I can’t believe you brought him here.”
“He’s here because we went on a run and I asked to pop in and see yer guys.” Pickle cleared his throat and added, “We went to a farm and managed to get around fifty chickens. We thought you’d like to have ten or so.”
Terry began to relax and never responded.
He moved away from the gate, gesturing to the four to come in.
Mildred and Stephanie stood behind Pickle, and Terry told them to go to Brenda’s at number eight and that she would give them a drink. They did so, and Vince informed the two men that he needed to pee and left Pickle and Terry alone together.
Terry sat back down on the lawn and Pickle joined him. They both sat in silence for a few seconds before Pickle broke the silence.
“How’s things been in here?”
It took Terry a while to answer and said, “It was only a week ago that I saw you and Karen.”
“I know,” Pickle sighed. “A week in this apocalyptic world can feel like a long time. That’s why I’m asking.”
Pickle could feel Terry’s eyes glaring at him, and the man with the ginger beard asked the ex-inmate what was on his mind.
“Well, I suppose yer better know,” said Pickle. “Not too sure yer should tell anyone else. Don’t wanna be spreading unnecessary panic.”
“What is it?” Terry groaned. “Just fucking spit it out.”
“A week ago we were travelling and came across four guys who had blocked off the road.”
“So?”
“From Gnosall.”
Terry screwed his face and stroked his ginger beard. “That’s a village not far away from here.”
“I know.”
“I don’t get it.” Terry shifted uncomfortably and asked, “Why are you telling me this?”
“The four guys are bad ‘uns,” Pickle began to explain. “They used to be in Stafford Prison. The leader, and a guy called Manson, especially, are fucking psychopaths.”
“Great. So what are you telling me? Can these guys be a threat to this place?”
“Possibly.” Pickle turned to the side and spat. “I don’t wanna worry yer, but I just thought yer should know. A girl from the
hospital came from Gnosall and said that these guys beat, raped, and even killed some folk. Just be on yer guard.”
Terry looked at Pickle with suspicion and could now see Vince entering the street from outside.
“What is it?” Pickle could see Terry’s suspicious stare.
“Is this your way of getting us to come with you?” he asked suspiciously. “By frightening us?”
“Not at all. I wouldn’t stoop that low.”
Vince raised his eyebrows as he approached the two sitting men, asking Pickle what the conversation was about.
“I was telling Terry about Marsden and his crew.”
Vince nodded. “Yep. They look a right bunch of dangerous cunts. Not too nice, from what we’ve been told.”
Terry released a short heavy sigh, and could feel his blood simmering. “If we get attacked by four or maybe more, we’re fucked.” He snapped at Pickle, “This is your fault.”
“What do yer mean?” Pickle asked.
“We’re low in numbers because you left us. We’re vulnerable.”
“Yer only vulnerable because yer pig headed and decided to stay behind. Yer had a choice, yer still have. If yer leave, the rest o’ this lot will follow. Yer know that, Terry.”
“Nah.” Terry shook his head and snapped. “I’m going nowhere with that Drake prick.”
Vince and Pickle looked at one another in defeat. Terry was going nowhere. Vince could see both sides of the argument. He could understand why Terry was so annoyed and felt Pickle and the rest had abandoned them for a better life, but he also agreed with Pickle that Terry did have an option and could have left with them. Terry was stubborn and Vince was convinced that it was fear that kept the rest behind, but would leave if Terry left.
“Okay.” Pickle sighed in defeat, slapped his knees and got to his feet. “I’ll get the chickens in and some o’ the food that they need.”
“Okay.” Terry nodded. “I’ll get some kind of set up for them in one of the back gardens. It’ll give the birds a bit of freedom.”
“I’ll help,” Vince spoke up.
“I would help as well,” Terry said, “but I don’t even want to look at that prick.”
Vince laughed, “We understand.”
Terry took a step back and watched as Pickle and Vince, one by one, carried in two individually caged chickens each, one in each hand. They were told by Terry to put them in his kitchen for now and he’d sort them out himself. Terry opened the main door of 1 Colwyn Place and shut the kitchen door once the ten birds were inside.
Minutes later, after the guys had made five trips to and from the van, the both rubbed their hands down their jeans and looked at Terry.
The man stroked his ginger beard and smiled thinly. “Thanks, guys. This means a lot.”
“Don’t mention it,” said Vince. “We might need a favour off you one day.”
Terry beamed. “No bother.”
Chapter Nine
Karen had stepped out of one of the portaloos with her T-shirt over her nose and saw a smiling Findlay looking over, standing by the large shed. She had no idea who had used it before her, but mentally told herself that the individual should be medically screened.
“They’re pretty bad today, aren’t they?” he called over, sniggering at the T-shirt over her nose.
“Fucking disgusting!” Karen pulled her T-shirt from her face and said, “Aren’t they supposed to be cleaned after being emptied?”
“We need the water.”
“Well, don’t you think we should be getting some? What the fuck is going on? We should really have a well set up by now.”
“We’re working on it.”
“You’re working on it?” Karen laughed. “I suggest you work a little harder. You can’t have a hundred people here and no running water. These trips to the river are gonna get harder when the petrol dries up.”
“Just relax,” Findlay laughed. “Drake and I have it all under control.”
“Vince had a well at his old camp, at the caravan park.”
“Like I said, we’re working on it.”
Findlay walked away, leaving Karen to gaze over at the shed. She had been at the place for a week, yet didn’t know what was in there. When she worked at the hospital it was used for storage, for beds and other equipment that was broken. Eventually the equipment would be picked up, taken away and fixed or taken to the dump.
The place was padlocked and she wondered if it still had old equipment in there, or had it been emptied and Drake was using it for something else. The food and drink were stored in a ward, under guard, near where Karen’s new clinic was based. So what else could be in the shed?
Karen could see an unhappy Joanne Hammett appear from around the corner of the old outpatients building. She called her over for a chat.
Joanne was finishing off a cigarette and threw it to the floor before she reached Karen.
“You okay?” Joanne asked her.
Karen nodded and added, “Was wondering what you were up to?”
Joanne started to laugh. “Are you bored as well?”
“Yes.” Karen smiled. “That obvious, huh? Was wondering what everybody else does.” Karen looked around and hardly a soul could be seen.
“It’s quiet without Drake, Pickle and Vince, isn’t it?” Joanne remarked.
“I know.” Karen agreed and looked around again. “I mean ... where is everybody? Where do they go?”
“Well, there’re people out on runs. Drake’s out with Pickle, Vince, Mildred and Stephanie. And two of his guys have gone out on mopeds.”
“They’ll be no petrol left if they’re not too careful.”
“There’s four guards on duty. Another two outside, Peter and Roger.”
Karen looked around again. “But where’re the others?”
“Some have jobs,” said Joanne. “Some are in the greenhouses, the nursery—”
“But what about the rest?”
Joanne smiled and hunched her shoulders. “Shagging?”
Karen raised her eyebrows and said with a smirk, “Speaking from experience, are we?”
“Of course not. But I have heard rumours that Ward 18 is like a whorehouse.”
“I suppose people still get the urge, even in these times.” Karen then smirked and said, “What about you?”
Joanne widened her eyes. “What about me?”
“Anyone caught your eye?” Karen giggled. “I hear Drake is an admirer.”
“Drake is an admirer of anything with a pulse.” Joanne smirked and said, “Those condoms weren’t for Drake, by the way. Just in case you were wondering.”
“If you say so.”
“Anyway, I...”
Karen waited for Joanne to finish her sentence, but the pause had been too long. “Yes. Do go on.”
“Nothing.” Joanne blushed and wanted to be away from Karen.
“Come on. Don’t leave me hanging.”
“Forget it.”
“Joanne?”
“I’ll see you later, Karen.” Joanne pecked Karen on the cheek.
“Okay,” Karen sighed in defeat.
Joanne walked away and Karen called after her, but she continued walking and disappeared around the corner of the building.
Karen thought that maybe she had pushed too hard and was going to apologise to Joanne the next time she saw her.
She decided to leave the grounds and have a word with Peter and Roger. She had hardly spoken to them since they all arrived at the hospital together, so she went to the ward where she slept and took her machete from the side of her bed and eventually exited the grounds.
Drake frowned upon residents going out of the grounds, even if it was around the perimeter of the wall, but the guard wouldn’t dare question Karen Bradley. He knew trying to prevent her from going out was pointless. She was a headstrong individual and Drake clearly liked the woman, which put the guard in two minds whether to act. He didn’t want anything to happen to her, because Drake and Pickle would be more than ann
oyed. But he also didn’t want to upset her by refusing to let her out.
Karen walked through the gate and could see the old blood stains of Jason Bailey on the ground. This individual had been eaten by a Snatcher after being thrown out when he tried to rape one of the women almost a week ago.
She went around the entrance and clocked Peter and Roger. The two brothers were walking towards Karen, and both had baseball bats in hand.
“You finishing up?” she asked them.
“No,” Peter was the first to speak up. “We decided it’d be better for the pair of us, both physically and mentally, if we walked around the perimeter, rather than standing in one spot.”
“Does Drake know?”
“Oh, fuck him,” Roger laughed. “What’s he going to do? Take us off a job that nobody else wants to do? It’s not as if we’re getting paid for this, is it?”
“Fair point?”
“Anyway,” Peter began. “I wanted to have a word with you, now you have your little clinic set up.”
“Oh?” Karen elevated her eyebrows that desperately needed plucked.
Peter smiled. “It can wait.”
“Come with me now, if you want.”
Peter looked at Roger, and Roger said, “May as well go now. Fuck all happening here.”
“Okay,” Roger said to his brother. “Won’t be long.”
Chapter Ten
Ten birds had been removed from the van and placed in Terry’s kitchen at 1 Colwyn Place. Pickle and Vince accepted Terry’s offer of a drink, whilst Mildred and Stephanie were absent and talking to Brenda Hatchet, but told them all they weren’t going to stay long. Drake was still sitting in the van and Pickle didn’t want to hang around too long and piss him off, as it took some persuasion to allow ten of the chickens to be given to the remaining residents of Colwyn Place.
Vince and Pickle had been given a glass of water by Terry, and all three sat in the front lawn with the murky sky above them. The temperature was the lowest it had been for months. It was weather everybody welcomed. No more sunburn, sweating, soaked clothes, but it was also a reminder that winter wasn’t far away.
Ronnie stepped out of 9 Colwyn Place where Freddie Johnson and his mother used to live before Drake’s mob attacked and killed them. He made his way over and smiled.
Snatchers (Book 14): The Dead Don't Hate Page 3