Snatchers (Book 14): The Dead Don't Hate

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Snatchers (Book 14): The Dead Don't Hate Page 10

by Whittington, Shaun


  Stephanie nodded, and gave David a reassuring pat on the shoulder. She jogged away and left the two males alone.

  “What’s up with your face?” Vince cackled. “You look like someone’s pissed on your corn flakes.”

  “Nothing.” David hunched his shoulders. “It doesn’t matter. You wouldn’t understand.”

  “Is that right?” Vince smirked. “Let me guess. You have a thing for Steph, but she doesn’t feel the same way?”

  David sighed and hunched his shoulders. How the hell did Vince know that? Was it that obvious? “Something like that.” David didn’t see there being any point in lying to Kindl.

  “I get it.” Vince nodded. “Steph’s a nice looking kid. It’s frustrating enough when a girl’s not interested in you. But it’s even worse now, with the lack of people around now. There’s very little choice.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  Vince placed his arm around David’s shoulder and said, “It can be a funny time at your age, even in the old world. Your emotions are all over the place, then you get spots, and you’re constantly slapping the old salami.”

  “Vince, please shut up.”

  “I remember when I was fifteen years old. I never stopped playing with the thing. I think my record was six times in one day, and by the sixth time came around I was producing nothing but dust.”

  “Right, I’m going.” David briskly walked away from Vince, leaving Kindl baffled.

  “Something I said?”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Pickle, Mildred, Richard and Stephanie were picked to go out on a run.

  Pickle had managed to persuade Drake to allow young David MacDonald to come. Pickle was driving and they were waiting for Vince. He had gone to the toilet and Pickle and Stephanie were in the front, waiting for him. Mildred, Richard and David were put in the back. Everybody wanted to sit in the front, so they all had to pick out blades of grass.

  Despite the portaloos available, Vince only needed a pee and opted to pee in one of the bushes.

  He appeared from around the corner of the reception building, much to the relief of an impatient Pickle, and could see Joanne Hammett waving at him.

  She was just outside the building, at the other end, and had a large empty bag with her.

  Vince walked over to her and held his two fingers up at Pickle, telling him to give him two more minutes, and spoke to Joanne.

  “Everything okay?” he asked her.

  She nodded and placed her hands on his shoulders. “Be careful, okay?”

  Vince looked to both sides of him, at her hands, and said, “I thought we were keeping this a secret. If people see this public affection, they’ll work it out.”

  “I don’t care.” Joanne smiled and leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “I enjoyed last night.”

  “Good,” Vince snickered. “Just a shame I couldn’t perform the night before, our first time. I was in a right mood most of yesterday, thinking about it. Even Pickle asked me a few times if anything was wrong.”

  “Well...”

  Joanne hadn’t managed to finish her sentence as the pair of them could hear arguing to the side of him. Darren had just stepped out with Stephen Rowley, who was now on crutches, and the pair of them were having a domestic with the new admission, Quint.

  “What the hell is going on?” Joanne asked.

  “I don’t know,” Vince groaned.

  The two of them looked over and could see that the argument with the three men was becoming heated and Vince decided to step in and see what was wrong.

  “I better go and sort this,” said Vince.

  He walked over to the three of them and asked what was wrong.

  “This prick, chap,” Rowley snarled, pointing at Quint. “Me and Darren caught him stealing a chocolate bar from my room.”

  “I haven’t fucking eaten in ages!” Quint yelled. He then looked Stephen up and down, stroking his grey beard, and added, “And anyway, the last thing you fucking need is another chocolate bar, fat cunt.”

  “You are a horrible person, chap.” Stephen huffed.

  Quint snapped, “And you are a hoofwanking bunglecunt.”

  This comment made Vince smirk, but Rowley was confused by Quint’s gibberish and said, “I don’t even know what that means.”

  “You’re adults, for fuck’s sake,” said Vince. “Why don't you sort it out between yourselves?”

  “Quint can’t go round stealing stuff,” Darren spoke to Vince. “Even if it is just a chocolate bar. That ain’t right.”

  “Look, I really need to go,” Vince moaned and ran his hand over his stubbly face. “Try and sort it out yourselves. And don’t tell Drake, or he’ll have Quint kicked out of this place. He’s only just arrived.”

  “Maybe we should tell him,” said Darren.

  “Don’t be a pair of whiny cunts,” Quint snapped. “If you really want your chocolate bar, here.” He put his hand in his pocket and threw it at Stephen, who tried to catch it and then stumbled as his crutches came away from him.

  “You need to have a word with him, chap.” Rowley looked at Vince. “Keep him away from me.”

  “Later,” said Vince. “I’m about to embark on another dangerous run, whilst you three pricks are arguing over a chocolate bar. Two of the guys that are going with us are only fourteen. Just put that into perspective.”

  “I’ve been on runs before,” Darren spoke up. “How come I wasn’t picked?”

  “Does it matter?” Vince sighed.

  “Yes!” Darren snapped. “I wanna know. How come you’re taking kids?”

  “Look!” Vince yelled, seething with all three of them. “If you have a problem the way things are run, have a word with Drake. Maybe if you didn’t shit yourself three times a day, you will start and get an invite.”

  The three of them looked at him and had no words to respond.

  Vince walked away from the three men, blew Joanne a kiss, and then headed for the van. Stephanie had opened the door for him and he climbed in, sitting next to her.

  “Ready then?” Pickle moaned, ready to pull away.

  “Yeah.” Vince nodded. “Sorry about that. Fucking pricks. Everybody okay in the back?”

  “Aye, they are.” Pickle selected first and pulled away. “Mildred, David and Richard are probably wondering why we’re not moving yet.”

  “Just trying to sort out petty squabbles.”

  The gate was opened as the van crawled out of the grounds, and Pickle went through the gears once they hit Gaol Road.

  Pickle said, “Yer and Joanne, eh? So it’s now official. How the hell did yer manage that?”

  “What are you talking about?” Vince could feel his face flush. Vince lowered his head an inch and could feel Stephanie looking at him. He looked up and to the side and snapped, “What?”

  “You and Joanne are an item then?” Stephanie asked.

  “Well...” Vince looked bashful and slowly hunched his shoulders. “I suppose. If you want to call it that.”

  “Nice one, Vince,” Stephanie cackled. “Don’t be too embarrassed. She’s a lovely woman.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I agree with Stephanie.” Pickle looked at Stephanie and winked at her. “If anything, she should be embarrassed. Good lookin’ girl like that getting into bed with an older man heading for sixty.”

  “I’m forty-nine,” Vince snapped, making the pair of his tormentors giggle. “Sixty? Cheeky bastard!”

  “Well, they do say that beauty is only skin deep,” Pickle chuckled, “The true ugly ones go right to the bone.”

  “Alright, alright.” Vince managed to raise a smile. “Let’s change the subject. Jesus!”

  “Okay. So this place we’re going to is just a shop, but apparently in the back there’s a storage room where they keep other ordered products.”

  “Are we taking clothes as well?”

  Pickle nodded. “Just want to get there, empty it quickly, and then get back within the hour. That’s why there’re
six of us. Roads are getting dangerous now.”

  “Yeah, thanks to you,” Vince said with his tongue in his cheek. “Putting down Marsden and his crew hasn’t done us any favours at all.”

  “I know,” Pickle moaned and added, “I didn’t really have much o’ a choice, to be honest with yer.”

  “Ignore him, Pickle.” Stephanie placed her hand on Vince’s thigh and said, “Vince is only kidding, right?”

  “Yeah, course.”

  “Anyway,” Pickle cleared his throat and turned onto a dual carriageway, “Tell me more about yer and Joanne. When did this happen?”

  “Nothing to tell.” Vince seemed bashful and Stephanie thought it was adorable that the man she loved like a father, who treated most scenarios as a joke, was getting embarrassed.

  “Not much to tell?” Pickle laughed. “O’ course there’s somethin’ to tell. This is a real life beauty and the beast tale.”

  “Ah, Pickle. That’s not fair.” Stephanie rubbed her hand up and down Vince’s arm. “I think it’s wonderful.”

  “He knows I’m only kidding.” Pickle then looked to the side, at Vince, and persisted, “Well? Are yer going to tell us how it happened? Is it serious? Yer weren’t in the mood for talking yesterday.”

  “Early days yet,” Vince began. “She mentioned getting together last week, but I wasn’t sure if she was joking. Then I couldn’t seem to find her or track her down for a few days.”

  “Track her down?” Pickle queried.

  “Not in a stalkery way.”

  “And this all started...?”

  “A couple of days ago.”

  “How do yer...?” Pickle paused when he realised a fourteen-year-old girl was sandwiched between them. Vince knew what he meant and so did Stephanie.

  “Ew.” She put her hands over ears. “I’m not listening.”

  Vince whispered, “We see if there’s a room free in the hospital.”

  “Oh.”

  “We just like each other’s company. I suppose I have to thank my lucky stars to a certain degree.”

  “What do yer mean?”

  “Well, let’s be honest. I’d never be able to get together with someone like Joanne in the old world. Thankfully she managed to get past this.” Vince pointed at his scarred face, and then raised his bandaged, mutilated left hand. “And this. She seems to like my personality.”

  Stephanie was sure that the conversation had veered from the gutter and was more to her age category, so she removed her hands from her ears and rested them on her lap.

  “Wow. What happened to the confident and crude Vincent Kindl that we all love?” Pickle laughed.

  “That’s all an act.” Stephanie smiled and added, “Isn’t it, Vince?”

  “Sometimes.” Vince pointed, and Stephanie could see an industrial estate a few hundred yards away and knew that a bingo hall, a carpet shop, an electronics shop and Workout World were a part of the industrial estate. Vince said, “Anyway, we’re nearly here.”

  *

  Quint had just finished helping Simon Jones cleaning out the portaloos and was now at a loss what to do with himself. He was thinking about seeing Drake to see if there was anything else he could do, but tiredness smothered him all of a sudden and he decided to have a lie down. Unlike the younger people on the grounds, Quint was no spring chicken.

  He made his way over and was stopped in his tracks when a female asked him how he was settling in. Her name was Patricia Johnson, very attractive, and although Quint knew he wouldn’t stand a chance with her as she was just being nice, wild thoughts entered his head.

  “You’re...?” She held out her hand and Quint shook it.

  “Quint,” he said.

  “Just Quint?”

  “Just Quint,” he chuckled. “Like Slash or Bono.”

  “How’re you settling in?” she asked, ignoring his previous remark.

  “Alright.”

  “Where did you stay before you came here?” Patricia combed her blonde hair behind her ears and smiled. It was a smile that made Patricia even more attractive.

  “I stayed with my wife at a farm. She’s dead now,” he said coldly. “Had to kill her myself.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” Patricia placed her hand on her chest and asked, “Did she turn?”

  “Nah.” Quint waggled his head. “She made me a cup of tea a few months back and put sugar in it. I hate sugar.”

  “So...” Patricia was baffled by the story. “So, what happened?”

  “Well, I was annoyed and threw it at her and then I beat her to death with my fists.”

  Patricia stared at Quint with a glazed look and could see a hint of a smirk before he burst out laughing.

  Her eyes widened and she snapped, “Do you think that’s funny? Do you find domestic abuse amusing?”

  “Oh, lighten up,” Quint guffawed. “It was just a joke.”

  “Lighten up?”

  “Yeah. I was just kidding with you.”

  Patricia placed her hand on her hips and leaned in. “My ex used to be handy with his fists, so don’t go round making jokes like that, please.”

  “I do miss my home.” Quint nodded, then looked at Patricia’s red shirt and then down at her legs. “The view is certainly better here than back home.”

  “I better be going.” She suddenly became uncomfortable and shook her head.

  “So soon?”

  Patricia nodded “I’m in a rush. I need to be somewhere.”

  “Maybe we can chat again sometime, when you’re not busy?” Quint called out as Patricia briskly walked away towards the greenhouses.

  “Don’t bother.”

  Quint smiled and watched as Patricia Johnson walked away. He gazed at her magnificent rear that swung underneath the black trousers she was wearing and shook his head.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Karen was in the clinic. She had checked the dressing on Stephen Rowley and has asked him to lay off the painkillers for the day and see how he managed.

  He didn’t seem happy with the suggestion, but Karen didn’t want the drugs all going by the end of the month.

  “Just see how you get on,” she said, noticing the unhappy face on the rotund man. “There’re dozens of other people that stay here, you know.”

  “It’s just the pain, chap.” Stephen grunted, twisted his neck and cleared his throat. “The night times are the worst. I haven’t slept properly since the accident. With the pain, and Craig dying.”

  Karen lowered her head at the mention of Craig Burns. She liked Craig. She never thought he would be taken so soon because he was such a warrior.

  “Well, take two before you go to bed,” she said. “At least you’ll get a decent sleep.”

  “I’m hardly eating as well, chap.”

  “You don’t need to worry about that, Stephen. We have multivitamins for the nutrients your body may have been starved of, and it should get better than that if Vince and the rest come back from Workout World with a van full of supplies.”

  “But I’m losing weight.”

  “That’s not a bad thing,” Karen said. “You’re not exactly in great shape, are you, Stephen?”

  “What?”

  “Look.” Karen folded her arms and exhaled harshly with impatience. “Don’t worry about the weight loss. Maybe it’s a good thing you’re losing weight.”

  “Unless it’s cancer.”

  “I’m sure that’s not the case.”

  Stephen shifted in his seat uncomfortably and Karen could see he was annoyed. “That’s not the first time you’ve mentioned my weight in the last month or so, is it, chap?”

  “And?”

  “I’m not the only overweight person here, Karen,” he snapped. “You can’t single me out, chap.”

  “I’m not singling you out. All I’m saying is that we’re in the fourth month of the apocalypse and you’re an overweight man. That’s almost unheard of.”

  Stephen struggled to get to his feet and grabbed his crutches and huffed, “Are
we done here?”

  Karen nodded. “Don’t take it to heart, Stephen.”

  “Oh, no,” he snapped with sarcasm. “Of course not.” He quickly moved away and Karen felt guilty for what she had said, but convinced herself it was the truth.

  She dropped her head and rubbed her eyes. It was still the morning, she had had a decent night’s sleep the night before, but she felt exhausted. She put it down to boredom. She could understand the logic behind Drake’s clinic idea. It was a great idea, but Karen wished she was out with Pickle and the rest to Workout World. She missed the fresh air, the different surroundings, and the excitement of the unexpected.

  “Hiya,” a voice called out.

  The voice made her jump and she looked up to see Darren standing in the doorway.

  “Jesus Christ on a cross!” she exclaimed. “You frightened the shit out of me.”

  “Sorry,” Darren laughed.

  “Anyway, are you alright?” she asked in a calmer manner, and then released a strident yawn.

  “Yep.” Darren then asked, “Where’s the guard?”

  “He’s not there?”

  Darren shook his head.

  Karen puffed out her bottom lip and said, “Must have gone to the toilet.”

  “Right, I’ll see you around midday.”

  “Just a flying visit then?” Karen playfully made a sad face and added, “Can’t you stay and keep me company?”

  “No can do. Need to put a few shelves up for Beverley in the nursery. Got a load of books sitting on the floor. I’ve been putting it off for too long.”

  “That’s what I need,” said Karen. “Do me a favour. Bring a book back for me when you’re passing next.”

  “What kind?”

  “The paper kind,” she laughed.

  “No, I meant what genre?”

  “Get me a classic. Anything by Dickens or H.G Wells.”

  “I’ll try.” Darren was about to leave, but Karen called him back. “Now what?”

  “Tell Drake if anyone needs me, I’ll be in my ward. I’m going back to my bed. I’m knackered.”

  Darren walked away and Karen waited for the guard to return before leaving. Once she did, she left the clinic and was aching for her bed.

 

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