Snatchers (Book 3): The Dead Don't Cry (27 page)

Chapter Fifty Six

Vince claimed he knew a short cut back to the camp, but Jack felt that the country-road way was taking longer and Vince was actually apprehensive driving in populated areas, especially on an evening with darkness creeping up. Jack thought that once Vince was in populated territory, he didn't seem as cool and appeared to be edgy. Any kind of vehicle being driven, especially in residential areas, could be a target for potential thieves to carjack, and everybody was aware of this, which made Jack appreciate them coming for him all the more.

Vince may have been the tough guy when it came to robbing innocent shopkeepers or looting houses with unarmed frightened individuals inside, but Jack hadn't yet seen him in action when it came to a shootout with another individual, or a hand-to-hand combat with someone who knew what they were doing. He knew Vince wasn't afraid of violence, that was proved when he hardly flinched getting rid of Johnny, but Jack thought it'd be interesting to see how Vince would act if ever he met his match. After all, he was only a fork lift driver. Was he all talk? Only time could answer that question.

Under the black bellies of fused clouds, the day was rapidly losing its battle with the night, and a hazard appeared up ahead that had made the truck come to a stop. A pick-up truck was lying on its side as if it had lost control and tumbled a few times. Jack, Claire and Vince all looked at one another, wondering what to do next.

"I can give it a nudge with this vehicle and move it somehow." Vince looked at Claire and Jack to see if they agreed. The were both surprised that he even waited for approval, and they both responded with nods and shrugs as if to say, do what you think is best.

A lone creature came from behind the newly-found truck as if it had been hiding. Jack looked at Vince with confusion and Vince responded, "I have no idea what is going on."

Claire decided to shed a little light why the single ghoul was hanging around the crashed vehicle. "Maybe there's still people in there. People that are alive. That's probably why it's hanging about."

Jack narrowed his eyes at the lone ghoul and looked at the clothes it was wearing. It was wearing sports attire and Jack thought he recognised the thing.

Vince got out of the car and the creature began to stagger towards him, past the vehicle. It was now ten yards ahead of the vehicle and getting closer to Vince, who stood waiting for it. Jack and Claire remained sitting and saw Vince grab hold of the thing by the hair and jab his knife straight through the left eye. He then released the hair, pulled out the knife and watched it slump to a dead heap.

Vince walked over to the truck and could see a few items scattered across the road that may have been in the back of the vehicle before its tumble, but it was nothing to get excited about, and nothing that was going to improve the camp. Most food seemed to have been already nibbled at by the woods' creatures, and some of the tins were crushed and dented. A few empty bottles of water were also scattered along the road, suggesting that these bottles had cracked once the crash had happened, and the liquid inside had slowly poured out all over the tarmac.

As soon as Vince got to the bonnet-end, he climbed a little to peer inside the opened window. He saw two people inside.

The driver was a middle-aged man; he was most definitely dead. He had no injuries to his body, but his face highlighted that he had been dead for a day or two now. The woman was still hanging on and was muttering something; her lips were all dry and she was severely dehydrated. She was alive, but barely. None of them seemed to have been bit, and it appeared that maybe the male had had a stroke or a heart attack, and the woman had been there for days because she couldn't, or was too frightened, to get out, and ended up so dehydrated that she was now pretty close to death.

Why didn't she try and get out once the vehicle crashed? Was she initially surrounded by these things? Even with just the one ghoul, was she too scared to go out? Or had she received broken bones from the crash and couldn't escape, even if she wanted to? Vince had no idea.

He began to walk away from the vehicle and saw Jack get out of the car.

"Get back inside," ordered Vince. "We're going."

Jack ignored Vince and this made him nervous. If Jack peered into the vehicle and saw that the woman was alive, he'd demand that she would have to go back to the camp. Vince wanted the camp to be strong, not to be treated like a hospital and littered with injured, elderly people. The place had too many old people as it was for Vince's liking.

Jack walked with slow steps towards the creature that Vince had just destroyed. She looked different, but he still knew who it was. Her dark hair seemed dirty, but she was still wearing the same clothes when they had left the sports centre. Jack crouched down and sadly placed his hand on her white, cold cheek and whispered, "I'm sorry, Jade."

Asked Vince, "You knew her?"

"It's a long story; I'll tell you about it one day." Jack then stood up and had a quick scan around and said under his breath, "I hope the others made it."

"She looked like she could have been a looker," Vince spoke out; it was a comment that Jack thought was a strange thing to say. Vince, still worried that Jack was going to take a peep inside the vehicle, then urged the man, "Let's go."

"Any passengers in the truck?" Jack queried Vince.

Vince paused for a few seconds and shook his head. "No. Nothing."

Jack followed him back to the vehicle and sat next to Claire in the passenger seat. She could see that Jack looked despondent, and before she could ask him what was the matter, Vince told her that he used to know the girl that he had just killed.

Vince could see there was sadness in Jack's face. "You think that's bad," Vince spoke up and then turned to Claire. "Remember that run we went out on last week?"

Claire nodded sadly, and took over the story. "Vince and I, and a few others, went further out and into this tiny village. We went into about three or four houses, then went back because of the Rotters coming from the farmlands."

Vince interjected with a cackle, "Fuckers had eaten a cow; can you believe that?"

Claire added, "Anyway, we got to this end house and went into the garage to see if there was a car to siphon from. The whole garage stunk of carbon monoxide. I took a look inside and saw a man in the front and a little girl in the back, windows down. I think he gassed himself and her. It was probably too much for them, well, him especially."

"Never slept for two days, did you, Claire?" Vince spoke, this time with sincerity coated in his words.

Claire continued, "She was such a beautiful thing as well. She had beautiful blonde hair, and was wearing a cute Barbie T-shirt." Claire lowered her head and sniffed, "I've seen heads exploding every day, but this really affected me. I'll never forget it."

Vince started the engine and tried to somehow lift the mood. "And on that light note, I think we should now get back to the camp. You fuckers are depressing the shite out of me."

"I lost my son last week," Jack blurted out.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Jack." Vince spoke with genuine empathy in his voice, although it was Claire that Jack was talking to.

"My God." Claire gazed at the broken man who looked close to tears. "What happened?"

"Again; it's a long story that I will tell you all about one day."

Vince added, "Maybe we should get drunk one night and spill our guts."

"Sounds good to me." Jack then dropped his head and placed each hand on the side and shook it. Claire looked at Vince and was wondering what Jack was doing. He then lifted his head up, teary-eyed and Jack sighed, "Man, I think I'm losing my mind."

"Maybe you have dementia," cackled Vince.

"Not funny, Vince." Claire said. "Both my grandparents had dementia in their care homes. It was horrible to see."

"Still," added Vince. "The good thing about having dementia is that you're always meeting new people."

Vince looked over his right shoulder, checking his blind spot, and pulled the vehicle away, leaving a smirk on the faces of Jack and Claire.

Jack gazed at Vince.
Maybe he's not that bad. He's a bit sick, but the company could be worse.
He then felt his hand being squeezed and smiled at Claire as the truck zoomed through the lane.

Chapter Fifty Seven

After their meal, the group were in good spirits. The fire roared and although Shaz and Karen had gone through a traumatic experience earlier, it was becoming a hazard that they were becoming accustomed to these days, especially Karen.

Wolf had decided to retire to the living room once Pickle cracked open the wine. Karen said that she wasn't in the mood and opted for water instead, leaving Shaz and Pickle with the alcohol. Wolf politely told the group to try and keep the noise down, and Pickle opted for the sofa to sleep on while the girls had to make do with the living room floor. The garden was out of bounds because the rain still fell, although it was now just a light drizzle.

Their backsides were soaked with sitting on the wet grass, but this was soon forgotten once Pickle and Karen had begun to tell Shaz about their story and how they had met.

Shaz had only supped on a half-tumbler of wine, but could feel the effects of the stuff already going to her head. "So let's get this clear," the new woman said. "You two met in the woods. Then..." The alcohol made Shaz pause, she had lost her train of thought. "Then you had a group and some were killed. Had another group, and some were killed..." Shaz begun to laugh, and looked around the cabin. "They say things happen in threes; should I be worried?"

Pickle and Karen knew she had a few drinks inside her, but felt a little upset at the way she described their weeks in such a harsh summary.

"Some o' the people we lost," Pickle began, and had to swallow his displeasure, "were good people, lovers, even kids. I know you've had a drink, Shaz, but please don't mock."

Karen tried to lighten the mood. "Anyway, Shaz, where'd you get that daft bracelet from?"

"Which bracelet?" Shaz began to look at her hands: her soused state took Pickle by surprise as she had hardly had that much wine. But then again, for a lot of individuals, it could have been three weeks since they'd had a drink, and even a glass could go to someone's head, especially for a person who hadn't eaten properly in under a month.

Sharon finally found the bracelet Karen was referring to; it was hanging off her left wrist. It was cheap-looking and the assortment of beads had all the colours of the rainbow around the elastic. Sharon stared at the bracelet and puffed out a breath that was full of despair. She touched the bracelet with the fingers of her right hand, and looked at Karen with her glassy eyes and finally answered, "Spencer made me this two days before he died. He made it at school. I'll never forget it. It was Friday afternoon, June 8th."

Karen tried to explain. "I'm sorry, I di—"

"It's okay."

"Yer told me before, in a brief summary, that yer husband killed yer son. Are yer in any state to tell us what happened?" In a matter of seconds, Pickle had forgiven Shaz for her crass comments about his group. He missed KP like hell, but losing a child was the worst thing that could happen to an adult, and it was something he hadn't and would never experience, thankfully.

"Nothing to tell really." Shaz was trying her utmost to put on a brave face, but she was losing the battle. "I slept on the sofa because of my husband's snoring, and I woke up to hear noises from upstairs. I went up and saw my husband had reanimated."

"Spencer too?" asked Pickle.

Shaz shook her head. "Thanks to my husband, there was hardly anything left
to
reanimate."

"How did your husband turn?" Karen asked. "Was he bit, or...?"

Explained Shaz, "You see, this is the thing. He drank in the house and then went to bed. But before he went to bed, he was putting bottles in the recycling bin, and I heard him shouting at someone. Maybe it was one of
them
, and he had somehow been bit or scratched. But he never said anything to me when he came back into the house."

"Maybe he didn't wanna worry yer," Pickle spoke up.

"What happened to your husband after you saw he had turned?" queried Karen.

"I don't know." Shaz nodded in Karen's direction. "I did the same as what you did. I left the house and took the car. It was stolen three days later."

Pickle lowered his head inbetween his knees and then looked up again, his neck cracking. "I'm sure yer Spencer is with God now."

Sharon smiled at the thought. "I hope so, Pickle. I really do."

As Shaz and Pickle continued to converse, Karen decided to get herself a drink of water. Wolf kept a few bottles on top of the sink that had been collected, bleached and sieved. She walked into the kitchen from outside and helped herself. She took a large swig, and Wolf came in from the living room and stood next to her. He peered out of the main door while in the kitchen, and gawped at Pickle and Shaz who were deep in conversation.

"Well, they seem to be getting on," Wolf said.

Karen nodded and screwed the lid back onto the water bottle. "She seems nice enough. Wasn't too sure at first, but it's amazing how this thing can psychologically fuck you up."

Wolf made a facial expression to suggest that he agreed with Karen, and he looked at the twenty-three-year-old. Karen glared back at him with her head lowered, but she was joking with her stare. "What is it, Wolf?"

Wolf walked over to the main door and slowly shut it properly, as if he was about to tell Karen a secret and he didn't want the other two to know. He finally asked her, "How are
you
these days?"

Karen sniggered and was baffled by his query. "Er, fine. And you?"

Wolf ran his fingers through his grey beard and took off his straw hat, revealing his damp, grey hair. He placed his hands on both of her shoulders and gazed at her. "I may be a man, my dear, but I know when someone's is pregnant."

Karen burst into hysterics and while she did this and kept up her pretence, Wolf remained glaring at the former nurse. Her snickering had finally ceased and she said, "What are you talking about?"

"
You
know."

Karen half-laughed, lowered her head and began rubbing her eyelids. She quickly lifted her head up to reveal her rainy eyes and pleaded, "Please, don't tell anyone else."

"But you had that wine the other day."

"Yeah, and I was sick as a dog. Just don't tell anyone. I don't want sympathy."

"How long gone?"

Karen sighed and seem to take an age to answer Wolf's question. She slowly shrugged her shoulders. "No idea. Maybe just a few weeks, or a month or so. I could still lose it, with a bit of a luck."

Wolf let go of her shoulders and took a step back. For a minute, she thought he was going to slap her, as she saw the venom in his face. But he was never going to strike a pregnant woman. "That's a terrible thing to say, Karen. That baby is the only bit of Gary you have left. It was Gary you was engaged to, wasn't it?"

She nodded sadly. "Yeah, well, I can't have a baby in this fucked up world."

Wolf took a sip from a cup of tea he had made earlier and wetted his lips. "It's not ideal, but it's still a life. You have a son or a daughter,
Gary's
son or daughter, growing inside of you. Doesn't that mean anything?"

"It means it's gonna slow me down."

Wolf shook his head in exasperation. "You don't mean that."

"Oh, don't I?"

Wolf had sadness in his eyes and looked over both shoulders as if someone could be around, eavesdropping. "Look, children are a gift from God. You see, I..." He paused and lowered his head, as if he was about to say something personal to Karen, but was unsure whether to say it or not. "I was a shitty father, especially to my son. If I could have my time back again..."

Karen could see the hurt and regret on Wolf's face. "You said you had kids before, what were they?"

"I have a daughter
and
a son."

"And what are their names?"

"Sadie and Vincent." Wolf smiled and gently placed his wrinkly hand affectionately on the left arm of Karen Bradley. "Sadie is forty-one. She lives in Ireland. And the other one is around somewhere. He just lives on the other side of the town. He's the eldest."

"Vincent?"

Wolf nodded. "But we just called him Vince."

Wolf then went back over to the main door and opened it. He looked up to the black sky and called out to Pickle and Shaz. "Better get inside, folks. I think there's going to be a storm soon."

Pickle and Shaz looked up in unison to the depressing clouds, and agreed wholeheartedly with Wolf and told him that as soon as they had finished the rest of their drink, they were going to retire into the cabin. Because of the rain, it was going to be a bit cramped on this particular night, but Mother Nature had forced all four people to stay indoors. Even if the rain had stopped completely, the grass was still soaking wet.

Pickle was the first to get in and walked past Karen in the kitchen. Shaz soon came in and placed her hand on Karen's shoulder and looked out of the window. "That's gonna be some storm tonight."

Karen sighed and looked up at the depressing clouds through the window, "Yep." She nodded her head in agreement. "And I've got a feeling there's gonna be a few more storms to come."