Snatchers (Book 7): The Dead Don't Yield (18 page)

Chapter Thirty Eight

The knock on the door made Karen jump and cuss. She got to her feet and walked to the door, and a part of her began to think that the person behind it had bad news about Pickle and Vince.

She braced herself for the worst case scenario, news that would make her crumble. She opened the door and breathed a sigh of relief that she was face-to-face with James McDonald. He was the last person she wanted to see, but at least it wasn't a guard with bad news. They wouldn't send James McDonald round to do that.

"What do you want?" Karen said abruptly.

James looked nervous and she knew straight away that he hadn't come round to cause trouble.

He began, "I wanted..." he paused, unable to finish his sentence.

"Go on," Karen urged.

"I wanted to...apologise."

That word alone seemed to have pained James McDonald, and Karen had already forgiven him for his nastiness from before. It seemed that the apology was hard for the man to make, but the fact that he had made it left Karen dumbstruck.

"Apologise? What for?" Karen decided to act dumb.

"Just with me being..." James paused to think about what he was going to say next. "...a bit of a twat."

"A bit?" laughed Karen.

"Okay, a lot."

"It's alright." She glared at Jimmy Mac's features and he seemed genuinely sorry for his behaviour, but she wasn't so sure that his temper or attitude would change towards the others.

"Rosemary told me things, you know, after we had our fight two days ago," he began. "I heard about what happened at Stile Cop. That must have been scary shit."

"It was." Karen thought about the gun that was found by Daniel. Was she doing the right thing, keeping information from Pickle that there was a strong possibility that KP had turned and never ended it the way they thought he was going to? She was protecting him. Whatever the outcome, KP was still dead, even if he was now one of those Snatchers.

"Listen," Karen opened her door wider and added, "You wanna come in? I could make us some tea. I was given a camping stove and—"

"No...thank you." James lowered his head. "I just wanted to say sorry. It took me long enough."

He walked away and Karen shut the door and said to herself, "Well, that was a surprise."

*

"You got a bit of blood on you." Rick pointed at Daniel's cheek, and Daniel responded by wiping it off from his face with his fingers.

"Thanks." He wiped the blood from his fingers on his trousers and said, "I must have hit that thing harder than I thought."

"I wonder why it only had one hand." Rick Morgan stared at the ground in thought. "And its blood doesn't seem as dark—"

"Who cares?" Daniel scoffed, and looked to the grassy bank from afar, where he had dragged and dumped the body. "It's dead now. That's one less beast to worry about."

"I suppose."

Rick Morgan became lost for a while, and began to think back to the first days. It was like a surreal nightmare. People were being eaten right before his eyes, but there was one incident that would haunt him forever. It was Sunday afternoon, and peering at the unfolding horror from his bedroom window, Rick saw many cars leaving, and people fleeing their own homes as the dead turned up in their numbers.

Some were toddling about, having no clue where to go, some heading towards car alarms, whilst others circled peoples' windows. It was as if some knew that there was something inside to devour. Maybe they had seen movement or heard screaming or yelling from inside. The worst of that episode was witnessing the bloody demise of the Boyle family.

The Boyle family consisted of the mum and dad and two twin four-year-old boys. As all four members of the family, including their black Labrador, Terry, got into their family car, the dead went for them quickly. The father struggled to get the driver's door shut and was bit on the leg by one of the beasts. Three had suddenly reached the opened door and began to eat the father of the family. Rick could hear his screams from his house. The mother sat there screaming, and Rick remembered saying under his breath: "Get the kids out. Get the kids out."

But she never did. She was in shock...or something.

He then heard the cries of the family dog as two ghouls tore it apart, and the mother was next as more tried to pile into the vehicle. Rick could see the kids trying their doors but the child locks must have been on, and by that time it was too late anyway. In morbid fascination, Rick watched as the family were eaten in their own car.

He stood and watched, with his hands over his ears, and tears fell from his eyes as he could see one of the terrified boys trying to smash the back window with his bare little hands. He was soon dragged away, and Rick then turned away from his bedroom window. He had seen enough.

"Hey!"

Rick felt a slap on his arm and it had suddenly brought him back to the present day.

"What?" Rick was disorientated.

"You were miles away," said Daniel, and pointed in front of him. "I think we have another one."

"Another one?" Rick scratched at his shaved head and the thirty-five-year-old asked another query. "Another what?"

"Look."

Rick scrunched his eyes and shook his head. He could see a figure in the distance, but he couldn't quite make out the face. It was too far away. It walked like one of
them
, but it could also be an exhausted human, seeking refuge. He had seen it many times before over the last month or so.

Morgan continued to look and said, "I can't believe all those runs we've done and we still don't have a pair of binoculars."

"I think the guys have a pair in the Lea Hall building, from the gun shop that Lee and Sheryl went to."

"That's no good to us now."

Both men continued to gaze as the shape got closer and closer. Both men developed a smile on their faces as the figure, who was fifty yards away, began waving its arms.

The dead don't wave!

"That's not a Waster." Rick Morgan looked perplexed.

"It's human," snickered Daniel.

"I think you might be right."

"I am." Daniel became more relaxed and put his arms behind the back of his head. There was going to be no need for the bat. "Looks like another guy wanting refuge."

"That's not some guy," Rick spoke, and continued to stare at the staggering figure that was slowly making its way to the barrier by the railway bridge. He looked to the side of him, staring at Daniel and said, "It's Bentley Drummle."

Chapter Thirty Nine

"Hurrah! No trees!"

"Alright, alright," Pickle scolded his friend, Vince. "Keep yer voice down. Have yer got a death wish or somethin'?"

Both men weren't out of the area of Cannock Chase, but they had come across an area that both men had heard about, but neither had bothered to visit back in the old days.

In silence they walked towards the area and went through the small steel gates and stepped onto the grass of the Cannock Chase War Cemetery. Both men were humbled at the hundreds and hundreds of white gravestones that lined up in rows on the grass, and it wasn't just a resting place for the British—German soldiers were also buried here.

They walked around and looked at the names of the dead.

"They were just boys," said Pickle. "Brave bastards."

"Look." Vince pointed at a large grave stone. Above it, it was written in German, but below it, it was written in English. Vince read it out. "Side-by-side with their comrades, the crews of four zeppelins shot down over England during the first world war here found their eternal resting place. The fallen were brought here from their original burial places at Potters Bar, Great Burstead and Theberton. The members of each crew are buried in caskets in one grave."

They both came across a stone with a black plaque on it. It had gold letters written on the plaque and Vince read it out under his breath. "In memory of 25,000 Polish prisoner of war and professional classes who were murdered on Stalin's orders by the Soviet Secret Police in 1940 at Katyn Forest, Kharkov, Miednoye, Kozielsk, Starobielsk, Ostaszkov, and elsewhere. Finally admitted in 1990 by the USSR after 50 years of shameful denial of the truth."

Pickle clicked his fingers at Vince, making Kindl turn away from the memorial stone, and pointed up ahead. Four Snatchers were stumbling their way, and had passed the huge white cross that stood proudly in the middle of the cemetery.

"Now that's just fucking disrespectful." Vince pulled out his machete, and placed his bag on the floor, leaving the sawn-off in the bag.

Pickle did the same. They could manage two each with just the blades that they had.

Their technique was the same as it always was when they had two each to contend with. One was front-kicked to the ground, and the remaining standing ghoul would be dealt with whilst the other would be trying to clamber to its feet. Strangely, all four beasts that headed towards them were all male.

Were they all friends in their former life?

Almost as if this was rehearsed, the two men kicked a ghoul each at the same time. Both ghouls flew backwards, leaving one Snatcher each to deal with. Pickle went for the swipe to the side of the head method, whereas Vince decided to ram his blade, like a spear, through the forehead of his.

The two remaining beasts seemed to be struggling to get to their feet. It seemed that these two were badly decomposed. Were these one of the first to turn? Skin was peeled away from the face of the one on the left that was near Pickle, and the other one on the floor was almost skeletal, with the exception of some skin and muscle on the left side of its face.

Vince and Pickle never allowed the things to stand and put them out of their misery with ease, using their blood-stained blades. Pickle hacked at his once, whereas Vince went for a more manic approach, striking the thing four times. Once would have been enough.

"Well," Pickle was panting and placed his hands on his knees, "let's hope that's the only action we're gonna see, because I really can't be bothered with this."

"What's up?" Vince was also out of breath. "Aren't you enjoying yourself?"

"No, I'm not." Pickle stood up, still panting. "I need ma bed. I need proper sleep. I need eight hours, not four. Yer no' sleep deprived?"

"I'm fucked," Vince snickered. "And you had more kip than me, don't forget. I never even slept."

"I have no idea how I survived in the woods for so long."

"Neither do I," Vince began to tease and rubbed his scarred face. "You whine like a bitch."

"Back then we never had a choice." Pickle reminisced and smiled before adding, "Karen was a right trooper. Yer know, all I did was moan about ma headache, due to dehydration. She was the only one out o' the four o' us that just got on with it."

"Four?"

"There was me, Karen, a man called Paul Parker and a girl called Jade Greatrix. We had just escaped from the sports centre."

Vince nodded. "Is this the story where Jack was going to kill himself, but he changed his mind?"

"He never changed his mind," Pickle corrected Vince. "The belt slipped and he landed in the swimming pool below him. I think God gave him a second chance."

"God gave him a second chance?" mocked Vince. "Jack was dead a few weeks later. He wasn't given much of a chance."

"Yer worse than Karen." Pickle sighed, but wasn't offended by Vince's lack of belief. "Let me believe in ma assumption, and yer can believe in yours. "

"Fine by me." Vince bent down and wiped his blade on the grass, before placing it back under his belt. He then stood up and pointed over to some bushes, outside of the memorial, and said, "I'm gonna take a walk over there, then we can keep moving. Maybe we'll be back at the camp by the end of the day."

Pickle looked over at the bushes. "What are yer going o'er there for?"

"So I can drain the weasel, go for a slash, release the golden water, have a—"

"Okay, okay." Pickle held his hand up. He had heard enough. "I'll wait for yer near that silver birch."

"It's a two-handed job, so it may take a while."

Pickle tried not to smile. "Just make sure yer give it a shake before yer put the beast back in the cage."

"A shake? I usually have to give it a kick."

"Just hurry up." Pickle began to laugh. "Yer a bloody psycho, Kindl."

Vince took one step forward, then stopped and gaped at Pickle. He had a flashback to when he walked in on Karen, in the bathroom, seeing her with the blood on her hands, and running down her thigh. Should he tell him? He promised himself he wouldn't.

"What's the matter?" asked Pickle. "Yer go' somethin' to say?"

Vince slowly strolled to the bushes. "Doesn't matter."

Chapter Forty

"Now what?"

Karen went over to the living room window and peered out after hearing the raised voices coming from outside. Despite his apology earlier, it appeared that Jimmy Mac hadn't had a change of personality. He was still fighting with the locals.

Karen watched as James McDonald swung a punch at Daniel Badcock, which Daniel seemed to avoid rather easily. A left hook was then thrown by the angry McDonald, which was another punch that Daniel easily swerved. James McDonald may have been a cantankerous individual, but he certainly was no fighter. Daniel retaliated and threw a punch into Jimmy Mac's midriff, and the man bent over immediately, coughing and gasping for breath.

Daniel went over to apologise as soon as the punch was thrown, which told Karen that he didn't want to hit McDonald, but he had no choice in the matter. Karen wasn't surprised by this. Daniel seemed like a decent individual.

As soon as Daniel was near James, McDonald placed his arms in the air to acknowledge that he'd given up. Daniel went to shake his hand, but was given a swift kick in the groin by McDonald. Daniel collapsed to the floor by this unfair strike, and before James McDonald—or Jimmy Mac—could add further damage, Rick Morgan and Paul Dickson turned up to help out Daniel.

Paul received a punch to his nose for his troubles. Finally, Jimmy Mac had been restrained by the burly Morgan and was escorted away from Daniel to calm down. Karen left the house and went out to see what it was all about.

James McDonald took one look at Karen as he was being escorted and looked shamefaced. Rick then released him and told the man to cool down. James lowered his head and was allowed to walk away from Daniel and Rick on his own accord.

"What the fuck was that all about?" Karen asked Daniel.

Daniel looked exasperated, and said with panting breath, "I found out that James had been skimming the supplies in the Lea Hall building."

"Skimming?" Karen shook her head. "What does that mean?"

"It means he's been taking more than he should be. Over the last few days the stock hasn't been adding up right, and now we know why. Obviously, he's blaming the new people. He's been saying that certain people have been allowed to enter the building whenever they wanted."

Karen was taken aback by Daniel's comment. "I hope he doesn't mean me. Jesus, he only apologised to me an hour ago."

"He just means everybody in general from Vince's camp."

"I need to get back to the barrier," Rick Morgan announced, was thanked by Daniel for intervening with the melee, and walked away.

Karen then turned her attention to Paul Dickson. He stood, head slightly bent with his hand over his nose. She could see it was bleeding, but it wasn't too bad. It definitely wasn't broken.

She walked over. "You okay?"

"I think it's broken." Paul Dickson kept on removing his hand from his nose and checking how much blood was on it.

"It's not broken. Have you seen how wonky Pickle's nose is?"

He nodded.

"Now
that's
broken. And that was three weeks ago."

"Really?"

"Some guy did it. The same guy that took his finger off as well."

"Shit." He checked the blood on his hand once more and said, "If Kyle sees me like this..."

"Where is he?"

"He and Lisa are at Rosemary's."

"He won't see you like this." Karen could see that Daniel was now walking away, and felt bad for not saying cheerio to him. "You're coming to
my
house. No arguments."

Karen and Paul went down the front garden and stepped into the living room. She told him to sit down, grabbed a tea towel, and told him to cover his nose with the material.

He did what he was told, and despite the minor injury he had received during the fracas, it felt good to be looked after by the young woman. It reminded him of how Julie used to be with him.

"That McDonald's a fucking arsehole." Paul snapped. "He's always hated us lot. I reckon he's trying to stir up some shit to get us all kicked out. Well, he's been caught now."

"I don't know." Karen left to go into the kitchen and said from the room, "I saw a human side to him about an hour ago. I don't think he's all bad."

"Human?" Paul said, and released a false laugh.

Karen returned, holding two glasses of water. "He apologised to me about the way he was behaving."

"That's because he's scared you'll kick his arse. He's heard about you now."

"I think Rosemary told him some stories."

"I heard he had a run-in with Vince as well." Paul Dickson removed the tea towel to check on how much blood had been soaked up, then placed it back. "I heard he shat himself."

"Who, Vince?"

"No. Jimmy Mac."

"I wouldn't worry about him. He's all bark and no bite." Karen placed both glasses on the floor and sat down. "I don't think people take him seriously. They know he didn't want us here. He was the one that voted no."

"I'm just worried he might do something."

"Like what?"

"I dunno."

"He won't. I don't think he's got the balls to do anything that daft." Karen then began to laugh and said inbetween her titters, "Don't worry, I've got bigger balls than him."

"You've got bigger balls than most men in here, Karen," Paul snickered and looked at the twenty-three-year-old, maybe for too long.

She blushed and said, "Thanks for the hug, you know, before."

"My pleasure. To be honest I kind of needed it myself."

Karen cleared her throat and hesitated to ask her next question. She had no idea how he was going to react to the query she had lined up. How
would
he react? With anger? Would he break down?

Paul could see, with her mouth open, that she was going to ask him something. "Go on," he urged with a thin smile under his nose.

"Go on?"

"You was going to ask me something."

"It doesn't matter."

Paul raised his hands and said jokingly, "I won't be offended, whatever it is. I'd like to think that we're now friends."

Karen smiled. "We are."

"So ask away."

Karen lowered her head. "I was just wondering how much you thought about your wife and daughter."

"Every minute of every day." Paul spoke with no hesitation.

"I still think about Gary...constantly. I know it's not as bad for me, I mean, you've lost a child as well—"

Paul placed his hand on Karen's lap and said, "Karen, it's not a competition. You still lost somebody, like most people, to this disaster. You've probably lost your mother and father as well. Yes, I lost Julie and Bell, but I've still got Kyle."

"My parents
are
dead. I know it."

"I think if I lost Kyle I'd give up."

"You think that, but some people
do
carry on."

"And some people don't."

Karen sighed and brushed her brown hair over her ears. "I bet there are a lot of families that decided to die together."

"Didn't you and Pickle go to Heath Hayes, after Stile Cop, and came across a whole family, dead in the attic?"

"Yes," Karen said with suspicion. "Who's been talking? I don't remember—"

"I think Vincent has said a few things."

"He's a bloody gobshite." She began to shake her head.

"Well, he loves the shit out of you and Pickle."

Karen laughed. "Vince does? How do you know that?"

"I just do." Paul removed the towel from his nose and left it on the arm of the chair. "It seems better now."

A silence fell over the pair of them and both had nothing left to say, but were unable to move away from one another.

Karen finally said, "I'd love another hug, tomorrow maybe, if you're up for it. I think it's good therapy for me. It's better than getting drunk," she tried to joke.

"That'd be nice." Paul smiled and added, "The kids will either be at Rosemary's or playing, which is what they're doing now."

"Doesn't it bother you with them out there, playing?"

"It's a secure place." Paul shrugged. "I feel more safe here than I ever did at Vince's. A lot of the times I wouldn't let Kyle out of my sight, but he needs his freedom, and he's only allowed out half an hour at a time. If ever he's late, I go looking for him. He and Lisa never go far."

"That's very brave."

"Right." Paul stood up and clapped his hands together. He touched his nose and checked his finger to make sure that the bleeding had definitely stopped, and said, "I'm going now."

Karen also stood to her feet and leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. She stared at him for a while and her face seemed to be engulfed in sadness. No tears had fallen, but her eyes were becoming glassy.

Asked Paul, "What's wrong, Karen?"

"I didn't want to gain another friend, after what happened to Shaz, but you're a good person to be around."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"Please do."

Paul smiled and placed his hand on Karen's shoulder. "I'll see you soon, Bradley."

"Yes you will, Dickson," she joked.

He then gave her a wink and headed for the exit. "Why don't you come with me? We can stand outside and get some air, while I'm waiting for Kyle and Lisa to show up."

Karen nodded and left her house with Paul in tow.