Snatchers (Book 7): The Dead Don't Yield (5 page)

Chapter Nine

It had taken a while to get there, thanks to the road being blocked by a car smash, but Lee James, Sheryl Smith, Bentley Drummle and Luke John had finally arrived at the Hednesford Industrial Estate that was situated at the top of the hill in the middle of a wooded area.

The transit van parked up by a cafe and all four stepped out hesitantly, all holding a blade of some kind, except Bentley. Wordlessly they strolled around the perimeter of the area. The area was surrounded by the woods, and on the far side was a small fence and a steep decline, a hundred feet at least. It wasn't a drop that could kill a man, but it certainly looked steep enough for an individual to struggle if they decided to walk down it.

Lee James peered over to check it out. He had been to Stile Cop before and knew that there was also a similar drop, but this one was more severe and higher up.

Sheryl Smith scanned the area and ran her fingers through her short black hair. "No sign of those cunts today." She was referring to the dead.

Lee remarked, "They must have got distracted and fucked off somewhere else."

Sheryl Smith was five-six, had dark features, and was a tough cookie that swore a lot. Her use of the
C
word made some people twitch with disgust, but Lee and others had come to the conclusion that that was just the way she was. They were never going to change her, and why should they? She had been with them for many weeks and went on every run she could go on. She never talked about her past, and nobody bothered to ask about it.

"Shouldn't we try the other buildings before we go inside here." Luke John pointed at the establishment that had:
Guns and Tackle
emblazoned on its windows. Luke John was a large man, overweight, forty five years old, and had been at the Sandy Lane Camp since the first days. He lacked cardio fitness, but he was as strong as an ox.

"I don't really wanna waste much time," Lee spoke, but knew that Luke had a good point.

"Just go inside." Bentley pulled out his Glock, pulled the slide back and chambered a round. "I'll check the main doors to the businesses to see if they're locked, and I'll take a look around the back."

Lee gave Bentley the thumbs up, and beckoned Sheryl and Luke to walk next to him as he headed for the main door of the gun shop.

Once they had reached it Sheryl held onto her trench knife and nodded to Lee, telling him that she was about to barge the door open.

"Wait." Luke John whispered sharply. He then reached for the door and gave the knob a twist. It opened.

Both Lee and Luke began to titter, and an uncomfortable-looking Sheryl cleared her throat. "Okay, okay. Bastards." A smile almost stretched over Sheryl's features, almost. "So I didn't think."

Luke continued to laugh and received a punch to his arm by Sheryl. "Shut it, you fat cunt."

"Come on." Lee was the first to step inside. "Let's see what's in here."

Luke pulled out a torch and shone it on the dusky area. "It seems to be still well-stocked."

Lee's face lit up as he could see a wide range of shoes, boots, and trainers. There was also equipment for various sports such as football, weightlifting and climbing. But as they progressed to the back-end of the building his eyes lit up even more.

"This is what we're here for." Lee beamed and was so excited he grabbed Sheryl and gave her a sloppy number on the side of the cheek.

"Do that again, and I'll have your balls for breakfast," she snapped.

"Give me the torch." Lee clicked his fingers, and Luke handed him the flashlight. Luke reached for his lighter and used his silver-plated zippo to add more light.

There was a wide range of equipment in the shooting section of the establishment. "I have no idea how these things work," Lee said with a broad smile, "but Bentley and Pickle said that they can give us a few training sessions."

"What do we start with?" asked Luke John.

Lee shrugged. "Better wait for Bentley to come back. He knows more than us."

"We should have brought that jailbird with us," Sheryl scoffed.

"Bentley
is
a jailbird."

"I meant the new fellow from the Spode Cottage."

"One's enough." Lee never made eye-contact with Sheryl, and continued to gaze with fascination at the abundance of stuff that was available. "Trust me. Anyway, I have plans for Harry Branston for something big in the future."

Lee saw four shotguns on the wall, tied by brackets. The first he clocked was a 12 bore Winchester. The one next to it was a 20 bore Miroku.

There was disappointment on Sheryl's face and said, "Some of these cunts look older than
me
. They're fucking antiques."

"Now, that's more like it." Luke John jumped in and pointed at a Browning Phoenix Hunter 12G.

"Not so fast," a voice called out. Light suddenly filled the room as a curtain was pulled down from a window and two men stood, both holding a sawn-off shotgun.

Both men were dressed in dark attire, had dark greasy hair, and could easily have been brothers. The man on the right was a little taller and had most of his teeth missing.

The man with the missing teeth began to chuckle, "Well, well, well. Look wha' the cat dragged in."

The man on the left snickered, "A couple o' birds for us to play wiv, Cal."

"Aye, Ben." Cal then glared at Sheryl, Lee and Luke. "Just the three of ye?"

They nodded slowly.

Lee looked at Cal on the right and Ben on the left, and knew that with just blades in their hands, they had no chance. Lee dropped his blade and held up his hands in defeat. Luke did the same, but Sheryl wasn't moving.

Cal spat on the floor and snarled, "Ye fink ye can just come in 'ere and take wha' ye want, is tha' it?"

"Somethin' like that." Sheryl snapped back.

Cal and Ben both burst into hysterics and Ben said, "Ooh, we've go' a fiery one 'ere, Cal."

Said Cal, "I fink, we're gonn 'ave some fun wiv this 'un."

Sheryl laughed mockingly, "You're only acting hard because you're holding those guns."

"Er, Sheryl." Lee kept his hands up in the air. "Gonna shut the fuck up?"

Cal took a step forward and smiled at the woman with the short black hair. She wasn't his type, but she was a woman. He hadn't been with a woman for months.

"Drop ye blade, bitch." Cal took another step forward. "Or I'll drop
you
."

Sheryl never flinched, and the whispers of Lee to the side of her didn't change the mind of the stubborn twenty-nine-year old.

"What're you doing? Drop your knife," Lee hissed.

Sheryl glared at Cal, and stared at the two barrels pointing at her stomach. "I'm not taking orders from these two inbred cunts."

Cal and Ben glared at one another briefly and started to snicker. "Oh, I like this 'un, Cal," said Ben. "This 'un's gettin' me well-hard."

Sheryl looked at Lee and Luke. Both men had pleading in their faces, and she sighed and eventually threw the knife down. "Now what?"

Cal pointed his shotgun at Luke, and said to him, "Ge' the rope from behind tha' counter and tie ye friend up to tha' chair o'er there."

Luke looked at Lee, but Lee gave him a thin smile as if he was saying:
Just do what they tell you
. Lee tried to explain, "If we knew this was already being lived in, we wouldn't have come."

"It's too late for tha'." Ben spoke up. "We're gonna 'ave to fink 'bout wha' we're gonna do wiv ye all."

"I don't understand," said Lee, as Luke had finished tying him up to the wooden chair.

Cal walked over and began picking up the blades the three intruders had dropped on the floor, while Ben added, "Ye three are a threat now. Ye know tha' there's a place 'ere wiv guns an' ammo. If we release ye, what's stoppin' ye from comin' back wiv an army of folk?"

Lee sighed in defeat, attached to the chair. "Nothing, I suppose."

Cal nodded over to Sheryl and said to Ben, "Take this 'un down to the basement. If she fights, just take her out."

"Sure thing." Ben walked over and put his arm under Sheryl's armpit. He moved her downstairs and for once she behaved herself. If she did anything stupid, it wasn't just her own life she was putting at risk, but the lives of Luke, Lee and possibly Bentley.

Luke remained standing, his legs twitching with nerves. "What now? What are you gonna do with me?"

"This." Cal walked over to Luke and fired a shot into his portly middle. Luke fell to the floor, clutching his ravaged torso while Lee screamed out the word,
no.

Luke writhed on the floor, gasping for air, and Lee helplessly watched as the fear on Luke's face was abundantly clear. He was scared. He knew he was going to die.

Cal watched coldly as Luke struggled to breathe and continued to watch as he took his last breath. Then Luke John stopped moving altogether.

"Why?" Lee cried. "He was a good bloke."

"Don't want ye and tha' girl doin' anything stupid now." He pointed at Luke's bleeding corpse. "That's to le' ye know tha' we're not fuckin' abou' 'ere.

Lee shook his head. "You've got no intention of letting us go. You just want to have your sick fun with us, before putting us away. Why?"

"Because we can." Cal laughed, revealing the little teeth in his mouth, "And we get off on it."

"What are you gonna do with Sheryl?"

"What do ye fink?" He then began to chew the inside of his mouth and pointed at Lee. "And once Cal's done with her, you're next. I'm more into men than women, ye see, but she'll do as a warm-up."

Cal raised his shotgun at Lee's face, making Lee turn and wince, giving Cal a feeling of immense power. The adrenaline flowed furiously through Cal's veins, and couldn't wait to get started on the bitch in the basement. Then Lee was next "Ye stay there," he chuckled. "I'm gonna give my pal a hand."

Cal walked away, leaving Lee strapped to the chair, and slowly took the stairs to the basement.

*

Bentley had tried the main doors of every establishment. Every door was locked, except the door to the cafe. He took a quick look inside and could see that the place was bizarrely spotless. There were no signs of a struggle, no blood, bodies, and no sign of any dirty plates or dishes sitting idle on any of the tables.

Trying to shake off the unusual scene, he shut the door gently and took a look around. Before going inside the gun place where Lee, Luke and Sheryl were, he needed to empty his bladder. He crept around the side of the cafe, took out his penis and made an
ahh
sound once the urine gushed out. Bentley threw his head back and smiled. "Fuckin' heaven."

It took a while for him to stop, but once he did he quickly zipped himself up and nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard a gunshot from inside the gun place. He took out
Glen
, his Glock, and crept to the side of the establishment. He knew there was something wrong. A gunshot had just been heard, but
he
was the only one in the group carrying a gun.

He could see that there was a window and crept towards it, keeping his head down. He slowly raised himself, but could see that the window was blacked out. He crept around the building and went to the other side. If this one was blacked out, he was going to have to go through the main door. But would that endanger their lives further? He really had no clue what was for the best.

He approached the window to look if he could see inside. He looked and could see a man he had never seen before holding a sawn-off shotgun. He was talking, but Bentley couldn't hear what he was saying. Despite being no virgin to killing the dead, he was confident that killing people that were a danger to himself or his group would come naturally. He hoped.

Still peering carefully through the dusty window, he ducked quickly once the man turned on his heels. Bentley looked in once more and couldn't see the man anymore.

Where did he go?

His eyes then widened once he moved them to the right to see Luke on the floor. Was he dead? He wasn't moving, and at least that explained the gunshot. He then twisted his head to see Lee in the corner, tied to a chair. But where was Sheryl?

"Shit. What do I do now?"

He had to go inside. Luke looked like he was dead, Sheryl was nowhere to be seen, and Lee was tied to a chair. Bentley had no idea what was going on, but he couldn't hang around for a second longer. He crept by the window and headed for the main door.

He was going inside.

Chapter Ten

The feet trudged through the greenery and along a dirt path that led to a country road. As soon as the individual reached the tarmac, she crossed the lane and walked to the gates of the sports centre. She'd spent the last two weeks in the small town she had just left, but the lack of supplies had forced her to leave and go out into the unknown.

With the large black poncho waterproof covering her clothes underneath and her shades on, she would have looked a threat—and out of place—strolling through this area on a Saturday afternoon, back in the old world. But things were different now.

Over the weeks, as people died around her, she had managed to get to the sixth week of this disaster with air still in her lungs. She was lucky. She had
been
lucky, unlike others that used to walk by her side, but now she was on her own and her only goal was survival.

With her bag on her back, filled with the remaining water and food she had taken from the last place she had stayed at, she headed closer to the gates, walking around dead bodies and body parts that surrounded her all over the road.

She hadn't seen a single one of those things in a while. She had no idea where they had gone to, but welcomed their absence. It was hard enough to survive as it was, without having to remove these ghouls.

She stopped walking and could see a neglected van in the distance. It looked like a prison van. She had no idea why it had been abandoned by the person or persons that used to have it. Maybe it had ran out of petrol. Or maybe it received a flat tyre.

She walked through the gates that were wide open and advanced towards the reception area of the establishment, with the crowbar still being clutched in her right hand.

Despite the longbow on her back, she managed to climb through a broken window to the reception area and took a look around inside the foyer. She walked further into the building and her nose twitched with the pong of death in the air. She went by a set of treadmills, approached a swimming pool, and could see at least thirty of the dead in there. Some were in the shallow end, not making a move, whilst some were floating in the deep end.

She walked by the pool, alerting the ones in the shallow area, but she was sure that climbing out of the pool, that they had obviously fell in, was something that they'd struggle with. She checked an office to her right, but it was locked. She then went into the canteen, bypassing a couple of smashed vending machines that had been emptied, and noticed that it had nothing to drink or devour.

She left the canteen and checked the tennis courts and the spin class. The first aid classroom was next, which was a grisly sight, but the staff canteen was devoid of danger. There were bodies of the dead in the hallway leading to the fire exit door that was open, and she noticed an almost headless corpse with 'Slightly Damaged Human' emblazoned on its blood-soaked T-shirt.

She carefully went outside and could see no sign of danger anywhere. She took a stroll to her left, to the back of the place, and saw many bodies of the dead, with a bloody kettle-bell sitting on the grass next to them.

Somebody had been here. Somebody had taken care of the dead with that very same kettle-bell. She then clocked two, what looked like, graves next to one another. One of them looked small enough to belong to a little boy or girl. It was all very bizarre.

She turned around and went back inside, closing the fire door behind her. Seeing the forced-opened gates to the places, and looking at the defunct bodies inside and out, the smashed window in the reception area, and the bodies in the pool, it appeared that this place had been invaded by the dead many days or weeks ago. The smashed vending machines and the bare kitchen suggested that people that used to be in here had taken what they could, and had now fled to pastures new because they didn't have a choice in the matter. She guessed that the dead had arrived in many numbers, but not a single human could be seen now.

She had the upstairs to check. The original plan was to make herself comfortable for the night, somewhere, then move on. She looked and could see that there were two staircases to the first floor, one on each side of the pool.

Ignoring the splashing from the dead that were now desperate to get out of the pool, she took a slow walk up the stairs on the right to an area where there were free weights, took her bag off and her longbow and hung them on the dip station.

Putting her shades on top of her head to enhance her vision in the dusky place, she walked over to a room that stated that it was a dance studio. Her eyes widened once she took a glance through the window and saw more of the dead shambling inside. It was obvious what they used to be in their former life as some of them had 'Personal Trainer' on the backs of their shirts. One of them approached the glass of the door and she clocked his name-badge:
Ian Wilkes—Deputy Manager
.

She tried the door quietly so that she didn't attract unwanted attention and was relieved that it was locked. She grabbed a weight bench and pushed it together with another and decided that that was going to be her bed for the night. Just for peace of mind, she dragged a bench to the top of the stairs and did the same with the other set of stairs, despite being confident that they couldn't get out of the pool. She knew they couldn't walk up stairs, but she had seen them crawl up them before.

It was only the afternoon but the tiredness was creeping up on her. Time wasn't so much a significance anymore, and she rarely travelled at night. She was exhausted and had told herself that she wasn't moving from this place until she had a at least a few hours of sleep.

She sat down on the two benches that she had pushed together and lay on her back. She closed her eyes, but all she could hear was the annoying splashing from the dead below her. In time they would calm down, and their splashing would stop. Or at least she hoped.

With her eyes still shut and the splashing continuing, her paranoia forced her to get off the bench and take a look to make sure none had managed to climb out and were making their way up. She looked down over the railings that ran horizontally.

They were still there. Some were looking up at her, knowing that food was available in the building.

She went back to the benches and lay back down again. She stuck the top of her tongue at the back of her top front teeth and tried the 4-7-8 method to help her drift off. She took a deep breath in and held it for four seconds, then slowly released the air from her lungs. She did the same again, but this time held her breath for seven seconds, then slowly released air out. The third time she held her breath for eight seconds and continued this cycle for a couple of minutes, trying to ignore the noise that seemed to have gone up in volume from the dozens of bodies from below.

She sighed and sat back up. She got to her feet and went over to the bag by the dip station. She reached in the bag and took out a small bottle of water, and took two large gulps before putting the lid back on and dropping it into the bag. She picked up her crowbar off of the floor and, with tired legs, descended the stairs and went to the side of the pool and crouched down.

Like pins to a magnet the ones in the shallow area of the pool slowly strolled towards her through the water; the bloated ones in the deep end remained still and had no idea that warm flesh wasn't far away.

There was now a small crowd of them gathering near her, arms stretched out, desperate for a taste. She put her shades down, over her eyes, puffing out a breath and was ready for the onslaught.

Holding the bar with both hands she swung it over her head and brought it crashing down on head number one. Predictably the head caved in, making the creature's whole body fall into the water immediately. Head number two and three were quickly smashed to bits, and after the fifth, the female rained blow-after-blow almost manically. Bodies continued to wade through the water and hopelessly tried to get to this human as she continued to kill them one-by-one. A small area of the pool began changing a darker colour. Clumps of brain debris floated in the pool inbetween the ghouls that were still progressing towards her, unaware that their demise was only seconds away. It was like a horror version of
whac-a-mole
, and the more pounding she dished out, the more the water changed colour over a larger area.

Exhausted, and with her crowbar looking like it had been dipped in black ink, she collapsed onto her backside once she had finished, out of breath. It took minutes for her breathing to return to normal, and once it did she stood up straight, and twisted from side-to-side, trying to loosen her aching back. She then went over to an area of the pool that wasn't yet covered in blood and floating brain remains, and dipped her crowbar in, cleaning it. Once this was done she took her shades off that had a few spots of blood from the dead on them, and dipped them in, rubbing the spots off with her finger.

She sighed hard, and counted that she had pulverised nearly twenty of the things. The others remained motionless in the deep end. They weren't going to be a problem. She was sure of it.

She trudged up the stairs, knowing that this time sleep wasn't going to be a problem at all. She was convinced that, despite it only being the afternoon, she would still manage a few hours before leaving the place. If she could get a few hours sleep, she could last the whole night being awake.

She couldn't possibly stay in the sports centre now that she had checked it out. It stunk of death and there was no supplies. She needed to stay somewhere else for at least one night, possibly the woods.