Snatchers (Book 9): The Dead Don't Scream (28 page)

"I was going to call it Harry," Karen blurted out, and gulped.

"What?" Pickle snapped out of his gaze, then turned and faced away from the steel gate, now looking at Karen.

Karen repeated herself, and sighed, "I said ... I was going to call it Harry."

"What are yer talking about?" Pickle released his hand and wiped his clammy palm on his trousers.

She gulped, but with a tightened throat, choked by emotion. It was like swallowing a rock. "The baby. If it was a boy ... I was going to call it Harry. After you."

"Shit, Karen." Water quickly filled Pickle's eyes. His bottom lip wobbled and could feel his limbs beginning to shake. "Yer really know how to twang the ole heart strings, don't yer?"

"Just thought I'd let you know."

"And if it was a girl?"

She thought for a minute and shook her head. "I don't know."

Pickle took a look at his Omega watch that was on his left wrist, and strained to see what the time was. He pulled his head back, moved the watch away from his eyes by a few inches, and tried to re-focus by narrowing them.

"What's up?" Karen could see he was straining.

"I think I need glasses." Pickle began to laugh and cleared his throat quickly. "I'm getting old, Bradley."

"None of us are getting any younger."

Pickle smirked, took a look around the street and shook his head.

"What?" Karen asked.

"I never really knew this village that well, considering I had a place at the other side o' it. It was more o' a safe house, back in the drug days."

"You spent most of your time in prison, didn't you?"

"I've been everywhere, Karen. I'm like the Littlest Hobo."

"What's that?"

Pickle guffawed, "Forget it." He gazed at Karen. She was glaring forwards; she seemed miles away. "What are yer thinkin' about?"

"Everyone," she said sadly. "My mum. My dad in Glasgow and my stepsister, Kelly. Gary, Shaz, Sheryl, Jack ... everyone."

Harry Branston began to rub at his eyes. They were a bit crusty at the ends, and rubbed his forefinger and thumb together and flicked the bit of skin away. He then began to pick at the inside of his ear and cussed when he scratched himself.

"What's the matter now?" Karen laughed.

"My ears have been flaky for days," he moaned. "Doin' ma head in."

"Let's have a look."

Pickle turned to the side and bent down. She looked inside for a few seconds and told him, "Looks like eczema. Or it could be psoriasis. You could do with some hydrocortisone cream. John Lincoln should have medical supplies in house number two. Ask him if they have it. It's a steroid cream."

She leaned away from him, and Pickle twisted his face and rubbed at the irritating ear.

"Don't touch it," she warned him gently. "It'll just make it worse."

He did what he was told and put his arms by his side. He nodded over to the lawn of 20 Colwyn Place, and asked Karen if she wanted to sit down. She nodded, and they both went over and parked their behinds.

Both Karen and Pickle sat with their knees up and their arms around their legs. Both staring out. Karen turned to her side and could see that Pickle was shaking. He was becoming upset.

Noticing this, Karen asked him, "What's wrong?"

"I'm getting tired."

Karen nodded. "Me too. I'll sleep like a..." Karen never finished the sentence and bit her bottom lip.

"No. I mean I'm
really
getting tired. I don't want to be still doing this in my fifties."

"You're optimistic," Karen tried to joke, "I'll be lucky to reach twenty-five."

"I'm serious."

Karen turned and gawped at her male friend. "You okay?"

"Not really." Pickle shook his head. "I'm think I'm havin' one o' ma moments."

Pickle tried to stifle his sob, but once Karen put her arm around him, he lost it. His head slowly went to the side and rested on her shoulder. She was crying too, but it was seeing him so saddened that was upsetting her.

"Sometimes it's good to have a cry." Karen rubbed her hand up and down his back. "You men should do it more often."

Pickle never verbally responded. He couldn't. She continued to rub his back as he stained her T-shirt with his tears, then quickly tried to compose himself, clearing his throat and wiping his eyes with his palms.

Karen gave her friend a thin smile. "Better?"

"I'm really sorry. Yer 'ave lost yer baby, and here I am..."

"Don't worry about it."

"Still..."

Karen looked up to the sky with a squint. "This sun is starting to get on my nerves."

"Yer wanna try out our new place?"

She nodded and stood to her feet, with Pickle copying her. The pair of them wiped their eyes and both began to make a slow walk to 10 Colwyn Place.

Pickle tried to joke. "Do you think John will mind if we go in now? And what about the welcome pack?"

"Vince has just gone in his. And what's in a welcome pack anyway?" Karen asked Pickle. He had no answer, so she tried to guess. "Probably a few bottles of water and toiletries."

"Probably."

"You know what I fancy tonight?" Karen linked arms with Pickle and rested her head on his shoulder as they walked.

"No, Bradley. What?"

"A big sweaty hug from a tough drug baron."

"Paul's usually yer choice in the hugs department," Pickle tried to tease.

"Sometimes." Karen nodded. "But this evening I think I need some Pickle loving. I'll see Paul in the morning. Leave him to his paperbacks."

Pickle smiled and began to laugh. "Yer alright, Bradley."

Karen felt her friend stroke the back of her head and she said, "And I love you too, Branston."

Both individuals entered their new house, kicked their shoes off and prepared themselves for a quiet and peaceful evening.

They both had an early night, but neither went to sleep straight away. They hugged and lay awake, talking about the future. Hoping that the future was going to be something to live for.

It's all they had.

Hope.

Hope, and each other.

THE END

If you enjoyed reading SNATCHERS 9:
The Dead Don't Scream,
feel free to mail me your thoughts on
facebook
or leave a review where you've downloaded the book.

Very kind regards,

Shaun Whittington

Author's Notes

Phew. So somehow I've managed to get to book nine of this series. As mentioned in a previous book, the first book of this series was written as a bit of a joke, back in the Spring of 2012, and was something that was done at work to simply pass the time.

And now all this!

As promised in the previous book's notes, I have wrapped this one up with no, or little, loose ends. Originally Snatchers was going to be a one-off story that I hoped would be downloaded by a couple of people, but I didn't expect the response to be so good, so I thought:
Fuck it, let's try and do a trilogy.
Nine books later....

To a certain degree, at the moment, Snatchers can be seen as a trilogy if you look at the volumes that are available. There is going to be three volumes eventually and if you want to re-live the series, the first one can be found
here
.

Or
here
if you live in the USA.

In this book I've decided to be brutal, and get rid of characters that I dislike (Lee, Rosemary and Daniel) and even ones that I've warmed to (Rick Morgan, Bentley and Sheryl). I've also brought back a few minor characters. David McDonald has made it, as well as Stephen Bonser from book six (some of you may remember him).

In the notes for book eight, I had hinted that book nine could possibly be the last one.
Snatchers 10: The Dead Don't Care
will be the final one, and writing for that will start in the summer of 2016.

Thank you all for the support. What a mental three years it's been!

Kind regards,

Shaun