Snatchers (Book 9): The Dead Don't Scream (4 page)

Chapter Seven

Theodore Davidson had decided that it was time to leave.

It was a hell of a risk, walking out there in the night, but he was big enough and ugly enough to look after himself, and he also had his reliable blade with him.

He took a swig of water and threw his bag over his shoulder, ready to go.

"Geoff!" Bear called out. He stood by the front door in the reception area, waiting for the old man to make an appearance.

The old man that had looked after Bear for a few days—he didn't have a choice in the matter—finally made an appearance. He had spent days feeding and hydrating Theodore Davidson, and also helped to bandage him up after using alcohol and sterile wipes to the wound on his back and the cut to his face. Geoff had told Bear that he should not have removed the arrow himself as it may have caused further damage, but the damage was surprisingly average.

Bear appeared to have struck it lucky by going to Geoff's house. He seemed to have had decent medical knowledge and had an old first aid kit in the cupboard, under his stairs.

Geoff finally made an appearance and hobbled out of the living room and apologised to Bear. "I was having a nap," he tried to explain.

The Bear announced, "That's me off, you'll be pleased to know."

"Oh," the old man tried to feign a little disappointment, but Bear wasn't stupid. He knew he was there because he had practically forced his way in, and Geoff knew that refusing the man would have led to horrific consequences for himself.

"Will you be back at all?" Geoff asked, hoping that the answer would be to his liking.

"I don't think so."

"Well, I'll be sad to see you go."

"Will you?" Bear began to snigger.

"Y-y-yes," Geoff stammered and his hands began to shake. "It's nice to have a bit of male company around the house."

"Don't fucking insult my intelligence." Bear pulled out his blade and growled, "Get on your knees, old man."

"What?" Geoff's hands shook even more and he began to sob.

"You heard me."

"But I took care of you, I—"

"I said: get on your fucking knees."

'Please." Geoff slowly dropped to his knees, a great effort for the old man, and put his hands together as if he was about to pray. He sobbed, tears streaming down his cheeks, "I want to live. I don't have much left to eat, but I want to see what happens."

"Too late for that, old man," Bear snarled.

"Please. I'm begging you." More tears leaked from Geoff's eyes. He lowered his head and began to sob loudly.

Theodore Davidson released a belly laugh and went over and patted the old man on the head. He put his blade back into its holster and cackled, "Relax. You helped me. As if I would do anything to harm you."

"Wh-what?"

"I was just having a little fun." Bear turned and opened the front door and took a step out into the street. "So long, Geoff."

The old man watched as Bear walked away and couldn't get to his feet quick enough, slammed his door shut, and hoped that that would be the last time he'd see that awful man.

He wiped his teary eyes and was shaking like a leaf in a hurricane. Geoff then looked down and released a rare profanity from his lips. He needed to change his trousers.

He had wet himself.

*

The houses on the Pear Tree Estate had either been already stripped of supplies, or the people had left and took everything they had in the first weeks. Whatever the reason, Elza and Ophelia had two bags on them and they still weren't full. In ten random houses that they had been in, they had taken a bottle of water, three tins of beans and tuna, two tins of chopped tomatoes, a packet of out-of-date croissants, a bottle of blackcurrant juice and tins of assorted fruit.

"This is the last one." Elza looked up to the heavens. "It'll be getting dark soon."

Ophelia nodded in agreement and tried the front door of the final house. It wasn't budging.

"Round the back," suggested Elza.

Both girls walked round the back with their weapons still tucked away, and Ophelia tried the door handle of the back door. It was locked. They could see through the frosted glass that it had been barricaded, very badly, and that it wouldn't take much effort to get in.

Before the thirty-one-year-old Elza could utter another word, Ophelia front-kicked the door and it opened a few inches on her second attempt. Ophelia then used her shoulder to push the door open further, and both women got in and removed the fallen chairs that were stacked up against the door.

They checked out the kitchen and living room, then went upstairs when it was clear that no supplies were left on the ground floor.

Elza tightened her dark ponytail and took out her bat, which she'd named Maria, and clasped it tightly as she went upstairs. She turned to Ophelia and told her to do the same, in which she did. Ophelia took out Frieda, her baseball bat, and followed behind her friend. Elza pointed at the nearest bedroom and Ophelia carefully opened it.

The stench was foul, and Elza immediately covered her nose, but Ophelia walked into the room without saying a word and went over to the bedroom window to peer out of the blinds. They could both see that they were in a nursery, despite that the room had very little light. There were toys scattered in the corner of the room. The wallpaper had a variety of characters on it like Postman Pat, Fireman Sam and Noddy—suggesting that possibly it was a boy's room, but it was the cot that caught Elza's eye.

Elza walked over to the wooden cot that sat in the far right corner of the room, and could see where the smell was coming from. She swiped at the bluebottles that flew at her face, and took a step back from the remains of what could have been a two or a three-year-old.

A thud was heard, coming from the next room, and Ophelia walked over to the cot and peeped into it for a second, then immediately left the bedroom and went into the next one to investigate. Elza followed behind. The door was pushed open and both women could see a male and a female beast at the other side of the bedroom.

Ophelia assumed that they were probably the parents of what was left of the corpse, and went over to the stumbling pair with zero hesitation.

Elza asked Ophelia if she needed a hand, but Ophelia never answered and began swinging her bat at the first creature that came towards her.

A solitary strike to the side of the head put down the female ghoul, and the male stumbled towards Ophelia quicker than she had anticipated. She dropped the bat and grabbed the thing by the throat. She then pulled a knife from her back pocket and began stabbing at its eyes, gunk pouring out of both sockets. She made one last stab at the ghoul and rammed her knife into its left ear. With the knife still in the side of its head, she let go of the creature's throat and watched it drop to the floor.

She calmly bent over and pulled out the knife, wiped the blade on the duvet of the bed that was near her and put it back. She then picked up her bat and walked out of the door to be with Elza, who had been waiting on the landing for her. The two of them went into the final room, but it was bare.

"Well, this house was a waste of time," said Elza, and turned to her friend to say further, "You shouldn't have bothered killing them. There was nothing in the room for us anyway. You should have just shut the door and left."

Ophelia nodded and went back into the first bedroom. She ignored the cot and walked around the room. She then approached the window and opened the blinds fully.

She looked out for a while, and Elza was intrigued at what she was staring at.

Instead of asking what had caught her attention, Elza walked over to the twenty-six-year-old and stood next to her. To their left they could see, through the gaps of houses, a part of Sandy Lane from a distance. They were on a slight hill, and could also see the power station straight ahead and a play park to their right.

The night was drawing in, but both females could see a couple of people walking up the road and part of a lorry could be seen with two people standing on top of the cab of the large vehicle.

And what were those two people holding?

Shotguns?

"A camp," Elza said with a smile. "Interesting."

Chapter Eight

Vince still couldn't sleep.

He yawned, looked to his side to see that Rosemary was out of the game, and stepped out of bed once more. He put his clothes on, with the exception of footwear, and strolled over to the bedroom window and peered out. The street was quiet, dark.

Despite the serene night, Vincent Kindl felt on edge and he couldn't understand why.

Something was bothering him.

He then thought of the large man that had attacked him at the Spode Cottage. Would there be any ramifications after Stephanie had fired an arrow into his back? Vince tried to think positive. Maybe the guy had died from his injury from blood loss. Infection, maybe?

He left the room and went downstairs. He went through the living room on the ground floor and looked out of the window.

All clear.

But he still felt on edge.

He went into the kitchen and looked out of the window at the other side of the house. Again, all clear.

So what was bugging him? Was he just paranoid?

He made his way back to the first floor of the house, and could hear voices coming from the bedroom at the other end of the landing. There were three bedrooms in all. The main bedroom was where he and Rosemary slept. Lisa slept in the next room with Stephanie. This was where the voices were coming from.

He placed his ear against Lisa's bedroom door and it appeared that both girls were now awake and were enjoying a chat. Last time he checked they were both asleep, but sleeping patterns of most individuals were all over the place.

Vince could hear Lisa ask Stephanie, "How many have you killed?"

Stephanie chuckled a little and was reluctant to give the nine-year-old an answer.

"Come on," Lisa urged. "How many?"

Stephanie answered, "I don't really know, to be honest. I never really counted."

"I was told that you helped people."

From behind the door, Vince could hear Stephanie clear her throat before responding to Lisa's comment, "I did. Whenever I could."

"What's it like out there?" It appeared that Lisa, now wide awake, was in an inquisitive mood.

"It was sometimes dangerous," Stephanie answered honestly, "but I liked the fact that I didn't have to look out for anyone, to have responsibility for anyone else, apart from myself. After what happened to my parents..." She paused for a few seconds and added, "I preferred being alone."

"But not now?"

Still listening to the girls' conversation from behind the door, Vince moved a little and a floorboard from underneath him cried out. He winced at the sound, but the girls in the room didn't appear to hear it. Stephanie said, "When I found Vince and got to know him, I realised I missed having company. And now he's brought me to this camp..."

"It's good, isn't it?"

"It's better than I thought it'd be," Stephanie spoke honestly, and was pleased that Lisa was in a more positive mood than she was before. 

"Vince is nice, don't you think?"

Vince raised his eyebrows from behind the door. He wasn't sure he'd ever been labelled as 'nice' before. A rat? Yes. A sexist pig? Most definitely. Nice?

Stephanie replied to Lisa's comment, "Vince is a good bloke. He's got a bit of a mouth on him though."

Vince softly giggled from behind the door. "Cheeky sod."

Vince remained with his ear close and felt bad for being so nosey, but they were now talking about him, so his intrigue was strong and his ear was like a magnet to the door.

"If it wasn't for Vince," he heard Lisa speak from the room, "I don't think I'd be here now."

Vince gulped and could hear the sadness in Lisa's voice.

Stephanie Perkins said, "I kind of know what happened. It appears that some men are monsters as well."

"Some." Vince could hear Lisa getting emotional. "Not Vince."

Vince walked away and went back to the room where Rosemary was sleeping. He sat on the edge of the bed and thought about young Kyle Dickson. Vince wondered what his behaviour would have been like if Brian was still alive. Because he had no one to look after but himself, Vince was quite happy running the camp at the Spode Cottage those few months ago, leading the people, and being strict on who was allowed in and dish out initiation tests to people who looked weak.

In the first month he was strict and sometimes brutal. But his soft heart had been exposed when he got to know Jack and when he lost Claire. He also became close to Kyle and told the seven-year-old boy about his own tainted past.

The attack on the camp was the event that crushed him. And it was going to be something that he'd think about until his dying day.

A hand suddenly touched his shoulder and Vince almost jumped out of his skin. "Jesus Christ."

Rosemary sat up, wearing just a T-shirt. "You okay?"

"Not now, I'm not."

"Sorry."

Vince playfully slapped Rosemary on her exposed thigh. "Thanks to you, I've just released a little piss in my shorts."

She chuckled, "I opened my eyes and you weren't there."

"I can't sleep. I went for a walk earlier, but it hasn't helped. Can't stop thinking about ... stuff."

"Anything in particular?"

Vince shook his head at her ridiculous query. "Well, this new apocalyptic world isn't really to my liking."

"Alright, you sarcastic bugger."

"Well, what do you expect? It was a stupid question."

"Pardon me for breathing."

Vince sighed and was about to release a rare apology from his lips, but decided to keep his mouth shut. Rosemary huffed and lay back down, turning on her side. Vince lay down and closed his eyes.

Eventually, he drifted off.

*

Karen crept to the bathroom and shut the door behind her. She went on her knees and gently placed her head on the edge of the bath, trying to cool her hot frame down. She had no idea if she was coming down with something, but she had awoken with a clammy head and her neck was damp with sweat. She felt the room spin a few times, like it would in the old days whenever she'd get in the house drunk, and told herself that she'd give it a few minutes before going back to bed.

She just needed to be in a different room—a change of scenery, and she didn't want to disturb Pickle because she knew that he was going to be busy in the morning. She groaned a little, as a nauseous feeling began to emerge, and told herself that maybe she needed more fluid in her system. She had drained the small bottle that was on her bedside table, and knew that if she wanted more she needed to go downstairs, or sneak into Pickle's room to steal
his
.

She heard some noises coming from inside the house and despite her efforts at trying to be as quiet as possible, it appeared that Pickle was awake. She heard the bathroom door open, but never looked up and kept her head on the bath.

"What the hell are yer doin'?" was Pickle's first question. "Are yer okay?"

"Don't worry," she spoke softly. "I haven't come in to cut myself."

"I can see that."

"I just felt a bit..."

"What?"

"Funny." That was the only word that sprung to Karen's mind. "I'll be fine. Maybe I need some water. Could you get the bottle from downstairs for me. There's other stuff that I need."

"O' course." Pickle cackled and joked, "Anything else, Karen? A back rub, perhaps?"

"No, but I could do with some heartburn tablets from the kitchen drawer." Still on her knees, she straightened her back and was ready to go back to her room. She held out both of her hands and cussed.

"What's the matter?" Pickle smiled at his young friend and bent over and kissed her on the head.

"My hands and feet are getting a bit swollen. My waistline is also—"

"What do yer expect?" Pickle began to laugh at Karen's moaning.

"I feel a bit bloated as well," she continued. "I keep on getting indigestion, my tits are like lead, and yesterday I had this white vaginal discharge."

"Jesus! Stop!" Pickle held his hands up and his face screwed up in disgust. "Too much information, Bradley."

"I'm just saying." Karen slowly got to her feet.

"I know, but I don't wanna know what comes out o' yer crevasse, okay?"

"Anyway. Am I getting that drink or not? My mouth is as dry as a nun's crutch."

Pickle snickered, "That's one of Vince's lines."

"Shit." Karen placed her hand over her mouth, almost disgusted at herself. "So it is. Don't forget the pills."