Snatchers (Book 8): The Dead Don't Pray (10 page)

Chapter Twenty

Pickle told Lee to drive the tanker back to the camp on his own, whilst they dropped Celia back to her home. He agreed with little fuss. The journey to Lichfield had been danger-free, and with him driving a tanker that would crush anything that got in its way, Lee's confidence was high.

The red pickup truck turned left, and Celia told Pickle, Bentley and Rick that she lived in Fradley and greatly appreciated the ride home. The twenty-six-year-old woman was sitting at the end and peering out of the window, watching the trees go by. Thirty-five-year-old Rick Morgan had taken a shine to the woman and couldn't keep his eyes off her.

"Another mile and we should be there," she said, running her fingers through her black hair. She was a voluptuous woman, big-breasted, wore large glasses and had a round pretty face. She turned to the driver, Pickle, and said, "Thanks for this. I really appreciate it."

"No worries," remarked Pickle. "It's refreshing that we've bumped into a good person. There ain't many o' yer left."

"Don't I know it." She lowered her head, thinking of the ordeal she had to go through with the three men. She'd never forget their faces. The big man had dark features and had pinned her down with ease, then raped her first. The second man had blonde hair and seemed to have enjoyed himself more than the big man. She did her best to fake her enjoyment of the whole ordeal, but even with her life at risk she was finding it difficult to keep up the act by the time the ginger-haired man with the ponytail had his turn on her.

She shuddered as the image of her rape projected in her mind. It was something that she was never going to forget or get over, but she was still alive, and now, after nearly two months, she was finally going home.

"Look..." Pickle paused, unsure whether to continue with his talk. "There's no way o' dressing this up... Yer parents that yer mentioned before... There's a good chance that they could be dead."

"I know." Celia spoke with sadness. "I've already prepared myself for that scenario. If they've committed suicide or have turned..."

"We'll take care of it," Rick chipped in, eyeing the woman. He felt guilty for being attracted to her, considering what she had been through, but she looked nice, bad odour aside. Celia smiled at Rick and thanked him.

"We're nearly there." Celia looked out at the front and noticed the country road had four bodies scattered along it. The pickup truck slowed down and drove around the corpses. The truck entered a tiny village where only a dozen houses existed. Three of the dead were standing in the distance, with their backs to the truck, and turned around once they heard the engine.

Celia pointed at the white house at the end of the street. "That's
my
house."

"Right." Pickle stopped the vehicle. "Me and Bentley will take care o' those three before yer go in."

Celia and Rick remained sitting, whilst Pickle and Bentley got out of the vehicle and walked over to the beasts. The two men took out the dead with little fuss.

"Wow, they're really good," Celia gasped, then noticed Rick was staring at her. "Problem?"

Rick look hypnotised and said, with no hesitancy, "You're the prettiest girl I've ever seen."

"Er ... thanks, I think." Celia wasn't paying too much attention to Rick, and looked out the front to see Pickle and Bentley nonchalantly walking back to the vehicle.

"Do you have a boyfriend?" Rick asked her.

Celia gasped and look bewildered. "Are we seriously having this conversation? Are you asking me out?"

Rick's face flushed; he took in a deep breath and stammered, "W-w-with the world the way it is, I'm not sure I'd get another chance to ask somebody out. I've never asked anyone out before, in fact, I've never..."

"Okay, this isn't weird at all," Celia sarcastically responded. "I appreciate the ride, but we're in the middle of an apocalypse, my parents could be dead, and my trust in men isn't that great at the moment."

Rick added, "I just want to know what it's like to hold a woman, to stroke and sniff her hair, to..."

Celia sighed with impatience. This man was making her feel uncomfortable. "I was gang-raped two weeks ago, I haven't showered in weeks, and even if I was interested in hooking up with somebody, it wouldn't be you."

"Oh." Rick looked upset, but soon put on a brave face once Pickle opened the passenger door, whilst Bentley stood in front of the vehicle.

"It's clear," Pickle announced to the young woman. "I'll take yer to yer house and we'll check it out."

Celia got out and, without saying cheerio to Rick, she walked with Pickle and wiped her clammy hands on her dirty uniform.

Pickle took a look around the empty street, and thought that if the Sandy Lane camp didn't exist he'd like to stay in this area. He approached the wooden door and gave it a knock. He could see Celia was nervous and gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder. She flinched, and immediately felt guilty the way she reacted to him. Not all men were the same, she had to remind herself.

Pickle knocked again, and said to the twenty-six-year-old, "I'll try three times, then I'll break in and see if the coast is clear. Yer can wait here."

Celia nodded in agreement, but a noise above their heads immediately made Pickle and Celia look up.

A woman in her fifties peered out and placed her quivering hand over her mouth. "Thank the Lord," she cried.

Celia burst into tears. "Mum."

Pickle could feel himself filling up and took a slow breath out. The mature woman disappeared from the window, and after a few seconds had passed, the main door opened. Standing in the doorway was the woman and Celia's father. Pickle took a step back as the young woman hugged her parents. All three were in tears and finally the portly, bald man, Celia's father, broke away from the family embrace and thanked Harry Branston for bringing their daughter back.

"How have yer been copin'?" Pickle asked the man in his sixties. "Yer have plenty o' water and food?"

"We have a well in the back garden, but we haven't eaten in days," the elderly man announced. "We'll cope ... somehow."

"Okay. Be back in a mo." Pickle walked over to the truck and asked Bentley to give him a hand with one of the barrels. He did without questioning the man, and the two men struggled to carry the barrel full of tins along the street. They eventually had to drag the barrel, and lifted it once more to get it inside the house that belonged to Celia's parents.

"This should keep yer goin' for a wee while." Pickle urged Celia and her parents to take a look what was in the plastic barrel. It was tins of food.

The old couple had tears in their eyes when they thanked Bentley and Pickle. Both men wished the three of them good luck, and headed back to the truck.

Rick Morgan wound down the passenger window and put his head through. "What's Lee gonna say?"

Pickle and Bentley looked at one another and stood beside the passenger door where Rick was sitting. Pickle said, "We went over a bump and lost a barrel."

Bentley laughed, "These country roads
can
be unpredictable."

Rick shook his head. "I can't lie to Lee, and if Jimmy Mac finds out we gave a barrel full of food away to some old couple—"

"Yer not going to say anything," Pickle interjected. "Because if yer do, we're gonna have a falling out. Understand?"

Rick gulped and nodded, and put his head back inside the vehicle.

Both Pickle and Bentley got into the vehicle and Pickle started the engine. Both men watched as the main door of Celia's house had shut, and they felt good about themselves that they had helped the three individuals.

"After all the shit that's happened," said Pickle. "It's nice to see something positive for a change."

"But how long will those three last?" Bentley queried.

Pickle smiled. "The glass is always half-empty with yer, Drummle." Pickle took off the parking brake and drove away, heading back to Rugeley.

Chapter Twenty One

Karen Bradley made the lonely walk towards the Lea Hall building. She smiled at a guard she didn't know, who was standing outside the entrance, and walked by the structure and looked to the bowling green and the large hut to her left. She stopped once she was yards from the changing rooms. She saw that Kirk Sheen was standing outside the door, and he greeted the attractive woman who he knew from Vince's camp.

Sheen remarked, "Terrible morning."

"You could say that." Karen smiled thinly.

"Still, compared to what happened at the Spode Cottage..." Kirk continued no further with his sentence.

"I know I'm asking a lot," Karen began, "but I wanted to go inside and say goodbye."

Kirk looked uncomfortable. Karen was someone he didn't want to refuse, but Daniel had given him orders to make sure nobody went inside.

"Look, Karen." Kirk looked embarrassed for what he was about to say. "They want it closed off until they remove the body. Something do to with infections and stuff."

"Okay." Karen respected Kirk, and didn't blame him for not allowing her to enter. Thinking about it, even though she had no intension of touching the body, it did make sense.

"I'm sorry, Karen." Kirk spoke with a quiver in his words. "I feel really bad."

"It's okay," Karen appeased the uncomfortable-looking man. "It's not as if I was going to pray or something. I just wanted to say a few words. Stupid, isn't it?"

"No, it's not."

"One more thing." Karen glared at Kirk and added, "If you hear that the body is going to be taken to the Market Hall car park, I want you to come and get me as soon as possible.

"I was told he's getting buried."

"Just in case. Not everybody is happy about it."

"You mean Jimmy Mac?" Kirk smiled; the admiration he had for this young woman was plain to see. "Him and his ... allies, shall we say, will have to get past me first. I'm sure nothing will happen like that."

Karen nodded. Maybe she was being paranoid. She looked over across the field and saw an individual, a guard, walking by the wiry fence. She nodded over towards the man and asked Kirk, "How many are doing the perimeter?"

"About three or four now." Kirk seemed unsure. "All armed."

Karen nodded. "Good. Just a shame that it takes a disaster before action is taken. "

"Isn't that always the case?"

"That's true."

Karen smiled at Kirk and said cheerio, and headed over the field, passing the large area where the farmers kept their animals. She had a word with the guard that was on perimeter duty, telling him exactly what she had told Kirk Sheen about the possible removal of Kyle to the car park where the rest of the bodies had been dumped. After she finished chatting with the man, she began to walk back across the field and was stopped by one of the male farmers. "You alright, love?"

Karen huffed, "I'm not your
love
." She looked at the young farmer, who obviously fancied himself, and although he was an attractive young man, she was in no mood to converse with the dark stranger.

"You like pig meat?" he asked, as she was about to walk away.

"Who can be fussy these days? Why ask?"

"I'm about to kill a few of my pigs, and distribute the meat to the residents that want it. We're even gonna cook it here on these spits before dishing the produce out."

"That's nice of you," she said with very little interest in her voice.

"The pigs will be slaughtered with a knife, put in that wooden trough and we'll douse them with some of that hot water." He pointed over to a stove where a large pan of water was beginning to boil. "That should remove the hair. We'll probably shave it after, to make sure, then use more hot water. We don't have the luxury of electricity to stun them or shoot them with a .22 before cutting the throat, so we're gonna have to do it the inhumane way."

"Why are you telling me this?" Karen looked baffled and began to laugh. "Is this supposed to impress me?"

Ignoring the woman's rude remark, he added, "I'm about to cut them now. You wanna watch?"

"No thanks."

"I'll let you take out the intestines once I'm done. Then I'll need to carve it up—"

"You really know how to sweet-talk a woman, don't you?" Karen walked away, cussing under her breath.
What an arsehole
.

The man called after her. "What's the matter, Karen? Squeamish?"

Karen shook her head, stopped walking, and turned to look at the annoying young man. "I've killed more of the dead than I care to remember. And I've even killed people. I'm pregnant, and I don't want to be fucking around trying to kill a pig. Just do what you're good at, and use better patter if you want to impress Jasmine Kelly or Sheryl Smith, because at the moment, it looks like you're gonna be wanking for a long time."

The look on the farmer's face was of anger and embarrassment, then Karen walked away, wincing as the squeal of a pig could be heard. She didn't turn around; she just went back to her house.

*

Karen walked along Sandy Lane and could see Sheryl Smith, looking lost. Although she didn't like her, she did feel for her after hearing the story of her being attacked by two men at the industrial estate in Hednesford.

Karen gave her a small smile before walking past the woman, and was soon stopped in her tracks when Sheryl said from behind, "For what it's worth, tell Paul that I'm sorry for his loss."

Karen was touched by this, turned around, and said, "Thanks, Sheryl."

Sheryl combed her black hair with her fingers and asked, "What are they going to do with the body?"

Karen sighed and shrugged her shoulders. "If Jimmy Mac gets his way, the boy is gonna be dumped with the rest at the Market Hall car park. I'm hoping that people like yourself will vote against it."

Sheryl screwed her face and looked confused. Then her confusion slowly turned to anger and she snarled, "It shouldn't even go to a vote. As far as I'm concerned the little boy's getting buried."

"Thanks. That's what I hope will happen." Karen felt like bursting into tears. To hear positive words from a woman she supposedly couldn't stand felt good. "It'd crush Paul if Jimmy Mac gets his way."

"Well, he won't. And I'm sure Lee will say the same, once he's back."

Before Karen could continue the conversation with Sheryl, a voice came from behind her. "Karen! Karen!"

Karen Bradley turned around and could see Rosemary heading towards her.

Asked Karen, noticing the concern on her face, "What is it, Rosemary?"

"It's Paul," Rosemary said.

The short announcement made Karen's frame shudder. "What about him?"

"I went round to see him and he..." Rosemary was close to tears. "He just ... lost it."

"Where is he?"

"He's left the camp. He went over the barrier and ran away, heading for the Pear Tree Estate. The guards tried to stop him, but..."

Karen dropped her head in her hands. Could this day get any worse? "I need to go and get him. He's not in the right frame of mind."

"You can't go," protested Rosemary. "You're pregnant—"

"Pregnant,
not
crippled."

"I won't allow it."

"
You won't allow it
?" Karen took a step forward so she was only inches away from Rosemary's face. "I'll make my own decisions."

"But—"

"Paul is a friend of mine, and he needs me."

"Fancy some company?" Sheryl asked from behind.

Karen turned around and nodded. "That'd be great."

Rosemary shook her head and yelled, "This is ridiculous! Anyway, the guards won't let you leave."

"Yes they will." Sheryl laughed, and said with confidence, "None of those cunts will give
me
any trouble."

"Before we go," Karen said to Sheryl. "I need to go and get something I haven't used in weeks."

"Well, hurry up."

Karen took a quick walk to her house. Once inside, she jogged up the stairs and went to her room. She took a hold of the handle of the machete that had been idle, and threw the blade on the bed. She then took a black belt out of the cupboard and put it around her waist, then picked up the machete and tucked it in the belt. It was time to go, but before she left she rubbed her tummy. "I'll look after you, my darling. Don't worry."

She trotted down the stairs, and went out into the street and could see Rosemary, standing alone.

"Where's Sheryl?" Karen asked.

Rosemary said, "She said that she'll be back soon."

"You're not happy about this, are you? With Sheryl watching my back, I'll be fine."

Rosemary shook her head. "I'm gonna go back to Lisa." She walked away and said aloud, "Just be safe."

*

Sheryl knocked on the door of 19 Burnthill Lane. She could hear arguing between Jimmy Mac and his son. Because of the raised voices inside the house, it was no wonder they couldn't hear the door. She tried again.

This time the door opened and Jimmy Mac was clearly flustered, and his tattered clothes looked like they had been worn for days. His face was red with anger, and he puffed out his chest and snapped at Sheryl, "What is it? You're the second woman to be bothering me. Unless you've come to give me a blow job, I'm not fucking interested."

"It's about Kyle Dickson," Sheryl spoke with calm.

"Oh not this again." Jimmy Mac punched the door. "What is it with you and that Karen. The little cunt's dead, boo-fucking-hoo. Shit happens. And now people want to give the lad preferential treatment—"

James McDonald doubled over as soon as Sheryl punched him in the solar plexus. She grabbed him by the ears and threw him out of the house, making the man tumble to the ground. She then pulled out her knife and put the sharp part to his neck.

"Leave me alone!" he screamed out, cowering on the floor.

"Shut up!" Sheryl yelled. "I'm going away for a few hours. If Kyle Dickson is lying on the pile of bodies at Market Hall when I come back, I'll cut open your nut-sack. You hear me?"

There was no verbal response from James McDonald. He simply nodded, whilst still cowering on the floor. Sheryl then heard a noise coming from behind her. She turned around and saw Jimmy Mac's son, David, and could see the kid sporting a red mark on the side of his face and was holding his stomach.

Sheryl asked David McDonald, "Did your father do that to you?" She was shocked by his appearance and put the knife back into her pocket. She took a step forward to get a closer look.

David McDonald stared at his father on the floor, then looked back at Sheryl and nodded. "It happens now and again."

She turned around and took a run at Jimmy Mac, who was still lying on the ground, and booted him in the stomach. She walked away, out of the front garden, and could hear Jimmy Mac moaning and throwing up.

Sheryl took a look back at the pathetic excuse-for-a-man, lying on the floor, before heading back over to Karen. "Stupid cunt."