Snatchers (Book 8): The Dead Don't Pray (9 page)

If any of my family get to read this, then I'm sorry, but this is my choice. If it's any consolation, I make this decision with a heavy heart, with tears streaming down my face, but it's
my
life. I have to go. I wish the survivors luck with what is to greet them, but it's not for me.

Daniel Badcock turned the next page to the diary to find it was blank. He closed the green book, and with a tightened throat he placed it in the drawer. Wiping the bottom of his soaked eyes, Daniel stood to his feet and made his way downstairs. He still had a couple of houses to check before finishing.

Chapter Seventeen

Karen insisted that Paul should have a lie down in her room. The guy was distraught and hadn't stopped crying since discovering the grim remains of his boy. The exhausted man caved in to Karen's persuasiveness and lay on his side, his back to Karen, with his shoulders shuddering with his sobbing.

Still standing, Karen spoke, "I'm sorry, Paul. There's nothing I can do or say that..."

Paul never responded and his bawling grew with every heartbreaking second that passed. He felt worse now than when he discovered his wife and daughter were no more. He didn't understand why. Maybe it was because Kyle was all he had left, and he'd now lost him. Or maybe the last seconds the little man had on this earth was of being alone in the dark, possibly calling out for his daddy, whilst experiencing fear and excruciating pain that no seven-year-old should endure.

Karen stood and watched the man fall apart. She felt useless. "Is there anything I can get you?"
Stupid fucking question, Karen
.

Karen wiped her own tears from her face with the palms of her hands, and then patted Paul on his back as the broken man continued to cry. She leaned over and kissed him on the head with her quivering lips.

"Leave me," he said quietly, inbetween his sobs.

Karen never argued. She went downstairs and went into the kitchen. She sat at the kitchen table and stared into space for a while, until she was given a fright. Charles Washington had knocked on her door. She got up and opened it.

He could see she was distraught and announced, "We've checked everywhere and the place is all clear."

Karen nodded. "Okay. You sure?"

He nodded. "I can't stand around. Me and two others are going round telling everyone that it's safe." Charles turned around then gave Karen a quick glance. "Sorry about..."

Karen smiled and watched as Charles strolled down Sandy Lane, and went right, towards the Lea Hall building.

She looked up the stairs and decided to give Paul some breathing space, time to grieve and get used to his loss, if that at all was possible. She left the house, and her heart broke for the man and the loss of his sweet little boy as she walked on the pavement.

Karen walked past Jasmine Kelly who was one of the first to be told that the coast was clear; the young girl gave Karen a smile.

In the distance she saw Daniel Badcock staggering towards her. He looked exhausted. She dried her eyes, and they both stopped walking once they came close to one another. She placed her hand on his shoulder and asked, "You okay?"

Daniel shook his head. "One of those days where things are going from bad to worse. I was attacked, we lost Nicholas, little Kyle is dead, and while I was checking the houses I read a diary that broke my heart."

Karen didn't ask about the diary, but she did ask if the place was definitely all clear.

"Yes, it's clear." Daniel seemed sure. "I did some of the vacant houses, while the guys did the rest, and we also checked the perimeters and the fences again. There were no holes in the fences or any other irregularities."

Karen shook her head with puzzlement. "So how the fuck did it get in?"

"Well, that's the baffling part." Daniel scratched at his stubbly face. "It's definitely not someone from the camp. I reckon this thing had somehow climbed the fence."

"I've never seen them climb before." Karen was certain that Daniel's theory was incorrect. "I've seen them struggling to get up a set of stairs, and back at Wolf's cabin they couldn't manage the incline of Cardboard Hill."

Daniel rubbed his face in thought. "Unless it was a human that was bit and came over for some kind of short-lived refuge. Whatever the reason, it's done now, and all we can do is get this barbed wire up as soon as fucking possible, and increase the guards on the perimeter."

"Well, it's cost a young boy his life. And the poor little guy had to experience a death that I couldn't imagine."

Daniel lowered his head and asked, referring to Paul Dickson, "How is he? I was thinking about going to see him—"

"Don't bother. He's staying at mine for now. He needs rest."

"Okay."

"What about the body? Has it been moved yet?"

Daniel shook his head. "Me and Jon Talbot are going to remove Kyle from the changing rooms eventually. We'll put him on a sheet, wrap him up and tie both ends. Then we were gonna move him for a burial. We haven't decided yet."

"So, he's still in the changing rooms?"

Daniel nodded and sighed, "I've got someone at the door, guarding it. Obviously the place is now out of bounds."

"So what are we waiting for?"

"I need to speak to Lee, when he gets back, and I also need a word with Paul."

"I'm glad he's being buried."

"It's the best thing to do."

Karen was touched by Daniel's sensitivity. "I know most folk were put on a pile and are now on top of the Market Hall car park, but this is a seven-year-old boy. Putting his body on top of a car park with other corpses would just push Paul over the edge."

"Well...
I
know that. But try telling that to James McDonald."

"What's he said?" There was already anger in Karen's face, even though she had no idea what Jimmy Mac had said about the demise of Kyle Dickson.

"He was mouthing off, saying that Kyle should be dumped with the rest, and that the newcomers shouldn't be getting preferential treatment, whether it's a kid or anybody else."

"Fucking bastard." Karen put both of her hands on her head and pulled at her hair in frustration. "I have a machete in my room that hasn't been used in weeks. If he carries on running his mouth off, I'm soon gonna change that."

"Karen, if you do anything drastic like that..." Daniel looked uncomfortable and sighed, "Well ... you could be chucked off the site."

"Well, if
I
go, then Pickle will go. And if Pickle goes..."

"I wish I never told you now," Daniel half-chuckled at the hot-headed Bradley, and tried to joke, "Anyway, you shouldn't be getting all worked up in your condition. It's not good for the baby with high blood pressure and all that."

"Even without Jimmy Mac gobbing off, it's still been a mega stressful day."

Daniel lowered his head sadly and felt the tears well up. "I'm sorry," he said, before having a quiet sob that touched Karen but also took her by surprise.

She placed her hands on his shoulders and told him it was okay. She kept her hands there whilst he continued with his breakdown. He quickly composed himself and began clearing his throat, sniffing, and wiping his eyes with the backs of his hands. He apologised to Karen for any embarrassment that he had caused her, but she jokingly told him to shut up.

"I'm not like you," said Daniel. "I've been shielded by a lot of stuff that's happened. I'm not used to it like you."

"You
never
get used to it." Karen removed her hands and was still seething with the comments that were made by James McDonald. "Right."

Karen stormed off and Daniel called after her, "Where're you going?"

"I'm off to tear someone a new arsehole."

Chapter Eighteen

Pickle and Lee entered the supermarket and wasted no time in going to the first floor. Their paranoid eyes scanned the area and could see, at the end of the place, that there was a clothing section.

"Which room do you think you saw the woman?" asked Lee.

Pickle stopped and pointed at a yellow door, ten yards from the two men, and said, "There."

Lee had a look at the door. On it, there was a 'private' sign with black letters on a gold-coloured plaque. Pickle swivelled his head and had one more look around the barren place before knocking.

There was no response, so he knocked again and decided to speak. "Yer okay in there?" Pickle never waited for an answer and continued, "My name is Harry, and I'm here with a few friends. We have a camp in Rugeley, and we came here to take the tanker that we heard about." Pickle paused and looked at Lee, who shrugged his shoulders, not knowing what else to do.

Does Pickle continue talking? Kick the door in? Or just leave the woman?

Pickle added, "Come with us. We have o'er a hundred people at this place, and we 'ave a good set-up. We have food and water. The toilets
do
flush, but because the sewage goes to a treatment plant that used to be powered by electricity we try not to use it. Another thing—"

Lee nudged Pickle in the side and giggled quietly, "
Entice
her out, don't fucking bore her to death."

Pickle took the light reprimand, and before he could continue, the door clicked. It sounded like the bolt was being slid open. Pickle and Lee both took in a deep breath. Only an inch of the door was opened, but the two of them looked at one another and screwed their faces in disgust as an awful smell hit them.

The door opened fully and they could both see the woman was shaking. Her greasy hair was tucked behind her ears, and they could see that she had been urinating and defecating in the corner of the room. Pickle and Lee's heart sank when they could see the conditions the woman was staying in. She looked to have been snacking on crisps and drinking water; the evidence was scattered on the floor. The table and chairs in the middle of the room, and the kettle and fridge, suggested it used to be some kind of room for the members of staff.

"What happened?" Lee asked the frightened-looking female.

She shuddered, "Everybody left, but I was too scared to." She still had her uniform on and her body odour was overpowering, not quite as bad as the shit and piss in the corner of the room.

"You've been here for nearly two months?" Pickle was astonished, and couldn't believe that someone could live in such isolation for nearly eight weeks and not have some psychological problems. He had spent a week in solitary once, when he was in Stafford prison, and that was more than enough.

"I wandered around the floor for a few weeks, stuffing my face," she began. "I didn't always stay in this room. People came and went, and when they did come ... I hid. But two weeks ago something happened, and I've been in here ever since."

"You don't have to explain," Lee reassured the woman, "If you come with us you'll be safe. You won't need to hide from anyone."

Despite opening the door, she seemed reluctant to go with Pickle and Lee; they could both see that.

Pickle asked, "Did something happen to yer? Yer said something about two weeks ago. What went on?"

"I was..." she paused. She tried again. "I was ... attacked by three men."

When she mentioned the word 'attacked,' both men knew what she meant. She had been raped.

She said, "The big man told me that if I sounded like I was enjoying it, he'd spare me." She began to sob, "Then the other two had their ... turn."

"Animals," Pickle snarled. "Fucking animals. Fuckers like that need to be castrated. The world's bad enough without that shit going on."

Lee held out his hand to stop Pickle continuing with his rant, turned to the woman, and asked, "Do you want to come with us?"

She nodded.

"Considering what happened to yer," said Pickle. "I'm surprised yer opened the door at all."

She wiped her tears, and looked at the corner of the room where she had been going to empty her bowels. "My options are limited. And these days I'm beyond desperate. I do want to go with you, but I don't want to go to your camp."

"Okay," said Pickle. "What's yer name?"

"Celia."

"Do yer have a home, Celia?"

She nodded.

"Wanna go back there?"

She nodded again.

Chapter Nineteen

Karen stormed to 19 Burnthill Lane and knocked James McDonald's door. She brushed her dark hair behind her ears, ready for a row, and only had to wait a few seconds before the door was opened.

"What the fuck now?" Jimmy Mac snarled, then suddenly changed his attitude once his eyes clocked Karen. His tone changed and asked, "What's up?"

Karen glared at Jimmy Mac and he could see she was raging, and knew exactly why. Word travels fast in the Sandy Lane camp.

"I have no problem with you." Jimmy Mac's attitude towards Karen had changed from how he used to talk to her. She had been through a lot to survive, and he had great admiration for the young woman. He even apologised to her after Rosemary had told him a few stories about Karen and Pickle. Harry Branston, however, he still couldn't stand.

"Kyle is..." Karen paused, "...
was
a seven-year-old boy."

"I know that—"

"Paul needs to grieve, he needs closure—a place he can go to visit his son. He doesn't have that with his wife and daughter, and I fear that this will tip him over the edge."

"So when this comes to a vote, you want me to speak up and get the kid buried?"

"A vote?" Karen was bemused by what he had just said. "I don't care whether there's going to be a vote or not, he's getting buried, even if I have to do it myself."

"They'll kick you out." Jimmy Mac looked over his shoulder and took a step forward. He closed the door behind him, as if he wanted to avoid any eavesdroppers from within the house. He cleared his throat and explained his strange behaviour, "My son and Charles Pilkingon are playing upstairs. Don't want them listening in."

Karen never responded.

"We can't have preferential treatment because it's a kid that has died." Jimmy Mac was in a serene mood and this surprised Karen. She was expecting a full scale argument between the pair of them, but James was calmer than she had ever seen him.

"I'll see what Lee has to say about it," said Karen, "when he comes back."

"Lee doesn't run this place. He may think that he does, the way he barks his orders at people, but important decisions are made by a voting system, as you well know."

"This shouldn't be put to a vote. He should be buried. Simple. And you running your mouth off doesn't help anyone."

Jimmy Mac released a noisy exhale and folded his arms. "I have a right to an opinion, whether you agree with it or not."

"And what if it was
your
son?"

James McDonald shrugged his shoulders, and said with a straight face, "I'd expect him to be dumped with the rest of them at the Market Hall car park."

"And it wouldn't bother you?"

"Yes it would," he sighed. "But it is what it is."

Karen had no more words for the man and walked away, baffled, and was expecting something different. She shook her head. As soon as word got out that the boy was going to be moved off the camp, if that happened, then she was going to kick up a stink. For now, she was going to bide her time.

*

Using the bow-drill method, the young girl had lit a fire. It was a small fire, and over it was a made-up spit roast that took her a while to construct. She had managed to get two Y-shaped branches and had screwed them into the ground on either side of the fire, and a straight wooden long skewer was sitting on the grass. She took out her knife and, without wincing, she began to skin the animal that was lying on the lawn.

After the skinning, she put the blade into the stomach of the animal and opened it up, pulling out its intestines and putting them in a neat pile in the corner of the garden area. She made the short journey down to the river bank and began to wash her bloody hands, then returned to the corpse.

She had done this before, but it was usually squirrels or sometime foxes she had eaten over the last couple of weeks. She grabbed the dog's head, and slowly severed it from its body before putting the skewer into the Border Collie. With the head missing and the canine being gutted, she hoped that it would make it lighter and that the Y shaped sticks would take the weight once the skewer and animal was placed on top. Only one way to find out.

She lifted it and struggled to get it on. After four attempts she had managed it, and once it was on, she sat down, exhausted, and rubbing her sore back. The fire began to take shape, and a smile stretched over her face as the branches burned and crackled. She had no idea what to have with the animal. Maybe she would have a protein-only meal. Whatever she decided, she had another mouth to think of. Seeing that the fire was growing and the thick wooden skewer was holding, she got up and went to get some water.

She grabbed her plastic container that was sitting on the grass, which was basically a soda bottle cut in half, and had, at the top of the bottle, small pebbles. Underneath the pebbles was sand. A cloth was below the sand, tied with an elastic band. She went to the river for a second time and took a big scoop of water.

Once it had filtered she was going to pour the water in a vessel, boil it for a minute and let it cool down. She already knew that the water must be filtered to remove waterborne cysts that could harbour and protect bacteria from chemical treatment or even boiling. The cysts were capable of withstanding high temperatures.

The filtering process would remove these cysts along with pesticides, herbicides, sediment, insects and other debris. It was a lengthy process, but if she and her guest weren't hydrated, they'd suffer. There was plenty of soft drinks on offer, but if she could get a healthier alternative of being hydrated, then she would.

Whilst it was filtering she went back inside her temporary lodgings, The Wolseley Arms pub, and went in to see if her guest was awake.

Since she had found him, the exhausted man had done nothing but sleep for days. Yesterday was the first time he had been on his feet for more than three hours, and after that he had to retire and rest some more.

She looked back at the animal on the skewer; it was being licked by the dancing flames of the fire. She hoped that her guest had got his appetite back, because she had a special treat for him.