Snatchers (Book 9): The Dead Don't Scream (14 page)

"It's okay," said Sheryl. "We know these girls."

Slightly confused, Vince and Pickle put their blades away, and Karen and Sheryl did the same as Elza and Ophelia exited the doors and stopped a couple of yards from the four of them.

"We meet again." Elza smiled thinly, then looked around. "I'm sorry for what happened to your camp. I could see it all unfolding from a distance, last night."

"And yer never thought to help?" Pickle queried, sniffing hard and turning away to spit on the floor.

"And why would I risk my life for people I don't know?" Elza responded coldly. "What happened?"

"Somebody sabotaged it," Karen was the first to answer her question.

"Obviously."

Vince glared at the two women. The one that was speaking was five-eight, had dark brown hair that was tied in a ponytail, good-looking and, like her partner, she had a bag over her shoulder that appeared full. She was also holding a baseball bat in her left hand. She was wearing black dirty trousers, trainers, black shirt and had on a long grey cardigan.

The other female had short blonde hair, not as easy on the eye as the dark-haired woman, and had a scar on her left cheek. It looked like she had been slashed, and it seemed to be a recent scar. She was also wearing black trousers, trainers, but had a green shirt on and had on a long black cardigan. He looked at their full bags again. It's starting already, Vince thought. The camp had only been attacked hours ago and people were coming, like vultures, and helping themselves to supplies that took days to collect. Another two days and they'll be nothing left inside the building.

"You still at the church?" Sheryl asked Elza, knowing that the other one didn't speak.

"We are." Elza noticed that the group were staring at their bags. "We're just trying to survive. You would have done the same. If we don't take something, others will come ... eventually."

"Possibly." Vince nodded.

"And there's more than enough left." Elza smiled, then walked by the group and urged her friend to follow her. They were going back to the Pear Tree, back to the Church of the Good Shepherd on Hislop Road.

"Wait a minute." Vince grabbed hold of Elza's shoulder and immediately regretted it when she turned and palmed him in the face, making him fall to the ground. Then both Elza and Ophelia took a step back, dropped their bags to the floor, and raised their bats in unison as if they had been trained to do this. "Touch me again, and I'll put you down permanently."

Pickle, Karen and Sheryl stood back in shock and Vince picked himself up from the floor. "Jesus Christ, woman! What is your problem?"

"I don't like being touched," Elza snapped back.

"I was just gonna ask if you wanted to come to Little Haywood with us," Vince rubbed his chin and felt light-headed, "but you can forget it now."

"We're not interested anyway."

"They already have a place," said Sheryl.

Pickle could see that the girls were relaxing a little and were now lowering their bats. He said, "I see yer have used them before." He looked at the dried-in stains and the chips on the wooden weapons. "I think it's fair to say that we've all had a rough time. Let's not be violent to one another. Yer bags are full. Yer trying to survive, I get it. As far as I'm concerned yer not stealing from the camp, because there is no camp, not no more."

Elza started to relax. "Well, like I said before, there's more than enough inside."

Pickle smiled. "I'm sure there is."

Elza narrowed her eyes and slowly looked Pickle up and down, then made eye-contact with the man once more. "You seem alright ... for a man. I'm Elza." Elza Crowe then pointed at her emotionless friend. "And this quiet thing is Ophelia."

"Not going to introduce your bats?" Sheryl slightly mocked. Pickle and Vince gazed at Sheryl with confusion, so she decided to explain, "They've named their bats as well. We met them when we were out looking for Paul. I think they call them Mary and..."

"This is Maria," Elza waved her bat and nodded at Ophelia's weapon. "And that's Frieda."

"Maria and Frieda?" Pickle laughed at Elza's warped sense of humour. "Characters from
Twins of Evil
."

"That's the one." Elza smiled.

"I just love the old Hammer Horror films. That film is one o' ma favourite Peter Cushing movies."

"Okay," sighed Vince. "This is getting boring now."

"Well, yer have already met Karen and Sheryl." Pickle pointed at Kindl. "And this ugly bugger is Vince."

"And you?" Elza asked.

"I'm Harry, but yer can call me Pickle." Pickle smiled warmly at the two girls and asked Elza, "Are yer sure yer don't want to come with us? Vince told us that he was invited to join this place."

Elza nodded. "We're sure."

"Okay."

"Right then, Pickle." Elza threw bag back over her shoulder and said further, "I wish you all good luck, because you're gonna need it. We're
all
gonna need it."

Pickle, Vince, Karen and Sheryl all watched as the two strange women walked away, full bags over their shoulders and their bats held in their left hands. They never once turned around as they slowly progressed up Sandy Lane.

"Shame," Pickle sighed.

"What is?" Vince's chin was still throbbing.

"I would have liked them to have come with us."

"Fuck that." Vince disagreed and shook his head. "It's bad enough with Karen and Sheryl here."

"Hey," Karen laughed.

"Carry on with your mouth, Kindl," Sheryl began, "and you'll be getting your plums kicked."

Pickle smiled, and continued to stare at Elza and Ophelia as they strolled away. He muttered under his breath, "Godspeed, girls."

Chapter Twenty Seven

Elza and Ophelia struggled up the Queensway hill, and stopped for a breather once they reached Ashleigh Road. Elza moaned as she took the heavy bag off of her shoulder and put her hand in the bag to pull out a small bottle of water. She took a few generous gulps, wiped her sweaty forehead with the back of her hand, then offered the drink to Ophelia. Ophelia shook her head.

"You sure?" Elza gazed at her friend. "I haven't seen you drink anything this morning. Take a quick swig."

Again, Ophelia shook her head and continued to walk up the rest of Queensway.

"Fine," Elza groaned from behind. "Suit yourself."

She watched as her friend continued to pace up the road and put the heavy bag back on her shoulder. Elza started to jog up the road, trying to catch up with her companion. Once she achieved this, they both turned right when they arrived at Hislop Road. The steepness of this hill was even worse.

They both puffed and panted as their heavy legs pounded the ground. They were near the church, now passing the defunct youth centre, and could see a lone beast that was hanging around the church gates. Ophelia's strides grew longer, and this told Elza that she was going to take care of the minor problem by herself. Elza stopped walking and folded her arms, watching her friend smash the beast's brains in.

"Right," Elza caught up with Ophelia once she had finished, and was now walking alongside her, "let's get back inside and have a look at what goodies we have in this bag. I'm getting hungry again."

They entered the church, closing the large doors behind them, and headed for the stage where they slept. But Ophelia stopped walking as they neared the stage. Elza also stopped and could see a look of concern on her pal's face.

Elza queried, "Something wrong?"

Ophelia nodded slowly.

"What is it? Did you hear something? Is someone here?"

Ophelia nodded again.

"Where?"

There were two doors, one on each side of the stage. Ophelia pointed at the door to the right.

"You sure?"

This time Ophelia never responded. She just continued to eyeball the door.

"Okay." Elza quietly put her bag on one of the benches and Ophelia did the same. "We'll go in together."

Their boots unhurriedly went down the church's aisle, and both stopped once they reached the wooden door to the right of the stage. Elza took another quiet step forward and placed her ear against the door. She could hear heavy breathing, which confirmed that Ophelia wasn't imagining things.

She bent down and tried to peek through the keyhole; it didn't show any results, but there was definitely somebody in there.

Elza reached for the door handle whilst her friend stood near her, bat at the ready. She gently pushed the door open and both females peered in, looked at one another in confusion, then gaped back in the room.

At the far end of the room was a man.

His back was against the wall, his knees were tucked in and against his chest, his arms were wrapped around his knees and his head was lowered. Elza was unsure whether he had heard them open the door, so she cleared her throat to get his attention. He never shifted and Elza was beginning to get annoyed.

"What are you doing here?" she called over to him, but there was no response. She waited a few seconds. She repeated the question, and received no answer once more.

"You have one minute to leave," she began, "or we're gonna have to kill you."

The man remained quiet and Ophelia began to march towards him, ready to batter him, but Elza held her back and shook her head at her, telling her not to bother.

"Last chance," Elza warned the stranger. "I'll count to ten, then—"

"Do what you want," the stranger finally spoke, his head remained lowered. "I don't care anymore."

"Do you really want to die today?"

"Why not? Everybody's getting killed. Nowhere is safe."

"Don't you want to live?"

"What for?" The man began to cackle softly to himself. "I've lost everything. I have nothing left to live for."

Elza walked inside and stopped once she was two feet away from the sitting man. She lifted her bat, took another step forward and poked him on the shoulder with it. He never budged.

Elza could tell that this was an individual who was no threat to her or her friend. He had turned up on his own, he didn't appear to have any bag or weapon on him, and had said himself that he had lost everything. She hadn't seen his face yet, but was certain that this guy was an emotional wreck.

"You have to leave," Elza said.

The man finally lifted his head, tears were in his eyes and he glared at the girls. With a croak in his words, the man said, "I've got nowhere else to go."

Chapter Twenty Eight

"Well, that's half the van filled," Pickle announced to Karen. "I'm gonna have to have a breather. This is more tiring than I thought."

Vince and Sheryl went back inside the building, whilst Pickle leaned against the pickup, catching his breath. Karen Bradley was also leaning against the pickup by the side of him, clearly bored and still annoyed that she wasn't allowed to do her fair share of the lifting. Pickle had explained that she needed to be seen, in case a resident spotted her, and they also needed someone outside to warn them if anything untoward was approaching the building. And she was also pregnant.

Vince and Sheryl exited the building with another full bag each, mainly tins, and emptied them into the back of the truck. "This is gonna take all day," Vince moaned. "I don't know why we can't just go now and drive to Little Haywood."

"I've already told yer," Pickle said, "Something might happen, so we'll need the tins. Also, turning up at this new camp empty-handed would just be rude."

"And let's not forget," Sheryl began, "there's a chance that they may tell us to fuck off."

"That won't happen. I keep on telling you." Vince was sure of himself and added, "You don't understand; they think I'm some kind of hero over there, after..."

Karen began to laugh; Pickle also began to snigger, making Vince irate.

"A hero?" Pickle shook his head with a wide smile.

"Yeah? Is that so hard to comprehend?" said Vince.

Karen joined in. "A hero? You?"

"Alright, alright," Vince huffed. "Stop taking the piss. I'm glad you lot can have a laugh. I don't think I'll be laughing for weeks after what's happened here."

Pickle and Karen lost their smiles and nodded in agreement with Vince.

"I'm sorry," apologised Vince. "I didn't mean to piss all over your fun. I'm just concerned about Rosemary and the girls."

"You're right." Karen nodded. "A bit early for laughing. We don't know who's alive and who's dead."

"A few more trips," said Pickle, nodding at the Lea Hall building, "And that should be enough."

The three of them went back inside Lea Hall and left Karen alone once again.

*

After ten minutes had passed, and still no sign of life or the dead on Sandy Lane, Karen yawned and released a string of expletives. Before she had chance to whinge once more about the time it was taking to fill the truck, Pickle, Sheryl and Vince returned, this time carrying a cardboard box each, and announced that that was the last trip.

They placed the boxes carefully into the back and Karen had to ask, "What's so special about those boxes? You've been in and out, dumping tins in the back, now you put those boxes in like there's something fragile in there."

"Medical supplies," Vince sniffed. "We went upstairs and took what we could. When John Lincoln sees me and what we've got for him, he's gonna piss himself."

"Well, let's just get there first," Pickle spoke with a pessimistic tone. "We have four miles to travel. Anything can happen between now and our journey to that place."

"Nothing like being positive," mocked Vince.

Pickle smiled. "Anything can happen out there. Don't forget, me and Karen—"

"Oh, here we go," Vince released a small smirk. "Is this gonna be one of your
me and Karen have been out there
stories?"

"Point taken." Pickle took Vince's teasing well.

"Shall we just get the fuck out of here?" Sheryl snapped. "I'm getting bored."

"You and me both," snorted Karen.

"Don't you want to have one last look around before we go?" Vince asked Sheryl.

Sheryl Smith screwed her face in bewilderment and shook her head from side-to-side. "Er ... What for?"

"Well, this has been your home for ... how long?"

"This hasn't been my home for the last two months. It's been a prison. Let's just go."

"Let me go for a wee first," Karen announced.

"Charming," Pickle snickered.

"I don't know how long this journey's going to take. And if you go over any bumps I could end up pissing myself."

"Okay," Pickle sighed. "I'll come with yer."

"No you fucking won't." Karen walked away and said, "I'll just nip round to the hut. I'll be one minute."

Karen made the short walk to the wooden hut, clocking the changing rooms to her right. She thought of Kyle once her eyes saw it, and wondered what had happened to Paul. "I hope you're alright, buddy," she muttered. She then approached the hut, with the bowling green to her left, and tried to ignore the carnage on the field at the side of her.

She squatted and did her business.

Once she was finished, she pulled her dirty knickers up and was about to head back, but something made her pause. She approached the window of the hut and could see a man inside.

She knew who it was. She recognised the face.

He was against a toilet door, hanging a few inches from the floor. It looked like he had hung himself with his own belt. She had no idea how he got inside the hut. She was sure that it was always locked.

She felt sad that another young life had gone.

His name escaped her, but it was a young farmer who had tried to chat her up a few days ago. He was about to slaughter some pigs and asked Karen if she wanted to help. She was rude to the man and stormed off. That day, when he tried to chat her up on the field, he was a dick, but he didn't deserve this.

She trudged away from the sad scene and headed back to the truck and her three friends, ready for the trip to Little Haywood.