Snatchers (Book 9): The Dead Don't Scream (27 page)

Chapter Fifty Three

Stephanie Perkins had had a restless night. She had just awoken from a three-hour sleep.

She sat up with a start, then breathed a sigh of relief when she realised where she was. But there was no sign of the girls, Elza and Ophelia, anywhere.

She stood to her feet and straightened her back. It was sore as hell, sleeping on the hard floor of the stage, but she had managed
some
shuteye.

She went to the side of the stage and took the few steps down to the floor. She then walked along the aisle, heading towards the main door, and looked down. There was no sound as she progressed along the floor, and the reason for that was because she had forgot to put her boots on.

She twisted her face at the dirty socks that she had had on for days, and reached out to grab the metal handles of the main door that led outdoors. She could hear a voice coming from outside.

It sounded like Elza.

Was she talking to Ophelia? Or somebody else? Were the girls in trouble?

Stephanie, still half-asleep, realised that she was heading outdoors with no shoes
and
no bow. Since she had lost her crowbar, back at the Horns Inn, during her scuffle with the dead, her bow was all she had.

She shuffled quickly back to the end of the church, now a little confused and paranoid about what was happening outside, and put her boots on once she reached the stage. She then grabbed her bow, her bag—she only had six arrows left in it—and decided go through the door at the side and through the fire exit.

Once she was outdoors, she crept round the side of the church and peered around the corner to see Elza speaking to Ophelia. No one else was present.

Stephanie relaxed and headed towards the girls, who were carrying their bats in their right hand.

Elza turned to her right and clocked Stephanie walking towards them. She smiled. "You heard voices and decided to go the long way round, just in case?"

Stephanie lowered her head and blushed.

"Don't be embarrassed. It was good thinking."

"I wanted to make sure," said Stephanie, and was now next to the two girls.

Elza looked at Stephanie and asked her, "You want something to eat?"

Stephanie shook her head. "I'm okay, for now. What are you doing out here anyway?"

"Assessing the situation."

"What situation?"

Elza put her arm around young Stephanie and pointed ahead of her. There was one of the dead outside of the church grounds, on Hislop Road.

"I think some of them came from that camp."

Stephanie never said a word. She never told them that she used to live there, albeit just for a couple of days. She began to think of Rosemary and Lisa, falling from the roof, falling to their deaths. She then snapped out her daydreaming when Elza called her name.

"What?" Stephanie looked baffled.

"You were miles away," guffawed Elza. "What is it?"

"What were you saying?"

"I was just saying: That's the only one I've seen up here for a while. But me and Ophelia were at the top of the road, looking down on Queensway, and there were quite a few lurking about. I think the steep road has put most of them off."

Elza then tapped Ophelia, who was standing next to her, and asked if she wanted to go in. Ophelia went inside and Elza asked Stephanie, "Coming?"

Stephanie nodded, but before she had chance to turn around, Elza pointed over to the creature. It was a female, wearing a dress, but neither had any idea what its original colour was when it was purchased. "How good are you?"

Stephanie slowly turned, eyes narrowed, and asked Elza Crowe, "What do you mean?"

Elza took a step to the side, away from Stephanie, and pointed at the bow she was holding. "How good are you with that thing?"

"I'm okay." Stephanie shrugged, and said humbly, "I
have
missed now and again."

"You were pretty decent in the woods."

"The woods," Stephanie said with a smile. "And how far away was I? Ten ... fifteen yards? Wasn't much."

"And how far is
that
thing?" Elza nodded her head over to the beast, making her dark ponytail swing like a pendulum.

"I don't know. Pretty far," Stephanie vaguely said.

"Go on." Elza gave Stephanie a playful nudge and had noticed that Ophelia had disappeared inside. "Show me what you can do?"

Stephanie nodded over towards the road and said,  "No need. It seems to be heading down to Queensway."

"Humour me," Elza said, grinning from ear-to-ear. "We've been on the road for two months, experienced a lot, but I've never met someone who can do what
you
can do."

"It was my hobby, well ... it was more than that," the fourteen-year-old tried to explain. "I'm just lucky that I'm good at a sport that benefits me in this world, that's all."

"Go on." Elza was persistent and wasn't giving up. "Just shoot one arrow, and whatever the outcome, I'll never ask you to do it again."

"Okay," Stephanie sighed and plonked her bag on the floor. "But I don't have many left. I'm not used to hitting a target from that distance. I may have to raise my arrow."

"You'll be fine."

"I'm a junior. I don't normally shoot at a target that's more than thirty metres away." Stephanie laughed, "I'll probably miss."

The young girl took a pine arrow with a metal point out of her bag and set herself up, ready to release the thing.

Elza watched in awe as the girl held the arrow back for what seemed like an eternity, then Stephanie released it. It flew in the air, high, and Elza was convinced it was going to miss. Both girls watched as it began its descent and finally landed into the top of the beast's cranium. It stopped walking, dropped to its knees, then fell face forwards, smacking its rotten face on the road.

Stephanie turned to Elza and said, "Happy now?"

"Abso-fucking-lutely."

Stephanie then began heading towards the church gates, forcing a concerned Elza to ask where she was going.

"I'm getting my arrow back. I don't have many left," Stephanie said aloud, without turning round to face the thirty-one-year-old brunette. "Next time we go to the woods, I'll have to try and make some."

"We'll go back to the woods tomorrow," Elza called over, still standing by the main door.

Stephanie turned around and gave Elza a big smile.

Regardless whether she had saved her life or not, Elza liked the teenager already, and at least now she had someone to talk to.

The future was looking better.

Chapter Fifty Four

The evening was creeping up and Karen had finally managed to get to her feet. She felt refreshed, and although she was devastated about the little life that she had lost, she tried to put on a brave face.

Pickle and Vince were outside, standing on the other side of the road when she left John Lincoln's house.

"Decided to make an appearance?" Vince joked, staring at the young woman.

Karen walked over to the two men, still wearing her creased blue T-shirt that she had slept in and her green combats. She ran her fingers through her greasy hair, then cringed and looked at her fingers. "Jesus. I must look like shit."

"O' course yer don't," Pickle said, and was pleased to see her up and about.

"Maybe a little," Vince sniggered, receiving a playful, but sore, punch from Pickle. "You've looked worse."

Pickle and Karen hugged for a few seconds, then he leaned back and kissed her on the forehead, like her dad used to when she was a child.

Vince announced to Karen, "It's official. We're gonna sleep tonight in our new homes."

Karen scrunched her face in confusion and looked at Pickle.

"It's true." Pickle nodded. "We're both in house number ten. Vince is at number eleven, across the road from us, with a man called Gareth. And for some reason they've put Paul in number thirteen, on his own. He's already in there."

"Why?" Karen didn't understand the reason behind this, and neither did Vince and Pickle. "A bit weird, isn't it?"

"That's what
I
thought." Pickle looked at his two friends and hunched his shoulders. "Maybe John thinks he needs time to himself ... fuck, I don't know."

"Whatever the reason," Vince decided to get involved in the conversation, "eventually the houses will be full. I don't think Paul will be on his own for long."

"Speak o' the devil." Pickle looked over, and saw Paul Dickson walking out of the front door of 13 Colwyn Place.

He strolled over and forced a smile, as he approached the three people he had got to know over the past few weeks, and asked how they were doing.

"Your eyes are red." Karen stood next to Paul and began to rub his back. "You okay?"

Paul nodded. "I had a nap. I've just woken up."

"How is the place?" Karen asked.

"The duvet wasn't washed," Paul managed a small chuckle inbetween his sentence, "but I have a cheek to complain."

"Yer sure yer okay?" It was now Pickle's turn to query Dickson. "Yer look upset."

"Like I said before. I just woke up."

Pickle, Vince and Karen glared at Paul with scepticism.

He bit his bottom lip and released a deep breath out, then confessed, "Okay, I had a bit of a cry as well, once I opened my eyes."

"You've lost more than any of us in the last two months," said Vince. "I'm not too sure I would be sane if I had gone through what you have."

"I miss them like hell." Paul puffed his lips out and widened his eyes in an attempt to stop his tears from falling.

All three felt for Paul, but Vince quickly tried to lighten things and changed the topic by asking him what he was doing later.

"Dunno." Paul looked up to the blue heavens. "Have no idea."

A couple of white cotton ball-like clouds slowly slid across, above them. The evening was ageing, the sun was still slowly burning the folk on the ground, but the heat wasn't as intense as before.

Paul eventually answered Vince, "I'll probably just spend the evening on my own, get used to being in the house."

"Not sure there's a lot else to do." Pickle wiped his wet brow as the sun shone down. "I'm definitely gonna try and go on every run that's going. Staying on this small street will drive yer nuts." Pickle turned to Paul. "Did John give yer the small tour and told yer who lived where?"

Paul nodded. "He showed me round when you and Vince were out looking for that Danny guy. Which reminds me? Where did they put David McDonald?"

"John put him in number seven, with Stephen Rowley."

Karen screwed her eyes and gaped at Pickle, making him realise that she didn't know.

"Oh shit," Pickle spoke and began to laugh. "I'm sorry, Karen."

"What are you lot talking about?" she queried.

"We found David McDonald when we were out. We found an overturned lorry, the same one from Sandy Lane. He was hiding over the road."

"That's great news." Karen smiled.

"The Pilkington family were with him..."

"And?"

"They never made it."

Karen sighed sadly and added, "Where did you say he was? Number seven?"

"Number seven." Vince nodded. "Poor kid hadn't slept in a while. He went straight to sleep." Kindl then paused and thought about his old friend. "I wonder what happened to Lee."

"I'll go and see David in the morning." Karen rubbed her chin and cussed softly, ignoring Vince's
Lee
comment. She rubbed her chin again. It needed plucking.
Surely there must be a pair of tweezers in this area somewhere.

"David was a bit of a dick at first," said Vince. "But he redeemed himself in the end."

Paul Dickson and Karen nodded their heads in agreement with Vince's statement.

Vince asked, "So what do you think of some of the people you've met so far?"

Pickle nodded and was the first to give Vince a response. "I like them. Stephen Rowley seems a nice, genuine guy."

"He's alright. I just wish he'd stop twitching. Every time he does it I think he's going to head-butt me."

"That's a shame." Pickle shook his head at Vince's comment, but he couldn't help a smirk. "He can't help it."

"Holy shit." Vince slapped Pickle and pointed over at 4 Colwyn Place. Joanne Hammett was out of her house and sitting on her front step. "Look at the rack on that."

"Er..." Pickle chuckled and pointed at himself. "Not my thing. Remember?"

"Oh yeah." Vince turned, winked at Paul, then nodded over in Joanne's direction. "What do
you
think?"

Paul sighed, "Vince, I've lost my family. It's the last thing on my mind. And what about Rosemary?"

"True." Vince lowered his head, guilt seeping in. "But you have to admit, she's quite the looker."

"Which is why you stand no chance," Karen laughed.

"What?" Vince feigned hurt and added, "Beauty is only skin deep, Bradley."

"And you're fucked both ways."

"Right," Paul managed a smile and said to his three friends jokingly, "if this is going to get ugly, I'm going to retire to my room for the night. I came across a couple of paperbacks in the bedroom drawer."

Paul wished Pickle, Vince and Karen good night, then made the short walk to his new home.

"I might come round and see you later on," Karen said aloud as Paul Dickson walked away. He raised his hand in the air, to acknowledge that he had heard her and entered his new digs.

Vince said with a smirk. "See him later?" He then gave Karen a playful nudge. "Are you two playing hide and seek with the old salami."

"Vince!" Pickle scolded.

"What?" Vince raised his arms at the side and feigned surprise, like a child being told off.

Pickle nodded in Karen's direction. "Too early for those kinds o' jokes."

"Shit. Sorry." Vince slapped himself across the face, remembering that the woman only had a miscarriage the night before. "I'm such a dick, Karen. I wasn't thinking."

"We know." Karen smiled and was touched that Vince was feeling terrible. A lot of times Vince would open his mouth before thinking. He had a potty mouth, but his heart was in the right place. It had taken her a few weeks to realise that.

"Looks like yer girl is coming over." Pickle pointed as Joanne began to saunter over to the three of them.

Vince became a little edgy and spat on his fingers and patted his grey hair down, making sure it wasn't sticking up.

"What are you doing that for?" Karen began to snicker. "She's half your age, gorgeous, and you smell like a sewer and have a face like a busted couch."

"Thanks for the confidence boost, Karen," chuckled Vince, "Although my favourite from you is: It looks like my face has been set on fire and it's been put out with a hammer."

"Hiya." Joanne had reached the three of them, wearing a big smile. She had a pair of blue jeans on and a plain blue T-shirt that was short and exposed her belly button. She was five-three, blonde hair, blue eyes, and had a figure that Vince couldn't stop checking out. She held out her hand. "I'm Joanne. You must be the new guys." She shook everybody's hand and Vince's was last. "You okay?" she asked him. "Your hand's a bit sweaty."

Karen and Pickle began to giggle, but Vince tried to shrug it off and noticed that Joanne's belly button was pierced. "Cool piercing."

"Oh thanks." She revealed another huge smile, a nice white smile, which was impressive considering they were into week nine of the apocalypse.

"Is that where you hang your air freshener?"

Both Karen and Pickle face-palmed when these words left his lips, and Joanne looked confused by the comment. She was bewildered. Was it supposed to be a joke?

"No." Joanne lost her smile immediately. "For your information I had a wash yesterday."

"I wasn't suggesting..." Vince could feel himself blushing. "I was trying to make a joke, that's all. Sorry."

"Anyway," she sighed and smiled at Karen and Pickle, ignoring Vince. "It was good to meet you. I thought I saw another guy."

"Paul's about," said Karen. "He lives at number thirteen. You'll see him in the morning, no doubt."

"Oh, okay." Joanne smiled and announced that she was going back to the house for a cigarette. "I'll see you later."

"Yer got cigarettes?" Pickle looked impressed.

Joanne nodded. "Gonna have to quit one day. I'm down to my last two hundred."

"My ex started smoking a few years ago." Vince looked round at Karen and Pickle. "So I slowed down and started using lubricant."

Joanne pointed at Vince, then looked at Karen and Pickle. "Is this old man always this weird?"

"Less of the
old
, you ... you ..." Vince was struggling for a clever, witty response.

Joanne stared at Karen and Pickle, who both hunched their shoulders.

"I'm sorry," said Pickle. "We have no control over him."

Joanne said her farewells and Pickle patted Vince on the shoulder as she walked away. Vince was hypnotized by her swinging butt.

"No chance, son," Pickle laughed. "No chance."

"You reckon?" Vince queried.

Pickle nodded confidently. "Yer got more chance o' shittin' rainbows."

"I would pay to be inside that work of art." Vince puffed out his lips, still staring at her backside as she was approaching her house. "If she was a lolly, I'd be licking her all night."

"Jesus, Vince." Karen began to snicker. "I feel like I'm in the middle of a Carry On film."

Pickle took a step back and shook his head at Kindl. "Yer a sick man, Vince. Yer belong in the seventies."

Vince ran his fingers through his short hair. He watched Joanne until she went into her house and shut her front door. He then announced. "Right, I'm off."

"So soon?" said Karen.

"Yep. After witnessing that I'm gonna have to go into my new house and crack one off."

"For God's sake!" Pickle laughed.

Vince shook Pickle's hand and went to kiss Karen on the cheek.

She moved out of the way and said jokingly, "Get off me, you weird old man."

"Bollocks, Bradley." Vince sniggered and turned on his heels. "Good night, folks."

They both said good night as Vince walked away, looked at one another, then smiled.

They both stood and stared at the steel gate; the guard was leaning against it and having a cigar. Pickle wondered where he had got the cigar from. From a run, maybe.

With both persons staring forwards, unsure what to do, Pickle held out his hand. Karen took it and their fingers clasped together.

"I'm getting a familiar feeling," admitted Pickle.

"How do you mean?" Karen was unsure what he meant.

"Remember that time after KP went, after Stile Cop?" Pickle spoke with a smile and never gave Karen a chance to answer. He added further, "We went to that multi-storey car park, top floor, looking down on the world."

"We had the prison van back then," she sighed. "Seems like a lifetime ago now."

"O'er two months."

A peace fell on the two individuals and both seemed content to gaze and allow their minds to wander. There was no uncomfortable silence. Just silence.

Karen looked at Pickle for a second, but the ex-inmate continued to gaze forwards, thinking of the recent past. Since leaving the prison on foot, it had been one hell of an emotional and bloody journey. But he was still here. He was still alive.