Snatchers: Volume Two (The Zombie Apocalypse Series Box Set--Books 4-6) (12 page)

Chapter Twenty Four

"That's a nice cup of tea," Tommy remarked, and took another slurp from the mug that was decorated in Spanish colours. A present from a holiday, he thought.

"Thanks." The young girl, who had introduced herself as Megan, pushed her glasses up with her finger, and reached for a tin. "We're a bit short on teabags." She then opened the large tin and asked, "Biscuit?"

Tommy laughed, "You're thirteen years old, been left alone with the biscuit tin for over three weeks, and there's still some left. I'm impressed."

"I've been rationing," responded Megan. "Everything you can see came from the cupboards from downstairs."

Tommy had a quick peep and could see that there wasn't much left. Behind Megan were tins and bottles of water. "How did you get the water?" Tommy sat down on the floor and crossed his legs. Megan did the same. The curtains were drawn, and the room was dim.

"My dad filled the bath in the first week. I've been dipping the bottles in to fill them, but the bath is getting shallow now. The water doesn't taste the best, to be honest."

Tommy looked at the poor girl. She seemed unemotional and more than likely scarred by what she had been through. He was certain that Megan was a normal kid over four weeks ago, dancing to her favourite tunes, was constantly on her phone, and fancied boys from her favourite boy band. But now she was sullen and drawn.

Tommy didn't want to be too greedy and took two bourbon biscuits from the tin and dipped them in his hot, delightful tea. Once he munched the second biscuit, he had to ask, "So what happened?"

Megan's eyes narrowed ever so slightly. Tommy was pleased there was still a little emotion in the damaged young girl. Megan said with bewilderment in her voice, "The virus. It was on the telly..."

"No, sorry." Tommy shook his head, and held up his hand apologetically to young Megan. "I meant, what happened here, in this house? Why are you alone?"

With her now wide eyes, Megan glared at Tommy. He felt a little uncomfortable with her staring, and thought that it was strange that such a young girl could make him feel like this. Her face appeared strange, distant; it was almost as if she had been hypnotised when she began to speak.

She began, "My dog had been let out into the woods. We always did this. He would run around for a while, do his business, then come back around the front." Her explanation was still robotic with no feeling. "But on this day he didn't come back. It had been an hour, almost, since he went out."

"When was this?" Tommy asked; he took a gulp of tea down and enjoyed the warm feeling it gave him inside.

"The day it was announced about the virus. Saturday evening. June 9th." Megan remained silent for a moment, licked her lips, then continued with her story. "My father went looking for Buddy, our dog, in the woods, and minutes later he came back in tears. He was holding Buddy in his arms and placed him on the grass of our back garden."

"Your dad must have been a big man. Those Labradors aren't easy to carry."

Megan ignored Tommy's remark, and added, "Ten minutes later, while we were all crying for Buddy, he woke up. My dad was delighted and everyone began to fuss around him and give him cuddles. But the dog turned and bit my mother on the face and my brother on the finger. My dad tried to appease my mum and brother and told them he had been through some trauma and was just scared, but mum was angry that our family pet had turned on her. My dad tried to pick Buddy up again and put him somewhere comfortable in the house, maybe even phone the vet, but he bit my dad on the face. Then I saw it."

"Saw what?" Tommy didn't exactly know where this story was going, but it was like a horror story that he needed to continue to listen to so he could find out what happened in the end. The girl was giving him the shivers, but he repeated his question. "Saw what?"

"A bite on Buddy's back leg."

The information took a while to sink in, and Tommy tried to get his head around the story. "So what are you saying, Megan? Your dog was bit, possibly by a ghoul in the woods, fell into a coma and died? Then when your dad was carrying it back, it was reanimating, then attacked your family and they turned into...those things?"

"I guess so."

"A reanimated dog. Is that even possible?" Tommy grinned and was nearly on the verge of breaking into laughter.

"It's no more ridiculous than a reanimated
person
. A dog has a heart, a brain and blood, just like ourselves."

He lost his smile and asked, "So what happened when your family were attacked?"

"My dad was convinced it had something to do with what was happening in the country, although animals were never mentioned. He took a hold of the dog and took it outside. He killed it. When he returned, he told my mother and brother that they were going to lock themselves in the main bedroom for my own protection. If they hadn't turned in a few hours, he would open the room back up."

"Wow." Tommy drained the remainder of the tea and placed the cup on the carpet, by his side. "You must have been really scared."

"I think so." Megan didn't seem so sure. She must have been scared at the time, but her feelings seemed to have hardened.

"Did they turn?" Tommy enquired. "Where are they now?"

She nodded slowly, just the once. "They turned at the same time, pretty much. That's why I told you to be quiet earlier on. They're in the next room, and if they hear noises, human noises, they can make a right racket. My dad and brother were turning sooner than my mum. She told me through the door never to come in and that my dad was vomiting blood, my brother had pains in his joints and had a fever and felt numbness in his lower body."

"I think we'll be fine, though." Tommy tried to comfort Megan, even though she didn't look upset, but changed his mind.

"Humans will be fine, I think." She nodded slowly once again. "The dead won't replace us as the dominant species, but you and me will die soon."

This statement, whether true or not, sent a shiver down Tommy's spine. It was the confidence and coldness on how her remark was delivered that made him feel uneasy.

"I spent a few weeks watching TV before the power went. Then I listened to my dad's portable radio before the batteries conked out and tried to get as much information as possible. I was hoping that they would announce that there was a cure, or the army had taken control."

Asked Tommy, "What did you hear?"

"Just stuff about how these creatures had good hearing. They can feed in total darkness and smell blood from many yards away. If someone is killed, more turn up like vultures. I haven't seen it myself, but that's what they say."

"I think some of it is just guesswork. They'll all have different opinions. No expert can agree on everything that another says."

Megan added, "The advantage they have is that their nerve receptors don't work anymore. You cut off their hand and they still walk after you. You take both their legs off, and they still crawl to you. You can kill a human a hundred different ways, but there's only one real way to kill
them
."

Tommy tried to make light of the situation and reached for another biscuit. A custard cream this time. "At least they don't regenerate."

Megan smiled thinly, and this pleased Tommy that he finally managed a positive emotion from the strange young girl.

"Did it say on this radio why they eat flesh? Aren't they dead from the neck down? It wasn't really something they went into great detail about on the TV."

Megan screwed her face and shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know."

"Well, I've got this." Tommy picked up his Glock, and showed it to Megan. "It'll protect us."

"Us?" Megan moved her face a few inches closer to Tommy's, and said with a scowl, "Are you staying?"

Tommy Burns blushed and shook his head. His face was apologetic. "It'll be dark in a few hours and I would like to stay the night, if that's okay."

"You can stay as long as you want." She then pointed at the Glock sitting on the carpet that Tommy had placed by his side. "It's a useful weapon." Megan took a slurp of her tepid tea and added, "But our biggest weapon is that our brain is far more superior then theirs."

"Explain."

"They don't have the ability to think. If I was in Blackpool and was being followed by a hundred of those things and jumped off of Central Pier, they'd all be dumb enough to follow me in one-by-one."

"Okay, so they have no emotions, but is that a weakness or a strength?"

"Both."

"It seems everyone knows more about this thing than I do." Tommy began to cackle, and poured himself another cup of tea by using the hot water and the old teabag he used for his first cup. He offered one to Megan, but she shook her head.

Tommy sneezed and could see Megan roll her eyes at him. He thought that this was an unusual and rude thing to do, but decided to ignore it.

Tommy pointed to his bag that he sat in the corner. "There's more supplies in there, if you fancy a change from..." Tommy looked at the tins sitting behind Megan. "...Tomato soup, curry beans, plum tomatoes and ravioli."

"I'm okay."

Tommy saw Megan's eyes lower and it appeared that sadness was beginning to suffocate her, and no wonder. She was only thirteen years old and had lost her brother, father and mother in one evening. He never bothered to ask if she had any uncles, aunties or cousins, as they were most probably barricaded in their own homes or dead. If that wasn't the case, then why didn't they come and get her? Maybe they kept in contact via phone and Facebook in the first week. Tommy never bothered to ask in case it brought up more bad memories.

A thud was heard from Megan's bedroom wall, to the right of Tommy, and this made him jump and immediately embarrassed him.

"What's that?" he asked.

"My family in the other room." Megan was now speaking in a softer voice, almost a whisper. "Your sneezing must have alerted them. It happens."

"Sorry. How long does it take for them to settle down?"

"It could take a few hours."

The thought of three of the dead in the next room unnerved him. He knew that it was because he was relatively new to this world. He smiled to himself at the situation considering that he used to be a man who would calmly grab a man by the hair, stick an open razor in the corner of his mouth, and draw the blade back, busting his cheek wide open. All because of a few grand debt. Or walk into a pub and stab someone in the back of the legs as they urinated in the toilets.

He only attacked people that had it coming to them. He never hurt anyone that was out of the drugs game. Even if he was enjoying a quiet pint and someone spilt his drink, he wouldn't react. He only did people if he was getting paid to do so.

It wasn't personal. It was work. A job. But now that had all changed on a permanent basis, and Tommy Burns, despite being in a house and sporting a handgun, was nervous. He mentally reprimanded himself, and advised himself that he needed to man-up.

He took a look at Megan again, and he felt terrible as her dead family were making a lot of noise and it seemed to upset her a little. It was all his fault.

"Let me take care of them," said Tommy.

"No!" snapped Megan. "Don't go anywhere near them."

Taken aback by the viciousness in her voice, he respected her decision and spoke, "There's nothing we can do for them now." Tommy placed his hand on Megan's knee. "But I won't let anything happen to you. Just don't give up hope."

Megan's eyes gazed at the floor, her head lowered. "I already have."

Chapter Twenty Five

July 3rd

Shaz, Vince, Jack and Pickle were ready to leave. Shaz and Pickle carried nothing but the machetes they had, while Jack and Vince had to make do with claw hammers from Wolf's toolbox.

They wanted to get to the camp as soon as possible, with little weight to carry, so nothing was taken with them. Even on foot, getting to the camp should not take too long. Everything from the cabin, including food and medication, would be loaded onto the truck once the four had returned.

Karen felt a little emotional before they left, and hugged Shaz and Pickle before they departed. Her tears never fell, but the lump in her throat almost choked her while she was saying her temporary goodbyes to the man she loved. She suggested that maybe Jack or Shaz should stay behind instead, but Pickle was unhappy with that idea, especially now that Karen was with child.

Vince and Jack were already waiting outside of the perimeter, with the gate open, and patiently waited for Pickle and Shaz to say their goodbyes to Karen. The two men were conversing with one another; it sounded to Karen that Vince was telling Jack a sexist joke, then it ended with Vince breaking out into hilarity, but leaving Jack shaking his head.

"We're losing daylight," Vince eventually said with annoyance.

"It's early in the morning," Karen moaned. "Hold on a sec. Make sure you come back in one piece." Karen said to Shaz and Pickle. "I can't do this without you." She then turned to Pickle. "You sure you won't take Wolf's gun?"

Pickle nodded confidently. "We don't need it. I'm not stupid. If there's a horde o' them, we run and find another way around." Pickle kissed Karen on the cheek and gave her a wink with his left eye. "You've nothing to worry about."

Shaz placed her arm around Pickle and said jokingly, "I'll look after him."

"You better," Karen chortled.

"What a family." Pickle looked over to Vince, who was standing next to Jack with his arms folded. "Saved by Wolf one week, and his son the next."

"We're lucky." Karen nodded, and took a step back from Pickle and Shaz. "That's for sure. But we're not there yet."

"That's what I like about yer, Bradley," joked Pickle. "The glass is always half-empty with yer."

Still wearing her black combats and her grey T-shirt, that was now looking a bit dishevelled because she had slept in it, Shaz gave Karen a wide look with her blue eyes and told her that she had nothing to worry about.

Karen nodded her head unconvincingly and admitted, "I've got a bad feeling about this trip."

"You haven't really." Thirty-year-old Sharon Bailey smiled at Karen. It wasn't like Karen to be worried about much, and her concern touched her.

Pickle chipped in, "Yer just paranoid."

Karen exclaimed, "Well, no wonder!"

"For fuck's sake, ladies." Vince tapped his forefinger on top of his wrist, suggesting that they were wasting time. "You're gonna be seeing each other in a few hours. Let's go, bitches."

Jack smiled apologetically at Karen, and it appeared that he didn't want to upset both Vince or Karen, so kept his mouth shut on his outburst and remained neutral.

"Just have a bit of patience, please!" Karen yelled at the chuckling Vincent.

He stood to attention and mockingly saluted Karen. "Sure thing."

Pickle pulled Karen to one side, and whispered, "Don't let him rile you. He's obviously one o' those guys that likes to wind people up. Don't take the bait."

"I've come across Snatchers less offensive than him."

"The guy has a camp." Pickle lowered his voice in case he was overheard. "If it's as good as he says it is, then we could have a place we can stay for a while, finally. And we need that, especially around late winter or early spring, when you have that child."

"If..."

Pickle held up his finger to shush Karen, then turned to Shaz. "Right, let's go."

Pickle and Shaz left the garden and went through the garden gate where Jack and Vince were waiting. They turned and waved, but before Wolf could shut the gate, Vincent popped his head around the corner. "Make sure you get those dishes done, Karen. There's a good girl."

"Go away, you silly man." Karen was maddened with his ribbing and wished he would just give up.

"And maybe when I come back I'll let you sit on my face," he tittered.

"Why? Is your nose bigger than your dick?"

Wolf slammed the gate and gently took a hold of Karen by the elbow and walked her to the end of the garden. He said in a soft tone, "You shouldn't let him wind you up. He's always been a bit of a bully, even at school. Take it as a compliment."

Karen didn't know whether to laugh or not. "A compliment?"

"It's like the boy at school pulling the girl's pigtails." Noticing that Karen was unsure what Wolf was trying to say. He released a small chortle and said, "He likes you."

"Fantastic. What a confidence-booster that is," she responded, temporarily forgetting that she was slating his own flesh and blood

"You want a drink of water?"

Karen nodded, waited for him to return and took the cup off of him. She drank the liquid a little too quickly, some of it spilling down her black T-shirt. She released a belch and questioned Wolf, "What's
your
thoughts on this camp?"

Wolf was unsure, she could tell by his face, but his response was positive. "I think we should all go. I knew from the start that this cabin would end up becoming taken over by other people, I told you and Pickle that as soon as you arrived, if you remember. But it sounds like this camp has more than what
this
place could offer."

"But the guy's an arsehole." Karen kicked the dirt, like a child in a bad mood.

Wolf laughed, "He's still my son. I suppose I have to take some of the responsibility the way he's turned out. I wasn't the best father in the world."

"You must have been terrible," Karen tried to joke, but Wolf never cracked his face. Instead, he adjusted his straw hat, ran his fingers through his grey beard and released a heavy sigh.

Wolf said, "You lot need the camp. And they need you. You need the long-term supplies, and they need muscle. It sounds like a good deal to me. I'm actually surprised Vincent has done anything like this. It's amazing how some people react when you need to step up."

"You sound like you're proud of him."

"Well, he's got dozens of people that look up to him. He seems to be finally doing some good, rather than getting drunk and fornicating with married women like he has for the last twenty years."

"I don't know." Karen rubbed the palm of her hands up and down her face. "I just don't know."

"You can't go on the run forever, Karen."

"Cant I?"

Wolf spoke with a little impatience in his voice, "If you're on the run in the future, and the baby cries, you could put the group in danger. The camp is your best option, whether you like my son or not."

"Look what's happened to me in four weeks; what makes you think I'd be at the camp long enough to give birth? I just wish it would go away."

"It needs you."

She sat down on the grass where they usually sat for dinner and started to become emotional. She never sobbed, but before she continued speaking, her eyes began to well up. "I'm only twenty-three, and already I have some great memories. Looking back I can still remember school discos, my mum crying at a film called
Who Will Love My Children
, and passing my nurse exams. What will this baby have memories of, if it gets to my age? Memories of fear, being on the run, having to take a dump in a ditch, seeing people ripped to pieces. Maybe even their own mum being—"

"You cant think like that, Karen."

Karen got to her feet, walked by Wolf and went inside the cabin. Wolf never asked her where she was going and decided to let her be because of her emotional state. He thought that maybe she was going in for a lie down, but instead she came back out of the cabin with Wolf's shotgun in her right hand.

Wolf felt upset that she had taken the weapon without asking his permission. "And where're you going with that, young lady?"

Karen hated being talked to like that. She was grateful for Wolf and for everything that he'd done for her, but she found him a little smothering sometimes.

"I'm going to the top of the hill and watch out for anything untoward."

"
I'll
go. You rest."

Karen unbolted the gate and turned to Wolf. "You can't even get up the hill. I'll be fine, for fuck's sake. Leave me alone for a bit, please."

"You've got a bad attitude, Karen."

"Don't forget to bolt the gate."