Snatchers: Volume Two (The Zombie Apocalypse Series Box Set--Books 4-6) (21 page)

Chapter Forty Two

"As soon as I managed to fight ma way out, I headed back to the town centre. It seemed to be safer than tryin' to run after ma friends, yer see."

Harry Branston had began explaining, in his usual slurred manner, to Tommy Burns about his story and how he had ended up in the woods. He started from the beginning and Tommy was in awe of the man, considering what he had gone through, and especially compared to what Tommy had been doing over the last three weeks or so.

Harry continued, "I could feel fingers all over me and I just told them to run. I knew I was screwed, or at least I
thought
I was screwed, especially when one o' them bit into ma arm."

Tommy's eyes widened with horror, but Pickle began to laugh and held his hand up. "It's okay. I'm fine." He lifted his left arm in the air and showed Tommy the teeth marks, but the skin hadn't been broken.

Tommy smiled and made a
phew
sound. "You have got to be the luckiest man ever."

"Tell me about it. I had a run-in with a family few days ago...or was it yesterday?" Pickle was confused and seemed to have lost his train of thought. He shook his head. "Anyway, I had a run-in with a family where I was staying, and the little fucker-of-a-son decided to attack me with a knife and slashed me." Pickle swivelled his now exposed left forearm round so Tommy could see the cut. "After the melee had finished I put a thick bandage made from a T-shirt and that was exactly where one o' them bit me, right on the bandage."

"So no bandage, no Pickle?"

Harry Branston laughed, "In the grand scheme o' things, that little twat saved ma life, to a certain degree."

Tommy reached for a mug that was sitting on the floor, wetted his lips with the warm tea and asked Pickle, "Do you think we're here because of luck? You and me, I mean."

"I dunno. Well, I personally think that this in act of God." He pointed at his arm.

"Really?"

Pickle nodded and his eyes suggested that he needed more sleep, and was looking forward to lying down for a few more hours. "I think God has had a part to play in all this, but if Karen was here..."

"She'd say it was a bunch of bullshit."

Pickle smiled and then his face turned to sadness. "She probably thinks I'm dead. I need to get to the camp as soon as possible. Don't want her going through that, especially with her condition."

"Something wrong with her?"

"Pregnant."

"Wow."

Changing the subject, Pickle shifted his bum to get comfortable and spoke, "So Karen told me what yer did to help her and Shaz—yer know, after yer both had tha' chat on the hill?"

"It's nothing."

"Yer saved their lives with...what was it? A sniper rifle? How..?"

"I used to be a bad man? I did things to people for money, for a dealer. Now I'm just left with this." He patted his Glock that sat on the side-table.

Pickle now remembered that Tommy had mentioned something about being involved in illegal activities when they were at Cardboard Hill. Pickle was intrigued. After all that had happened he had managed to come across someone who used to be in the same business he was in. "Who was the dealer?"

"Freddy Johnson." Tommy grinned and said, "I suppose it doesn't matter now if I tell. The fucker's probably dead anyway."

Pickle laughed, "I know him well, or should I say, I
knew
him well."

"Really?"

"I take it he had a limp on his right leg."

"Er...yeah."

"I used to be involved in the same kind o' business." Pickle released a smirk that stretched over his stubbly face and reminisced. "When we were just...starting out, shall I say, we were rivals. I took his legs from under him with a 12-gauge at his flat. He was trying to steal my pushers. We were friends after that."

Tommy looked astonished; a silence fell over the two men, and Pickle reached for his mug of tea and slurped the remaining contents of the tepid liquid that was ten minutes old.

"So how do you think this is all gonna pan out?" Tommy queried.

Pickle giggled and shrugged his shoulders. "Yer know, if I had a pound for every time someone asked me that question—"

"You'd be a millionaire?"

"Nope, I'd have eleven pounds in ma pocket. Not tha' money matters these days." He scratched at the side of his head and sighed, "I don't know. Just because I've been out there practically since the day it's officially started, doesn't mean I know what's going on. All I've been doing for three and a half weeks is killing, hiding, and more killing. You've probably listened to the same radio stations I have. Our knowledge o' this thing is limited."

"It doesn't look good though, does it?"

Pickle stared at Tommy for a while, and slowly shook his head from side-to-side. "No it doesn't. Not so long back we were in a sports centre, and a friend o' ours, Paul Parker, came across a battery radio and listened in. It was announced there that it was a global catastrophe."

"So there'll be no help?"

"Doesn't look that way."

Pickle got up from the bed and stretched his legs. His knees cracked once he straightened up and snickered to himself when Karen had labelled him an 'old fart' the last time he stretched his legs, before they visited the cabin for the first time. It pained him that she thought that he might be dead. He just hoped that Jack, Vince and Shaz had managed to go back for her and Wolf, and they had returned to the camp with no further hullabaloo.

Pickle looked out of the window and could see the sky turning into a deeper shade of blue. The night was drawing in.

Now gazing at the floor, his mood in a decline, Tommy Burns asked, "How's it looking out there?"

"We're gonna have to leave at first light." Pickle stared down to see that the horde had grown in numbers. "If that's possible."

Tommy looked up and rubbed his eyes. "Okay. So we better get our heads down about now to get a decent sleep before going to this camp you mentioned earlier."

"That's probably a good idea."

"Not that much sleep is gonna happen."

"Any kind o' sleep will do. Trust me, I stayed in the woods where the paranoia was strong. The first night or so was hard goin', but when yer exhausted..."

Tommy peered out of the window and knew the scene was going to be a horrific one. "Do you think they'll be more by the morning."

"I
know
there will be. I've seen it before."

"For fuck's sake."

"I'm sorry, this is ma fault. I was being followed by a horde before a...distraction appeared. Looks like they never gave up on me." Pickle then turned to Tommy and playfully punched him on the arm. "But if we can get to this camp near Armitage, yer will be thanking me."

Looking down again, Tommy sniffed, "Well, going out the front is a no-no."
My drunken shooting probably didn't help
. "And there're dozens around the back of the fence."

"Relax. I can create a noise at the side o' the fence, let them all follow the noise, then we can escape through the gate. Sure, they'll be loads following us, but we should outrun them. They'll disappear from sight after five minutes."

"And what happens if there're more further up, deeper into the woods?"

"Then we're fucked," joked Pickle.

Both men burst into hysterics, then Tommy looked down and noticed for the first time that this man had a finger missing. He had already noticed the damage to his nose, but never queried him about it.

Knowing that Tommy had noticed his missing finger, Pickle smiled and said, "It's a story I can't be bothered to tell." He then slapped Tommy on the shoulder playfully. "Come on. Let's have another brew before naptime."

"Sure thing."

Chapter Forty Three

The two females had now entered the small town of Brereton, and the first thing that greeted them as they entered a side street was two ghouls stumbling around in their dead world. Unaware of their presence, Karen and Shaz crept past the street and came to a main road, to their left was a few factories.

Conscious that the group of the dead could still be not far behind, Karen pointed over to the factories. "It's gonna be dark soon, and we're exhausted."

"You want to stay there the night?"

"It's more
have to
than
want to
, but yes. I don't have the energy to walk to the camp from here, and if more of those things turn up, I fear the worst." Karen added, "Remember we struggled with just the five of them back at the estate when we were knackered."

"That was your fault," joked Shaz. "Wanting to get some clothes."

"I was arrogant and cocksure of myself," Karen Bradley admitted. "I don't wanna make the same mistake."

Shaz dipped her head in agreement and noticed that the metal shutters were down on the large building. It seemed that there were four businesses within the big building, but they were unsure what they were. They jogged across and could see that a few cars were still present. Shaz went round the back of the factory, machete drawn, and noticed a fire escape. She called Karen, and the pair of them climbed the metal stairs and reached the roof. Karen bent over once they were both at the top; she was out of breath and exhausted.

"You wanna rest?" asked Shaz.

Karen was in no mood to stop. "Once we're inside,
then
I'll rest." There were four skylights and both women were undecided what to do next.

Shaz stood straight and looked up to the dark blue sky. She gazed for a minute until Karen asked what was wrong.

"Nothing," Shaz replied. "I was just wondering if I'm ever going to look up one day and see a jumbo jet in the sky."

"It'll be a while before that happens." Karen walked across the roof and peered into the first skylight. It was a room, but there were two ghouls sitting down, almost as if they were asleep. She knew that if her and Shaz broke in, they'd soon perk up. They could take them, but it wasn't worth the risk.

Karen looked up at Shaz and shook her head. "Next one."

She peeped into the second skylight and could see not a soul in the room, but what worried her was the blood smeared along the walls as if something macabre had taken place. She checked the third and the fourth one, then said, "Looks like number three is our best bet."

Shaz strolled over and took a look inside. It looked like some kind of room for staff members. There were chairs and a table, a sink with cups and a kettle. The room looked spotless, and it appeared that nobody had been in this room since the beginning of the outbreak.

Shaz bent down and forced open the skylight with her weapon. It opened with ease. Both girls looked in and double-checked before going in. There were no ladders, so Shaz told Karen that she'd jump in first, then move the table below the skylight to make Karen's jump a little easier.

Once the girls were inside, they decided to keep the window above them open, in case they needed an emergency escape. Shaz tried the door of the staff room and it opened with ease. The door led out into a white hallway where they could see another door. Both females stared at one another.

"Shall we check it out?" asked Shaz.

"May as well." Karen raised her shoulders.

"We don't know what's behind that door." Shaz was beginning to have second thoughts. "We could just stay the night in the staff room, and be on our way to the camp the next morning."

"True." Karen agreed. "But what if there's food behind that door? We don't even know what kind of business this is. What if it's a biscuit factory, and we're hiding in the staff room, starving, with all those biscuits going to waste?"

"Wouldn't they be a bit stale by now?"

"Not if they've been wrapped." Karen was getting tired of the pointless conversation that she and Shaz were having. "I don't know about you, but at this moment in time I could eat my own face."

Shaz sighed in defeat, "Okay."

Both women took the short walk and Shaz reached for the door and slowly pulled down the handle, both girls wincing when it gave off a small squeak. She opened it at a snail's pace and peered inside.

Shaz's eyes widened, and Karen knew immediately that her facial expression wasn't a good sign.

Asked Karen, "Well?"

"Come and have a look." Shaz beckoned Karen over.

Karen walked over and took a peep into the room. She saw a large sign with the words,
Play Planet
emblazoned on the back wall. The place was dark because of the shutters being down and the place having no power, but she could see in the modest area about eight adult-Snatchers stumbling around the place. About ten dead children were also staggering on the floor, occasionally bumping into the chairs and tables where food and drinks would be served. To the side was a soft play area where four of the dead, all children, were in there and unable to figure out how to get out of the ball-pit. The most disturbing scene for Karen was the dead toddler, crawling around on the trampoline, unable to get off.

"I've seen it all now." Karen shook her head at the sad scene. She had little experience of children being affected by this disease. Jack Slade's Thomas came to mind, but on the whole, she had been lucky to a certain degree.

Karen thought that the spectacle was sad more than horrific, and she could hear Shaz trying to control herself behind her.

Karen could see a vending machine at the end of the room, but knew that putting their lives in jeopardy and trying to hack their way through nearly two dozen Snatchers to get to the machine wouldn't be worth the risk. Even if they were fully fit, the task was too much to ask for.

Karen closed the door. "We stay in the staff room and go at first light. These things can't open doors, but I'll stick a chair against the handle anyway. Probably barricade the staff room as well."

Shaz agreed; there didn't seem to be another option. "Where's the staff?"

Karen was perplexed by Shaz's question. "What?"

"I used to take Spencer to these places and there were always staff, mainly young, underpaid girls waiting on people, cleaning up vomit—that kind of stuff. Where are they? Someone must have pulled the shutters down. Someone must have persuaded the parents to stay behind."

"I've no idea. I've got a feeling that this situation either happened on the Saturday daytime where no one knew about it. Or, it could have happened on the Sunday morning, when only some knew about it. People read and listen to the news, but sometimes people don't. I didn't know what the hell was going on until the Sunday morning when I finished my nightshift. Some people probably thought the Saturday evening announcement was the usual media scare-mongering, like what happened with SARS and stuff like that."

The girls headed for the staff room and stopped walking when they came to a door neither had noticed the first time round. On the door it had:
Party Room
. Both Karen and Shaz placed their ears against the door. They could hear movement, and they were both certain it was movement from the dead, possibly the staff of
Play Planet
.

So what happened? Did someone get attacked, and the frightened staff locked themselves in one of the rooms and left the adults to it?

Karen looked confused at the signage on the door and asked Shaz why there was a party room in the first place.

Shaz explained to Karen in a whisper that people could hire the soft play area for kid's parties. The kids would go out and play, then be invited into the party room to have something to eat and drink. Then a staff member dressed up in a Peppa Pig or a Sonic the Hedgehog costume would show up. Pictures would be taken by parents with their mobiles, which would then be possibly uploaded onto Facebook to brag about what a wonderful time they were having. Then a game of
pass the parcel
and a dance-off would occur, leaving an eventual winner with a prize and the rest of the children in tears because they didn't win the prize that was probably shit anyway.

"That sounds like fun," said Karen sarcastically. "Well, at least that's one good positive out of the apocalypse. No more soft play."

Shaz smiled, reminiscing when she used to take Spencer to the one on the other side of town. The one where they were at now was small, and she didn't even know it existed until now.

She remembered those days fondly and looked down on her rainbow bracelet that Spencer had made for her. She could feel her eyes welling when she reminisced the last time she took her son to soft play. It was six weeks ago.

It was the same as any day when she took him.

She would pay to get in, then Spencer would excitedly take his shoes and coat off and run onto the soft play area, always for the ball-pit first. Shaz would then get herself a cappuccino with a sweetner, a blackcurrant fruit-shoot for Spencer, then sit down and do what most of the adults were doing: playing with their phone or iPad. She'd go on Facebook, check in, message her friends and relatives, and then tap her kindle app and begin reading an ebook. She tried to remember the book she was reading before the world fell into shit. It was
Creed
by James Herbert, and she only managed to get to chapter thirteen.

Her daydreaming had come to an abrupt end when Karen nudged her with her elbow.

"Come on."