Snatchers: Volume Two (The Zombie Apocalypse Series Box Set--Books 4-6) (28 page)

Chapter Fifty Five

Vince took Pickle somewhere to clean up and gave him fresh clothes. He took the exhausted man back to his caravan and told him to have a lie on the couch while he went to fetch Shaz and Karen.

"Where are they both?" asked Pickle.

Vince hesitated for a second, then finally revealed, "They're at the back of the camp, near...Jack's grave."

Pickle had managed to obtain a sudden burst of life and sat up quickly. "Jack's dead?"

Vince nodded sadly.

"How?"

"He was bit." Vince had no other words to go into detail about the end of Jack Slade.
He was bit
was all he could manage.

"I suppose yer could call it natural causes these days, or unnatural causes." Pickle stroked his stubbly chin and puffed out a sigh filled with gloom. "Poor Jack."

"It hit Shaz hard."

"And you, by the looks o' things."

Vince began to protest, "I hardly knew him."

"Come on, Vince." Pickle glared at the man, knowing he wasn't fooling anyone. "Why don't yer drop the hard-man routine? Doesn't matter how tough yer think yer are, we all have feelings."

Pickle stood to his weary feet and Vince asked, "Where're you going? You should be resting."

"I've got all day to rest." Pickle waved Vince away, and headed for the door. "I'm gonna go see the girls. Wanna take a walk? I could do with yer holding me up, if it's needed."

Vince groaned, knowing that it was pointless arguing with the man. "Okay. Let me take a piss first."

*

"I wonder what's gonna happen in the winter?"

Shaz's question threw Karen. She thought that it was a bizarre, out-of-the-blue thing to say.

"Just make sure we're wrapped up and we'll be fine." Karen shrugged, not knowing the real answer. "Let's see how July pans out for us first," she laughed. "I barely got through June."

Shaz nodded, and seemed to be in a world of her own. Her thoughts drifted and began thinking about Spencer. "I just think it's something worth thinking about."

"I agree. The nights are gonna draw in, the temperature will drop, and there'll be less places to raid when we go out on runs, because in a few month's time they'll be nothing left."

"And February you'll be ready to pop out Junior," Shaz giggled, trying to make light of the situation.

Karen smiled. "That's something I won't be looking forward to."

"Maybe we're in the best place." Shaz nodded to Karen's stomach.

"I hope so."

"Girls." Vince called out.

Karen and Shaz turned round in unison and with both pairs of disbelieving eyes trying to take in what they were witnessing, Shaz was the first to react while Karen twisted her face to make sure she wasn't seeing things.

"How? When?" Shaz wasn't making much sense and could see both men, Pickle and Vince, grinning at her reaction, almost enjoying it. "How did you escape?"

"I'll tell yer about it later." Pickle smiled, but it was apparent that the man was unsteady on his feet. Vince had his arm linked into Pickle's, and Vince beckoned Shaz to take a walk with him to leave Pickle alone with Karen.

Shaz walked over to Harry Branston, tears streaming down her face. She leaned over and kissed him on his stubbly cheek. "I'm glad you're okay."

"Thanks." Pickle's eyeballs became glassy and he struggled with his comment, "I'm really sorry about Jack."

"Me too."

"At least he's with Thomas now."

"I hope so." Shaz placed her hand on Pickle's shoulder and took a walk with Vince.

Pickle was left alone with Karen, behind her was the eight foot hedge that wrapped around the whole camp, and four feet behind her was Jack Slade's shallow grave.

Pickle revealed a wide grin and called out, "Alright, Bradley?"

She nodded slowly, her eyes were as wide as saucers, wondering if this was just a cruel dream. She was scared to blink in case he suddenly disappeared.

She took a slow stroll over to him and stood a foot away, studying his face. She placed the palm of her shaking hand on his cheek, and he did the same to her.

"Come here." He held out his arms, waiting for Karen to embrace him. She hesitated at first, but finally took a step forward and put her head against his chest and wrapped her arms around his muscular back.

It was him. It was definitely him.

She took a deep breath in and once she felt his hands touch her back, she broke down. Her shoulders shuddered, her tears rolled down her cheeks, and she squeezed him tighter.

"You're really here," she cried, and repeated, "you're really here."

"Yes I am." He sniffed the top of her hair and gave her a gentle kiss on the top of her head that she never felt. He rubbed her back while she sobbed, and allowed her ample time to break away from him. She was upset, pleased, confused and overjoyed, but she was also in shock. It was a lot of emotions to take in at one time.

Once they finally broke away from their embrace, Pickle studied her features and began wiping her cheeks with his thumbs. Another tear fell, and his thumb wiped it away before it rolled off her chin. Another fell, and he did the same, making her smile.

Karen looked at him, and the twenty-three-year-old had to ask, "How did you do it?"

"I was lucky." He chuckled and added, "as soon as I've had a sleep, I'll tell yer all about it."

He didn't have the energy to tell Karen about fleeing the horde, escaping into the woods, then being attacked by more of the dead. At a later date he would eventually tell her about bumping into her saviour, Tommy, who unfortunately lost his life when they tried to flee the area, and then making the perilous journey to the camp, on foot.

"It's been a mad couple o' days," he said, with a sad smile on his face.

"We'll never be really safe, will we?" She had lost her smile, and her voice was full of self-pity, but had a tinge of realism.

"I have no idea, Karen. If we can get through the end o' the year, I think we stand a chance of surviving in the long term. I haven't been given the guided tour yet, but Vince has generators, a well, animals—a good set-up."

Karen sniffed hard, and said, "He has a shit-load of back-up supplies of water and gas canisters, as well as tins of food. I think he's been brutal when it comes to the runs he's been doing, but now we're here, we can have the benefits of it as well."

"I thought yer didn't like him?"

"We got split up and he came back for me and Shaz." Karen looked around at the camp and released a short laugh. "Plus, he has his uses."

Pickle staggered a little and Karen grabbed a hold of his waist. "Come on. Let's get you some rest. No doubt Vince will have plans for you this week. I heard him mention something about a food factory in Fradley that might be worth a try."

"He'll have to wait," Pickle snickered. "I could sleep for a week. I think he said he was gonna put me in caravan eleven."

"It's just there." Karen pointed.

Seeing the caravan ahead that he had been given, Pickle stopped walking and asked, "Where's Wolf staying?"

"He never made it."

"How?"

"It's..." She couldn't find the words to start the story, and she knew that Pickle didn't have the energy to listen to it. "Later," Karen said with words saturated in sadness. She placed her hand on her tummy. "After all the crap me and Shaz have been through, it seems the baby is still hanging in there. Need to get past these few weeks and I can relax a little."

He touched her face with his hand and she closed her eyes, allowing the two tears to fall from each eye. "I'll make sure yer okay from now on. I'll look after yer." He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek.

"Think I need a lie down myself." Karen rubbed her clammy head. "I'm exhausted."

"That's the pregnancy for yer."

"Thanks for that, Dr Branston," she sarcastically spoke, then took another gander at him. "I can't believe you're still here."

Karen helped her good friend back to the place Vince had given him, and the pair looked up to the cloudless sky. It was going to be another beautiful day, but as far as the future was concerned, Karen Bradley and Harry Branston had no idea what the future held for the pair of them.

They were unsure if they'd still be alive the following month. They were unsure if they would always have each other; and they were unsure if the new world was worth surviving for anyway.

They were heading for the fifth week of this disaster, and knew there would be more battles and heartache to come, but it was something they had been accustomed to over the last four weeks. It wasn't just the dead that was the problem; it was other people.

As soon as he got to the door of his new place, Karen opened it for him. He stood in the doorway and looked around at the camp, then his eyes scanned the sky.

"You okay?" asked Karen.

Pickle nodded. "Yes I am. In fact. I think we're
all
going to be okay. I just have this feeling." Pickle felt nothing of the sort, but he wanted to be positive for Karen's sake.

"I hope you're right." She thought he was being genuine. "But we really don't know where we'll be in a month's time."

"Don't worry about next month. Live for now." He gave her a wink, then headed inside. He cleared his throat and said aloud quite clearly, without his usual slurry speech, "Make peace with your past, enjoy your present, and hope for your future, Karen."

"I'll see you later," she called out, before closing the caravan door behind her.

"Indeed you will."

Karen walked away, relieved and pleased that her good friend had returned. She had been lost without him, and his return had given her a lift.

With Pickle back it gave her a little hope, but after all that had happened in just four weeks she was still unsure whether she and her unborn child were going to make it past winter.

She rubbed her tummy and puffed out her chest defiantly. "We'll make it."

Book Five: The Dead Don't Breathe

Chapter One

July 7th

The individual walked with brisk steps towards the barrier with a companion beside him. As soon as they reached the area, they climbed to the top, and Vince Kindl could now see down onto the road. Staring up at him were three boys, no older than eighteen, and Vince remained silent as he glared at the three teenagers, sizing them up.

"I was told that you want to join us," said Vince, his arms now folded. "One of my men said that you lived just a mile away, just by the Ash Tree pub. So why now?"

"I don't understand, pal," came the voice from, what Vince suspected, the leader of the little group. The other two were behind him, and he was a couple of yards in front.

"I'm not your pal." Vince stepped down from the HGV to go face-to-face with the three boys, his two guards now had their shotguns on the boys in case any fracas occurred. Once Vince's feet touched the floor he repeated his question. "Why now?"

The young leader began, "We lost a lot of people. Only two days ago my house was attacked, and my sister and four-year-old brother were killed."

"I'm sorry for your loss," Vince said with little emotion in his voice. "But this place isn't a safe refuge for anyone that just turns up."

"We know that."

Vince paused for a moment, then queried, "What can you offer a camp like this?"

The same person answered. "We can work, we can fight."

Vince began to laugh and took a patronising look at the build of the young men. "Fight?"

The leader nodded. "We're into week five and all we have are hammers for protection. We're still alive after over a month. How many people can say that?"

"True. But hiding in your house for weeks doesn't count. How many have you killed?" Vince looked at all three, waiting for an answer.

The leader said, "Quite a few."

Vince then pointed to a younger-looking boy, standing next to the leader. The young boy was covered in acne and trembled as Vince gazed at him. "What about you?"

"Three," the boy spoke with no hesitation.

Vince glared at the third member. He was blonde, no older than sixteen, and also looked like a bag of nerves. Vince was unconvinced of this one. "And you?"

"None, sir," he answered with honesty.

"I thought so." Vince released an exasperated sigh. He could have done with more muscle, but he needed to be sure, absolutely sure, if these kids were going to be a positive addition. One thing was for certain: the camp definitely needed a bit of youth, and Vince was desperate to bring in young additions to the camp.

The leader with dark features began to speak once again. "Sir, my name is Harry Beresford. I'm seventeen years old." He then pointed to his left. "This is Ollie Hopkins. He's sixteen." Harry Beresford then pointed to his right. "And this is David Watkins. He's only fifteen, but he's killed three. You will not regret taking us on."

David Watkins nervously spoke up. "We believe that we have already met two of your residents. Two women."

Vince scrunched his face in confusion.

David Watkins tried to explain further. "Well...at least I
think
they stay here. They were going this way when they walked away from us. One used to be a nurse, a Karen Bradley. She looked after my dad when..."

Vince nodded slowly, just the once. "That's right. We got separated for a while. Just because you bumped into Karen and Shaz, doesn't mean you have a pass to stay here."

"I know, sir."

"However..." Vince glared at the faces of the young boys again and pointed at Harry Beresford and David Watkins. "You two can stay, but I'm not sure about you." He nodded in Ollie's direction.

Ollie Hopkins could feel the tears welling up in his eyes and began to beg Vince. "You can't leave me here on my own. I don't have nobody. My parents are dead, my—"

"You can't emotionally blackmail me, son." Vince laughed out loud and said, "I'm emotionally constipated. I haven't given a shit in days."

"Please, sir."

Both boys began to beg Vince to allow Ollie in, and the young leader told him that if Ollie wasn't allowed in, then they'd go elsewhere.

Vince raised his hand up to silence the young boys. "For fuck's sake, you're driving me to tears." He then turned around to look up at his men who were now relaxed and had lowered their guns a little. "Any Rotters about?"

One of the armed men nodded to his right. "I think there's a couple in the canal from that fracas a couple of days ago."

"Good." Vince cleared his chest and spat on the floor. "Get the rope and fish one out." He looked at sixteen-year-old Ollie Hopkins and gave him a wink. "It's time for a little initiation test for our blonde visitor."

Ollie took in a deep breath and turned to Harry Beresford and said in a whisper that Vince could hear, "I told you we should have gone to the Sandy Lane Camp."

"The Sandy Lane Camp is imploding," Vince said with a smile. "I heard a couple of days ago that they're fighting amongst themselves due to lack of resources—something we don't have to worry about. But if you want to go there, then be my guest. This is a one-time offer."

"Okay," Ollie said, his voice drenched in trepidation. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound disrespectful."

Vince then whistled at one of his men, and the man on the right bent down and picked up a crowbar. He dropped it into Vince's hands, who handed it to Ollie. "Not a big fan of hammers myself. You'll be better off with this."