Snatchers: Volume Two (The Zombie Apocalypse Series Box Set--Books 4-6) (42 page)

He commenced his descent, and as he made his seventh step he paused and scrunched his eyes, almost knitting his eyebrows. His chin was raised and began sniffing like a hound dog. His senses picked up something that was coming from downstairs.

Smoke?

Chapter Thirty One

Once the footsteps stopped outside the stationery's door, Pickle, Shaz, Vince and Harry all tensed up waiting for it to open. The sound of the key rattling in the lock increased their tension, and even Vince was now feeling his heart increase its pace.

The door swung open and they were greeted by the bearded man that had caught Vince and Pickle back at the hut.

"Good news," the man spoke, he was leaning against the frame of the door, playing with his teeth by using his tongue as if he had just eaten something.

"Oh?" Pickle was the first one to react.

The bearded man continued, "I've convinced Gavin that you lot are pretty harmless, so he's decided to let you go. You can even have your weapons back once you're off the premises."

"There." Vince looked pretty pleased with himself. He couldn't hide his smug grin. "Told you."

"That's great," Pickle said. "Tell Gavin that we're grateful, and wouldn't have come here if we knew it was already taken. The only reason we came to the hangar, when we realised it was already taken, was to get our friends back."

"I've already explained the situation to him," the bearded man spoke up. "If a group of people really wanted to take over a place that has half a dozen men with guns, you'd need more than a few blades."

"Exactly. It would have been suicide on our part." Pickle nodded his head in agreement. "Tell him...thanks."

The man laughed, "You can tell him yourself. He's waiting on you." The man peered over his shoulder as if he was paranoid that his next line could be overheard by someone. He whispered, "I've also got a feeling that he might ask you to join us."

Pickle smiled, knowing that this was the last thing they wanted, especially knowing that certain members of this clan could be responsible for killing the family back at the house. Going back to the camp was the only priority now.

"Come on." The guard ushered the four out and urged them to follow him.

They did as they were instructed, and they followed him around a bunch of wooden, stacked pallets. As soon as they turned the corner they could see a few men in a circle. They seemed completely relaxed, talking to one another and laughing. Vince saw the faces of some of the men, and there was one guy that had his back to them, wearing an old AC/DC T-shirt with tour dates on the back.

Tour dates?
Vince scowled in thought.

The man with the AC/DC T-shirt had his back to Pickle and the gang and turned around once the bearded man announced, "These are the people I was telling you about, Gavin."

Gavin turned and glared at the group who, together, suddenly stopped walking and remained motionless, ten yards from the men.

Gavin had dark features with greased back hair. He took a small step back, almost as if he was trying to get a better look at the four of them, then burst into hysterics. No one knew what he was laughing at, apart from Pickle, Vince and Shaz.

"Oh shit." said Vince, once the realisation kicked in.

"Yer took the words right out o' ma mouth," whispered Pickle.

"What is it?" asked young Harry, confused at what was going on.

They didn't have time to answer the teenager's question.

Gavin spoke out, "Well, well, well! If it isn't our old friends."

"What's he talking about?" Young Harry nudged Shaz.

Gavin took a step forward and peeped at each individual, noticing there was a face he hadn't seen before, and a few faces that were missing. He seemed to remember that the last time he had seen these people there was an old man with them. There was also another man and a good-looking woman missing, too.

"What a coincidence." Gavin turned to his men and proclaimed, "This is the group that pulled out shotguns on us when we were on a random run at the Pear Tree Estate. Oh, how the tide has turned. Now it's us that have the guns. I owe you."

"I think it's fair to say you owe
us
, rather than the other way round," Vince tried to explain without sounding threatening. His main aim was to keep the cartridges in the shotguns.

Gavin remained smiling, but slightly twisted his face in befuddlement. "Care to explain?"

"Before the incident at the Pear Tree Estate that you've just spoken about, you shot at me and my friends along Milford, coming back from Stafford Hospital over a week ago. It was two pick-up trucks. You killed Paul, a good man, and you raped and killed Claire. She mentioned tour dates and a guy with greased back hair. I wasn't too sure when we ran into each other at the Pear Tree Estate, but it has to be you."

"Was that you in that toppled truck? What a small world this is?" Gavin then began to laugh. "You should be thankful that we spared you."

"Me and Jack barely made it out."

"Jack?" Gavin pouted his lips with puzzlement.

Explained Vince, "The guy that fucked your sister's leg."

"Oh yeah." Gavin snapped his fingers and added, "And where's that charming lady from last week? The one that broke my sister's nose?"

"Not here. Was it you that attacked Claire?" Vince asked.

"Claire?"

"She was killed in the woods. At Milford." Vince gritted his teeth as the memories of him and Jack finding Claire began to make his blood boil. She didn't deserve that.

"I don't know." Gavin shrugged his shoulders as if it was nothing. "I lose track of what I've done these days."

"And what about that family in the shed at the house you lot are staying at?"

"You were in my house?" Gavin then shook his head and snapped at no one in particular, "I thought you lot were supposed to be getting rid of them."

"Sorry, Gavin," one man spoke up. "I forgot. We'll bury them tomorrow "

This time it was Pickle's turn to question the man.

Despite the fact that Gavin had the upper hand, he seemed happy enough to answer the barrage of questions being fired at him. Pickle asked, "Why kill a family? What was it, Gavin? Were they in the way?"

With no remorse at all in his body language and his tone, Gavin answered, "I wanted the house. The location was perfect, especially once we came across this place. They were reluctant to move, so I took it anyway."

"But yer killed children."

"I know. It's tragic." His response was cold and mocking. "They were given a chance to leave unharmed. The trouble was that the father was acting the hero..."

"Yer a sick bastard."

Gavin began to chuckle, "Wait till my sister turns up from the house, if you think
I'm
sick."

Gavin turned around and began conversing with his colleagues. The bearded man had his shotgun aimed at the group, but Pickle could see reluctance in his face. Did he really want to be here? To be a part of this?

"Vince," Pickle whispered. "Yer do realise whatever happens, whatever he tells us—"

"They're gonna kill us." Vince nodded. "I know. If we somehow get through this, I'm never leaving the camp again."

Pickle said, "Yer have made two bold journeys for the sake o' the camp. Both have been thwarted by the same people. I have to admit, it is rotten luck. But yer not cursed."

Gavin came walking over and both Vince and Pickle ceased their quiet conversation.

"When you were first caught," Gavin glared at only Pickle and Vince, "one of my men tells me that you were asked if you had some kind of refuge, but you never gave them a proper answer. We've lived quite comfortably since the outbreak—"

"At the expense of other people," Shaz interrupted.

Ignoring her, Gavin added, "But you lot look better kept than us. Why is that?"

Nobody gave him an answer.

Smiling, Gavin then clicked his fingers and held out his hand. One of his men walked over and handed him a shotgun. He took the gun and turned it around. He went straight over to Shaz and rammed the butt of the gun into her stomach. She released a dull moan, then bent over, slowly falling to her knees. Pickle went to her aid.

"I will be getting answers by the end of the day," Gavin snickered. "I can guarantee you that." He then nodded at the bearded gunman and said, "Put them in a circle, back-to-back, and tie them up. Don't give them any food or water." Gavin then turned to Vince and guessed that he was the leader of this small group. "You've got till noon to talk, otherwise people are going to get hurt."

"What's the point?" Pickle bent down and helped Shaz back up. "Yer only going to kill us anyway."

Said Gavin, "Not true." He then eyed them individually. "You have a camp. You must have. Cooperate, and you lose the supplies in your camp, but you keep your lives."

"Like that family?"

"They resisted. You don't have to. Which camp are you with? The Sandy Lane Camp? The one in Little Haywood? There was one in Colton and we got shot at. Enough men and more guns and we could take them all, but at the moment..."

"For the sake of the people back at the camp, I can't tell you," said Vince.

"So you do have one?"

"You know I do."

"Which one?" Gavin smiled and looked at his men. "Two of my men have families back in Brereton. We're only months away from December. We need to get through winter."

"You have enough here to get through winter," snarled Vince. "This is greed."

"I disagree," Gavin shook his head with a smirk on his face. "Raiding your camp is insurance. The same reason why you came here. You have enough, but you wanted more. Just to be safe."

There was a silence between the four of them.

"That's fine. I'm a patient man." Gavin peered at the shotgun that he was holding and said, "I'm going away for a while, give you time to think. It's not the camp at Spode Cottage, is it? I hear that they're savages, and their leader is a psychopath."

Vince nodded. "I heard the same. It's not that one."

"Fine." Gavin smiled and walked over to young Harry and gave him the same treatment he had given Shaz. Harry Beresford double over and collapsed to the floor, and while he was doubled over and being sick, Gavin walked away and warned, "I will see you at lunchtime, people."

Chapter Thirty Two

Paul ran downstairs and could hear noises coming from the living room. He opened the door and was suddenly overpowered with smoke and flames. The father of the Murphy family had set fire to the curtains of the room, and his intentions was to burn down the house.

Knowing that putting out such a fire was an impossibility, he shut the door and ran back upstairs to get his son. He then changed his mind and decided to get the water that he stole from the gym.

He had time. He was sure of it.

He took his car keys from the kitchen and opened the vehicle. "Thank God they never touched the car." He dumped the water canisters in the boot then quickly went back inside and took a carrier bag, as the fire raged in the next room, and put some tins in. He went outside, stepping over Daisy's body that had been dumped in the reception area, and placed the bag in the front seat. He then ran back upstairs for his son.

Paul quickly opened the cupboard door, giving Kyle a fright. "We gotta leave, big chap."

"Why? Where's Lisa and Daisy?"

Paul was trying to hold it together, but he was struggling. With Daisy and Lisa in the back of his mind, he tearfully took a hold of his son's hand, made sure he had shoes on, then they both headed downstairs. "Come on."

"Daddy, what's that smell?"

The fire was raging in the living room and the smoke poured out of the gap from underneath the door. Paul then put his hands over Kyle's eyes as they approached the front door, stopping him from seeing Daisy's corpse. Blood pooled where she was dumped, and a quick peep from Paul confirmed that her head had been caved in with a small section of the brain being exposed. He could feel his stomach doing cartwheels and reprimanded himself for looking.

Poor Daisy
.

He then wondered where they were taking Lisa, and what they were going to do to her. He shook his head. He didn't want to know!

As he got onto his drive, he took a look around and could see that three dead walkers were slowly getting nearer. He ushered his confused son into the back of the car, and took another frightened look to see how many yards the things had gained.

"But Daddy," Kyle whined. "What about rule number three? Never go outside?"

Paul was surprised he even remembered the rules from the blackboard in Bell's room.

"We need to go," Paul said. "Remember rule number five? Always do what dad says."

He told his son to strap himself in, then to close his eyes and not to open them until
he
said so.

Paul patted himself to see if he was missing anything. In the old days, when he was working, it was wallet, phone and keys. Now, it was keys and claw hammer.

Seeing that these things were only a matter of yards away, he got into the vehicle and quickly reversed out of his drive, slipped the car into first, and the vehicle squealed its way out of the street.

"Daddy, I'm scared," Kyle cried from the back of the car, his eyes still tightly shut.

"It's okay, son. Just keep those eyes closed until I say otherwise." Paul swerved left at the junction, at the end of his street, and headed out of town. He looked in his rear-view mirror to see two ghouls in the middle of the road.

When the outbreak first happened, they were in their dozens. Paul was unsure whether some had been killed, had left the town to go elsewhere, or...he couldn't think of another reason.

Paul looked to the left of him on the passenger seat, peeking at the claw hammer. He was hoping he wasn't going to need it.

"Daddy, where are we going?" Kyle's eyes were now open. He thought that maybe his dad had forgot that they were shut, so decided to open them without asking permission.

I have no idea
. "We're going to the woods, son. There should be less of those things up there."
I hope
. Paul's theory was that these things went where the
food
was. Surely the woods would be a safe haven; but was everyone with a vehicle thinking along the same lines?

"Just need to park up," Paul said aloud, to no one in particular, "and get some respite."

"What does that mean?"

Ignoring Kyle's question, Paul continued to mutter, "There're a few beauty spots we can go to. That'll have to do for now."

"I miss mummy and Bell, daddy."

Jesus, son. So do I. So do I.

"Where's Lisa?"

Shit, Kyle. Give me a break, will you?

Paul blew out his anger, and told himself that Kyle was a seven-year-old boy, missing his mummy, his sister, his friends, and had no idea that his future was looking very bleak and that his daddy was doing his utmost to keep things together—whatever that meant.

Paul was still on the desolate, main road, and could see that he was now coming to the end of the woods. He was now in the open and with farmland to either side of him. He pulled the car up at the side of the road, and turned around to see how Kyle was coping.

"Okay?"

Kyle smiled bravely. "Getting thirsty now, daddy."

Paul nodded in agreement. "Me too."

Paul fought back the tears and was upset that they had to flee their house. It seemed incredible that it was human savagery that had caused them to flee, and not these man-eating monsters that the country seemed plagued with. Paul rubbed his eyes and remembered watching TV and seeing how fast the outbreak was sweeping through the UK. Was that still the case? How many survivors were there?

His mind then replayed the macabre scene of Daisy getting her head smashed in by the eldest member of the Murphy family.

Bastards!

Paul reached for the bag that had fallen down at the side of the passenger seat due to his erratic driving, and pulled out a bottle of water. He gave it to his son, and Kyle drunk a quarter of the bottle.

"Right." Paul fired the engine again and pulled away.

"I thought we were going to the woods, daddy." Kyle took a peek behind him, seeing the cluster of trees getting further away.

"We were, but I think we'd be better off out in the open. But we'll stay
near
the woods."

Paul could see two figures in the distance, lying on the floor. His intrigue should have been ignored, as an unnecessary investigation of these things wasn't going to benefit Kyle, especially if his daddy became bit.

He stopped the car twenty yards from the bodies, told Kyle to stay where he was, then got out of the vehicle with no protest from his son.

Paul could see that there was no danger. Any walking ghoul could be seen from hundreds of yards away now that they were both out in the open, with nothing but fields to the side of them. Paul walked and made small steps towards the bodies and could see that both were reanimated beings, and neither one of them were going to walk again.

Both of the ghouls were female and lying adjacent to one another. The one with the dirty blonde hair had had her legs ran over by a large vehicle, judging by the tyre marks. Her legs were crushed and her condition was preventing her from moving. She was a stereotype of what these beings were. Her face was ashen, her eyes had a milky film over them, and there was blood present over her mouth where she must have been feeding on some poor soul not so long back.

He looked at ghoul number two, and saw that this one was in an even worse condition. "What the fuck are you things?" Paul cussed.

This one had also been ran over. Paul was now thinking that it may have been the same vehicle, and its torso seemed to have taken the brunt of the damage. Paul guessed that they had been hit first while they were standing, then went under the heavy vehicle. The second one had been struck in the middle. It was lying on its front like ghoul number one, but its back had been crushed and the contents of its body had been squished and spread out over the road, like a road-kill. Their heads, mouth and arms were still moving, and they snarled, still desperate to take a bite out of him, but their movement from the waist down was non-existent. It was as if the crushing of the bodies had fused them to the road, and the only way they were going to move was if they could somehow detach themselves from their damaged parts and begin dragging themselves.

The stench was awful and Paul lifted his T-shirt up over his nose, but he never threw up.

When the outbreak first occurred he had remained indoors, away from these things, but in the last few days with the gym episode, he had become a little desensitised by their presence. He thought that this could only be a good thing if he and Kyle were going to have a life on the road, and knew that their journey for survival may include battles with these things every now and again.

He was in two minds whether to take Kyle out of the car and 'introduce' him to what was now one of the dangers of this new world, but he refrained from doing so. Kyle couldn't spend the rest of his days with his eyes closed, and maybe becoming desensitised by these frightening creatures would also be good for him, but Paul had to keep reminding himself: He's only seven!

Paul was trying to plan what he was going to do in the long-term. He wanted to stay out in the open, away from population, but that meant away from areas where there could be food. It meant he would have to ask Kyle to stay in an area, a field perhaps, while his father went out in the car for supplies into towns and villages.

In theory it sounded okay, but trying to convince his son to stay hidden in the middle of a field, on his own for a couple of hours, was not going to be an easy feat for both parent and son. He didn't want to take Kyle with him in case he ran into trouble, but Paul had a feeling that he may not have much of a choice in the matter. And what were they going to do once the petrol in the car ran out?

The future looked grim.

He was also going to have to get Kyle to learn basic things like lighting fires, keeping warm. If anything did happen to Paul, Kyle needed to be prepared to live on his own, which was easier said than done for a seven-year-old boy who was missing Dino and Monkey.

Once Paul returned to the car, he sat in his seat and turned around to see the concern scrawled over his son's face.

"Are they monsters, daddy?" asked Kyle, pointing ahead of him.

"Yes, big chap." Paul cleared his throat, fighting back his emotions, and began to face the front. "We're gonna drive around them, but I want you to keep your eyes closed."

"Okay."

"You promise?" Paul looked at his boy through the rear-view mirror.

Kyle nodded and bit his lower lip. "Yes, I promise."

Paul glared at his little man with watery eyes. He was trying so hard to be brave for his daddy, but he was scared.

My poor boy. This isn't right.