Snatchers: Volume Two (The Zombie Apocalypse Series Box Set--Books 4-6) (8 page)

Chapter Sixteen

His walk had lasted a good half-hour and had been trouble-free. Tommy Burns scratched his shaven ginger hair; the sweat was irritating him already and he had underestimated how hot it would be in the condensed woodland. It was like walking in a greenhouse. His back was soaking, and now he had taken off his coat and tucked it into his bag.

His thoughts began to dwell in relation to his mother, and what she must have gone through while she contemplated suicide before he reached her house. The power was still working in the first week, so why didn't she call him? Didn't she want to bother him? Was it a spur of the moment decision?

His unanswered questions were put on hold as soon as a snap was heard up ahead. Because the greenery was at its fullest, it was hard to see more than a few yards in front of him. He needed to find a main path, a dirt path, and be more out in the open so he could see what was around him. It meant he would be more exposed, being out in the open, from human and non-human danger, but he had the weapons to deal with that kind of threat.

He gently and carefully pushed back the branches of the trees, as he walked through, so that he didn't come across any nasty surprises and to also create as little noise as possible.

He stopped progressing through the greenery as soon as he heard the sound of dragging feet. He had been hiding from the dead for most of the weeks it had been occurring, but he knew that the shuffling up ahead belonged to the dead and not of a human. He pulled out his knife from the back and waited for the thing to advance. He couldn't see anything, but the noises suggested that the thing was unknowingly stumbling in his direction.

His heart galloped a little, and he was ready to ram his knife through the eye of the unknowing killer. His nerves were okay, but took a little knock once he heard another sound coming from his left.

Another one!

His neck constantly twisted, paranoid that he could be attacked from two sides, and slowly placed the fingers of his left hand on a branch of an English Oak tree, and pulled it back to progress a little further.

He held his breath and stepped forward, holding his knife in his right.

Nothing.

Releasing a little air out of his lungs, he pushed another branch back and took another step forward.

Still nothing.

At this point he remained stationary. There were noises coming from everywhere, and even going back where he had come from seemed like a dangerous option. Tommy remained still and waited for the noises from the dead to pass.

Tommy crouched down to see if he could see anything through the trees at a lower level, but his eyes clocked zilch. The sounds were still present and appeared to have become louder. He stood back up, his heart now slamming against his chest with excitement, and slowly turned 360 degrees to make sure it was safe. However, his overall look had been fruitless.

An icy hand grabbed the side of Tommy's neck. He dropped the knife in terror and released a frightened yelp as the knife hit the floor. Face-to-face with his aggressor, he pushed the male ghoul to the floor, and ran through the greenery as quick as he could, despite the danger of running into more of them.

The paranoia was intense as he slapped branch after branch away from his face, and after dropping his knife, he frantically felt for his Glock in the front of his trousers to make sure it was still there. Once his right hand felt the handle he continued with his run, hoping that the scenario of being surrounded was a situation that wouldn't arise.

He finally came to an open area, tripped over an exposed root of a tree and tumbled onto a dirt path, his gun coming out of his trousers. On all fours and out of breath, he scrambled for the handgun. He took the gun and, with his heavy bag attached to his back, he got back to his feet.

Once Tommy Burns managed to get to his feet, he acquired a look around the reasonably spacious area to see four ghouls walking towards him. If he wanted past them, he was going to have to put them down, then run by them before the sound attracted others. There was no other way to avoid this problem unless he wanted to go back into the thick woodland and risk it in there, where the danger couldn't be seen. In the woods, he felt blind. But out in the open, his confidence began to flower, especially with a handgun present.

Tommy was still a novice as far as handguns were concerned. He checked to see how many rounds were left.

Enough
.

He then clicked the magazine shut. He aimed it in the direction of the first ghoul on the left. Once he lined up his target he slowly, and with the utmost control, pulled the last stage of the trigger.

He watched as the ghoul's head swallowed the round and a splat of blood exited the back of its head, making it drop to the side and hitting the floor. With every noisy round, his confidence grew. Two more fell, and the final one was only five yards away when Tommy released one in its right eye, ravaging its diseased brain before making it drop, like a puppet that had suddenly had all of its strings cut off.

Despite it being seconds firing the shots, Tommy could already hear the rustling sounds of the dead heading towards him, from behind. He began to run along the dirt path and constantly looked over his shoulder, but saw nothing as he continued to speedily progress. Another two minutes had passed, and Tommy could see the woods thinning out and a country road up ahead. This excited him, and his pace increased with the extra adrenaline that coursed through his body while heading for the road.

Once he got to the edge of this particular part of Cannock Chase, he welcomed the open road and the air that caressed his body. Over the road was the continuation of the woods, which he was content not to enter, but he knew with the sound of the four rounds leaving his Glock that there were many creatures that were not far behind him.

He stood tall and allowed the breeze to cool down his sweaty frame, but before he had time to enjoy the wind brushing his features, his eyes were almost magnetically drawn to his left, where an abandoned black Audi sat at the side of the road.

The driver's door was open as if a quick getaway on foot was what occurred, but the scene became a little different when Tommy got nearer and hesitantly peered inside the vehicle. The sight of what was inside and the smell forced Tommy to turn to the side and throw up on the grass bank. His brain had managed to digest what he had just seen, and it made his frame judder.

To make sure it wasn't his imagination, he took another look, but this time pulled his T- shirt over his nose so that he wouldn't experience the horrendous smell for a second time.

He peered in once again, ignoring the dozens of flies buzzing around the dead body on the passenger seat. The driver was nowhere to be seen, but the passenger, a young woman, lay with her head back. She had been bitten a few times, but it looked like she had reanimated and had then been killed. Tommy, looking at the trauma to the head, was certain that she was killed by a blunt instrument. Tommy assumed that the woman had been killed by her partner, the driver, who then fled the car, for whatever reason.

What made Tommy unwell was the sight in the back of the car. A small child, no older than two, had been bit in the neck and had turned. It was stuck inbetween the front seat and the passenger seat, growling and trying to crawl its way out of its predicament. It wore black jeans and a blood soaked T-shirt with the words
Too Cute For Words
on it, and this sad scene almost made Tommy produce tears.

He had no idea how this scenario had occurred. Tommy could only assume that the driver's wife/partner had been infected somehow, and maybe he was even on his way to take her to the hospital. She then could have reanimated in the car and attacked their child and husband. The father then must have killed his partner, but couldn't bring himself to kill the child.

Tommy had no idea the real reason why this scenario had been created, but it was disturbing nonetheless. He thought that the decent thing to do would be to put the infant out of its miserable misery, but he didn't want to produce another gunshot. He was hoping that once the ghouls had reached the main road they would disperse and hopefully be disorientated on where to go next.

Tommy knew that there were a few abandoned cabins scattered about the woods that used to be used by fishermen, before squatters and kids took over them, and was certain there was one a few hundred yards up ahead. He decided that with no partner, someone to watch his back while he slept, the cabin would be the safest option for now, and
that
was the plan until the morning: Stay in the cabin. Lock it from the inside, if possible. Stay there till the morning. Stay alive.

He cocked his head to one side to hear the shuffling noises and the groaning getting louder from the other side of the road, where he had just come from. It was time to move, and he entered the woods on the other side of the road. Once he was in there, it didn't take long to find out what happened to the driver of the car.

Tommy Burns' walk in the woods slowed down, and as his feet dragged through the bracken, he saw a man hanging from a tree, strangled by his own belt. It could only be the driver of the car. It
had
to be the driver of the car. Seeing his own family in such a way must have torn the man apart, forcing him to react in the only way to remove the pain.

Tommy walked past the sad sight and kept his head lowered, knowing that the cabin wasn't far away.

Chapter Seventeen

Pickle called out to Wolf, who was inside the cabin, and as soon as he entered the garden he looked over at Pickle, his face was perplexed.

"What is it?" asked Wolf, wiping his wet hands on the side of his trousers. He was in the middle of washing up and had calmed down since their little tiff.

"Some guy behind the fence," Pickle nodded towards the gate, "claims he's yer son."

Wolf scowled, knitting his grey eyebrows together and took a step forward. "Vincent?" Wolfgang Kindl strolled over the garden in Pickle's direction, and then stopped. He called out, "Who's there?"

"Gonna just open the door," a voice, that Wolf recognised, yelled out. "Me and my friend are dying of thirst out here."

Wolf turned around and took a peek at Pickle, Shaz and Karen, all standing, wondering what the hell was going on. They wanted answers, and Wolf finally opened his mouth and said, "It's my son."

The group relaxed; shoulders dropped, and air was released from their mouths. Wolf slid the bolt across and slowly opened the gate. It had been a while since he had seen his son, and once he clocked his face, Vince gave him a quick nod of the head and walked straight in, and through to the garden. It was clear to Karen that their relationship was hardly close, especially since this had been the first time they had seen each other since the terrifying virus had swept the globe. Shouldn't they have both embraced? Shouldn't they be relieved and overwhelmed to see one another?

Noticing the three people standing up, Vince spoke, "Oh, you have guests?"

And some very good looking ones, too.

Vince looked at both Pickle, Shaz, and gazed a little longer at Karen. Despite it being the fourth week of Hell on Earth, she was in decent nick, he thought.

I wouldn't say no.

Wolf could see the other figure shyly walking behind Vince. Wolf asked, "And who is your shy friend?"

Jack Slade stepped out from behind Vince and took a step forward to shake Wolf's hand, but the screams of "Jack!" coming from Pickle and Karen had interrupted the introductions temporarily. Pickle had his head on his hands, while Karen walked over and gave him a hug.

"You know each other?" Both Wolf and Vince questioned.

Jack was equally surprised to see Karen and Pickle there. In the past the three of them were only together for a short time, but it was good to see a familiar face.

Wolf's query was ignored by Karen, but Pickle explained in short how they had met Jack. Pickle explained to Vince, Wolf and Shaz that Jack and his group had flagged a prison van down that Karen was driving, after dropping off a murderous psychopath, Jason Bonser, who Pickle had shot in the leg.

Pickle then explained further that they stayed in a house briefly before it was overrun by hundreds of the dead that an injured Bonser had brought back with him. They had to escape; then the van received a flat, forcing the group to flee on foot. Pickle then further described that Jack had lost his son and decided to stay behind, but Pickle then realised something: Why wasn't Jack dead?

But Karen beat him to it.

As soon as she broke away from the embrace, she gave him a look of confusion. "What happened? We thought you were dead?"

Jack smiled and seemed to take an age to explain himself. "I tried to hang myself, but it loosened." Jack cleared his throat and continued, "I fell into the pool, went outside and escaped over the fence. You lot were too far gone by the time I landed on the other side of the fence." Jack then looked around and asked where Paul was. He was referring to Paul Parker.

Pickle shrugged his shoulders. "We ran into some trouble. Paul and Jade split from us; we haven't seen them since."

"Jade's dead." Jack's announcement was blunt.

Karen took a step back. "How do you know?" Karen was shocked by his announcement. Even though her and Jade were hardly close, news of her passing was still sad.

"She'd turned. We saw her as a Rotter...er...Snatcher. She must have been bit."

The little reunion had become a tad sour, but Pickle clapped his hands and patted Jack on the shoulder. "It's good to see yer again, Jack. God must have been watching over yer."

Karen huffed, "Shame about the other few million that have been ripped to shreds. I wonder where God was then?"

Ignoring her comment, Pickle added, "Anyway—"

"Wait a minute," Vince butted in, and pointed at Pickle. "I'm sorry, but who the fuck are you?"

"This is Pickle, Karen and Shaz," introduced Wolf. "They joined me a few days ago. And you don't need to be so rude."

"Well, that's just great." Vince looked around. It was clear that he and Jack were weary, and needed water. "And where's mum?"

As soon as Wolf lowered his head and Jack and Karen had a quick peep at one another, Vince already knew the answer to the question. He remained strong, gulped hard, and asked, "How?"

"She was bit while we fled up here." Wolf took his straw hat off and placed it onto the floor, allowing some air to his damp hair. "She's buried at the top of the hill."

Vince sighed, and nodded his head. "I'll go up in a bit. But me and Jack need a drink. My throat's as dry as sandpaper."

Shaz went into the cabin and came out with two large cups of water for Jack and Vince.

Jack smiled. "You have a water system?"

Shaz said, "It's not perfect." She then quickly looked over to Wolf apologetically. She didn't want to sound ungracious. "But it does the job, and Wolf has been a bloody life saver."

"Yeah, he's such a swell guy," Vince spoke sarcastically in a poor attempt at an American accent. "If only you lot knew."

The group never verbally attacked Vince for his sarcasm towards his dad, their redeemer. All members seemed to know that there was a story behind his mocking, but no one attempted to ask Vince why he had so much hatred for his father.

"What made you come here anyway?" asked Wolf, trying to change the subject.

"We're at a camp, near Armitage." Vince never answered Wolf, so it was Jack that was providing the information. "We went to a hospital for medical supplies for the residents, as well as for future purposes. We were carjacked and lost a couple of people. So we tried to get to the camp through the woods. We thought it'd be safer."

"Which hospital?" Karen asked.

"Stafford."

Karen smiled at the mention of her old work. It seemed a lifetime ago since she was working in the A and E department, being ordered around by arrogant doctors, and being spat and swore at by drunken and injured revellers from their night out.

"So we need to stay here the night." Vince took his shoes off and peeled off his socks. He scrunched his feet and added, "The night won't be too long away and we're too knackered and dehydrated to make the hour journey on foot back to our camp."

Wolf looked up to the sky and nodded. "The night will be drawing in soon." Wolf looked around at the group. Including himself, there was now six of them. "I have no idea where you're all gonna sleep, but let's get some soup on the go."

"I'll give you a hand." Shaz stood up and stood by the side of Wolf.

Wolf pointed at Vince and Jack, then nodded to the grass on the garden. "Make yourselves comfortable." Wolf looked at Shaz, then looked at the group and joked, "Me and my assistant will be about half an hour." Wolf then went inside.

"He seems okay," Jack whispered to Vince. Vince never responded to Jack and instead walked over to the corner of the garden, inspecting the solidness of the fence that surrounded the cabin.

"This is Shaz," introduced Karen. She seemed to have a little energy boost since the arrival of Jack.

"Hey." Jack smiled after his short salutation.

"Hey back." Shaz urged Jack to sit down by where the fire used to be. Pickle put the stove on and all four sat around, leaving Wolf in the cabin and Vince in the corner of the garden. "Karen told me stories about you."

"Oh?" Jack half-laughed. "All horrific, I hope."

"We have something in common." Shaz tucked her legs into her chest, creasing her black combats.

"Do we?"

"We've both lost a child."

Jack gave off a brave, but sad smirk, placed his hand on Shaz's wrist comfortingly, and said, "I'm sorry."

"Shaz!" Wolf's head appeared out of the window. "You giving me a hand with this soup, or not?"

"Oops, sorry. I forgot." She looked at Jack and winked at him. "We'll speak later."

As Shaz and Wolf disappeared inside the cabin, Pickle could see that Karen's chin was tilted upwards and appeared lost in a daze. He turned to Karen and asked, "Are yer okay?"

She nodded, but her mind was elsewhere. "I thought I heard gunshots."

Jack sighed; he nodded his head and beamed at the sight of Pickle and Karen sitting opposite him. "This is really surreal."

"Isn't everything?" Pickle laughed. "The last time I saw yer, yer was standing in the reception area of that sports centre, waiting for them to rip yer to pieces. You'd lost it for a while."

"Like I said before, I decided to hang myself instead." Jack was trying to lighten the mood with his matter-of-fact statement, as if it was nothing out of the ordinary. "But the belt loosened and I fell into the pool. Fuckers broke in and fell in after me. I then grabbed one of those kettle bells and smashed my way out."

"Wow," said Karen.

"I should have went with you lot." There was a hint of regret with Jack, as if he was mentally beating himself up. "If it wasn't for..." He decided not to continue with the story of coming across a factory and being saved by Johnny Jefferson, who was eventually bit because of an initiation test by Vince, who then blew Johnny's head off. Even having that information in his head, seemed bizarre. Explaining what had happened since they last saw him would probably sound like a fucked up dream.

"It certainly is surreal, Jack." Pickle took a swig of water and winked at forty-year-old Slade.

Jack looked at Pickle.
Surreal? You have no idea.

Jack then frowned at Pickle and hesitated what he was about to say. Eventually, he spoke. "Your nose looks funny."

Pickle released a belly-laugh and held up his left hand, showing Jack his missing finger. "So does ma hand. Yer wanna hear the story that caused this wee minor handicap o' mine while we wait for the soup?"

Jack nodded, and was pleased that Vince had decided to join them.

"Well, guys," Harry Branston looked at both Vince and Jack, "let me begin."