Snatchers: Volume Two (The Zombie Apocalypse Series Box Set--Books 4-6) (81 page)

"Guys? So it's just men?" Karen spoke with disappointment in her tone.

"There're women too that run the place. I just use
guys
as an expression." Lee laughed and placed his hands in the air, "Calm down, Karen. I don't want you going  all
sisters are doin' it for themselves
on me. We're a good mixed bunch."

Karen smiled apologetically. Already she had come to the quick conclusion that Lee James was a good man, a genuine man.

Lee got to his feet and announced, "I'll let Bentley know what we're doing. We can leave in my truck for the two-mile trip. Agreed?"

All three slowly nodded, releasing no words from their mouths.

Underneath, Vince felt sadness. He was leaving the camp. He was leaving his home.

Chapter Fifty Two

"The next thing...we were surrounded."

Bentley took a sip of water and was telling Paul what had happened to Laura a few days ago. Kyle was in the bedroom, playing
Star Wars
with the coat hangers, pretending they were X wing fighters.

"But where did they come from?" Paul was baffled. He had seen Bentley's set-up for himself, and when he was there, it looked solid.

"I have no idea." Bentley sighed and his eyes began to fill. "We woke up in the middle of the night to see dozens around the barbed-wire fence. Laura was the first to step outside, to see what was happening, and as soon as they saw her there was no stopping them."

"Fuck."

"Tell me about it. In such numbers they went through the fence as if it were nothing. Laura was taken down before I had chance to put my clothes on. As soon as I stepped outside, what looked like, a hundred corpses walked towards me. It was so dark that it was hard to tell. Laura was nowhere to be seen. Didn't even have time to take anything with me, except this." He patted his Glock.

"So you've left everything?" Paul looked aghast. "Everything you have collected and worked for?"

Bentley nodded sadly. "Shotgun, food...everything! I ran away, stayed in a house for the night. When I was in this house, I came across the car keys for the vehicle in the drive, so I took it when it was time to leave. I met a woman called Helen Waite..."

"You should have stayed in the house."

"There was no food."

"So what's this camp like?" asked Paul. After the disastrous episode yesterday, Paul was pleased that another opportunity had arisen. He thought Vince's camp was decent, but a lot of residents were shocked from the previous events and confidence over the safety of the campsite was at its lowest.

"It's a good set-up." Bentley seemed in decent spirits, considering he had just recently lost his partner. Paul thought that this behaviour was strange, but didn't dwell on it. Bentley added, "Lee's done a good job, but with you lot on board it can be better."

"I'm just sick of running."

"Same here." Bentley laughed, "but it's better than dying."

"And you think they'll definitely let us in?"

"They'll have a vote, just like they did with me and Helen, but to be honest...they need more people. As you know, me and Pickle go back a long way. And from what you've told me about Vince and Karen, it shouldn't be a problem. Getting more people is good for the camp, but if they're fighters, then that's even better."

*

The vehicle had cleared the top of the hill and the four people, Lee, Vince, Pickle and Karen, were heading towards the Ash Tree pub. They went straight across a roundabout and Karen peered out of the passenger window, sadly reminiscing about the events that had occurred over the last five weeks or so.

She thought about Gary, and the foot massage he would give her whenever she came off nightshift. She thought about the beginning of the apocalypse and that creep, Oliver Bellshaw, and how he tried to attack her when they were both hiding in the woods. She broke his nose and slammed an axe in his knee for his misbehaviour.

She then began to think of others who had perished: KP, Jamie Thomson, Janine Perry, Davina Pointer. She could see the frightened faces of Jack Slade and his small group when they flagged her down when she was in the prison van. Only hours later, the people from that group, Lee Hayward, Kerry Evans and Thomas Slade had all perished.

She looked on as they passed a building that used to be a business called Thorn EMI many moons ago, and her mind continued to race.

Shaz entered her thoughts.

This was near the area where Shaz and Karen were walking through, a few weeks ago. She reminisced about the pick-up truck that had crashed, and then the Snatchers appeared from everywhere, splitting them up. Shaz and Karen had stayed the night in a building that used to be a soft-play business. The next morning, after going through Brereton Park, Karen and Shaz had heard screams from two young girls. One of them died and the other was eventually taken to her aunt's up the road. Karen had forgot their names. One of them was called Heather.

She thought about Jack and the way he had died. She was sad, and even felt for young Harry Beresford who was thrown into a shed full of those things. And now there was the massacre at the camp.

It seemed that there was never a week without a tragedy wherever she was, and Karen was unsure if the danger and killings were going to get less and less the more the weeks passed by. Only time would tell.

"You okay?" asked Pickle; he was sitting next to her and could see she was becoming upset.

"Not really."

"You want to pull in for a minute?"

She shook her head. "No."

Once the truck reached the barrier, Karen could see that it was just cars lined up horizontally. On the right side was a six-foot gap, and a six-foot by six-foot square gate was placed there to fill the gap. It was nothing special, but it could be improved...in time. What they
did
have was plenty of guards; there was four at the barrier, but no gun could be seen. All four held either a large blade or a baseball bat.

As soon as the pick-up truck was spotted and Lee was noticed, the gate was pulled back manually by two men, and Lee drove in. "Okay," he admitted. "The security isn't as good as yours, but those two HGVs at your camp will be a blessing."

Lee drove along Sandy Lane, and as the others looked around, they could see it was just how it used to be before.

"How many people have you got here?" asked Vince.

"A hundred or so. It's not a lot. That's why you can't see anyone."

"Where are they?"

"Either in their issued homes, working—"

"Working? Doing what?"

"We probably have the same routine like you have. We have people that cook, does runs, guards, amongst other things." Lee laughed and gave his old friend a jab on his arm. "Ask questions later. Right, I'm gonna take you as far as the railway bridge, then you can take this truck to wherever the fuck you wanna go at Draycottt Park. I'll answer questions once you're back."

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to have a word with my people and ask them if you can join. Once you've returned from Draycott Park, you can meet them yourselves."

Lee pulled up at the railway bridge and the truck was now behind the barrier that was near the entrance to the Pear Tree Estate.

Lee wound the window down and shouted at one of the four guards, "Hey, Rick. A couple of my friends need to get by."

"What the fuck for?" the Rick character, dressed in denim dungarees, snarled.

Lee turned to his three passengers and snickered, "Charming, isn't he?" But Lee seemed a tad embarrassed and irked by this Rick's attitude. He tried again. "Just open it."

"What the fuck for?" repeated Rick.

Lee sat in the driver's seat with a red face. The other three, squashed in the front, could see he was raging. Lee puffed out some air and popped his head out once more, this time he had venom in his voice and this made Karen and Pickle see a different side to the man already. "Just do it! And if you fucking question me again, I'll have you fuckin' shot, you cunt! You hear me?"

"Okay, Lee." The Rick character began to look sheepish. "Sorry."

The gate, at the end of the line of cars, was pulled back by two men and Lee got out of his means of transport. He peered inside the vehicle and said, "If you really wanna do this, then fine. But this is not my gig. This does not benefit our lot in any way, shape or form, and if you're not back, we won't come looking for you."

"Charming," Vince cackled and looked at Lee. "Didn't we used to be mates?"

Lee smiled. "There hasn't been a vote yet. You're not classed as Sandy Lane residents. We only look after our own. If you were residents, this wouldn't be allowed. Runs for the camp is fine, but personal runs..."

Vince shifted up to the driver's seat and said, "We won't be long."

"Right." Lee clapped his hands together. "As soon as you come back, Rick or the other guys will let you through."

Karen pointed at the tall young man who was standing next to Rick. "I think I used to go to school with him. At Hagley. Is his name Daniel?"

"That's right." Lee nodded. "Daniel Badcock. Great bloke."

"Daniel Badcock," Vince sniggered, and looked around to see that no one else shared his humour. "Seriously?
Bad
-cock. No one else find that funny?"

"Come on, Vince," Lee remarked. "Let's show some maturity. He's a good guy." Lee winked at Karen and said jokingly, "How on earth do you put up with him?"

Karen smiled. "I'm okay. I now wear a moron filter."

Lee shut the door and began to walk away. Vince pulled the truck forwards, through the gap, and headed for Draycott Park, Karen's old area, and was unsure what waited for the three of them, if anything.

"If it's too dangerous, we turn back," Pickle spoke up.

"Agreed," said Karen.

"Agreed," said Vince. "We'll go home soon and bring the convoy with us, once this vote farce is sorted. Fuck, it's gonna take ages to move all that shit."

"It'll be fine," Pickle laughed. "Half a day at the most."

Once they arrived at Karen's street, with not one sighting of the dead, Vince pulled up the vehicle.

Karen got out of the truck and told the men that she'd like to walk into her street to get to her house, considering it was clear. They both thought that this was Karen having one last look around at her old life before saying goodbye, and neither men objected.

"I'm coming in with yer," said Pickle. "No arguments."

"I want to do this on my own," protested Karen.

Pickle snapped, "I don't give two shits. Yer not doing this alone."

"But—"

"What happens if you see him and yer freeze?"

Karen gulped and said sternly, "I won't freeze."

"Yer sure about that?"

Karen wasn't sure. She had no idea how she was going to react once she saw her fiancé once her eyes clocked his diseased frame.

Vince jumped out of the driver's side, not wanting to get involved with the little argument. "I'll wait outside the house. Just in case."

"And I'll go in with Karen." Pickle glared at Karen, telling her that she didn't have a choice.

Karen nodded at both men and despite the little anger she had felt seconds ago, she became touched by their concern.

Chapter Fifty Three

"Yer definitely sure about this?" Pickle had his arm comfortingly around Karen's shoulder.

"Yes, I'm sure." Karen hadn't stepped through the door and she was already becoming emotional. "Gary's been in there long enough." She noticed an old blood smear on the frosted glass of the door, immediately bringing back the memories.

Said Pickle, "I can do this myself, if yer wanna wait outside."

Karen pulled out her blade, telling Pickle that her mind wasn't going to be changed.

Although the door was shut, he placed his hand on the front door and gave it a gentle shove. "It's pretty solid."

"I left in a panic. I don't remember shutting the door behind me. It's one of those doors that locks as soon as it's shut." Karen tilted her head to the side and was lost in thought. She was confused. "Maybe I did shut it. Unless someone has been in."

"Allow me." Pickle forced his blade inbetween the door and frame where the lock was, or should be, and gave the blade a good yank.

"Careful," she tried to joke. "That door cost an arm and a leg."

Karen winced as the sound of splintered wood pierced her ears, but the job had been done. The door was open.

They both crept inside, leaving Vince outside, both sets of noses twitching from the hideous pong of death, and Karen clocked an old pile of vomit that was hers from five and a half weeks ago. She remembered when Sharon Henderson had her throat ripped out, and then her attacker galloped towards her. Karen struggled to get the door open back then, and when she did she threw up.

She led the way and entered the hallway with Pickle closely behind her. Both weapons were drawn. She pointed at the living room area where the door was open. That's where she'd left Gary when she fled the house, after their struggle. She looked to her left, up the stairs, and remembered when he fell down and hit his head off of the radiator that was to her left, by her side.

Pickle leaned over to whisper in her ear and nodded to the entrance of the living room. "Let
me
go in."

Karen nodded once.

When she fled the house, all those weeks ago and went to Milford, she made a hard decision to go back and end Gary, after finding out on the radio what was really going on. After coming face-to-face with a group of Snatchers, in which she ran down, she drove back to her home with a tyre iron on the passenger seat, prepared to put Gary out of his misery. But when she returned, her street was heaving with the dead, forcing her to turn the jeep around and making a quick exit.

She was losing her nerve, and she hadn't even seen him yet.

Pickle returned and shook his head, telling Karen that Gary wasn't in the living room. He must be in the kitchen. She was sure that he wasn't upstairs, as walking upstairs wasn't something they were known for, and the only reason he had gone from the first to the ground floor all those weeks ago was because he fell down.

Pickle put his arm across Karen's chest, stopping her from progressing any further. He entered the kitchen by himself and saw a man, or something that used to be a man, standing in the corner, near the washing machine. He had his back to Pickle. He was naked and his body was a light blue colour, bruised-looking in some parts.

Pickle crept back into the hallway, making sure he didn't make any noise that would 'wake up' the creature, and said to Karen, "Do yer want to see this?"

"
See
it?" she queried softly. "I want to
do
it."

"Yer sure?"

She gently brushed past Pickle and entered the kitchen. It had been well over a month since she had seen him like this, and ignoring the smell, she rubbed her eyes that were beginning to fill up.

She wiped her sweaty hands on her jeans and gripped the machete, ready to take him down. She sniffed gently, and this seemed to alert its senses.

He slowly turned around and she gasped when she saw him. She scratched the side of her cheek with her left hand, while still gripping her weapon with the other, and had nothing but contempt for the creature. She thought that there was a strong chance she would break down at the sight of him, but she remembered what Wolf said about his Grace when she had turned.

Gary wasn't there anymore. It was just a shell with evil inside it. Gary had been dead for nearly six weeks.

He stumbled towards her, and was immediately put down with a strike through its head. The machete went down the middle and stopped just above the bridge of his nose. It stared at her with its dead eyes, and when she removed the blade, the being that was once Gary had fell to the side, smacking its head off the cupboard doors.

Pickle put his hand on her shoulder and asked if she was okay.

"Strangely enough," she answered, "I am."

"Yer sure?"

"Gary died weeks ago." She pointed at the finished creature. "I don't know what, or who, this is."

They both stared at the defunct Snatcher, and Pickle spoke, "What next?"

"I'm gonna go upstairs and get some clothes. Have a look around before I leave for good."

Pickle smiled thinly, and watched as she took the stairs. Her hand touched the wall to her right, the same wall she had painted two months ago, and stopped progressing once she reached the landing.

She started moving again and took a peep into the spare bedroom. Although the room stunk a little, it was exactly the way she had left it: in a mess, with a spare bed that hadn't been made and boxes of stuff that had been dumped and hadn't been opened yet.

She took a look in the bathroom. It was immaculate and hadn't been used since June 9th. She giggled when she went through the medicine cabinet. There was paracetamol, sodium chloride, lymecycline tablets, fucidin cream, sudocrem and aspirin. But what made her giggle, and brought back good memories, was the tablets that they had bought from
Ann Summers
. They were supposed to make couples more hornier, but they never worked, or Karen and Gary didn't need them.

She entered her bedroom and felt a lump in her throat as she scanned the room. She put the machete back into her belt and released a sad sigh. The last time she was here, Gary was naked, on his feet and at the other side of the room, by the window, but he was one of them!

Karen stopped as she went by the full-length mirror. She turned and stared at her reflection. Her clothes were dirty, her hair greasy, and a machete was at her left hand side, tucked into a belt. What the hell happened to her? What happened to the Karen Bradley that used to stand in front of the mirror before a shift, with her make-up on, wearing a light blue NHS uniform, and clean hair that had been washed, blow-dried and straightened.

She went to her bedside table and opened the top drawer. She took out the small box that her engagement ring was in and smiled, but she never opened it. She put the ring back into the drawer and lost her smile.

What was the point of taking it? For nostalgic reasons? She was never going to get married, so why torture herself and walk around with a ring on her finger for the rest of her days?

She slammed the drawer shut, and went under the bed to grab her sports bag. It was still there. She clutched the handle and began to stuff the bag full of underwear, T-shirts, leggings—everything she could fit in the bag, apart from dressy clothes that used to be worn for when she used to go out for meals, pubs or functions.

She opened the bottom drawer and released a short laugh. Her mousse, hairspray and gel were still there. So was her make-up, hair straighteners and hair dryer. She touched her hair straighteners as if they were a living thing, almost as if she was saying goodbye to them, then slammed the drawer shut.

She had to be brutal. She had to be strong. She couldn't take pointless items because they reminded her of the past. She still had the memories in her head; she didn't need objects to remind her of certain events that had happened in her life.

She took one last look around and was surprised that she didn't feel as bad as she thought she would have done. She then went for the stairs.

Karen came trotting downstairs, where Pickle was waiting for her. "How are yer feeling? Yer okay?" His queries were a little annoying, but she knew he was just concerned for her well-being.

"Actually," she paused for thought, "I feel fine."

"Right." Pickle knew she was being genuine and wasn't putting on a brave face, and this confused him. If ever he had to come face-to-face with KP as a Snatcher, if he never had shot himself on that mad morning when Stile Cop was invaded, he was pretty certain that he'd fall apart.