Snatchers (A Zombie Novel) (29 page)

Chapter Forty Eight

"It's time."

Jack was pleased that he was alive, but the monotony of waiting around, having no television or any other technology to appease his mind, was mentally torturing him. He knew he was better off than most people, but couldn't help feeling selfish about the situation. All he wanted to know was if Thomas was safe.

If Thomas had been taken to some secluded castle in the country surrounded by armed guards, he would never have left Glasgow and would have stayed barricaded in his own house like everyone else, but as a father, he felt it was his duty to protect his son.

Gary, on the other hand, was used to the monotony and the waiting around was normal for him, being an ex-inmate. He never felt it necessary to tell Jack about his former life—although he had found out once he started talking too Pickle at Stile Cop—why would he? He had no interest in what
Jack
used to do for a living. It didn't matter now. Jobs didn't matter anymore, just like politics and the economy.

Peoples' goals had changed; now it was all about survival. Gary and Jack were now survivors in a new, and more dangerous world, not just because of what the virus had done to turn these creatures against man, but the fact that the dark side of man was still due to appear.

Jack sat nonchalantly in the seat, unable to get up and thought about what the world was going to be like from now on within. Humans would now isolate themselves from one another, drenched in paranoia, simply because as the weeks went by and the fuel, food and water dried up, they would turn on each other in order to survive.

Jack could already see images of people being beaten to death for their car. These types of scenarios seemed ridiculous, but Jack was sure it would eventually be a reality as lives would be lost over a gallon of water, or food, or anything else for that matter.

If a man had something that could keep someone alive for just one day, he could be killed for it. That's why the farmers had boarded their places up and put a warning outside. He was sure that they
would
shoot trespassers if ever someone trespassed or tried to steal a chicken—or something else that was deemed edible. Family came first, and that was all the owners of the farms were doing.

In a time of disaster, would humanity pull together? Bullshit!

It was every man for himself.

It wasn't just the infected that would be a threat to the family, but humans as well. These families who were barricaded in their own homes, weren't going to stay there forever, especially once the food began to run short. That was when the worst of it would happen. People spilling out onto the streets amongst the infected, and willing to do almost anything in order to feed their families, was what was about to occur.

They needed gas, and the two men walked out into the street and this time, they both carried a knife each. Gary insisted that Jack shouldn't take the bike again because it was too dangerous, he agreed wholeheartedly.

Gary took out an empty watering can and placed it in the boot of the car and was going to fill it full of fuel once he got to a petrol station. The nearest petrol station was a mile or so away in Rugeley—the one that was being guarded a few hours earlier, and they promised themselves that this was the last time they were going to venture in the town, whatever the outcome, because of the risks.

The Porsche was three quarters full, but topping it up was probably a wise move before desperate motorists drained all the pumps. Satisfied the street was clear, he went back into the house and took a drink of water.

It was time to make their second short trip to Rugeley—and hopefully their last, and they were hoping that the streets were just as quiet as they were before. Jack could see that Gary was acting cool but his tension was for all to see.

The two men entered Slitting Mill where it was populated with the creatures, and again, the car drove around them with Jack in the passenger seat closing his eyes until the danger had passed.

They saw up ahead that the same garage was now vacant and they both looked at one another and smiled, although there was a little paranoia that the pumps may be empty. Thankfully they weren’t, and the Porsche and the watering can were filled to the brim. Jack assumed that once people began to leave their houses due to lack of resources,
that
was when the fuel would be drained—if electricity was still functioning—as people would have to travel to get to areas where food used to be sold. For now, the roads were still quiet, but he was sure that that would change in the next few weeks once desperation kicked in.

Jack popped into the ransacked kiosk and grabbed himself two bottles of cherry coke, three packets of cigarettes and stuffed two lighters in his pocket as well. He handed the bottle to Gary who took it in with him into the car.

Now they had topped up their vehicle with gas, the next plan was to go back home, sit tight and hope that Jemma would contact them somehow. There was nothing more they could do, apart from check on the two village halls on the way back, as they were running out of ideas as well as time.

Gary accelerated in the direction of Slitting Mill once more. As they approached the area some two minutes later, the Porsche slowed right down and Jack could see why.

There was at least seventy beings spread out along the main road, and there may have been more. The two men's presence was noticed immediately, and their approach toward Jack and Gary sent a shiver, as some of them were quite quick, almost at jogging speed.

Jack sighed.
This is definitely the last time we're going into Rugeley.

It seemed to Jack that sooner would be better to get in contact with his son rather than later, because day by day, the population of these things appeared to be multiplying, as some of the roads weren't so desolate anymore.

The car ventured a different way and went up Sandy Lane where some roamed along the path. As they rode by the Pear Tree Estate, they got to the edge of Draycott Park where the new houses were built. The scene was horrendous; Jack opened his eyes, and both he and Gary looked at one another and shook their heads.

There were hundreds of them, and like before, they had found a release of energy as the two men gazed in horror. They looked like they had come from all walks of life; there were men, women, and children amongst the moving dead, and some seemed in better shape than others as far as the skin was concerned.

Jack noticed a handful of the beings' skin was peeling off their face and had to look away from the repugnant image. The crowd of beings marched excitedly toward the two men, and Gary looked at Jack. "We're practically surrounded. They must have come from other towns. I'm gonna ram the fuckers. It's the only way to get through."

He slipped the sports car into first and hit the gas pedal; the wheels screeched painfully along the road, producing smoke and the car did its job by furiously striking a bulk of the crowd. Jack's heart was in his mouth, and watched the windscreen crack as well as being decorated with blood and decay. His nerves were shot to pieces, and the relief was immense once they went by the danger zone.

Once they finally managed to drive through Draycott Park and pass the 'Welcome to Rugeley' sign—as they were now technically a hundred yards in the country and out of the town, Gary pulled the car over and saw the smoke bellowing out of the engine.

Jack stepped out of the passenger side and was aware that the things were gaining on them in their hundreds, and the mixture of groans from the beings was growing louder as they approached nearer. The damage the car had taken, after hitting so many bodies, was for all to see. Gary didn't need to be a qualified mechanic to tell him that the car was beyond repair.

"Not now!" Gary exclaimed, and hit the bonnet with his fist.

He grabbed the duster from the glove compartment and leaped out of the car and didn't need to pop open the bonnet, he knew what the problem was.

Jack grabbed his sleeve and said with dark derision, "A bit late to be cleaning the car now, don't you think? Let's go."

Gary shrugged him off and demanded. "Give me one of your lighters."

"What?"

"Stop messing about. Just do it; if we run, they'll just keep on chasing us and chasing us until we collapse. Maybe this'll block them off. Don't get me wrong, I'm as fit as they come, but they'll just keep following us."

"Fire won't kill them. Anyway, you'll just entice more of them."

"More of them?" Gary nodded over to where they were, they were already in their hundreds.

Jack reluctantly handed him one of the lighters, and Gary went to the boot and took out the heavy watering can full of gas and emptied it all over the road and underneath the car. He waited for them to gain a few more yards and then lit the duster.

He threw the burning material on the floor where he began pouring, and ran as fast as he could, with Jack following suit. The entire road, as well as the car, lit up like a napalm strike and the two men had misjudged the intense heat that came from the fire, and Jack especially, was mortified to be taken off his feet with such force, he thought he was going to break every bone in his body once he hit the road.

With just grazes to their hinge joints, they brushed themselves down, and took a few steps backward as the fire increased. They decided to start and jog gently up Stile Cop Road.

It appeared that the knives that they were both carrying were still intact, and as they approached the beginning of the main road to their left, they saw six of the figures stumble through the fire like drunken stuntmen, as if it wasn't there. It hadn't worked as well as Gary wanted, as the beings continued to move through the fire.

This loathsome scene the men were witnessing increased their nervous energy, and their jog turned into a sprint as they began to run up Stile Cop Road. As soon as Gary approached the Stile Cop cemetery, he had to stop as he felt his left hamstring twinge with pain. They had only run three hundred yards, but he felt his leg smarting. He looked up to the sky and welcomed the rain that began to lash down on his overheated skin.

"Oh, shit on a stick." Jack had managed to say those words through whatever breath he had left. He nodded toward the edge of the woods that began at the end of the cemetery.

One by one, three hideous beings stumbled clumsily from out of the woods onto the road. All creatures were male and both men pulled out their six-inch blade knives automatically on seeing the heinous beasts.

Gary shook with fright, and knew that outrunning these creatures with a tweaked hamstring was going to be difficult. Jack looked over to him, with false bravado etched on his face. "Don't worry, I've done this before, it's a piece of cake. Well, actually it's not…"

"What do I do?" Gary panicked.

"Aim for the head. Just don't get any blood in your eyes."

Both men began attacking all three of the creatures and Gary was apprehensive that he was outnumbered, and two of them lumbered toward
his
direction. He released cries of panic as he stabbed the first one that approached him and he couldn't understand how his knife was penetrating the face, but nothing was happening.

He briefly looked over to Jack whose blade was rammed deep into the top of the head of his attacker. Gary slashed at the attackers' arms that were desperately trying to grab him. His slashing technique had removed some of the fingers of the unbothered creatures, but then Gary grabbed the knife with both hands, closed his eyes and used a sledgehammer technique to bring the knife down into the skull of his first attacker.

A splat of dark blood spat out from the wound as soon it was penetrated, but he had no time to gather his breath or pull out the knife as the embedded weapon fell with the creature. Then a cold pair of hands grabbed his face.

Despite being an ex-inmate, Gary wasn't used to this kind of confrontation and violence, and could feel his bowels loosening as they both fell and now the second creature was on top of him. The stench from its body was forcing him to retch, and while doing this, he was trying to fight off the surprisingly strong cold creature that groaned in his face at the same time.

He didn't know what to do, and remembered a technique he had seen in a horror movie once and stuck one of his thumbs into the cold left eye socket of the creature. He retched once more and screwed his face with repulsion, as he began to implement this desperate technique he stole from Bruce Campbell. He tried to force the thumb in as far as he could. He could feel the acid in the back of his throat whilst he was performing this macabre action, and dark gunk poured over his hand and out onto his T-shirt as his thumb went further in and began to damage the brain.

He pulled out his thumb and forced it back in once more, and it seemed to be taking effect as the thing writhed around out of control, his other thumb went into the other eye socket, and now both eyes pissed out the oily smelly liquid. The inside of the sockets were freezing, as if he had shoved his thumb in a pile of mince that had just defrosted. He moved the thumbs around from side to side furiously and was aware that what he was doing was so vigorous, that he was in danger of breaking his thumbs.

The creature eventually stopped writhing, and Gary pulled out his thumb that was covered in black gunk and wiped it on his trousers. Jack had come over and grabbed the thing off of Gary, and dragged it off his new friend and placed it to the side of the road. He grabbed the other two bodies as Gary tried to get his breath back, and again, dragged them to the side of the road. He could see another body further up the road, that was also at the side, and knew this was the kindest thing to do rather than just leaving them, as humans would eventually need the road to use in a matter of days or weeks once they began leaving their homes.