Snatchers: Volume One (The Zombie Apocalypse Series Box Set--Books 1-3) (16 page)

Chapter Twenty Eight

Oliver Bellshaw and Karen Bradley had been in the woods for hours, and had reached an amicable agreement. Still exhausted from her nightshift and after a run-in with one of the creatures, she had decided to grab another hour in exchange so Oliver could also go for a nap. The thirty-four-year-old divorcee had a decent night's sleep the night before, but the whole event seemed to have exhausted him.

His story wasn't as exciting, as far as the other survivors were concerned, but he was alive, which he was sure that thousands upon thousands of individuals no longer had that pleasure anymore.

As Karen slept, he revisited his surreal morning.

As soon as Oliver was attacked outside the newsagents, he grabbed his phone, packed his bag, took his car, and drove the short journey from his house in Hednesford through the countryside, heading towards the outskirts of Rugeley in order to get to his mother's.

As soon as he went by a tiny village called Slitting Mill, where he used to regularly go for meals at a public house called The Horns, he saw the presence of a dozen of the things wandering aimlessly around the streets. He reversed harshly to turn the car around and head the opposite direction, but his right back tyre slipped into a ditch.

Naturally engulfed in a cloud of hysteria, he opened the door unhesitatingly, took his bag that was sitting on the passengers seat, and began to run along the country road that headed back towards the main road that would lead into Rugeley if he turned left, or back to Hednesford if he turned right.

He decided on left, as he knew the state of the place back in his small town. He saw a couple of, what
he
called, Snatchers, roaming around on the outskirts of the part of Rugeley he wanted to enter, and knew that this was also a no-go area.

He cut across a fence and ran across a farmers field, as he was hoping that he wouldn't be seen and be followed. He was still unsure about what and who they were, and only knew what the TV had informed him on.

After spending five minutes running through the long grass, he decided to chance his luck back on the main road. He went over to the fence on his left and jumped over, and was now on the main road that led to Stile Cop and was facing almost opposite the cemetery. He ran by the cemetery and headed to a beauty spot, where a lot of people used to park up and use the place as a picnic area, or as a base to park the car and go for a long walk.

Stile Cop was the largest beauty spot and was at the highest point. The one where Oliver arrived at was small, secluded, and lower down, near the bottom of the main road. On the main road, the vast amount of the woods were to the left, whereas to the right, was the farmers fields.

He wanted to head for Stile Cop but not the main road route, as he was paranoid that he may be seen from a distance by one of those things, resulting in him being tracked down by an army of the slow moving cannibals. When he arrived at the secluded area, he had made a decision to get to his destination through the woods. It was the hardest way, but he felt it was the safest, as on the road he felt exposed. He was certain that they would have trouble following him through a condensed wooded area that was on a slight hill.

Snapping out of his daydreaming, Oliver looked at his watch, it was nearly 5pm. Time had little relevance at the moment, but what it could still do was tell Oliver how near or far it was away from becoming dark. He had allowed Karen to sleep longer and now that his brain was active again, he now felt that his short sleep wasn't needed anymore.

He planned on eventually getting to the top of the hill at Stile Cop beauty spot. Then, he and Karen could make a camp temporarily until he decided what to do and where to go next. He was dreading the darkness that was only a matter of hours away, and knew that they both could easily get to the beauty spot within half an hour on foot, but other things needed to be considered. Oliver dreamed that not only a camp would have to be built, which could take hours, but some sort or perimeter fence or tripwire would have to be incorporated to let them know through the night if they had company. All of this could take up to half a day to complete.

It would be a tense night taking turns sleeping in the woods for the one night, but both exhausted individuals agreed that rest was imperative before making their way up to the beauty spot. The macabre hours would drag and the pair of them would be fortunate if any type of sleeping would take place. He thought that, despite this, their predicament was a lot safer than other situations he could think of, and staying in a populated area was definitely something he wouldn't consider again.

He still felt troubled that one of them that Karen had dealt with had attempted to make its way through the woods. If one of them had now tried
that
, maybe others would attempt again in the near future once food in the town began to run out.

The options were few and far between for the two of them, but he had camped before, many years ago, with a girlfriend at one of the beauty spots, and with the season being in summer, and with a full or even a half moon out, the area wouldn't be as dark as it could be. Oliver suddenly heard a car go by and smiled to himself. Any sign of life brought small joy, because it meant there was some hope.

He remained sitting up; his head constantly swinging to the left and to the right. He felt more relaxed than he did when he first entered the woods, but the paranoia was still there, although not as strong as before. He stared at a sleeping Karen and for the first time, realised that she was an attractive woman.

Her dark hair was tied back with an elastic band, her face was facing away from Oliver to the left, and he glared at her exposed neck, as a few drops of pearly perspiration sat on her neck, threatening to escape.

Despite the few droplets of sweat, Oliver thought about what it would be like to kiss that neck. He hadn't been with a woman in months, and thought to himself that despite what was happening in the world, a man was a man: pathetic, weak, and controlled by an organ that—for most women—was never enough to be satisfied with.

He held out his fingertips, and they shook with fear and excitement. The fear was in case she woke up and wondered what the fuck he was doing. And as for the excitement, that was plainly obvious. He was doing something he shouldn't.

He told himself that if she suddenly woke up, he would inform her that he was trying to remove a bug off of her. His fingers eventually reached their destination, as they gently slid down her neck and stopped near her collarbone.

The black T-shirt she was wearing was a little soaked with perspiration at the front, but it didn't stop his fingers running over the T-shirt and following the outline of her perked breasts. The more forbidden the area, the more he shook with excitement and trepidation. He contemplated on removing his fingers, but he couldn't help himself.

He gave Karen's nearest breast a gentle squeeze through her T-shirt, and she responded with a moan. He began to touch himself.

Oliver undid his zip; he was so aroused he couldn't stop himself. He looked around as if there could be somebody watching him, and began stroking the shaft with his right hand as Karen lay to his left, oblivious to what he was doing. He was dying to moan as he rubbed the palm of his hand along the shaft up and down rapidly, but he knew her waking up would ruin the moment altogether.

He was getting close; he lay back next to the sleeping Karen Bradley, and always felt the orgasm was better when the penis was pointing upwards. Whenever he masturbated, he always lay on his back as he felt the intensity was better, and when he used to have sex with women, he always preferred and encouraged his partner to go on top whenever he was getting nearer.

He was seconds away from ejaculating, and now he was fantasising that Karen was giving him oral pleasure. As the feeling grew stronger, the more adventurous he became, as his left hand wandered towards Karen's breasts. He knew he'd be in serious shit if ever she woke up, but the danger and the fact he was caressing the breasts of an attractive woman he could never get in the real world, was heightening his pleasure.

He released a solitary grunt as he came, and his hand slipped under her bra and gently squeezed her breasts. He stroked her nipple with his thumb as the ejaculation was taking place.

As soon as the adrenaline started to wane, the regret and shame began to surface. He released his hand from Karen's breasts carefully, stood to his feet and walked over to a tree with his trousers round his ankles. He wiped his hand on the bark of the tree and his stubborn pee eventually cleaned out the tubes. It had been a while since he had performed any sexual activity, and only felt the urge once he saw Karen sleeping.

Now clean, and relieved he wasn't caught, he sat next to her and looked at her once again. The sweat glistened on her head and the top of her breasts, which complimented her body perfectly. Oliver shook his head at himself and felt a twinge in his groin once more. He felt that he could go again. He hadn't felt like this since he was a teenager. When he was fifteen, he watched a porn movie in his bedroom and managed to perform three times in a row.

He didn't know why this was happening; whether it was because he was stressed, or hadn't had it for a while. Or was it the simple fact that a beautiful woman was lying next to him? He didn't have the answer.

He cursed himself for his action and promised himself he would try and control himself. He took another look at Karen and was finding his second arousal a little disturbing. This time he decided to leave himself alone, but if he was one hundred percent certain that Karen wouldn't wake up, he was sure that he would probably have repeated what he had just done earlier, but maybe took it further.

He understood that in the old world he would be looking at a jail term, but then again, in the old world he wouldn't be hiding in the woods with this beauty in the first place.

Chapter Twenty Nine

They had driven around their town for a while, stopping, then filling up, and sometimes allowing the car to be stationary for a while. They had been driving around for an hour now and managed to stock up from an already-burgled bakers store. All that was left was some bread, milk and cakes, but it was better than nothing.

The town was empty, devoid of all life, and David Pointer felt reasonably relaxed when he solely went into the bakers to stock up with two bags of food. His wife and daughter remained locked in the car that was parked only twenty yards away and their destination hadn't been considered yet.

He jumped back in the car and looked at the fuel gauge; they had a full tank after filling up at a station near St Augustine's Church. They had come across pockets of beings but never quite as bad as they experienced in their own street.

They had left their town of Rugeley, and after a mile of driving through bendy roads, their Renault Clio pulled up at the side of the country road.

"Are you sure about this?" Davina quizzed him.

"I'm not sure about anything anymore," was his honest response.

He got out of the car and walked towards a road that veered to the right. He knew where the road led to; it was a place he liked to come out to for a meal with his wife now and again, as he always liked the country style.

In the past, they would walk into one of the pubs to be greeted by a roaring coal fire; the country pubs had rooms with old fashioned wooden beams in. The food was of the highest quality as the place was surrounded by farmlands, so it didn't take a genius to know where they got their fresh produce from.

It was now impossible to get to, as he stared at the entrance to the village. He looked over to his wife who was glaring at him from the passenger side, and he shook his head. The slump of her shoulders told him that she was disappointed, but there wasn't a great deal he could do to overturn the situation.

They had friends there in Colton and were certain that they would put them up for a few nights, although they weren't answering their phones. The only entrance to the tiny village had been cordoned off. It looked like the barrier had been the idea of the villagers themselves and it consisted of a huge wagon parked across the main road, with a sign reading:
We are full. Outsiders will be shot.

He stepped closer towards the sign to see if he could get a look under the wagon; there was no sign of life until he got to his feet. A shot rang out and David ducked and crouched. His shocked wife went to leave the car to see how her husband was, but he reacted by furiously waving his hand, telling her to get back to the car with their daughter, who was still sleeping in one of the back passenger seats.

He then heard a voice saying, "There's one of them behind the barrier!"

David remained in a half-crouched position; his hands were behind his head as if an officer of the law had pointed a gun at him, and decided to speak before another shot rang out. "I'm not one of
them!
I'm from Rugeley. Me and my family are looking for a place to stay!"

He could hear the boots of men heading his way, and the voice commanded him to stand up and put his arms by his side. David did what he was told.

He looked to the side of the wagon, looking for the two men and heard a whistle. He looked up to see the two men standing on top of the cab of the truck, their shotguns were not pointing and he felt no threat anymore.

The one on the left looked no older than twenty, and looked like he hadn't had a bath in weeks. The one on the right was in his forties, dressed in typical farmer attire: checked shirt, Wellington boots and a flap cap sitting on his head.

"Turn your car around and go back to where you came from," the man on the right spoke vehemently.

"We just want somewhere to stay the night," David protested meekly. "We have friends here. We wanted to get somewhere before it gets dark."

"Not anymore," the young boy on the left snapped. "We're looking after our own from now on."

"That's right," the man on the right nodded, "and anyone trying to get in will be shot, no matter
who
you are."

David almost showed his tears to the two men but fought them back swiftly. "So that's it?"

"That's it," the older one spoke. "Don't get me wrong, I wish you the best of luck, my friend, but we need to survive. We've only had two episodes of those things in a village of three hundred, so as far as we're concerned, that's good going. This is our way of keeping the situation under control."

"What happened to them?"

"Some kind of biting virus. I've seen it in dogs and foxes, but never in people. I shot them both, we burned them in a field afterwards."

"I don't know where to go. Any ideas? We're from Rugeley."

"You have guns?"

David shook his head.

The two men looked at one another, and David was waiting for them to burst into hysterics. The mocking never materialized, and the older gentleman said, "Then I'd go to the highest point."

"Etching Hill?"

The man shook his head, and this time almost laughed. "Etching Hill is high, but it's densely populated. I was thinking along the lines of Stile Cop or the industrial estate on the hill on the Hednesford Road. Just stay away from Little Haywood, that's where the Murphy family stay."

David nodded in agreement. He knew where the industrial estate place was; he once had a job there working for a painting and decorating company. There was also a cafe there that his dad religiously used to take him to on a Saturday for a cooked breakfast.

David turned around to head back to his car, and heard the voice of the man in his forties speak out one last sentence before he got into his vehicle. "Good luck, my friend. No hard feelings. The last thing this village needs is more mouths to feed."

David never responded, and was still miffed that the small village was prepared to send a family-of-three away back into that horrific world. Surely an extra three people wouldn't have made that much difference to the village. He came to the conclusion that their way of thinking was that, if you let
one
in, then others would follow.

David had turned the car around and headed back into Rugeley.

He didn't want to venture too far because he wanted to stay somewhere where there was familiarity. If he was going to get chased by these things, he would rather be chased around the streets where he knew and lived, rather than a place where he could easily become lost and further the danger of his family even more, by driving into an area that was even more populated, or into a dead end.

He looked at Davina and gave his wife a comforting smile; she placed her hand on his cheek and a tear fell from her face, as if squeezed from a teat pipette. She looked behind her and saw Isobel, still asleep in her booster seat. Her head flopped forwards and even though she never usually had a nap anymore, they decided to leave her be.

"We're going to Hazelslade; see if it's quiet there. If it is, we'll see if someone might put us up. We'll stop off at Stile Cop first and get refreshments."

Davina nodded in agreement. "When Isobel wakes up, she'll be needing the toilet."

"We have one toilet roll in the bag, it'll do for now."

The car went by Power Station Road and headed back into the town. As they passed St Augustine's Church for a second time, David and Davina had noticed that the once empty street that ran across the circumference of the town centre, now, had at least twenty to thirty visitors, lifelessly wandering the streets.

Davina looked at David with horror scribbled on her face. As if he knew what question she was thinking, he began to speak.

"Maybe more have been bitten; remember what the TV said?"

She shook her head. "Vaguely."

"Maybe they were still changing."

"What do you mean?" Davina asked and leant to the right as David swerved around one of them.

"Think about it. You go out on a Saturday night, you go back home to your family after being bitten or scratched, and then you go to bed, not knowing that you've caught this virus. You then die in your sleep; then you reanimate and attack the rest of your family. Next thing you know, you've got one house with three or four of these things in it.

"You see, the reason why the streets were so quiet before, wasn't just because people were barricading themselves in, it's probably because some houses were infested with the things, and they just couldn't understand how to get out."

Davina nodded at her husband's theory and saw that some of the windows were smashed, and thought that they were probably smashed not just because some of them were trying to get in, but maybe some had changed inside and were trying to get out and feed.

Davina tried to joke, "You've been listening to that radio too much since we left."

Maybe his theory was correct.

Whatever the real reason, the episode had seemed to increase with terror, and as soon as they found a quiet place to stop, the better.

David was now leaving Rugeley and headed towards Sandy Lane; his car bypassed Draycott Park where there were more of them, but didn't seem to notice them as much. A lot of the creatures were crowded round in a small street like young pupils watching a playground fight, and David could only assume that they were feasting on some poor bastard.

They left Draycott Park, exited the town, and continued along the Hednesford Road and turned left onto the Stile Cop Road.

"Nearly there," he said. As the car reached the top of the hill, they turned left into the quiet and surprisingly uninhabited beauty spot, and pulled the car up.

The engine was switched off, and although they had been travelling by car, David was panting as if he had ran up the road. His eyes met Davina's and gave her a reassuring wink.

As David got out of the car to stretch his legs on the sandy surface of the beauty spot, Davina turned to her daughter and tried to wake her up by gently shaking her, while trying not to alarm the young four-year-old. David looked around and thought the place was almost perfect.

It felt like it was in the middle of nowhere, and it was high up. The only part he didn't like was the wooded area.

He stood facing the entrance of the secluded area; to the right of him was the woods, but to the left of him was a steep hill that was on such a decline, it would be humanly impossible to walk down without falling over. The decline was covered in grass and fresh bracken. It would be impossible for those things to get up. The only way they could get up was through the woods, if that was possible, or by walking up the steep Stile Cop Road—an impossible task for David to cycle when he was a kid.

His thoughts went back to Sherree from his street, and his throat began to swell hard as he saw the destruction of her four-month-old baby being replayed in his head. He tried to shake the memory off and knew that keeping busy was the only way to stop this thing from sinking in.

There was no point running away from it mentally; it was happening, whether he liked it or not.