Snatchers: Volume One (The Zombie Apocalypse Series Box Set--Books 1-3) (21 page)

"And if you decide
not
to die and leave?" Bonser snarled a little, whilst asking the question.

Gary knew where Bonser was coming from.

Gary was certain that apart from the extra mouth to feed, him escaping would also be seen as a risk for the two men. If Gary was out in the world, he would have information about a certain prison that was stocked full of food and now only had two inmates in there. That kind of information could be detrimental for Bonser and Horan, especially if the information reached armed bandits or other types of desperados. A full or a half-full prison would be impossible and suicidal to break into, but if the house block only had two prisoners left, it made them vulnerable.

Gary finally answered, "I won't. Don't worry; if I wanted to leave I would have done with the rest of the cons. I'm staying, whatever happens. At least in here
I
get to choose the way I die. Out there is a different matter altogether. How many of the four hundred inmates will survive out there, if what they say on the radio is true?"

Bonser gulped hard. "Not many...I suppose."

"We're all gonna die." Gary was convincing with his act. "Might as well be in here."

Both men nodded with satisfaction.

Gary sighed, "Think I might go to the exercise yard for some air."

"I wouldn't go out there, " Kyle chuckled. "It's grim."

"I'll go anyway."

The two men patted Gary on the back and headed back to H Wing's slider and strolled back onto E wing.

Gary could just about hear Bonser saying to Kyle, "I believe him. We'll check the cells on his wing for food in a few days. We have enough at the moment."

Gary reached the ground floor, and breathed a sigh of relief. His real cell was H fifty-six which was across the balcony, and if the pair of them knew that that was his cell and found out that he had food stashed away in his toilet cubicle and under his bed, they would know he was lying and kill him for sure. It had now turned into a game he couldn't win.
Better change the name cards on the door in case they come back.

He was sure that they would be back to search the wing and cells for food, and Gary had an idea to take the food out of his cell and spread the food out into various cells. So when they came searching, it wouldn't look so suspicious, rather than finding a stash of food in the one cell.

He was relieved that the two men didn't ask him about the photograph of a family that was stuck on the wall of cell H sixty-seven or had noticed the name card on the cell door actually read,
Frank Jones - Remand
.

He looked out to the opened exercise yard door and wondered why the two intimidating men encouraged him not to go out.
It's grim?
One thing was for sure; he couldn't stay on his wing anymore. Jumping the fence wasn't an option either, as now it was a necessity. If he stayed and they came back to check on him in a matter of days and found that he hadn't lost a pound of weight, suspicions would be at their highest. And he needed to jump the fence when they were away; if they saw him climbing the fence, they could catch him and kill him. He would only have one chance at it.

He stepped outside into the humid air, where his ears were immediately assaulted with screams of panic from all around and above him. He could make out at least six voices and the longer he stood in the exercise yard, the voices increased and felt like they were multiplying.

He looked over to where the noise was coming from, to see the usual sight of A wing from house block one. He could see arms hanging out of the narrowly opened windows, cups were being hit against the window to attract his attention, but they needn't have bothered. A cacophony of sentences were thrown at him, and he couldn't make them all out, but the half dozen he could understand, informed Gary that prisoners from the other house block had been locked up and left to starve to death.

Even if Gary could somehow get into the house block, he would have trouble trying to get the steel cell doors open anyway. He felt helpless, and all he could do was apologise continuously.

He finally understood what the two men meant now by avoiding the yard, and decided that the next time he went out there, would be when he eventually climbed over the fence.

He then looked ahead and saw that the huge main slider door—the entrance/exit to the place for vehicles—was left open.

Oh shit!

At least with the slider open, he didn't need to jump the wall, but what it
did
mean was that the main gate to the prison grounds was open, meaning, any of those things from the outside could get in, and he was sure that the two inmates inside didn't realise this yet, as their exercise yard on E wing had a different view altogether.

Do it now!
The voice screamed in his head, but he refrained from doing so. Gary wanted to be properly rested, fed and hydrated before he made the jump, as he didn't know what he was about to face on the outside.

Chapter Thirty Seven

The green BMW bike was now entering the small town of Hazelslade. The first thing it rode by, as he turned left down the steep declining road, was the pub on the right and the primary school to his left. He could see beyond the road about half a dozen of them in the distance. He turned right at the next road, which was opposite the huge fishing pond that was situated near the woods, and turned right into the street of Kerry's mum's house.

Two of the things sauntered around the street and Jack was unsure whether the noise from his new vehicle would be a hindrance for him and could attract the attention of the fiends from afar. The two creatures immediately turned and noticed his presence. They were fifty yards away at the bottom of the street, and Jack was now standing and keeping the bike upright. The house he wanted was the end one to the right of the street.

He allowed them to gain on him and waited patiently for them to approach him. As they approached nearer, he saw that the two males looked no older than twenty, and both wore black attire, matching their dyed hair to represent the gothic music they used to listen to before they were turned.

Their T-shirts had bands on them that Jack had never heard of, and the one on the left had a spike-piercing through its nose. Their ivory skin was noticeable as they managed another five yards, and Jack thought that as humans, they probably looked the same as they did now.

Once they were ten yards away from him, he thrashed the accelerator and drove the bike around them; with the Slitting Mill incident still fresh in his mind, he didn't want to give them a sniff of a chance of grabbing him. Jack then turned into the drive and dropped the bike onto the front lawn of the garden, took out the keys, and climbed the garage, as the two hapless things desperately and clumsily walked towards him.

He jumped off the garage and was now behind the fence. He walked and peered into the living room of Kerry's mum's, there was no sign of life. He could now hear the groaning of the things from behind the fence. Suddenly he heard a voice from above him. He looked up to see an elderly lady whose face was quivering with fear. She looked like she was ready to burst into tears.

"It's okay." Jack raised his hand apologetically. "I'm looking for someone."

The old woman spoke, "They might be in the church, some of them left for the church; others went to a village hall. It was a big group of people from here."

"What about Kerry? Was there a woman here called Kerry Evans?"

"I know Kerry. She was here. She came up to see her mum."

He looked up to see the elderly woman; she looked no younger than seventy. "Did they have a little boy with them?"

"Yes, young Thomas," she said tearfully. "Please leave, you're putting us all in danger being here."

She shut the window slowly and he heard the beginnings of her sobbing, until the closed window prevented him from hearing anymore. He didn't have great knowledge of the area outside the small village, but he knew there was only one church and it was situated half a mile away, he had no idea about any village hall. All he needed to do now was distract his small fan club so he could get back onto his bike.

He pulled himself back up onto the garage, where he was now overlooking the things that were staring up at him. He was certain he could outrun them. He jumped off the garage and rolled to the side as if he had just performed a parachute jump. They didn't waste any time on pursuing the man, and he quickly ran to the front garden to pick the heavy bike up. He started the engine first time and sped off before the things were anywhere near him.

He looked behind to see that these weren't quite as persistent as the creatures he bumped into at Slitting Mill. They stumbled around the street as if they had already forgot about his presence, whereas some of the group from Slitting Mill were almost running after him.

Nothing was black and white with these creatures, and Jack wondered how long it would be before someone could work out how these things ticked, if anything could cure them, and what was being done in terms of help for the UK population. It was only a couple of days in, and Jack was hopeful that the country was weeks away from cures and help, as the country, and possibly the world, would be in a state of shock and consternation for a while before a metaphorical slap in the face was needed.

One of Jack's fears was that if this was a UK problem only, the rest of the world would cut their losses. It was an island, and the problem could be contained, especially with military intervention. Considering that the Western world had been ignoring the atrocities in Sudan or civil war in Sri Lanka, then why suddenly bend over backwards for the UK?

It was difficult to know what was happening with the lack of knowledge he had and information available. The only thing he could concentrate on was to look after himself and make sure his son was still alive. Some none-western countries may feel that this was exactly what Britain deserved for the hardship they had caused on the world. Was this God's way of finally punishing the United Kingdom, for the British Empire's atrocities that have been committed over the centuries?

Jack pulled up at the main road, which was adjacent to the fishing pond. He pulled the bike off the road and slowly rode the beast through the long grass where he came near a wooden fence. He stepped off the bike to see that the pond was surrounded by the wooden fence where the panels went across horizontally.

The fence was only four feet in height, and the thickness of the panels already told him that he was going to need something hardcore to break or saw through them, if he wanted to take the bike as well. He had two choices. He could ride around and find another way in. Or, he could ditch the bike temporarily and go on foot. He was aware that walking into the woods unarmed was a dangerous option, but finding his son was the only thing that kept him going.

He made the decision to temporarily leave the bike and finish the remainder of the journey on foot. He laid the bike on its side in the long grass, so that when he came back it would still be there, sleeping, waiting for its new master, hopefully with Kerry and Thomas in tow. He was certain it wouldn't get stolen, as the long grass was the perfect camouflage for a 1300cc BMW that had lime green paintwork on its body, but the sooner he could get a car with keys, the better. He wouldn't know where to start if he wanted to hotwire one, but the Slitting Mill incident had highlighted that he'd be better with a sheet of metal around him while travelling.

He looked by the pond and into the condensed wooded area. It was a part of Cannock Chase he didn't know well at all, most of the Chase surrounded every town. Cannock itself had acres upon acres of wooded area around its perimeter of its town, as well as Hazelslade. Some would mistake the Stile Cop woods on the outskirts of Rugeley as a part of Cannock Chase, but that was a smaller, separate wood on its own, which ended at the top of the hill of the large beauty spot.

Jack trounced through the grass and kept on looking at his feet to make sure there was nothing untoward hiding in the grass. The forty-year-old continued to scan the grass and was feeling the wetness under the arms of his black T-shirt. He could murder a cigarette.

As he got to the pond, he sat down on one of the wooden benches. It was a beautiful place and he could understand why people would choose to live in such a small town.

My clutch has gone. Can't get my arse into gear
.

He cursed himself for being lazy and got back to his feet. The only way he could get to the woods was to walk around the pond, and he wanted to look for his son and make his way back to the bike before daylight began to diminish.

He glared into the pond. He wondered why grown men would pay a fee to sit and fish there; the water looked filthy and he couldn't fathom what kind of fish lived in the pond, if any. What was the point of fishing? All it was to Jack was grown men drowning maggots.

Lost in self-hypnosis, Jack slowly came around and managed to get his brain in gear; he had returned to reality. It was surreal reality, but it was reality all the same, whether he liked it or not. He could feel a pain in his stomach and put his hand there.

Before he managed to make another step forward, the sound of rustling came from the side of him. It was one of them. He quickly snapped out of his daydreaming and ran away from the solitary being as it stumbled through the long grass.

Jack could feel the surge of nervous energy pumping furiously through his frame, and he knew if he continued to run, it would only follow him into the woods. He turned to face the thing. It released a groan and looked bloated. Jack allowed it to get nearer and then brought his foot into the stomach of the vagrant. It fell backwards, giving Jack a little time.

Jack began to run the circumference of the pond, his eyes scanning for anything that could be used as a weapon; the cleaver would have been perfect right now.

The thing chased after him slowly, like a deformed butler you would see in one of the old horror movies. Jack finally found a jagged rock that fitted perfectly in his hand, and it was more than suitable for an execution. He turned around and stood his ground, waiting for it. He felt sick with nerves as it gained on him, and he pulled his right arm back as if he was about to throw a baseball. Once in range, he closed his eyes and threw his arm forwards and connected with its skull. He was surprised at what he witnessed.

Jack didn't know whether it was his strength, the fact that the thing was heading towards him, or if it had a weak skull, but the mess that his solitary strike had created was almost on a par of what a shotgun could have done. He felt the fragments of bone brush his hand as the rock smashed straight through, causing irreparable damage from the skull down to the nasal area.

Black blood splashed out onto his shirt, little splats was felt hitting him in the face and covering his hand and rock, and the creature fell immediately as the damage to the brain was self-evident. Jack didn't need a doctor to tell him that the brain had been severely damaged. Just looking at the extent of the damage to the head and face, made it obvious that the creature wouldn't be getting up again.

Jack dropped the dripping rock onto the ground, and gaped at the body and the black oily hole where a face use to be. His sickness had only increased once the ordeal was over, and he walked over to the pond to splash his face and wash his hands.

He looked at his hand where it was scraped by bone fragments, and was pleased that the attack hadn't broken his skin, he used some of the pond water to drench his shirt. He wanted to get rid of the oily stuff off his shirt, and cool himself down from the humidity as well.

He sat down and his thoughts raced through his mind of the insane weekend that he had endured thus far, and how close he had come to being killed. He thought about Robbie and having to execute him in his own drive with a cleaver. Even that thought alone, was surreal. He reminisced about the dead bodies outside the police station, being attacked at the service station, the abandoned car, and being grabbed at Slitting Mill, and now being practically ambushed by one of them—although he admitted to himself that if he had been paying attention, he would have spotted the thing through the tall grass a lot earlier.

He looked at the pond and understood that going into water would be a futile and suicidal thing to do if ever a gang of the beings were chasing him. If these things were already dead, then it was impossible for them to drown.

Was nowhere safe?

He understood that in the major cities, the carnage would be even more distressing, and would be swarming with the things. In his small experience so far, he had witnessed hordes of them in some areas, and other areas were relatively quiet. He shook his head. He had to find his son and go somewhere safe soon, as the more he travelled, the more he was likely to be attacked.

Still feeling sick, Jack placed his weary head into his lap and waited for the feeling to pass. The food that he consumed at Kerry's home had managed to stay down, and the only thing Jack released was tears.

The unreal disaster to mankind had begun to hit him hard. He cried for his son, as he didn't know whether he was alive or dead. He was unsure about his other relatives who he had hardly gave a second thought about so far, and for the first time, he wondered about his friends, his work colleagues and even his neighbours.

There was so much going on in the last few days, and with survival being the only goal, his brain never had the time to think about anything else or other people.

He wiped his eyes and made a start to get to his feet; he felt thirsty and could taste in his mouth that his breath wasn't the best.
Shit. Smells like a monkey's arse
. He had more things to worry about than bad breath.

He headed for the woods, and it was a task he wasn't looking forward to as he mentally prepared himself for the worse case scenario, but he needed to find his son, whatever it took.