Snatchers: Volume One (The Zombie Apocalypse Series Box Set--Books 1-3) (25 page)

Chapter Forty Three

KP had spent an hour slaving over the coal barbecue, and everyone seemed satisfied, apart from Jamie who was standing a hundred yards away from the camp, as it was
his
turn to stand guard in case of any unwanted surprises emerged out of the woods.

The barbecue was at the end of the beauty spot where over the edge was a steep hill full of bracken. Jamie looked to his left and saw the prison van doing its job by blocking the entrance successfully. He had another ten minutes before he would be released from his duty, as David Pointer was next. David didn't have a gun, but the whole point of standing guard was to inform the rest of the group if anything untoward could be seen or heard, which would result in the unarmed to hide in the vehicles, and the armed to remove the problem, or problems.

Jamie had had a burger and a chicken breast washed down with some lemonade; his stomach was full and he was looking forward to resting his weary legs, as the campfire was looking incredibly inviting. Once the unarmed David walked over to Jamie to relieve him, Jamie walked over towards the campfire and sat in a circle with the others. It was hard work standing in one position for a certain amount of time, and it reminded him whenever he did extra shifts back at the prison in the visits hall.

Janine puffed out a bored sigh, and bemoaned, "How long is this gonna be, staying out here, exposed like this?"

"Stop your whining," KP snorted. "You're alive, you've got food, and once this dies down a little, you can break into any house you want. But for the time being, we need to stay away from populated areas."

"Has anyone checked on Laz?" Jamie asked.

KP shook his head. "He doesn't look good; he's pale."

"I gave him some medicine before, but he's still the same." Janine said, she looked over to Jamie and asked him to sit next to her.

Pickle was chewing on his last burger and said with a mouth full of food, "I'll check on him in a moment."

KP looked over to Pickle and felt uneasy. Pickle smiled thinly and gave him his trademark, reassuring wink.

"I'm gonna go and see how Laz is," Pickle announced to the group; he stood to his feet and stretched, then slowly pondered over with his tired feet dragging on the sandy area, reluctantly being forced towards the back of the prison van.

KP took a swig from the small bottle of water and handed it over to Jamie. He took it while Janine's head wearily rested on his shoulder.

"Not quite as good as the Wolseley Arms." KP tried to break the silence.

"Nowhere near," Jamie half-laughed. "I think it's gonna be a while before I drink like that again."

"Ever wondered how it came to this?"

For the first time, Jamie could hear fretfulness coated in KP's words.

It was a question that everyone was probably wondering, but with all the madness, they hadn't had a chance to think about it too much. "Well, they reckon it's an aggressive form of rabies, or it could be some kind of new and unknown airborne virus."

"A bit like SARS or the bird flu?" Karen questioned, picking out a strand of chicken with her index finger in her front teeth. She was new to the group, but wasn't shy in any way.

KP giggled mockingly at the new girl and shook his head, making Karen feel enraged. "Nah, you and me know, Missy, that it's a little bit more serious than that."

"I
have
been out there."

"Really? When was the last time you saw someone being eaten right before your eyes?"

"Cut it out," Jamie said with a sharp whisper, aware now that Janine was asleep on his shoulder. "It's not a competition, for Christ's sake. I'm sure we've all got our own personal story from what has happened over the weekend, but it's how we deal with it. That's all that matters now."

KP smirked at Karen from behind the yellow flames of the fire that licked the air; his smirk disappeared when she mouthed the word
cocksucker
in his direction.

"What are they?" KP asked. "I mean, what's wrong with them, are they sick? Are they dead? Undead? Their brain still kinda works, but they have no heartbeat, but yet they still move. They do seem to have
some
instincts."

Karen spoke up, "I class them as dead. Radio reports say they have no heartbeat; they don't breathe. So if they
are
alive, they're not really human. Whatever they are, they're now the enemy. They're a threat to mankind's existence."

"Maybe it wasn't an accidental virus," a sceptical Jamie spoke up. "It's probably these scientists. Look at cloning and stem-cell research. I read that the Chinese had created something in order to vastly reduce the population, to free up reserves like food, water…even fuel."

"That's bullshit, JT," KP laughed, and even Karen managed a smirk.

"It's true. According to this website I was reading, it's called reanimation. The Chinese scientists inject a person, and the brain then dies from the outside in. The outside being the cortex—the nice part of you that makes you human, and what is left is the part that controls basic motor function and primitive instincts behind. You don't need the cortex of the brain to live, you just need the stem."

"So let's get this straight," KP was confused by Jamie's story. "You take a brain-dead patient, use these techniques to re-grow the brain stem, and you now have a mindless body shambling around, no thoughts and no personality, nothing but a cloud of base instincts and impulses?"

"Pretty much."

"What do
you
reckon? You're a nurse." KP looked over at Karen, waiting for an answer.

"I think the rabies-type theory is the one that seems more likely. I heard that the virus started in
this
country, in a lab, not China, or anywhere else. Rabies is caught when saliva enters your bloodstream, and animals that get it have a tendency to bite, become aggressive and some get a fear of water. But this is obviously a different, more aggressive type."

"How d'ya mean?" KP quizzed.

"Well, for one, it's quicker. It could take ages for symptoms of rabies to occur, but with these things…I dunno, it seems to take them less time."

KP smirked and looked over to Karen. "What did
you
call them again, I forgot?"

"Snatchers," Karen said.

"Snatchers, I like that. Okay," KP said, waving his hands to get everybody's attention. "I have a joke. Why did the Snatcher cross the road?"

"To eat the chicken," Karen answered with a grin, knowing she had ruined KP's moment.

*

Pickle and Laz walked along the sandy area. They passed the small laughter of the group by the campfire, and at one point, Pickle had to take hold of Laz's arm to stop him from falling over. He was weak; he had lost his appetite and wanted nothing more than to stay in the back of the van and sleep, but Pickle had insisted that he needed fresh air and being stuck in the stuffy van was doing his temperature no favours.

They walked to the edge of the spot, and Pickle insisted that they should go down further a few more yards. The steep incline put Laz off, but Pickle helped him down, although there was a minor incident that involved Laz falling, which almost caused them both to tumble. The two of them had disappeared from the view of everyone else, who continued to sit around, chatting by the dying fire.

Pickle helped Laz to sit, and he seemed to take an age to sit down next to him. They both stared at the beauty of the starless sky that was now a deep, intense azure colour.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Pickle breathed in.

"Sure is." Laz shook with the cold, but felt it was what his body needed, as he was sure he had lost pounds of weight in water. "It's good to be out."

Pickle smiled sympathetically at the ill man. He didn't look good at all. "Why don't yer lie down?"

"I think I'll do that." Laz lay down and ran his cold, clammy hands through his grey hair. "I feel terrible."

"Yer wanna cushion, there's one in the van?"

Laz thought for a moment. It seemed strange he was being looked after by a notorious drug baron. He nodded his head with a weak smile. "And a blanket, if there's one going spare."

"Sure thing. I'll get some water too; yer probably dehydrated bein' stuck in that van."

Pickle walked back to the van eyeing up KP, who glared back and saw that Karen now had a blanket wrapped around her. He was sure that there should be at least one left, and wasn't disappointed when he got to the van. He took the blanket out and walked by the campfire once more with a cushion in the other hand. He could still feel KP's eyes burning in the back of his head.

He walked twenty yards down the steep hill and put the blanket on the floor. Laz looked like he was asleep; he couldn't see properly because of the darkness, but Pickle knew his face was snow-white. Pickle called his name with a whisper, but his face never flinched.

He gently placed the pillow over Laz's head, pulled out the Browning in his right hand, pushed the barrel into the pillow and released two shots.

The body made one solitary jerk from the first bullet. The shots were muffled, but still loud enough to be heard by everyone. He removed the cushion, that smouldered, and tossed it as far as he could down the hill. He refused to look at Laz's face as he placed the blanket over the fresh corpse, and whispered a prayer.

Pickle ambled by the camp once again, with all members around the fire staring at him. KP shouted over to Pickle, "I would have done it sooner." Pickle ignored the remark, and saw that Davina was staring at him through the Clio where she sat up and her daughter was sleeping. He walked over to a nervous-looking David Pointer who was wondering what was going on.

Pickle told him, "Get some sleep, I'll take over from here."

"What was that all about?"

Pickle thought that he owed David an explanation. They were a family that were probably not exposed to violence, and David Pointer deserved to know why a camp member had just shot his own man.

"When we took the food from the supermarket, we were attacked, we lost one of our guys. Laz was bit, not much, but bit all the same. I needed to be sure,
really
sure. As soon as the fever kicked in, I knew he was fucked. You saw the state he was in, he was probably minutes from turning into one o'
them
."

David thought about the safety of his wife and daughter, and nodded in agreement with Pickle that he had done the right thing.

Pickle continued, "If anyone is bit, anyone! Then they are a threat to the camp."

"Even you?"

"David, if I somehow get bit, I'll put a bullet in my own head within a minute, I can guarantee yer that."

"We can't just leave him there."

"No." Pickle lowered his head. "Yer right, he deserves better. I'm gonna go and take care of it. Be back in ten, maybe twenty."

Chapter Forty Four

The red Porsche screeched its way down the long lonely road, and Gary Jenson was loving his newfound freedom so much, he had almost forgot what was happening in the world and why he had managed to escape prison so easily in the first place.

He slipped the car into a lower gear to climb the hill, and the vehicle temporarily left the road by inches like a scene from Knight Rider, as the peak of the hill acted as a ramp. He was now at Milford and had just driven by the Barley Mow pub, where he had gone sometimes for a nice surf and turf.

He came across his first experience of the infected as he glanced quickly to his right where the grassland was, and saw at least a dozen strolling around the edge of the field, and it looked to him that they had no idea where they were going. He wondered: if his lights had picked up at least twelve at the edge of the field, the darkness probably disguised the fact that there were maybe hundreds more behind them in the shadows.

He slowed down to get a better look at the last one, before his car drove past Shugborough Hall and entered the snaky roads that had woods on either side. He observed the thing with inquisitive eyes and the image of it rattled his vertebrae. He had seen enough, and began to speed up before it got too close to the vehicle. He took a peep in his rear-view mirror as the last one faded away and was gobbled up by the night, and then his focus and his eyes remained back on the road.

Gary was aware that the country roads had taken many young lives over the years, so he killed his speed and put his full beam on, lighting up the whole countryside, drenching the woodlands in glorious white to enhance his vision.

Despite the lights being on, his vision still wasn't great and he was aware that his concentration levels needed to be high, which was justified, as after just thirty seconds along the treacherous road, the car had to be steered quickly to the left when one of them appeared out of the wooded area and stumbled into the middle.

Gary decided to kill his speed even more, just so that he could get to his destination without being involved in a crash. The last thing he needed was to crash his vehicle. Two scenarios entered his head if a crash ever did occur.

Scenario one, was Gary crashing his newly stolen car into a tree and being trapped there while the contaminated beings were outside of the vehicle, trying desperately to claw their way in and feast on the trapped victim.

The second scenario was if Gary had crashed the car and had managed to exit the vehicle; he would be more than likely chased by those things from all angles of the darkness where he couldn't see. It would feel like a permanent ambush and the experience would be frightening to the extreme.

He couldn't picture which one was more horrific.

He took his foot off the gas, dropped the gear into fourth and did a steady thirty along the curly roads that were a hazard for an experienced driver, even in the daylight.

His car was coming to the end of the bendy country roads and, as he passed the Wolseley Arms pub, he could see up ahead, drenched in white light from the full beam, that there was scores of them scattered along the road, all heading towards the small town of Rugeley.

He apologised to his new car, dropped a gear and did his utmost to avoid hitting the things as he swerved around them, but one was bouncing off the vehicle every other second. He left a trail of carnage behind him and as he flew by the last couple of them, he knew he had damaged the exterior of the vehicle. But that didn't matter; all that mattered was for him to be in a safe place, preferably at his girlfriend's house.

He entered the town of Rugeley and went through the quiet Slitting Mill way. He turned left at Globe Island where the street, Horsefair, was now infested with the things, and took the car up to Sandy Lane, which was almost clear compared to the town centre.

As he ventured by the outskirts of the Pear Tree Estate, he entered Draycott Park, which also had streets full of the things roaming around. He turned left and hit the gas pedal as his Porsche sped up Stile Cop Road, and once he passed the cemetery and got to the top of the hill, he could see to his left, a prison van blocking the Stile Cop beauty spot's entrance.

Was it from
his
prison?

Shrugging this off, he turned right and headed for Hazelslade, hoping that his girl would still be there. Now he was out, he was desperate to see her, but was also desperate for a place to stay.

His mind wandered back to when he escaped the prison, and how quiet the car park was. Maybe he should have slept in the car park and looked for his girlfriend during the daylight. Hindsight was playing with him, but the scenario of sleeping in the car, in the prison car park and being surrounded by those things as he slept, was also a very real incident that could have occurred.

He was pleased that he hadn't seen any more of the beings since he left Draycott Park, and was hoping that the small village of Hazelslade was almost untouched by the parasites. His thoughts went back to what he witnessed when he drove by the Wolseley Arms pub, where dozens upon dozens of them were heading into the town. He thought that even if Hazelslade was almost untouched, it would only be a matter of time before the hungry, contaminated creatures invaded the place.

He looked to his left as he progressed slowly down the main road and saw a figure lying on the garage. Was it one of them?

He pulled the car over in the quiet street. The figure lying on top of the garage appeared to move and Gary, who was sure the street was safe, stepped out of the car and took a step closer to investigate. He could hear murmurings coming from behind the fence that belonged to the house. It unnerved him, as it told him that some of those things were in the back garden; he turned on his heels and jogged back to his car.

"Wait," he heard a whispery voice pierce the night.

The figure stood to his feet and jumped onto the floor from the garage roof; his movement had stirred the beings from behind the fence and they were now beginning to slap it furiously, knowing that there was something or someone behind the fence worth devouring.

The figure jogged towards Gary; he introduced himself as Jack Slade.

"I've come here to see my girlfriend," Gary said coldly. "She lives at the end of the street, and I don't have time for passengers."

"It's okay," Jack spoke with assurance. "I'm looking for my ex-girlfriend—my son more than anything else. Kerry Evans? You know her?"

Gary shook his head. "Nah; never heard of her."

"You better go; it's not safe round here. The streets are reasonably quiet, but there're loads of those things in the back gardens of these houses, some are trapped."

Gary was almost about to step into the car, when he turned to Jack. "Need a bed for the night?"

Jack nodded frantically. He thought he would never ask.

Gary took one look at the bike and glared back at Jack. "You got a death wish or something?"

"It's handy, for weaving in and out of alleys and stuff."

Gary shook his head disapprovingly. "Oh well, it's your funeral. Let's go."

They both took the short journey to the end of the street, individually. Jack was on the bike with Gary in the damaged, but still driveable, Porsche. They pulled up at the house, and both walked up the drive with fear forcing them to twist their neck left and right, as the darkness had become an excellent way to cover up the evil that could potentially stalk them.

Jack gently slapped Gary on the shoulder and pointed up the road where three of the creatures appeared to be heading their way. They had either spotted them, or the noise of the vehicles had attracted their attention.

"I hope you've got a key for this place?" Jack half-joked.

"Usually under the plant pot," Gary said. "At least, that's where she used to leave it."

"Really?"

"It's just a village, no crime. It's one of those places where you can leave your door open."

Gary peered inside the living room window and saw that there was no one in, and looked like there were no signs of barricading, as the furniture was still immaculately placed. This disappointed him, as it meant that his girlfriend had left. She could be anywhere.

He looked under the plant pot that sat idly on the concrete doorstep, and grabbed the spare key and let himself and Jack inside. He locked the door behind him and walked through the house. He flicked a light switch at the bottom of the stairs and the landing light on the top of the stairs came on.

"This is the only light that goes on," he instructed to Jack. "And keep the curtains closed."

"Fair enough, don't wanna be attracting those fuckers during the night."

Jack picked up an iPad that was sitting on the fireplace and opened it up; he began pressing a few keys. "Well, the Internet's still working," he announced. "I wonder if you can still get online news?"

Gary shook his head, his body language soaked in negativity. "Check any of the papers online, see what it says about what's been happening recently. What about Facebook? If your Kerry or my Jemma's phones are working, they might have put something on."

Jack tapped the Facebook app and shook his head. "Not working."

Jack sat down, placed the iPad on his lap and, for a few minutes, glared at the online news sites. The madness that was occurring where they were, was nothing compared to what the main cities were being subjected to, as he showed Gary some of the articles that somehow had been released. Despite what was happening, there were pockets of journalists out there still trying to do their job.

They're probably releasing statements online because they're still stuck in their office.

Jack announced, "So what do we do now?"

Gary shrugged his shoulders. "Probably be best if I stay here, in case she comes back. Probably the best thing to do is stay inside. Think about it, those clumsy things will suffer, after tripping, walking off of bridges and stumbling around on dark cloudy nights. They'll eventually be limbless, toothless and with every bone in their body broken.

"Seriously, in the event of this kind of disaster, just stay inside, watch all the episodes of
Lost
back to back, then walk out on your lawn with your rake and tidy up the afters. That's what we should do."

"I like your style." Jack smiled. "And I wish it was as simple as that, but I need to find my son."

Gary picked the landline phone up. "Still working. Wanna give Kerry a ring on her mobile, or try her house?"

"My phone got smashed back in Glasgow. I don't know her number off the top of my head."

"Where're they from?"

"Rugeley. But they came over here to her mother's, but they could be back in Rugeley, as when I went to her mother's I was told they'd left…I don't really know anymore. I just wanna see them."

Gary was lost in thought and told Jack he'd be back in a minute. Gary left the house and went to his neighbour's. Jack wondered what the hell he was doing and peered out of the window to see Gary talking to someone through their letterbox. A minute later he was back.

Gary was wearing a wide smile on his face.

"What?" Jack said,

"Was talking to Doris, next door. Poor woman's out of her mind. She said that a large group were outside here, a day or so ago, and left with a reasonable sized convoy. Jemma was with them, and she recognised your Kerry and her mother with a little boy."

"What? Really?"

"This is a village of about four…five hundred people, most of 'em are old folk. If they're not together now, they certainly
left
together."

Jack added, "The old woman down the street said a load of people from here left in groups and some went to a church, while others went to a village hall, or something."

Gary smiled. "So your Kerry and my Jemma could be together?"

Jack sat down in one of the armchairs; his body language gave off negative, beaten vibes. "Maybe."

Gary spoke with confidence. "In the morning, we'll check some of the halls, but we can't venture too far, it's too dangerous. Then I need to pop to Rugeley. It's the nearest place where there's a petrol station and I need to top up before things get
real
messy."

Jack thought the idea was desperate, and
was
. He looked around the living room and shook his head. "Why are you doing this for me?"

Gary shrugged his shoulders. "I dunno. We're in the same boat now; we may as well help one another. If you find your son, then there's a good chance Jemma will be there with them."

Gary stood to his feet and went into the bottom cupboard that sat next to the TV and pulled out a bottle of whisky. "Once you've finished messing on the Internet and we've barricaded ourselves upstairs, what do you say to a wee tipple."

Jack's weekend had already been an alcohol-fuelled party and a day off for his liver would be welcomed, but he didn't want to offend his gracious host, and replied, "Sounds good to me."