Snatchers: Volume Two (The Zombie Apocalypse Series Box Set--Books 4-6) Page 12

  He only attacked people that had it coming to them. He never hurt anyone that was out of the drugs game. Even if he was enjoying a quiet pint and someone spilt his drink, he wouldn't react. He only did people if he was getting paid to do so.

  It wasn't personal. It was work. A job. But now that had all changed on a permanent basis, and Tommy Burns, despite being in a house and sporting a handgun, was nervous. He mentally reprimanded himself, and advised himself that he needed to man-up.

  He took a look at Megan again, and he felt terrible as her dead family were making a lot of noise and it seemed to upset her a little. It was all his fault.

  "Let me take care of them," said Tommy.

  "No!" snapped Megan. "Don't go anywhere near them."

  Taken aback by the viciousness in her voice, he respected her decision and spoke, "There's nothing we can do for them now." Tommy placed his hand on Megan's knee. "But I won't let anything happen to you. Just don't give up hope."

  Megan's eyes gazed at the floor, her head lowered. "I already have."

  Chapter Twenty Five

  July 3rd

  Shaz, Vince, Jack and Pickle were ready to leave. Shaz and Pickle carried nothing but the machetes they had, while Jack and Vince had to make do with claw hammers from Wolf's toolbox.

  They wanted to get to the camp as soon as possible, with little weight to carry, so nothing was taken with them. Even on foot, getting to the camp should not take too long. Everything from the cabin, including food and medication, would be loaded onto the truck once the four had returned.

  Karen felt a little emotional before they left, and hugged Shaz and Pickle before they departed. Her tears never fell, but the lump in her throat almost choked her while she was saying her temporary goodbyes to the man she loved. She suggested that maybe Jack or Shaz should stay behind instead, but Pickle was unhappy with that idea, especially now that Karen was with child.

  Vince and Jack were already waiting outside of the perimeter, with the gate open, and patiently waited for Pickle and Shaz to say their goodbyes to Karen. The two men were conversing with one another; it sounded to Karen that Vince was telling Jack a sexist joke, then it ended with Vince breaking out into hilarity, but leaving Jack shaking his head.

  "We're losing daylight," Vince eventually said with annoyance.

  "It's early in the morning," Karen moaned. "Hold on a sec. Make sure you come back in one piece." Karen said to Shaz and Pickle. "I can't do this without you." She then turned to Pickle. "You sure you won't take Wolf's gun?"

  Pickle nodded confidently. "We don't need it. I'm not stupid. If there's a horde o' them, we run and find another way around." Pickle kissed Karen on the cheek and gave her a wink with his left eye. "You've nothing to worry about."

  Shaz placed her arm around Pickle and said jokingly, "I'll look after him."

  "You better," Karen chortled.

  "What a family." Pickle looked over to Vince, who was standing next to Jack with his arms folded. "Saved by Wolf one week, and his son the next."

  "We're lucky." Karen nodded, and took a step back from Pickle and Shaz. "That's for sure. But we're not there yet."

  "That's what I like about yer, Bradley," joked Pickle. "The glass is always half-empty with yer."

  Still wearing her black combats and her grey T-shirt, that was now looking a bit dishevelled because she had slept in it, Shaz gave Karen a wide look with her blue eyes and told her that she had nothing to worry about.

  Karen nodded her head unconvincingly and admitted, "I've got a bad feeling about this trip."

  "You haven't really." Thirty-year-old Sharon Bailey smiled at Karen. It wasn't like Karen to be worried about much, and her concern touched her.

  Pickle chipped in, "Yer just paranoid."

  Karen exclaimed, "Well, no wonder!"

  "For fuck's sake, ladies." Vince tapped his forefinger on top of his wrist, suggesting that they were wasting time. "You're gonna be seeing each other in a few hours. Let's go, bitches."

  Jack smiled apologetically at Karen, and it appeared that he didn't want to upset both Vince or Karen, so kept his mouth shut on his outburst and remained neutral.

  "Just have a bit of patience, please!" Karen yelled at the chuckling Vincent.

  He stood to attention and mockingly saluted Karen. "Sure thing."

  Pickle pulled Karen to one side, and whispered, "Don't let him rile you. He's obviously one o' those guys that likes to wind people up. Don't take the bait."

  "I've come across Snatchers less offensive than him."

  "The guy has a camp." Pickle lowered his voice in case he was overheard. "If it's as good as he says it is, then we could have a place we can stay for a while, finally. And we need that, especially around late winter or early spring, when you have that child."

  "If..."

  Pickle held up his finger to shush Karen, then turned to Shaz. "Right, let's go."

  Pickle and Shaz left the garden and went through the garden gate where Jack and Vince were waiting. They turned and waved, but before Wolf could shut the gate, Vincent popped his head around the corner. "Make sure you get those dishes done, Karen. There's a good girl."

  "Go away, you silly man." Karen was maddened with his ribbing and wished he would just give up.

  "And maybe when I come back I'll let you sit on my face," he tittered.

  "Why? Is your nose bigger than your dick?"

  Wolf slammed the gate and gently took a hold of Karen by the elbow and walked her to the end of the garden. He said in a soft tone, "You shouldn't let him wind you up. He's always been a bit of a bully, even at school. Take it as a compliment."

  Karen didn't know whether to laugh or not. "A compliment?"

  "It's like the boy at school pulling the girl's pigtails." Noticing that Karen was unsure what Wolf was trying to say. He released a small chortle and said, "He likes you."

  "Fantastic. What a confidence-booster that is," she responded, temporarily forgetting that she was slating his own flesh and blood

  "You want a drink of water?"

  Karen nodded, waited for him to return and took the cup off of him. She drank the liquid a little too quickly, some of it spilling down her black T-shirt. She released a belch and questioned Wolf, "What's your thoughts on this camp?"

  Wolf was unsure, she could tell by his face, but his response was positive. "I think we should all go. I knew from the start that this cabin would end up becoming taken over by other people, I told you and Pickle that as soon as you arrived, if you remember. But it sounds like this camp has more than what this place could offer."

  "But the guy's an arsehole." Karen kicked the dirt, like a child in a bad mood.

  Wolf laughed, "He's still my son. I suppose I have to take some of the responsibility the way he's turned out. I wasn't the best father in the world."

  "You must have been terrible," Karen tried to joke, but Wolf never cracked his face. Instead, he adjusted his straw hat, ran his fingers through his grey beard and released a heavy sigh.

  Wolf said, "You lot need the camp. And they need you. You need the long-term supplies, and they need muscle. It sounds like a good deal to me. I'm actually surprised Vincent has done anything like this. It's amazing how some people react when you need to step up."

  "You sound like you're proud of him."

  "Well, he's got dozens of people that look up to him. He seems to be finally doing some good, rather than getting drunk and fornicating with married women like he has for the last twenty years."

  "I don't know." Karen rubbed the palm of her hands up and down her face. "I just don't know."

  "You can't go on the run forever, Karen."

  "Cant I?"

  Wolf spoke with a little impatience in his voice, "If you're on the run in the future, and the baby cries, you could put the group in danger. The camp is your best option, whether you like my son or not."

  "Look what's happened to me in four weeks; what makes you think I'd be at the camp long enough to give birth? I just wi
sh it would go away."

  "It needs you."

  She sat down on the grass where they usually sat for dinner and started to become emotional. She never sobbed, but before she continued speaking, her eyes began to well up. "I'm only twenty-three, and already I have some great memories. Looking back I can still remember school discos, my mum crying at a film called Who Will Love My Children, and passing my nurse exams. What will this baby have memories of, if it gets to my age? Memories of fear, being on the run, having to take a dump in a ditch, seeing people ripped to pieces. Maybe even their own mum being—"

  "You cant think like that, Karen."

  Karen got to her feet, walked by Wolf and went inside the cabin. Wolf never asked her where she was going and decided to let her be because of her emotional state. He thought that maybe she was going in for a lie down, but instead she came back out of the cabin with Wolf's shotgun in her right hand.

  Wolf felt upset that she had taken the weapon without asking his permission. "And where're you going with that, young lady?"

  Karen hated being talked to like that. She was grateful for Wolf and for everything that he'd done for her, but she found him a little smothering sometimes.

  "I'm going to the top of the hill and watch out for anything untoward."

  "I'll go. You rest."

  Karen unbolted the gate and turned to Wolf. "You can't even get up the hill. I'll be fine, for fuck's sake. Leave me alone for a bit, please."

  "You've got a bad attitude, Karen."

  "Don't forget to bolt the gate."

  Chapter Twenty Six

  Tommy Burns woke up to a blistering Tuesday morning. He yawned and began playing with the inside of the hair that dwelled inside each of his nostrils.

  In the old world, before he had nothing to worry about, apart from doing a job, Tommy would constantly pluck himself on a daily basis. He hated the fact that he was hairy. His ears had hair on the outside and inside; his eyebrows were unusually thick and had to be plucked underneath the arch otherwise he'd look like a freak, and the nostril hair in the last few years had also become a bit of a problem.

  He used his thumb and forefinger to work together, investigated the inside of each nostril, and pulled out a few hairs at a time. His eyes watered on doing this, but this was something he had been doing for years.

  He yawned again and made an exaggerated noise which he quickly cut short. He'd completed forgot about the family in the next room and cussed under his breath, reprimanding himself. He stayed in the room that used to belong to Megan's brother, he still didn't know the age of him. He guessed he was an older teenager.

  It had taken a while for the things to settle after Tommy's sneezing incident and once they did, Tommy still found it difficult to sleep. I wish she would just let me shoot them. He couldn't stop thinking about his mother, and that crazy guy from Paisley, Hooper.

  He looked over to the defunct battery-controlled clock, and guessed that it was probably around seven in the morning. Another hour, he thought.

  His eyes then noticed that his door was slightly ajar.

  Despite the things being in the next room, he felt it was unnecessary to barricade himself in. The main bedroom was locked. It was safe. There was no way they were getting out, and Megan herself said that she slept with just her bedroom door closed and that was it.

  Regardless of this, Tommy did get up three times during the night to gently check if the main bedroom was locked. Of course it was.

  He estimated that he had six hours of broken sleep. He closed his eyes, ignoring his swollen bladder, and drifted off once again.

  *

  The strident noise woke him.

  He gasped and his eyes investigated the room. He wondered where the noise had come from, and immediately thought that somebody had broken in.

  He sat up, still in the clothes from the day before, and checked the bed. His Glock was missing. Thoroughly confused, he put his head in his hands and then remembered the state Megan was in. He remembered one of the last things she said to him before he went for a sleep. She had given up.

  He went off the bed, pulled his door fully open and walked out onto the landing. He placed his ear against the door of the main bedroom and it appeared that the loud bang had stirred the dead inside. A mixture of bumps and thuds began to escalate, as their excitement—if that emotion was possible with these things—grew.

  Again, he checked the door to make sure it was locked. It was. He couldn't wait a minute longer. He was almost doubled over with the pain. Despite the noise, which he was now certain that was from Megan's room, he walked to the bathroom and peed into the defunct toilet. It stunk, but the relief was immense, and his bladder was finally empty.

  Once he was finished, Tommy approached Megan's bedroom. It was closed shut, and he prepared his knuckle from his middle finger to knock the door a few times, but he hesitated. He blew a breath out and bit the bullet. He knocked six times. The dead were already moving about in the next room, so he didn't see what difference it made to knock her door.

  "Megan," he whispered through the door. "It's me. It's Tommy. Are you okay?"

  There was no answer.

  He tried again. "Megan. I..." He shook his head. "Fuck it." He tried the door handle and pushed the door fully open. He gazed inside and felt his knees buckle once his eyes witnessed the horrific scene.

  He placed his hand over his mouth and was close to tears when he gazed at the young thing, slouched at the end of her bed, gun still in her right hand, and the top of her head covered in blood where it had exploded outwards when the bullet had penetrated her brain. It was clear that she had put the barrel in her mouth before pulling the trigger.

  She must have taken the gun when Tommy was sleeping, which explained why his door wasn't shut properly when he first woke up before dropping off again. On a sheet of A4 paper, she had left a message for Tommy.

  I'm sorry. But I will not be their victim.

  He walked over to her. Her head was a mess. Blood and brains had been scattered against the wall behind her, and he picked the gun up.

  Why did she do it now and not sooner? Was there no pills? Or rope to hang herself with? Was the gun too much of a temptation? How did she manage to work it? She was just a kid for Christ's sake!

  His anger began to simmer and he left the room.

  The moaning and thudding began to grow louder from the main bedroom door, and this made his fury grow even more. More groaning could be heard by the three fiends that used to be Megan's family, and Tommy snapped. "Shut up! Shut the fuck up!" This short rant only fuelled the deads' eagerness to get outside of the room, and a few slams began, their hands smacking the door.

  "Shut up!" he screamed, punching the door with his left fist. "Fucking shut up!" Tears rolled down his eyes and he gritted his teeth so hard with the anger, they immediately began to ache.

  The groaning and the pounding continued at the door. He went back into Megan's bedroom, making sure not to look at the body, and began knocking on her wall that was the main bedroom on the other side. He placed his ear against the wall and it seemed that his objective, to get those things away from the door, was working.

  He continued knocking with his ear placed against the wall and could now hear the sounds of thudding and moaning behind the partition.

  He left her bedroom, readied the gun, then front-kicked the main bedroom door in. The dead were on the left side of the room, near the wall. The smell hit him; the walls and bed linen were covered in blood—probably from all the vomiting when they were changing, he thought, and the three ghouls simultaneously turned and went for him.

  Megan's brother was first in the queue and took a bullet on the left side of his head, spitting out dark blood. It fell to the floor and the mother snarled at Tommy, almost like a prehistoric animal.

  Where did that come from?

  He'd never heard anything like it, and the surprising roar made his hand judder. He was supposed to have nerves of steel, but this new world was takin
g some getting used to.

  Despite his shakiness, Tommy squeezed the whole of the trigger, pushing the blade down. The firing pin was released in the slide, striking the primer in the round and released the bullet out of the barrel. She was only five yards away and took the round inbetween the eyes. Her fall caused the dead father to tumble over her body, falling flat on his face. Tommy took a step forward and pointed the gun at the back of his skull and indiscriminately fired four rounds into the back of its head. The mess that was caused was predictable, but horrific all the same.

  Panting heavily, Tommy Burns took a few steps backwards so that he was outside the room and on the landing, grabbed the door handle and slammed it shut. He trudged downstairs, still with his Glock in his right hand, and entered the living room.

  He headed for the couch against the other side of the room, turned around, then dropped onto it. He threw his head back and sighed.

  This wasn't the start to the day he was hoping for.

  He sat silently for a while, and after a couple of minutes he finally found the energy to get off of his behind. This was not what he had planned, but the situation was irreversible.

  He now had some tidying up to do.

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  As they passed the pile of dead bodies to their right, the four individuals went through the large gap in the hedge and strolled along the football field. Shaz pointed to the farm fields behind the Pear Tree Estate and asked, "Through the field, or through the estate?"

  Said Vince, "It'll take forever through those fields. Even on foot we're better off going through the estate. And besides, we're not gonna find a vehicle in there, are we?" Vince began picking his teeth with his little finger.

  "But the fields will be safer."

  "And how do you know that? Those corn...wheat fields, or whatever they are, would come up to your waist. How do you know those things aren't in there, crawling round? How do you know the place isn't littered with traps?"