Snatchers (Book 10): The Dead Don't Care Page 14

  Jez lowered his head shamefully. "Yes. Well, kind of." Jez shook his head and looked emotional. "Hardy and Skinny Chris went upstairs and I heard screaming coming from a kid. They told me to come upstairs, but I refused and stayed by the door. When they left, I knew they'd killed them. I just knew it."

  "I went in after you lot left." Craig looked at Jez. He knew he was a good kid, deep down. He only briefly went with this gang because he was desperate. He didn't know what they were.

  "And?"

  "I warn you now. It's not pretty."

  Hardy told me I had one more chance, then they were going to kill me. Then we saw you on the way back and... It was nothing personal. You were just at the wrong place at the wrong time. They wanted to see if I was capable of killing, if I could be one of them."

  "Well, I've got news for you, buddy. You're not a killer."

  "I know."

  "You're a good kid."

  "Thanks." Jez rubbed the back of his head. A lump was present and it was going to get a whole lot bigger, but at least the giddiness and headache was going away.

  "Come on," Craig urged Jez to follow him upstairs. "I know there's a shed round the back of the garden. We can break into it and grab a shovel." Craig began to ascend the stairs. "We'll get the bodies outside first before we dig them a grave."

  "Are we burying them together?"

  Craig nodded. "It seems right. We'll start with the boy first."

  Both males were now on the landing and Craig told Jez to follow him into the room.

  Jez looked hesitant and didn't know where to start. He covered his shirt over his nose as the smell of death began to torment his sense of smell. He watched as Craig took the arms. Jez grabbed the legs, and they wordlessly lifted the light body of the child. Jez refused to look at the face as they descended down the stairs, and once they were outside they continued to move. Jez waited for Craig to pick a spot, so they could lay the body, and eventually stopped walking. He nodded at Jez, and the pair of them lowered the boy gently on the grass.

  Craig could see that Jez was getting upset. "And you wanted to hang out with these guys?"

  Jez never wanted to hang out with these guys. He just wanted to survive.

  Jez was verbally unresponsive and Craig sighed, nodding back to the house. "Well, one down, two to go."

  The dead man was difficult for both to carry and Jez struggled, especially when they reached the stairs. They slid the man down and Jez tried to ignore the stab wounds to the man's stomach and chest. He was placed by his boy outside and both men decided to rest.

  After a five-minute breather that consisted of zero conversation, they trudged up the stairs and entered the bedroom for the final time. They tried to ignore the smell of death and the buzzing of the flies, and Craig told Jez to grab the arms of the woman.

  Jez never responded. His eyes were mesmerised by her cut throat. How could someone do this? Why would someone do this? Being away from the WOE gang was going to be a blessing, Jez thought.

  He wanted to survive, but he wasn't prepared to rape, rob and kill people. What was the point? It had nothing to do with surviving. It was just senseless violence for the sake of it.

  "Jez!" Craig yelled.

  "What?" Jez looked dazed and moved his eyes away from the body and onto Craig's frame.

  "Grab the arms," said Craig.

  Four minutes later, they had managed to remove the female body from the house.

  After the bodies had been taken out of their home, Craig and Jez decided to have a two-minute rest. Both sat on the floor and stared up at the white clouds.

  "You have anything to drink back at your house?" Jez moaned. "I'm as dry as fuck."

  "Yeah." Craig nodded. "But first..."

  He slowly got to his feet and headed over to the shed in the corner. He looked through the small window, then opened the door. It wasn't locked at all. Craig put it down to living in a decent neighbourhood for this.

  He slid the bolt back and opened the door to be greeted by garden utensils, including a pick axe, a fork and two shovels.

  He grabbed all four and walked out of the shed, throwing the tools onto the grass. "Right, let's get digging."

  He looked over to see that Jez had his back to him. The youngster was crouching on the floor, shoulders shuddering, and Craig could hear the young man sobbing.

  Craig cleared his throat and felt for the youngster. "I'll start without you."

  Chapter Thirty Four

  Karen, Vince and Stephen had been given water to drink and had two bowls each of soup with chunky bits of venison. The camp that they had been taken to had over twenty people there. Tents had been erected and two homemade wigwam-style places had been built with logs and branches. Washing lines had been made and there was a brook nearby that was used to collect and filter water and was also used to clean clothes.

  It was a simple set-up that they had, but they were hidden, and had been unbothered for weeks. They had no transport, no leader, and all seemed to be welcoming when the three appeared; some were even pleased that new faces had arrived.

  One thing that was missing was protection. Karen, Vince and Stephen couldn't see any weapons around and this group's pleasant and gentle mannerisms suggested to Vince, Stephen and Karen that if ever this camp was attacked, they'd struggle to protect themselves even if armed. The only protection that they had at the moment was being hidden from the outside world, but their luck could run out one day.

  It was now time for the three of them to leave.

  "Are you sure you don't want to stay a little longer?" An elderly woman asked the three of them as they got to their feet, saying their farewells.

  "We need to get back, I'm sorry." Karen gave the elderly woman a hug and wished her good luck.

  The young woman that Vince had bumped into when he was relieving himself, Sapphire, told Karen, Vince and Stephen that she would walk them out to the main road. She told them that it was the polite thing to do.

  All three trudged through the greenery with Sapphire in front, leading the way, and Stephen Rowley twisted his neck and cleared his throat.

  "So ... Sapphire," he began. "How did you all meet?"

  "We have a community hall that we went to," she began, her back was straight and her nose was slightly in the air. "You know, to pray and stuff. We all met there when we heard the news. It was hardly a surprise."

  "It was hardly a surprise?" Karen was confused by her comment. "Why wasn't it a surprise? I don't get what you're talking about."

  Sapphire smiled. "I meant exactly what I said: It was hardly a surprise."

  "What do you mean?" Vince was unsure of Sapphire's comment. "Are you telling me that you saw this coming?"

  Sapphire continued walking and never turned around to face any of the three when she talked. "Kind of."

  "Can you see into the future or something?"

  She giggled and repeated herself. "Kind of."

  "I don't get what you mean."

  "You guys ever read the Bible?"

  Even though Sapphire couldn't see them, because she was walking in front, they all shook their heads. Vince was the only one to verbally respond.

  "No, we haven't," he said. "We've been a bit busy in the last few months, you know, trying not to get bitten and avoiding people trying to kill us for a bag of nuts, that kind of thing."

  "So, even before the apocalypse," said Sapphire, "you never read the great book?"

  "The Shining?"

  Sapphire sighed at Vince's poor attempt at humour and said sharply, "No. You know which one that I mean. The Bible."

  "Not really my cup of tea." Vince then added, "But we have a friend that is religious. You'd like him. He likes men, an ex-drug baron that had people killed and injured, and spent a lot of time in jail. A true Christian."

  "Not too sure Pickle would be too impressed to hear that explanation about him, chap," Stephen spoke up and twisted his neck.

  "He wouldn't mind," Vince sighed. "He knows my sense of humo
ur. It's called sarcasm, Steve."

  "Don't call me Steve." Rowley's round face began to redden. "I don't like it."

  "God, sorry." Vince revealed a small cheeky smirk. "I forgot."

  "Just ignore him, Stephen," said Karen. "He goes into these sarcastic moods when he's bored."

  "The Bible had predicted this thousands of years ago," Sapphire said with a smug grin, almost pleased that the apocalypse was happening. She had been mocked for most of her life about her religious beliefs, but now one of the predictions in the book had come true.

  "Is that right?" Vince guffawed, "Give me an example."

  "And the Lord will send a plague on all the nations that fought against Jerusalem," Sapphire said aloud, taking the other three by surprise. "Their people will become like walking corpses, their flesh rotting away. Their eyes will rot in their sockets, and their tongues will rot in their mouths. On that day they will be terrified, stricken by the Lord with great panic. They will fight their neighbours, hand to hand. Zechariah fourteen twelve."

  Karen looked at Vince as he shook his head.

  "Well," Karen said to him. "You did want an example."

  Sapphire wasn't finished there. "Then there's the passage in Revelations."

  Vince sighed, "Are we nearly there yet?"

  Sapphire began. "And the sea gave up the dead which were in it; and death and hell delivered up the dead which were in them; and each person was judged according to their works. And death and hell were cast into the lake of fire. This is the second death."

  "Back in the day, you must have had a right laugh with this community of yours." Vince wasn't convinced of Sapphire's beliefs.

  "Mock away, if it pleases you." Sapphire released a little chuckle. "What the Bible predicted is now happening."

  Karen spoke up. "I thought this started in a medical centre, in Newcastle?"

  "Does it matter, chap?" Rowley grunted and added further, "However it got here, it's ... well ... it's here, isn't it?"

  "Spoken like a true scientist." Vince smiled and could see Stephen giving him the finger in the corner of his eye.

  "Then there's Isaiah, twenty six: Nineteen to twenty," said Sapphire.

  "What's that?" Karen was genuinely interested in what Sapphire had to say. She wasn't religious, but she respected the fact that everyone had different ideas on how the catastrophe had started.

  Sapphire began, "But your dead will live; their bodies will rise. Your dew is like the dew of the morning; the earth will give birth to her dead. Go, my people, enter your rooms, and shut the doors behind you; hide yourselves for a little while …until his wrath has passed by."

  Sapphire turned to the side in thought and said aloud, "I can't think of any more. I'm sure there's a few others."

  "Well, I'm sure it'll come back to you." Vince placed his hands on Sapphire's shoulders, urging her to stop now that they were near the main road. "But this is where we part company."

  Karen shook Sapphire's hand. "Thanks for everything."

  Sapphire smiled and said, "Well, if ever you're passing through..."

  "We'll probably keep on walking," said Vince.

  "Vince." Stephen shook his head in disgust. "Don't be so rude, chap."

  Vince smiled and clapped his hands together. "Anyway, thanks for the soup and the Bible lesson. Time for us lot to Foxtrot Oscar."

  Vince walked the few yards through the trees and then he hit the main road. He was quickly followed by Karen and Stephen. They were all on the road, heading back to Little Haywood, back to Colwyn Place, back home.

  Chapter Thirty Five

  "Another mile and we should be at the place where they went to get the medical stuff." Pickle sighed, knowing that finding the three of them was looking grim.

  Knowing why Pickle was despondent, Paul said, "They'll be around, somewhere."

  "They should be sticking to the main road," Pickle huffed.

  "I don't mean to be patronising, Pickle," Paul paused and felt like he was being cheeky to a man he greatly respected, "but if I was walking along the main road and I heard an engine in the distance, I'd be hiding. Wouldn't you?"

  "Probably," said Pickle. "They could 'ave ran into a bit o' bother and headed to our place via the woods."

  "Maybe once we get to that medical place and turn around, we should go back to Haywood a lot slower, give them a chance to flag us down if they are in the woods."

  Pickle shook his head and moaned, "I was certain that there'd be along this road. Just thought it'd be a matter o' pickin' them up."

  "You know what it's like. You run into a horde of those bastards and you have to go another direction for some respite."

  "Fuck me silly." Pickle had gone round a bend and was greeted by some straight road with woodland on either side of it. Unfortunately, there was also over a dozen Snatchers shambling along the road, fourteen in all.

  "Okay." Paul rubbed his hair. "That's not good."

  "Another mile and we'd be there." Pickle looked at the dead with disdain, then switched off the engine. "Smelly bastards," he hissed. "I suppose all we can do now is turn around and go back, and hope we've passed them. I'll go slower this time. If we go slower and they are hiding, then it'll give 'em a better chance o' spotting us and jumping out, like yer said."

  Paul nodded his head in agreement.

  "Desperate, I know." Pickle groaned, "What do you think we should do?"

  Paul remained silent, staring at the fourteen that were slowly heading towards the vehicle, not giving Pickle an answer.

  "Paul? What do yer think?"

  Paul slowly shrugged his shoulders and said calmly, "Do you think we can take them?"

  "No, I don't." Pickle's tone was adamant. "Don't think there's any point either."

  "Why?"

  "I'm pretty sure that Karen, Vince and Stephen have progressed a mile in a day from where that chemist is based. Surely to God. They're probably further back. Let's just turn around and slowly go back to Haywood."

  "But what if you're wrong?" Paul kept looking forward, his face was devoid of any expression, making Pickle feel a little uncomfortable. "Freddie said there were a lot of the dead. Maybe they've hardly made any progress. Maybe they've gone a different direction altogether. Maybe they're still near the chemist."

  "It would be good to go that last mile and see if they're there, for peace o' mind."

  "Agreed." Paul nodded.

  "However," Pickle rubbed his stubbly chin in thought and shook his head at what was ahead of them, "going out and killing fourteen is too many. It's a bit o' a risk, considering that the guys might not even be further up. And I'm not using the vehicle to mow them down. If I use the jeep as a weapon and it breaks the radiator, or whatever ... we'll be walking home. I think me and yer are in John's bad books as it is, without losing a vehicle as well."

  "Fuck that prick," Paul muttered whilst grinding his teeth.

  Pickle leaned his head back on the head restraint and began to speak to Paul whilst still looking forward, out of the windscreen. "Look. Yer need to start acting a bit ... normal at that place. I mean..."

  Halfway through Pickle's sentence, the passenger door opened and Paul stepped out and slammed the door shut. He was now outside, carrying Pickle's machete and leaving him the mace. He was walking in front of the vehicle, leaving Pickle stunned.

  Pickle lowered the driver's window, stuck his head out and yelled, "What the fuck are yer doing? Are yer mad?"

  "I'll distract them." Paul stopped and turned around and added, "As soon as the road is clear, then go on. Go that extra mile just in case they're still back there. Don't wait for me."

  "Get in. This is madness."

  Paul smiled and said, "I've already made my mind up."

  "If yer really have to go..."

  "I do."

  "I'll wait by the bridge for yer."

  "Don't bother putting yourself at risk, Pickle. I'll make it back to Haywood. And even if I don't, nobody's going to miss me, apart from Karen."

&
nbsp; A baffled Harry Branston yelled, "What's happening to yer?"

  "Nothing. I'm fine."

  "Look, yer have lost yer family. In the old days they would have given yer drugs to dope yer, maybe even given yer a counsellor and probably would 'ave had family around yer to help with yer grief..."

  "What's your point?"

  "Yer don't have any o' that, but yer still have people that care about yer. Me ... Karen."

  Paul smiled and playfully winked at Pickle. "I'll see you soon, buddy."

  "Don't do this, Paul."

  "I'm already doing this."

  Pickle watched helplessly as Paul Dickson turned around and walked towards the fourteen dead. He held the machete in his right hand but never used it. Pickle watched in horror as Paul then stopped and allowed the dead to gain on him until they were an arm's length away. He then quickly turned on his heels and headed for the woods, all fourteen following him. He disappeared in the greenery, and eventually, one by one, so did the Snatchers that were following him.

  The road was clear and Pickle smiled at Paul's bravery—or was it craziness?—and muttered, "Yer fucking nutter, Dickson."

  He dropped his head and said a small prayer for Paul. Pickle then started the engine back on and slowly pulled the vehicle forward. He peered to the left, into the woods, and could see the backs of the last few of the dead, following Paul.

  The road was now clear.

  *

  Paul Dickson peered over his shoulder to see the dead group still following him enthusiastically, although the uneven ground, stumps and ditches were proving difficult for some of them. Out of the fourteen that were following him, three were on the floor after tumbling over, and were trying to get to their feet.

  He slowed down for a minute, giving them a chance to catch up, keeping a hold of the machete with his right clammy hand. He didn't think he was going to need it, but the blade gave him extra confidence.

  They were only ten feet into the woods, and Paul could see Pickle's vehicle pulling away. Some of the dead turned when hearing the engine. Maybe some were going to head back to the main road.