Snatchers 11: The Dead Don't Knock Read online

  He walked through the small cluster and could see a burnt out cabin. There was nothing here for him. He had seen enough and left the area, now back on the hill. He looked down and could see a twelve-foot hedge with a gap. There was a pile of dead bodies at the right side of the hedge, a football field behind it, and to the far left there was a residential area. Paul guessed it was a part of Rugeley and began to question whether going back to Haywood was the right thing to do. If he arrived back, what kind of welcome would he get?

  One thing for certain was that Terry, Stephen and James would have some questions to answer, because Paul was certain that this had been done without John Lincoln's blessing. Vince, Karen, Pickle and possibly Joanne would be pleased to see him back, safe and well, but that was about it.

  But where else could he go?

  Colwyn was the only place that he was aware of that had a community. He needed to be safe, and staying in the woods, especially without a partner to watch his back, wasn't an option.

  He looked around at the hill and began descending. He went through the gap, turned left and went onto a dirt path that ran alongside a football pitch. It was now virtually unrecognisable as a football field due to the length of the grass.

  He reached a concrete path at the end of the field and stepped onto a road called Queensway. He had a rough idea where he was now, and knew that Sandy Lane wasn't far away. He passed a road to his left called Hislop Road and continued to follow Queensway until he came across a street to the right called Hardie Avenue. He went down this street and turned left into another lane called Sankey Crescent, and was hit with mixed feelings when his eyes clocked Sandy Lane.

  It was a mess. It wasn't a place he wanted to stay for too long, but whilst he was here, trying to make it back to Little Haywood, he decided to cut through Sandy Lane to get to Western Springs Road.

  He walked by the carnage on the road, passing the crashed LGV, and headed down, trying not to look at the houses to his left. He ceased sauntering and looked to his right, at the Lea Hall building, and wondered if there was anything in there. If there was, he could put it in his bag. Only one way to find out.

  He turned to his left and saw a bloody blade on the floor. He picked it up and headed for the main doors of the building, entered the reception area, and made the short walk to the hall where everything used to be kept. He looked around inside and sighed. There was nothing left. The place had been stripped.

  Upstairs, there was the medical supplies, or used to be, but Paul decided to leave the place. He felt his right pocket, checking that the knife was still there, and made a slow walk around the corner of the building. He stared at the ground and refused to look at the field where some residents, mainly farmers, used to stay. He didn't look to his right at the changing rooms where Kyle's body was found either.

  He turned and headed for the front of the hut. He gazed to his left to see the bowling green. It had seen better days. He then looked down at Kyle's grave. It was still in tact. The Wonder Woman action figure was still there also. Vince had told Paul that Kyle had given him the toy as a 'thank you' for trying to stop him from being bullied any further by David MacDonald and Charles Pilkington, and Kindl had placed the figure on Kyle's grave.

  Paul walked forwards and could see inside the hut. A man had hung himself, but he didn't recognise the guy. Paul crouched down first, and then slowly went onto his knees. He had no idea what was wrong with him. There were no tears in his eyes. Not yet.

  He had thought about coming back here one day, but he never thought it'd be so soon. He was confused about how he felt. He always thought that he would break down and sob uncontrollably, but this wasn't the case. He felt a small lump in his throat, but that was it. He didn't feel the urge to cry, or even felt anger, and this puzzled him.

  He touched the patted earth, knowing his boy was only a couple of feet from him, and said, “Hey, big chap. What's happening?”

  As soon as he spoke, he lowered his head and shook it with a grin on his face. “What am I doing?” he questioned himself. “You can't hear me. Who am I trying to kid?”

  He reached out for the action figure, thinking about taking it as a memento, but pulled his arm back and decided to leave it where it was.

  “I love you, son.” Now, there were tears, and Paul could feel the lump in his throat growing, almost strangling the man. “I miss you every hour of every day. I miss you so much that I don't know what to do with myself anymore. You were all that I had.”

  Paul wiped his eyes with the backs of his hands and slowly stood up straight. He blew the grave a kiss and said, “So long, my special boy.”

  He walked out of the place with his head lowered and out of Lea Hall's area. Once he was back on Sandy Lane, he headed straight down to Horsefair, where an LGV that was used as a barrier used to be. He turned left onto the Western Springs Road, and tried to ignore the bodies and smashed vehicles to his right on Horsefair.

  Paul walked for a minute before stopping dead. Two ghouls were up ahead, near the defunct traffic lights at Hagley Road.

  He reached in for the knife and wasted no time, heading for the two male Snatchers. There was one on each side of the road, and Paul went for the one on the left first. He pulled his arm back, once he was near, and stabbed at the beast twice. The second stab went straight through the top of the skull, but as Paul tried to pull the blade out, it snapped in two.

  “Shit.”

  Beast number two began to cross the road, but Paul ran over and front-kicked the creature in its midriff, forcing it back. The back of its head hit the green steel railings that surrounded the whole of Elmore Park.

  The ghoul walked towards Paul once again, and with no weapon, Paul side-kicked the creature’s right knee, making it fall over, then grabbed its hair and smashed its skull off of the kerb five times, caving the skull in.

  Panting, Paul Dickson stood up and looked down at the carnage he had created. In the first weeks, this scene would have turned his stomach, but now he felt nothing. He turned and continued to walk down the Western Springs Road, hoping that there were no more surprises waiting for him.

  He doubted it.

  He still had four miles to go before he reached Wolseley Road, before he reached Little Haywood, before he reached Colwyn Place.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The dead were scattered across the field, all now motionless. Most of them were hit by Stephanie's arrows, but the remaining ones were put down by Elza and Ophelia.

  They had been at it for a while and hadn't reached the farm yet, but were now in need of a five-minute breather. Elza and Ophelia sat down on the grass, panting hard whilst Stephanie stood, looking impatient.

  “You two ready, or what?” Stephanie was waiting for the girls to get off their arses.

  Elza and Ophelia took a quick look at one another, smiled, then got to their feet. They wiped the dark blood, and other gunk that was on their bats, on the long grass, and both women rested their weapons on their shoulder with their right hand, and followed Stephanie into the farm area. Stephanie had her bag on her back, where she kept her arrows, and had retrieved most of the arrows she had used on the dead in the field.

  There was a large gate and they all noticed a large dirt path that led to the farmhouse.

  Stephanie turned to Elza. “We can take our car up that track, get it out of the way of the country road.”

  “Not yet.” Elza shook her head. “If there're people on this farm, I don't want them to know that we're here.”

  The three females made slow steps into the farm area and could see the main farmhouse, a large shed opposite, and a large garage. They walked towards the garage and could see a tractor and a combine harvester. When they had a closer look, they noticed that there was blood on the choppers of the combine harvester and flesh hanging off them. Elza twitched her nose at the familiar smell of death and told the girls that they were going to check out the farmhouse next, and then check out the shed afterwards.

  They tried to
make as little noise as possible with their boots, and scanned around the area. Neither one of them were surprised to see that livestock was no longer here. They had seen something similar like this before.

  There were no cows, sheep or lamb on the farm, no pigs in their pen, and no chickens either. If the owners hadn't have devoured their livestock themselves over the months, then the animals had probably been taken by other individuals, or even had escaped the field.

  The three females came across some more dead, two to be exact. The dead beings were both female, ten yards away past the house, dressed in skirts and blouses that were now unrecognisable in colour. They spotted Elza, Ophelia and Stephanie, and made their way over to them, slowly.

  Elza tried the main door and was surprised that it was open. She patted Stephanie on the shoulder. “Take care of them. We'll meet you inside.”

  As Elza and Ophelia stepped into the reception area of the house, they could hear the first slump of a creature that Stephanie had taken care of, then the second.

  Stephanie went inside and joined the girls; her bow was back over her shoulder and her bag over the other. The first room that they checked was the living room. The archaic living room was empty and so was the kitchen through the back. There was no sign of any blood, or anything else to suggest a killing or an attack had taken place inside.

  Elza opened a cupboard, noticed that there was nothing in there, and said to Ophelia and Stephanie, “Upstairs. Then we go outside and check the shed and the rest of the grounds.” Elza reached the bottom of the stairs and led the way. “I got a feeling that this has been a pointless trip.”

  Once they reached the landing, the girls looked around the dusky area and could see four doors. Elza guessed that behind three of those doors were bedrooms. She went for the nearest one and made hand signals to Stephanie to suggest that her and Ophelia would stand on either side, Elza would open the door, and Stephanie would stand in the centre, with her bow drawn. Both adult females lifted their bats, and were at either side of the door. Stephanie dropped her bag on the floor and took an arrow from it. She slipped it on the bowstring, pulling it back, and then nodded at Elza to tell her she was ready, and waited for the woman to open the door.

  Elza took in a deep breath, turned the knob, and then gently pushed the door open.

  It was the bathroom. It was empty.

  Elza had a quick snoop around and then left the room, shutting the door behind her. “Next one,” she whispered.

  Elza, Ophelia and Stephanie repeated the routine with the next two rooms. There was nothing inside these rooms either and nothing they could use or take back to Colwyn Place.

  One room left.

  “After we've checked this one out,” Elza spoke softly, “we'll go outside and see what's in that shed. There must be something here.”

  A gentle thud coming from behind the door put the three girls on high alert. Stephanie pulled back the bowstring, aimed it at the door that was still shut and was anticipating that something could happen. Elza and Ophelia stood by either side of the doorframe and looked at Stephanie to see if she was ready. The fourteen-year-old gave them both a quick nod, then Elza reached for the door handle, gave it a twist, and pushed the door open. The room was in darkness. Despite it being morning, there was no light and a blackout blind covered the window.

  Stephanie continued to aim in the dark room, but nothing could be seen.

  All three females held their breath, expecting something to jump out of the darkness, and all stared into the room.

  “Is there anyone in there?” Elza called out.

  “Yes, there is,” said a male voice.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Paul Dickson passed a street to his left called Richardson Way, and was pleased about the lack of dead that bad been around on his journey so far. He didn't want to become too confident, but at the moment it had been an easy trek. Even the sound of an engine had never been heard.

  Paul had passed the alleyway that led to 'The Bloody Steps' and the canal, and was heading for the bypass that had only been built five years ago. Three miles and he'd be back at Little Haywood.

  For Dickson, it was a feeling of deja vu. He had made this journey on his own before.

  The last time he had made this excursion, he had bumped into a man who was friendly at first, but attacked him, forcing Paul to kill him. He then spent the night at a house, unaware it was full of naked Snatchers.

  He liked to escape from the street now and again, occasionally go for a walk, but this had now been the third time in three weeks he was heading back to Haywood from a fair distance. The second time was last week, when he distracted a horde and led them into the woods to clear the road for Pickle.

  Whether he was allowed back in or if he was kicked out of the camp, Paul hoped that this would be the last time he would have to make such a journey on foot.

  Up ahead, on the left, a body could be seen. He made small and slow steps towards the body and could see that it was a female, but it wasn't a Snatcher. The body looked fresh, only hours, maybe a day old. There wasn't a mark on her, apart from the ligature marks on her neck. It looked like she had been strangled to death and this baffled Paul.

  Why would someone kill another for no reason?

  Paul sighed at the sad sight and could see the female was no older than thirty, attractive, and more-than-likely didn't deserve this.

  He walked away and approached a roundabout, but stopped when he looked down a road to his left and could see two black pitbulls trotting nonchalantly towards him, side by side. Paul gulped and was certain that if he ran, they'd probably run after him.

  And then what? Rip him apart? It depended on the last time they had eaten.

  He never worried about stray animals, especially dogs, when out on his own. He was only concerned about the dead and other humans. In truth, he had hardly seen any domestic pets since the outbreak. And now two were trotting towards him, and he had no idea what was going to be the outcome of this.

  He puffed out an anxious breath and went over to the dead woman, taking off her shirt. He wrapped the cloth around his left arm, in an attempt to protect himself from potential bites, and waited for the dogs' move, praying that they would simply walk on by.

  But they didn't.

  They both stopped in unison, yards from him, and began to growl and snarl, showing their intimidating teeth. By the look of their snouts and mouth, it appeared that these canines had fed not long ago, but were still obviously hungry. Their features were covered with dried in blood and Paul wondered if it was an animal or person that these dogs had devoured. He didn't hate the dogs; he knew that they were just hungry and wanted to feed, but it was either him or them, and he certainly didn't want to die in such a horrendous manner.

  He cussed under his breath because of his bad luck and the snapping of the blade from earlier, and tried to work out how he could kill these things before any serious harm came to him. He was unsure how to kill one, let alone two, and the panic that ran through him prevented him from thinking straight.

  He knew running wasn't an option, so he tried to make himself look big and snarled back himself. He was hoping that this desperate act would stop him from being attacked, but it didn't work.

  Both dogs ran at Dickson; he brought his boot back and kicked the one on the left under the jaw, making the animal squeal, then was taken down by the second as it jumped and sank its teeth into the left arm that was wrapped in the shirt, but Paul quickly got back to his feet.

  As expected, the dog shook its head, trying to sink its teeth in further, and Paul punched the canine in the face repeatedly, but it had no intention of letting go. The other canine, still smarting from its kick, ran at Paul once more whilst he was still wrestling with the other one. He couldn't believe what was happening. Of all the things that had happened to him over the months, he didn't think his demise was going to be down to a couple of dogs.

  The dog running at Paul took another kicking; this time it was kicked
on the nose and released a cry of pain and began to retreat back. Paul walked backwards with the other canine still attached to his arm, and was struggling. It was a small dog, but it was powerful, and the game of tug and war with Paul's arm was beginning to become painful.

  He could now feel the teeth sinking in and fell on his backside, searching for something, behind him, with his right hand. His hand went through wet crisp packets, a stone and an empty beer bottle. He grabbed the bottle and smashed it off the pavement whilst the hungry canine kept its teeth in the bandaged left arm, still shaking its head. Paul cried out as the teeth sank further through the cloth, and drove the broken bottle into the dog's throat three times.

  The animal let go of Paul's arm and walked back a couple of yards, blood running out of its throat. It was silent; it was retreating, and it finally lay down on the floor. Paul was certain it wasn't going to get back up again and bleed out, so he turned his attention to the other mutt. It was still there, but it looked unsure on what to do. Its companion was dying and it began to cry. Both man and dog were glaring at one another, each one refusing to back down, and Paul turned on his heels and slowly walked away, passing the bleeding animal on the floor.

  Confident that the remaining dog wasn't going to attack, Paul kept on walking. He turned around to make sure there were no surprises, and could see that the standing dog still hadn't moved. He faced forwards and lengthened his strides to get away from the danger and began to unravel the cloth on his arm, hoping that the wound wasn't as bad as it felt. The shirt was taken fully off and Paul threw it to the ground, inspecting the left forearm. It had a few punctures, but it didn't look too bad. Little blood had been drawn.

  When he reached Little Haywood, Colwyn Place, he was going to get Karen to take a look at it.

  He took one more look around and could now see that the standing dog was eating its dying companion. Maybe the dead woman was next. Paul shook his head at the disgusting scene and kept on with his strides. He never turned around again.