Snatchers 2: The Dead Don't Sleep (6 page)

Chapter Twelve

After thinking of nothing but the poor family who lay above them, both individuals knew that it was going to be a restless night for the pair of them until they removed the bodies the next day. Pickle had waited for this night for days, and now he had found a house that finally provided a bed with reasonably safe surroundings, his moment was going to be ruined by the knowing that a dead family lay above him. He thought at first that it wouldn't bother him, but it was.

They thought about trying the next house, but they both seemed content to stay where they were, despite the corpses that lay above them. It was nearly ten in the evening, and both individuals planned on sleeping together in the same bed as a security measure. Although each one was grateful for the company, neither one of them would admit it.

Pickle lay on his back, fully clothed, and glared at the ceiling. Karen had her back to him trying to force herself to sleep, but she was wide-awake. Every time she closed her eyes, flashbacks of the previous week ambushed her. She thought about going home to Gary and finding him in such a state, seeing Shirley Henderson eaten to death, being carjacked, meeting Oliver Bellshaw, before he turned out to be some kind of sexual deviant and then finally meeting up with Pickle in the woods, although she originally thought he was a Snatcher and nearly broke his nose.

Pickle released a sharp breath out.

"What's wrong?" Karen had to ask.

Pickle sighed, "I was thinking about Laz."

"Why?"

"Well," Pickle cleared his throat, "the radio reckons it takes about an hour to change, yet, it took Laz hours before he slipped into a coma, or whatever it was, about six or seven hours to be exact. He was bit in the supermarket and was ill for most o' the day, before he slipped away and I had to end him before he changed."

Karen added, "The truth is they have no idea. Half an hour, twelve hours—who cares? As soon as you're bit or scratched deep enough, you're screwed."

"It was just something that was beginning to bother me. Makes you wonder if countries overseas end up nuking this country if it isn't a global thing."

"Isn't that a bit extreme?" Karen began to laugh, but she was sure he was being serious.

"Also, these things can't drown; there could be hundreds of the things floating in the English Channel or the North Sea. The last thing the French would want is for those things getting washed upon their beaches and then for them to find their feet and start walking again."

"Now you're being ridiculous."

"Just saying." Pickle continued, "The winter's gonna be a nightmare. Unless it works in our favour and the cold kills these things off."

"I've thought about it. We're gonna be freezing our tits off. The snow'll be a problem, not just the temperature."

Continued Pickle, "Not only that, with the snow we won't know when it's coming, how many inches we'll get, and how long it'll last."

"Sounds like my ex-boyfriend," Karen cackled and Pickle joined in as they continued to lay in the darkness, with sleep being almost impossible to achieve.

"Honestly, Bradley," his snickering was beginning to diminish. "Yer have a mind like a sewer."

Karen could sense that there was something else that was bothering Pickle, and there was another reason why he was still awake. She spoke once more. "You
really
okay?"

Pickle cleared his throat, and seemed to take an age to answer. "Not really."

Karen thought for a second if she should ask the next question. The subject hadn't been tackled for days, so she went ahead. "You thinking about KP?"

"Maybe," he snapped. "Yer thinking about Gary?"

Karen smiled, and wasn't sure if Pickle's question was a retaliation for bringing the subject of KP up. She lied, "I wasn't. But I am now, now that you've mentioned him."

"Sorry," he whispered.

His apology seemed false, but Karen forgave him. She had only known the man for nearly a week, and already knew that the pair of them were like brother and sister with a love/hate relationship. She thought back to the run-in they had when they were back at Stile Cop. Pickle thought that Karen had made an uncomplimentary comment about the body of Laz stinking the place out, and Pickle took exception to it. They had a couple of other run-ins during the week, but nothing that would give Karen sleepless nights.

Since the news officially broke out last Sunday morning, Karen had to take up a new role in order to survive, and it was a role she had grown into with ease. Pickle was already a tough cookie being from the background that he came from, but found Karen equally as tough as him.

Karen had every respect for Pickle, despite his past antics, and said to herself that she would rather have someone like him by her side, than someone who was weak and would literally fill their shorts as soon as one of the Snatchers was spotted. In order for her to survive in this new, terrifying world, she needed a good man to watch her back, and Pickle was definitely a good man.

As Karen lay awake on her side, with her back against Pickle's back, she reminisced about a conversation they had a few evenings ago. The two of them had spent yet another monotonous evening on the top of the multi-storey car park, and Pickle and Karen were exchanging stories about their past. Pickle decided to confess something that he seemed deeply ashamed of.

According to a story Pickle told her, nearly ten years ago, he and a colleague had to visit a drug supplier at a dock who owed them thousands in drugs. They had paid for the delivery and one of Pickle's men put the merchandise in the back of the van and drove away. Once the merchandise arrived back at Pickle's place and was checked, they realised that half of the product—heroin—was missing. The van driver was beaten for not checking what he had picked up. Then Pickle himself, and a colleague, decided to drive back to the port themselves to meet up with the Dutch supplier. He was bungled into the van, and Pickle and his colleague tied the Dutchman up and drove him to an abandoned warehouse.

Pickle had informed the supplier that since he had fucked them, he was going to return the favour. The Dutchman was tied up and raped in the back of the van, then his legs were stabbed and he was driven back to the port and thrown out. They soon switched suppliers. That was the first and last time Pickle had punished someone by rape, and when the story was told to Karen, she didn't seem too shocked.

Still on the bed, the two were trying to sleep while wrestling with the horror pictures of the last week that was invading their psyche, which was keeping them awake. "So what do we do tomorrow?" Karen threw the question at Pickle, as if he was in charge of the pair of them. She knew he wasn't asleep, so decided to dilute the silence that devoured the room.

"Dunno," Pickle sighed. "See if we can survive another day, I suppose."

"Same old same old then," Karen began to chuckle.

Although Karen's remark was greeted with a blanket of quiet, she could almost hear Pickle's mind working. He was about to say something, she knew it; she could hear his intake of breath. "I'm sick o' hiding...I'm sick o' fighting." Pickle said with a deflated tone.

"It's called survival."

"Yeah? Well I'm tired of it. But I promised I wouldn't feel sorry for myself anymore, so I'll just need to get on with it."

"Trouble with you," Karen gently mocked, "is that you've had it easy in that prison. With your free accommodation, free gym, free medicine, free—"

"It weren't that easy."

Karen could sense that his mood was slightly up due to her mocking tone and decided to continue. "Out in the real world, it was always about survival. Paying bills, wondering if the cuts were gonna affect your job."

"Yer still had to survive in prison as well."

Karen half-laughed. "Bullshit! I bet you were top dog in there. I bet you had bitches on tap, queues of men lining up to give you a blow job."

Pickle began to chortle and half-nudged Karen in the side with his elbow from her ribbing.

He said, "Yer can be a right bitch sometimes, yer know that?"

"At least you're laughing again."

"Right, I'm going to sleep now. Don't disturb me unless one of those deadheads gets in."

"Didn't you barricade the doors?"

"Yip, we should be okay anyway. This street is pretty quiet."

A few minutes of quiet hovered over the pair and they were almost in the land of dream world, but their senses were given an adrenaline shot once they heard a slamming noise. Karen got out of the bed and went to the window. She could see two men who had broken into the Range Rover, sitting in the front of the family's vehicle, and a nervous looking woman holding a two-year-old infant, waiting for the car to start. It looked like to Karen that they were trying to hotwire the thing. Karen allowed it to happen; so long as the prison van was okay, she wasn't caring. The people looked desperate and she thought that the car might as well be put to some good use. She looked out onto the front garden where the van was backed up, in case they needed to escape via a bedroom window, and sighed. She knew they'd be screwed if that ever was stolen.

She returned to bed as the vehicle started. Pickle went to get out of bed, but Karen held him back. "It's okay. A desperate family are taking the Range Rover on the drive. Let them have it."

Pickle never verbally agreed or disagreed, he just grunted, and then went back to lying down. Pickle turned round on his side, his back now facing hers. "Once we get our energy back, we'll move out the family sometime tomorrow before they begin to smell."

"Defo."

"Good night, Bradley."

"Good night, Harry."

Chapter Thirteen

June 17th

Jason Bonser's host had been worth her weight in gold.

He had decided to stay the night and his host never objected to his stay, although she had a feeling she had no say in the matter despite it being her house. With the calamity that was occurring outside, she thought it would be in her best interests if she decided against standing up to the big man, especially now the land was in a lawless situation. He went into the kitchen as she remained on the sofa, and helped himself to some bread, butter, cheese and the last slice of ham from the fridge.

He switched the kettle on and made himself another coffee. He was planning on getting an early night in the spare room she had mentioned, but had decided to pig out before doing so. After quickly consuming his cheese and ham sandwich, he slurped on his milky coffee and remained standing in the kitchen; he thought about how the world was now.

As far as he was concerned, the world was a better place for him. Sure, he had no wheels, food would eventually run out, and the threat of death was round every corner, but at least he was free. He had no routine to stick to anymore; he could do anything he wanted. Anything!

He finished his coffee and decided to use the woman's toilet before having a wash in the sink upstairs. He had noticed in the dark street that there wasn't a single vehicle left, whether people had decided to flee or the cars were stolen, he didn't know, and realised that his journey on foot was going to be a long one, which was one of the reasons why he stuffed his face. The nearest village was Hazelslade and had decided that that's where he would stay, providing it was safe. Then he would hopefully get himself a car and get to his sister's house to see what had been happening and to see if she was still alive.

He went upstairs feeling flustered and his heart was galloping; he needed to calm down quickly if ever he was going to sleep that night. After a wash, he helped himself to a pair of grey jogging bottoms, a pair of trainers and a black T-shirt that belonged to Jenny's husband, and was glad to finally be rid of the prison attire.

He fell asleep.

His sleep only lasted seven hours as once he awoke at six am, he realised he had been in such a deep sleep, he was never going to drift back off. Also, an audible noise coming from somewhere was not helping. Dazed and confused, he got up and jogged down the stairs to see if the coast was clear. The living room was still in darkness, and he had a peep in the kitchen. Nothing.

He scratched his head in bewilderment and then realised the noise was coming from upstairs. He walked back into the living room and took a look at Jenny, his female host, lying motionless on the sofa.

He walked past the woman he had raped, beaten and strangled to death the previous evening, and began to trudge back upstairs. As he gained towards the landing, his heart began to sink. Before he opened the door he knew what kind of sight was going to greet him. He opened the door to reveal a hungry and raucous baby of around six to eight months standing up in his cot; his hair was a chocolate colour matching his beautiful brown eyes.

Now it was morning, he was aching to get out and feed.

The sight of Jason Bonser, instead of the usual presence of his mother, did nothing to calm his crying, in fact, it made him more hysterical if that was at all possible. Jason shook his head. It all made sense now. He remembered Jenny shushing him when he first arrived; she must have just got the baby down to sleep. If he knew the real situation, he would have left Jenny alone, but it was too late now.

Jason felt a twinge of guilt, but he couldn't let this mess up his plans. He looked at the traumatised baby, and its brown eyes demanded to know what was going on and where was his mummy. Torn in two on what to do, Jason scratched his head and tried to conjure up an idea to make sure both parties were happy, but it was proving difficult.
Maybe if the neighbours hear the kid crying for long enough, they'll come round to investigate, break the door down even
.

The future didn't look too bright for the little baby and Jason Bonser certainly didn't want to play daddy while he made his trip to his sister's. What if he had to camp for the night in the woods, and the brat was squawking its head off because there was no formula for him? It'd be like ringing the dinner bell for the dead walkers; he wouldn’t last five minutes out there with a baby in tow. He needed to be on his own. Of course, if Kyle had made it, things would be a lot safer, as at least then the pair of them could take turns in sleeping while one stood guard, because the dead don't sleep.

Jason was sure that there might be incidents involving these ghouls while he travelled on foot, but was hoping that that situation was going to be rare. It was early in the morning and he was sure he could walk to his sister's by the time nightfall came around again.

He sighed with genuine guilt eating away at him. "Sorry, kid, you're on your own."

Jason shut the door and trotted downstairs towards the front entrance. With the hysterical screams of the baby still filtering in his ears despite the shutting of the door, Jason took a glass of water before finally leaving the house. It was early, it was daybreak, and it was time to stop hiding from the world. He took his tyre iron and shut the front door behind him, finally shutting out the noise coming from the hungry infant.

He left the premises and took a quick glance to either side of him.

He ran to the house next door and began to hammer at the front door with his fist so he could tell them that there had been an 'accident' with Jenny and they needed to take care of the baby. Nobody answered; in fact, Jason was sure that banging the door only enhanced the residents' consternation, if they were in.

"Fuck it!" He decided it was time to leave.

The street was abandoned and he smiled to himself as he headed towards Cannock Chase with hurried steps. Despite the hesitation of leaving the prison, he was now glad that he had done so—even though he was forced into the decision—and was enjoying the freedom thus far. It was good to be out in the countryside; for the last years, the only outside experience he had was in E wing's exercise yard. He took a deep breath in, and embraced the freedom, as he was aware that he didn't know how long this freedom was going to last, or if he was going to be alive the next week.

As his steps led him further and further away from the street, and deeper along the main, bendy roads that had condensed woodland on either side, he thought of the baby. If he knew Jenny had a baby, he would never have 'enjoyed' his thrill with her the night before. But what's done is done, he thought.

He wasn't going back now.