Snatchers 2: The Dead Don't Sleep by Shaun Whittington Page A

for another.
    Two silent minutes had passed, and the woman eventually arrived with two hot cups of coffee.
    He peeped at the woman and although she was in desperate need of a makeover and a shower, he came to the conclusion that with a little effort, she would look reasonably attractive. "So what's your name?" Jason asked.
    She sat herself down. "Jenny." She also gazed at the man, and came to the conclusion that he looked like a brute, a man that probably had steroid sandwiches.
    "So where is everybody?"
    She shrugged her shoulders. "My husband went to work last week; he works on a construction site, but he never came back. I've been in here ever since it happened. Starting to run out of food now though. There's a local shop down the road, but I'm guessing that it's already been burgled and stripped."
    Jason took a sip from the coffee. "Wow, that's good coffee."
    "Thanks. Not much of that left, either."
    "You have a phone?"
    "Not one that works," she said sadly.
    There was a silence that greeted the two strangers and Jason bit his bottom lip. "I'm sorry about your husband."
    She sat up and looked affronted with what Jason had said to her. She shook her head. "He's not dead."
    Jason raised his eyebrows as if to say, really?
    Her face looked sad and she lowered her head. Maybe he isn't coming back. Maybe he is dead.

Chapter Eleven
     
    "So what book do you want me to read you?"
    Jack took his son away from the group and went into one of the rooms that would eventually be shared by another six people. The plan was to read to his son, get some shuteye himself before he and Gary were up for the night watch. The hall had a large room where most people slept on the floor, while others slept in the offices.
    "I don't have any books." Young Thomas sniffed, and kicked the thin air with his right foot, as if he was in a bad mood about something.
    "What's up, squirt?" asked Jack.
    Thomas stopped walking and turned to face his dad, and sighed, with his young shoulders slumped. "I don't like it here," he said with sadness. "I miss my friends. I miss Grandma. Why can't I go back to school?"
    Jack owed it to his son to protect him, but was unsure that lying to him was the best idea, as it made his confusion even greater. "Have you been told about what's been happening?"
    "About...the monsters?"
    Jack understood that he should have talked to Kerry about the subject, but simultaneously felt that telling his son that he was on holiday and then also stating that he wasn't allowed to go out on his own and play too loudly, etc, just made him even more confused.
    Jack sat his son down on the floor on top of a sleeping bag. His place was in the corner of the hall, and Jack wanted to get him down before other people decided to turn in. Because it was a hall, the echo of even just footsteps was enough to bring someone out of a coma. It wasn't ideal, but at least his son was alive, all thanks to Kerry. Jack helped his son strip down to his pants, and he slipped his little body into the sleeping bag and stared at his daddy.
    Jack quizzed, "What do you know about these...monsters?"
    "Just that they're dangerous...and mummy's frightened of them."
    "You do realise why we have to stay here, don't you?"
    Thomas nodded. "Yes. Or they'll find us and eat us," he said with a straight face.
    Jack twisted his face. "Who told you that?" Jack was annoyed that his son had this information, although what he said was technically true.
    "Yoler," he said with no hesitation.
    "Well, it looks like I'm gonna have to have a word with Yoler's daddy. She can't go round saying things like that."
    Jack was referring to Yoler Parkinson. She was only eight years old, a cute kid with black curly hair. Her father was Ian Jenson and her mother had been attacked while the family tried to escape from the house. The eight-year-old witnessed her mother through the back window being mauled by a gang of the dead as her distraught father drove away, a story she had told young Thomas on a