Snatchers (Book 3): The Dead Don't Cry by Shaun Whittington
Authors: Shaun Whittington
Tags: Zombies
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having alternative sleeps, something that they were very much used to by now, Pickle and Karen rose to their feet, their throats dry and their bellies growling to be fed. They decided to walk through the woods that had managed to be Snatcher-free so far, and reluctantly drank a little by the nearby stream, then continued with their walk.
In hindsight, the group should have ignored the pick-up truck and continued with their walk to Rugeley Town, despite the potential dangers. They were dehydrated and hungry, and Karen knew that from the point where they were now, they could still get to Rugeley via the woods. Once the two came to the end of the wooded area, there'd be a gravel path to walk up to, which would lead them to the top of a hill called Cardboard Hill, where she used to play sometimes as a child.
Pickle never questioned Karen if she knew where she was going; he just followed her. The situation had become desperate. They didn't have a tangible destination in their minds; they just wanted to go somewhere, anywhere, where there was a chance to eat, drink, and possibly have a sleep that lasted longer than five hours.
Although the couple in the truck had initially put the group off from going back to Rugeley with their stories of looting, violence and hordes of Snatchers, Pickle and Karen's options were scarce, and knew that just one vacant house with scraps of food and a bed, could keep their bodies alive for a few more days. And just because the electricity had gone a few days ago, it didn't mean that running water had ceased just yet.
The ex-inmate briefly thought about the sports centre, and was certain that it would have been perfect if they hadn't have already attracted those things. He felt for Jade, and knew she blamed the group for bringing the carnage to her; but they were on foot, and desperate times called for desperate measures. Pickle was confident that Paul and Jade had managed to flee unharmed, as it seemed to take an age for the gun to go off, and when it did, it was just the one gunshot.
The two survivors were casually strolling through the woodland and had not exchanged a word for the fifteen minutes that they had been walking. Their feet trudged through the greenery, and their necks twisted every time a rustle of a tree or a snap of a twig could be heard. Karen was the first to eventually break the silence. "So, where do you think they are?" Karen was referring to Paul and Jade who they had lost during the violent struggle. She sniffed and emptied each nostril onto the floor.
Pickle shrugged and answered, "Who knows? Probably miles away by now. It's amazing how much yer can run when yer attacker has a gun. They've ran one way, and we've gone another, so we could be a fair distance apart. No point looking for them; we'll just run into more trouble."
"So you've no intention going back for them?" Karen queried, and began inspecting the inside of her left nostril with her pinky.
Pickle shook his head. "It'd be like trying to find a needle in a haystack in these woods. Besides, they're not our priority; we're starving and our bodies need water more than anythin' else."
"Tell me about it. My mouth's as dry as a scabby cock."
Pickle threw Karen one of his disappointed-father looks, but Karen ignored it and asked, "What do you think has happened to those men?"
Pickle thought for a moment and guessed, "Probably had a good night's sleep, and are now off to rob someone else."
"Pricks!"
"I agree; they didn't have to shoot that poor couple, but those kinds o' people have got a better chance o' making it than people with families. I suppose most people could be considered a threat now. People will do anything and everything to survive; it's just the way we are." Pickle ran his fingers through his thin, dark beard and released an elongated exhale of breath. "So where to now, Bradley? You know this place better than me."
Karen looked around and gazed through the trees. "If we keep walking, we'll get to the
In hindsight, the group should have ignored the pick-up truck and continued with their walk to Rugeley Town, despite the potential dangers. They were dehydrated and hungry, and Karen knew that from the point where they were now, they could still get to Rugeley via the woods. Once the two came to the end of the wooded area, there'd be a gravel path to walk up to, which would lead them to the top of a hill called Cardboard Hill, where she used to play sometimes as a child.
Pickle never questioned Karen if she knew where she was going; he just followed her. The situation had become desperate. They didn't have a tangible destination in their minds; they just wanted to go somewhere, anywhere, where there was a chance to eat, drink, and possibly have a sleep that lasted longer than five hours.
Although the couple in the truck had initially put the group off from going back to Rugeley with their stories of looting, violence and hordes of Snatchers, Pickle and Karen's options were scarce, and knew that just one vacant house with scraps of food and a bed, could keep their bodies alive for a few more days. And just because the electricity had gone a few days ago, it didn't mean that running water had ceased just yet.
The ex-inmate briefly thought about the sports centre, and was certain that it would have been perfect if they hadn't have already attracted those things. He felt for Jade, and knew she blamed the group for bringing the carnage to her; but they were on foot, and desperate times called for desperate measures. Pickle was confident that Paul and Jade had managed to flee unharmed, as it seemed to take an age for the gun to go off, and when it did, it was just the one gunshot.
The two survivors were casually strolling through the woodland and had not exchanged a word for the fifteen minutes that they had been walking. Their feet trudged through the greenery, and their necks twisted every time a rustle of a tree or a snap of a twig could be heard. Karen was the first to eventually break the silence. "So, where do you think they are?" Karen was referring to Paul and Jade who they had lost during the violent struggle. She sniffed and emptied each nostril onto the floor.
Pickle shrugged and answered, "Who knows? Probably miles away by now. It's amazing how much yer can run when yer attacker has a gun. They've ran one way, and we've gone another, so we could be a fair distance apart. No point looking for them; we'll just run into more trouble."
"So you've no intention going back for them?" Karen queried, and began inspecting the inside of her left nostril with her pinky.
Pickle shook his head. "It'd be like trying to find a needle in a haystack in these woods. Besides, they're not our priority; we're starving and our bodies need water more than anythin' else."
"Tell me about it. My mouth's as dry as a scabby cock."
Pickle threw Karen one of his disappointed-father looks, but Karen ignored it and asked, "What do you think has happened to those men?"
Pickle thought for a moment and guessed, "Probably had a good night's sleep, and are now off to rob someone else."
"Pricks!"
"I agree; they didn't have to shoot that poor couple, but those kinds o' people have got a better chance o' making it than people with families. I suppose most people could be considered a threat now. People will do anything and everything to survive; it's just the way we are." Pickle ran his fingers through his thin, dark beard and released an elongated exhale of breath. "So where to now, Bradley? You know this place better than me."
Karen looked around and gazed through the trees. "If we keep walking, we'll get to the
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