Snatchers (Book 7): The Dead Don't Yield by Shaun Whittington Page B
Authors: Shaun Whittington
Tags: Zombie Apocalypse
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genuinely upset, and Vince's eyes filled for the woman that he was starting to care for. He wasn't going to say anything—to her or Pickle. It wasn't his place to say anything. If she wanted to tell people, she would say something when she was ready.
He shook his head with sadness.
"Poor Karen."
Chapter Eighteen
Still plagued by guilt for leaving Bentley behind, Lee James and Sheryl Smith were now on Hednesford Road and the vehicle was doing a steady thirty along it. The road was bare, with the exception of the odd abandoned vehicle and one or two bodies on the side, but they had seen worse over the weeks.
Lee looked to the side of him to see Sheryl grasping the steering wheel, staring out of the windscreen. He was so concerned about Bentley and what had happened to Luke that he had hardly given her a thought.
Swallowing his guilt he asked Sheryl, "So how're you holding up?"
"Not bad," She ran her tongue across the front of her top teeth. "I can still taste that cunt's blood."
"What?"
"The guy whose throat I bit into."
"Oh right." Lee shuddered at the thought of it. Sheryl must have been desperate to act in such a way, but if she hadn't reacted it could have been a whole lot worse for her. "You certainly showed them who was boss in there," Lee tried to joke.
Sheryl remained gazing forwards, and said softly, "I thought I was gonna die."
Lee gazed at Sheryl with admiration and sympathy. In the short time he had known her she had always been a tough bastard, whether it was just for show or not, and she was his most trusted companion when out on runs. She never shied away from violence, if it was needed, and she always kept her cards close to her chest whenever she was asked about the first days and what had happened to her family—he was unsure if she had a family. She never wore a wedding ring and Lee respected that she preferred to keep herself to herself. Even when asked about the Buddy tattoo on her left wrist, she never gave an answer.
He thought back to his own family. His thoughts briefly went back to hiding in the woods with Denise and his children. Tears welled when his mind went back to that crazy night when those freaks came out of nowhere and took his wife and his kids. He still didn't know to this day how he was never bit as he tried to fight them off.
As they passed the Stile Cop Road to their right, and dodged the burnt out Porsche on the left, they entered Draycott Park.
Five more minutes and they'd be home.
*
Bentley Drummle remained as calm as anyone could in such a situation, and had no idea how long he had been stuck in the cabin, in complete darkness.
Ten minutes? One hour?
The pounding from outside was still continuing and he guessed that there could be many outside, desperate to get in. He was convinced that the numbers had increased, because the pounding seemed more raucous than before, and guessed that the many outside had attracted the attention of a few others from afar...maybe.
He didn't know what was really going on, but he knew that just five of them would be difficult to get through, never mind over thirty of them. He only had four bullets, and now that he had been in darkness for a good while, opening the door of the cabin and running outside would blind him for seconds because of the length of time he had been sitting in the dark. It'd be suicidal to go out.
Despite knowing that the cabin was empty when he entered, he couldn't help freaking himself out and imagining one or two inside the place.
He threw his head back and began thinking about Laura. Before his mind had time to wander off and drift into the past, more thuds appeared behind him and he could have sworn he heard the wood splinter and crack.
"Fuck. They're never gonna give up."
Maybe unbolting the door and running for it was the only option he had. There was a strong chance that as soon as that door was opened, the horde would pile into the cabin giving him no time to get out.
What he did know was
He shook his head with sadness.
"Poor Karen."
Chapter Eighteen
Still plagued by guilt for leaving Bentley behind, Lee James and Sheryl Smith were now on Hednesford Road and the vehicle was doing a steady thirty along it. The road was bare, with the exception of the odd abandoned vehicle and one or two bodies on the side, but they had seen worse over the weeks.
Lee looked to the side of him to see Sheryl grasping the steering wheel, staring out of the windscreen. He was so concerned about Bentley and what had happened to Luke that he had hardly given her a thought.
Swallowing his guilt he asked Sheryl, "So how're you holding up?"
"Not bad," She ran her tongue across the front of her top teeth. "I can still taste that cunt's blood."
"What?"
"The guy whose throat I bit into."
"Oh right." Lee shuddered at the thought of it. Sheryl must have been desperate to act in such a way, but if she hadn't reacted it could have been a whole lot worse for her. "You certainly showed them who was boss in there," Lee tried to joke.
Sheryl remained gazing forwards, and said softly, "I thought I was gonna die."
Lee gazed at Sheryl with admiration and sympathy. In the short time he had known her she had always been a tough bastard, whether it was just for show or not, and she was his most trusted companion when out on runs. She never shied away from violence, if it was needed, and she always kept her cards close to her chest whenever she was asked about the first days and what had happened to her family—he was unsure if she had a family. She never wore a wedding ring and Lee respected that she preferred to keep herself to herself. Even when asked about the Buddy tattoo on her left wrist, she never gave an answer.
He thought back to his own family. His thoughts briefly went back to hiding in the woods with Denise and his children. Tears welled when his mind went back to that crazy night when those freaks came out of nowhere and took his wife and his kids. He still didn't know to this day how he was never bit as he tried to fight them off.
As they passed the Stile Cop Road to their right, and dodged the burnt out Porsche on the left, they entered Draycott Park.
Five more minutes and they'd be home.
*
Bentley Drummle remained as calm as anyone could in such a situation, and had no idea how long he had been stuck in the cabin, in complete darkness.
Ten minutes? One hour?
The pounding from outside was still continuing and he guessed that there could be many outside, desperate to get in. He was convinced that the numbers had increased, because the pounding seemed more raucous than before, and guessed that the many outside had attracted the attention of a few others from afar...maybe.
He didn't know what was really going on, but he knew that just five of them would be difficult to get through, never mind over thirty of them. He only had four bullets, and now that he had been in darkness for a good while, opening the door of the cabin and running outside would blind him for seconds because of the length of time he had been sitting in the dark. It'd be suicidal to go out.
Despite knowing that the cabin was empty when he entered, he couldn't help freaking himself out and imagining one or two inside the place.
He threw his head back and began thinking about Laura. Before his mind had time to wander off and drift into the past, more thuds appeared behind him and he could have sworn he heard the wood splinter and crack.
"Fuck. They're never gonna give up."
Maybe unbolting the door and running for it was the only option he had. There was a strong chance that as soon as that door was opened, the horde would pile into the cabin giving him no time to get out.
What he did know was
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