Snatchers (Book 8): The Dead Don't Pray by Shaun Whittington

container that was sitting on the grass, which was basically a soda bottle cut in half, and had, at the top of the bottle, small pebbles. Underneath the pebbles was sand. A cloth was below the sand, tied with an elastic band. She went to the river for a second time and took a big scoop of water.
    Once it had filtered she was going to pour the water in a vessel, boil it for a minute and let it cool down. She already knew that the water must be filtered to remove waterborne cysts that could harbour and protect bacteria from chemical treatment or even boiling. The cysts were capable of withstanding high temperatures.
    The filtering process would remove these cysts along with pesticides, herbicides, sediment, insects and other debris. It was a lengthy process, but if she and her guest weren't hydrated, they'd suffer. There was plenty of soft drinks on offer, but if she could get a healthier alternative of being hydrated, then she would.
    Whilst it was filtering she went back inside her temporary lodgings, The Wolseley Arms pub, and went in to see if her guest was awake.
    Since she had found him, the exhausted man had done nothing but sleep for days. Yesterday was the first time he had been on his feet for more than three hours, and after that he had to retire and rest some more.
    She looked back at the animal on the skewer; it was being licked by the dancing flames of the fire. She hoped that her guest had got his appetite back, because she had a special treat for him.

Chapter Twenty
     
    Pickle told Lee to drive the tanker back to the camp on his own, whilst they dropped Celia back to her home. He agreed with little fuss. The journey to Lichfield had been danger-free, and with him driving a tanker that would crush anything that got in its way, Lee's confidence was high.
    The red pickup truck turned left, and Celia told Pickle, Bentley and Rick that she lived in Fradley and greatly appreciated the ride home. The twenty-six-year-old woman was sitting at the end and peering out of the window, watching the trees go by. Thirty-five-year-old Rick Morgan had taken a shine to the woman and couldn't keep his eyes off her.
    "Another mile and we should be there," she said, running her fingers through her black hair. She was a voluptuous woman, big-breasted, wore large glasses and had a round pretty face. She turned to the driver, Pickle, and said, "Thanks for this. I really appreciate it."
    "No worries," remarked Pickle. "It's refreshing that we've bumped into a good person. There ain't many o' yer left."
    "Don't I know it." She lowered her head, thinking of the ordeal she had to go through with the three men. She'd never forget their faces. The big man had dark features and had pinned her down with ease, then raped her first. The second man had blonde hair and seemed to have enjoyed himself more than the big man. She did her best to fake her enjoyment of the whole ordeal, but even with her life at risk she was finding it difficult to keep up the act by the time the ginger-haired man with the ponytail had his turn on her.
    She shuddered as the image of her rape projected in her mind. It was something that she was never going to forget or get over, but she was still alive, and now, after nearly two months, she was finally going home.
    "Look..." Pickle paused, unsure whether to continue with his talk. "There's no way o' dressing this up... Yer parents that yer mentioned before... There's a good chance that they could be dead."
    "I know." Celia spoke with sadness. "I've already prepared myself for that scenario. If they've committed suicide or have turned..."
    "We'll take care of it," Rick chipped in, eyeing the woman. He felt guilty for being attracted to her, considering what she had been through, but she looked nice, bad odour aside. Celia smiled at Rick and thanked him.
    "We're nearly there." Celia looked out at the front and noticed the country road had four bodies scattered along it. The pickup truck slowed down and drove around the