Snatchers: Volume Two (The Zombie Apocalypse Series Box Set--Books 4-6) by Shaun Whittington Page B
Authors: Shaun Whittington
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does ma hand. Yer wanna hear the story that caused this wee minor handicap o' mine while we wait for the soup?"
Jack nodded, and was pleased that Vince had decided to join them.
"Well, guys," Harry Branston looked at both Vince and Jack, "let me begin."
Chapter Eighteen
July 2nd
The cabin that Tommy Burns had found was possibly the dirtiest and smelliest place he had ever laid his head. In fact, it wasn't really a cabin, it was more like a large shed. There was human faeces in the corner of the hut, as well as a dead fox that looked like most of it had been devoured. Whoever had dwelled in the place, stayed at the place briefly, just like what he was doing, and then moved on.
Before he went to sleep, he removed the carcass of the fox. The faeces were left alone as Tommy, naturally, didn't want to touch them, and he slept the night with the door bolted and his T-shirt over his nose.
Once his eyes opened in the early morning he gave himself a cereal bar, the first thing that he grabbed out of the bag, and a swig of water, just enough to wet the back of his throat.
Tommy Burns was on the move again after an average night's sleep; he stopped, took a drink from his bag and continued to walk through the greenery, his eyes everywhere, but his nerves were under control. He was so confident that he was safe in this more spacious part of the woods, his Glock remained tucked into his trousers as well as his back-up hunters knife from his bag—his other knife had been dropped during the frightening melee the evening before.
He had no idea where he was going but made sure that he kept on going straight. These woods were going to have to come to an end eventually, but this was something that was quickly put to the back of his mind when his eyes spotted a figure fifty yards up ahead.
It turned to Tommy and quickly disappeared into the trees, suggesting that it was a human being. Tommy wanted to run towards the person, but was aware that a run-in with a ghoul could occur. There was also the small danger of there being a spring-coil animal trap that could be hiding somewhere—a trap set by poachers from weeks ago before the world fell into a catastrophe.
He walked briskly through the greenery and kept looking from side-to-side for any unexpected surprises. He suddenly stopped once he saw a deer; it had been the first time he saw one in these woods so close up. Both man and animal glared at one another, almost daring each other to make a move. It seemed that they were glaring for ages, and the deer suddenly made Tommy jump when it unexpectedly darted away, further into the woods.
Something had spooked it. But what?
An arm went around Tommy's throat and he could feel the cold steel of a knife pressing against his right temple. Tommy tried to remain as calm as possible, but the scenario of the blade slicing across his throat or being rammed into his back would not leave his mind, forcing a little panic through his body. He wasn't used to being on the receiving end of violence; it was usually him that dished it out.
His assailant finally spoke. "Can I help ye, pal?"
Tommy gulped and said with shallow breath, "I was just passing. I mean no harm to you, friend. Only to the dead."
It took a while for it to happen, but the steel was removed from Tommy's temple and the man took a step backwards, allowing Tommy to turn around. The man that had grabbed him look no taller than five-six, had a thick dark beard, wore spectacles, and had a green woolly hat on his head. He looked like the character 'Hooper' that Richard Dreyfuss played in the '75 film, Jaws .
The man never introduced himself and began speaking in a thick Scottish accent, "Ye the first fuckin' bloke I've seen roond these parts. Where the fuck are ye fae?"
"I'm local," answered Tommy, not giving too much away. "And I take it by your accent, you're originally from..."
"Careful," the man half-sniggered.
"Glasgow?"
"Close enough," the man sniffed. "I'm fae
Jack nodded, and was pleased that Vince had decided to join them.
"Well, guys," Harry Branston looked at both Vince and Jack, "let me begin."
Chapter Eighteen
July 2nd
The cabin that Tommy Burns had found was possibly the dirtiest and smelliest place he had ever laid his head. In fact, it wasn't really a cabin, it was more like a large shed. There was human faeces in the corner of the hut, as well as a dead fox that looked like most of it had been devoured. Whoever had dwelled in the place, stayed at the place briefly, just like what he was doing, and then moved on.
Before he went to sleep, he removed the carcass of the fox. The faeces were left alone as Tommy, naturally, didn't want to touch them, and he slept the night with the door bolted and his T-shirt over his nose.
Once his eyes opened in the early morning he gave himself a cereal bar, the first thing that he grabbed out of the bag, and a swig of water, just enough to wet the back of his throat.
Tommy Burns was on the move again after an average night's sleep; he stopped, took a drink from his bag and continued to walk through the greenery, his eyes everywhere, but his nerves were under control. He was so confident that he was safe in this more spacious part of the woods, his Glock remained tucked into his trousers as well as his back-up hunters knife from his bag—his other knife had been dropped during the frightening melee the evening before.
He had no idea where he was going but made sure that he kept on going straight. These woods were going to have to come to an end eventually, but this was something that was quickly put to the back of his mind when his eyes spotted a figure fifty yards up ahead.
It turned to Tommy and quickly disappeared into the trees, suggesting that it was a human being. Tommy wanted to run towards the person, but was aware that a run-in with a ghoul could occur. There was also the small danger of there being a spring-coil animal trap that could be hiding somewhere—a trap set by poachers from weeks ago before the world fell into a catastrophe.
He walked briskly through the greenery and kept looking from side-to-side for any unexpected surprises. He suddenly stopped once he saw a deer; it had been the first time he saw one in these woods so close up. Both man and animal glared at one another, almost daring each other to make a move. It seemed that they were glaring for ages, and the deer suddenly made Tommy jump when it unexpectedly darted away, further into the woods.
Something had spooked it. But what?
An arm went around Tommy's throat and he could feel the cold steel of a knife pressing against his right temple. Tommy tried to remain as calm as possible, but the scenario of the blade slicing across his throat or being rammed into his back would not leave his mind, forcing a little panic through his body. He wasn't used to being on the receiving end of violence; it was usually him that dished it out.
His assailant finally spoke. "Can I help ye, pal?"
Tommy gulped and said with shallow breath, "I was just passing. I mean no harm to you, friend. Only to the dead."
It took a while for it to happen, but the steel was removed from Tommy's temple and the man took a step backwards, allowing Tommy to turn around. The man that had grabbed him look no taller than five-six, had a thick dark beard, wore spectacles, and had a green woolly hat on his head. He looked like the character 'Hooper' that Richard Dreyfuss played in the '75 film, Jaws .
The man never introduced himself and began speaking in a thick Scottish accent, "Ye the first fuckin' bloke I've seen roond these parts. Where the fuck are ye fae?"
"I'm local," answered Tommy, not giving too much away. "And I take it by your accent, you're originally from..."
"Careful," the man half-sniggered.
"Glasgow?"
"Close enough," the man sniffed. "I'm fae
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