Ghostland (Book 3): Ghostland 3 Page 6

  Yoler slapped Dicko on the arm and the man stopped walking and screwed his face at her.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “You were miles away,” she snapped. “Humming some tune.”

  “I was humming a song by Radiohead.”

  “Yeah, well, you need to concentrate,” she said. “I called your name a couple of times and no response.”

  “So?” Dicko hunched his shoulders. “What’s the matter?”

  “Can’t you hear it?” Yoler groaned.

  Dicko shook his head. “Hear what?”

  “Listen.” Yoler held up her finger and looked at her male companion.

  Seconds passed and she could now tell by his face that he could also hear it. A vehicle was heading their way.

  “In there.” Dicko pointed into the woods and the pair of them crouched down once they were around ten feet in. They waited and the sound of the engine grew louder. The vehicle didn’t seem to be in a rush and passed them by slowly, around twenty mph, and they could both see it was a large white Transit van.

  They stood once the coast was clear and Yoler was the first to speak.

  “What do you reckon?” she asked Dicko. “One of those meat wagons?”

  Dicko puffed out his bottom lip, unsure what to think. “Not sure. I’ve been on the road for months and I’d never heard of these meat wagons up until a few days ago.”

  “Imagine it was true.”

  “Best not to.” A shudder went down Dicko’s vertebrae as he made his way back to the main road. They walked side by side and guessed another hour or so and they’d be back at the camp.

  “I suppose it’s not surprising that this kind of thing happens,” Yoler began to speak. “It’s been nearly a year since it kicked off. With the boats and planes that transport gas and food not running anymore, people still need to eat.”

  “True.” Dicko nodded the once. “We just need to try and stay off the menu. It’s not something that I’ve thought about, even when I was at my lowest ebb, months ago, and hadn’t eaten in a week.”

  “You would never consider it?”

  “I’d rather starve.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Grace, Gavin and Donald were minutes away from reaching the camp and no words were spoken from the moment they left the ditch, to where they were now. Gavin was carrying the rope that had saved his life, and Grace walked alongside him, close to tears, relieved that he was still alive.

  Donald Brownstone walked with his knife in his clammy right hand, looking left and right as they progressed through the plantation. He wasn’t taking any chances. A week ago he had a machete, but had lost it on a supply run. Two Canavars had burst out of a café kitchen door, where he and Gavin were, and he killed one by burying the blade deep in the dead being’s head. The blade was stuck and he was finding it difficult to retrieve the weapon, which had to be left as more of the dead turned up. He and Gavin fled the area eventually, on foot.

  On their travels, over the last three weeks or so, they had never come across a vehicle that was in working order. But even so, now dwelling in the camp, there wasn’t really anywhere to park a vehicle. Unless they left it at the farm or the edge of the woods, near the burnt out Mazda, and just hoped nobody took it in their absence.

  The knife was all he had now, and Yoler was the only one left that carried such a large blade.

  “You two need to do me a favour,” Donald spoke up.

  Neither of his companions responded verbally. They just looked at him, waiting to hear what he had to say.

  Donald added, “You can’t mention that there’re Canavars around here, you dig what I’m sayin’?”

  Gavin knew why Donald wanted them to keep quiet, but Grace asked why.

  “Because,” Donald moaned, “I don’t want Helen, David, and the rest knowing. I’ll keep a lookout during the day, and we’ll all be in the safety of the cabin on a night anyway. I don’t wanna cause any more stress for these people.”

  “But Donald,” Grace spoke, “What if some turn up and you’re not there?”

  “I’ll let Yoler and Dicko know about it. That’s it.”

  “I don’t agree.” Grace shook her head. “I can understand why you wanna do it, but this could turn out to be a bad idea.”

  “I’m sorry, Donald.” Gavin looked to the side at Donald, but Donald never made eye contact. “I know you have feelings for Helen and David especially, but these kind of secrets can cause harm.”

  “So we give the woman and child sleepless nights, because you don’t like the occasional white lie?” Donald huffed. “For fuck’s sake.”

  “Most of us are having sleepless nights anyway,” said Grace. “At least people will be extra vigilant if they know the truth.”

  Donald ground his teeth in anger and kept quiet. He could see their point, but was adamant that his idea was still for the best.

  “And didn’t Simon lie to his daughter,” Gavin began, “and told her that the Canavars were all gone? That didn’t work out, did it?”

  “No, but her last days were probably a lot more relaxed than if he had told her the truth.” Donald scratched at the back of his head and now looked to the side, at Gavin. “Anyway, you didn’t even know Simon.”

  “No, but Dicko told me about that story.”

  “I suppose there’s no point putting this to a vote?”

  The three entered the camp and could see Yoler and Dicko were back. Helen and Lisa were chatting on the steps of the cabin, and Donald assumed correctly that David was inside.

  Helen stood up and smiled. “You okay?” she asked Gavin. “Grace said you fell into a ditch. Did you break anything?”

  Gavin shook his head and looked at Donald. The strange look was noticed by Helen and Lisa, and Lisa asked the returning residents what was wrong. Yoler and Dicko had now shown interest and now Donald had a little audience to make his announcement to.

  “We’re just gonna have to be a bit more vigilant from now on, you dig what I’m sayin’?”

  “No,” Lisa huffed and was concerned about the tone in Donald’s voice. “We don’t dig what you are saying. What do you mean?”

  David was inside the cabin, so Donald decided to blurt it out before the little man stepped outside.

  “There’s Canavars in the woods,” he said. “Gavin was attacked by a few, and I had to put some down.”

  “How many?” Yoler asked.

  “No idea, but it shouldn’t be a problem.”

  “Not a problem?” said Lisa. “And how do you work that one out?”

  “If we stay focused through the day, we’ll be fine. We sleep in the cabin anyway. Just have to make sure David doesn’t go off on any adventures by himself.”

  “Okay.” Yoler pulled her machete from her belt and Donald asked what the hell she was doing.

  “I’m going Canavar hunting.” She then turned to Dicko. “Fancy coming? Better to get them before they get here.”

  “This is not a bloody game,” Donald snarled.

  “I know.” Yoler walked up to Donald and playfully patted his cheeks. “If there’re too many out there, we won’t be stupid and put ourselves at risk. But if there’re strays out there, we may as well put them down before they get to the camp. Any kind of lapse of concentration or distraction with David here could turn disastrous. It would only take one of them. One bite. That was all that was needed to kill Imelda, and her bite wasn’t even that severe.”

  Helen nodded frantically and told them that it was a good idea. She knew that a part of Yoler Sanders, and maybe even Dicko, enjoyed the killing of the dead, but if it meant keeping her son safe, she didn’t care.

  “Okay.” Donald sighed, “Don’t be too long. Want company?”

  Dicko shook his head. “We’ll be fine.”

  “Good,” Donald snapped. “I’m knackered and Gavin needs a rest, too.”

  Dicko and Yoler waved cheerio to the residents, went into the woods, and were out of sight minutes later.

  Ch
apter Sixteen

  With their weapons clasped in their right hands, Yoler and Dicko trudged through the bracken. The plan was simple. The pair of them were to walk through the woods to the main road, checking to their side for any surprises. Once they reached the road, they were turning back. The woods went on for miles, occasionally separated by country roads, and Yoler and Dicko didn’t see the point searching for miles. As long as the patch of woodland near their camp was clear, then that was good enough for them as far as safety was concerned. It may have to be a daily thing.

  “You honestly think there’ll be more of the dead in this area?” Yoler asked.

  “Probably not.” Dicko twisted his neck and looked from side to side. “But it gets us out of that cramped camp of ours.”

  “Are you wishing we were back at the farmhouse?”

  “Of course.” Dicko looked at his female companion. “The only trouble was that it made us a bit of a target. And if these meat wagon stories are true, then if we were still there, what’s to say that these cannibals wouldn’t have attacked us while we slept?”

  “Personally, I think the stories are bullshit,” Yoler grunted. “I’m not saying cannibalism isn’t happening, I just don’t believe there’s an organised gang out there doing this kind of stuff on a regular basis.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  Yoler stopped walking and gasped when she spotted something move ahead of her on the floor.

  “What’s up?” Dicko could see the look on her face, but couldn’t see anything around him or on the ground.

  “I think...” She paused and scowled in confusion. “I think I saw a snake.”

  “Probably.” Dicko nodded and seemed unconcerned. “Was that it?”

  “I didn’t think we had snakes in these parts.”

  “I think we have grass snakes and adders in this country.”

  Yoler shuddered and said, “I’m not a fan of snakes. That’s the first time I’ve seen one.”

  “Well, next time you see one, give me a shout,” Dicko said. “They’re edible.”

  “Ugh.” Yoler twisted her face. “Fuck that.”

  Dicko continued walking, and lagging behind, Yoler made careful steps through the plantation, paranoid about coming across more snakes.

  Dicko nodded up ahead and said, “The trees are thinning out now. We’ll get to the main road, sit on the grass for a bit and have a rest, then head back.”

  “I ain’t sitting anywhere where there’re snakes around.”

  “Probably just a grass snake or a smooth snake. They’re not poisonous.”

  The two sets of feet had reached the main road and the two individuals stepped out of the greenery. Both were pleased to be out of the suffocating trees and feel the gentle wind lick their faces.

  Dicko sat on the side of the road and pointed his toes upwards, stretching his hamstrings slightly. He began to take his boots off and allowed his feet to get some fresh air. One by one he took them off, and the smell of the stale socks he had been wearing for the last four days made his nose twitch. With the clothes getting washed at the pond regularly, there was no excuse for the smell. Maybe he’d wash them himself sometime today.

  With the thought of snakes in her mind, Yoler decided to remain standing and paced the middle of the road, waiting for Dicko to finish his resting. She looked to her right and could see thirty yards up that the windy road bent to the left, but to her right the country road stretched for a quarter of a mile and eventually bent to the left. There were trees on either side of the road.

  “Sit down,” Dicko called over to her. “You pacing up and down is getting on my nerves.”

  “Just get on your feet and get back to the camp,” she huffed impatiently. “You can rest in the cabin.”

  “Just give me a few more minutes.”

  Dicko leaned over and touched his toes. He then began to do something he hadn’t done in a long while. He began to do some leg stretches, the same kind of stretches he used to do when he attended the gym. He stood up and leaned over, pushing his hands against a tree, with his back leg stretched, trying to stretch out his calf, and then swapped legs and did the same. He then placed the palm of his left hand on the tree and grabbed his right ankle with his right hand and pulled his own leg up to stretch his quad muscles.

  After fifteen seconds he swapped legs and did the same procedure. Yoler was giggling at him, but he ignored her. Once he was done, he walked over to her and asked if she was ready.

  “I was ready five minutes ago,” she said. “Shame there’re no Canavars. Could have done with a bit of excitement.”

  “I think I’ve had enough for one day.”

  Yoler’s eyes narrowed and this was noticed straightaway by Dicko. She was looking to her left and he looked in the same direction, wondering what she was staring at.

  A bearded man emerged from around the corner and had his head down. Neither Yoler or Dicko said a word. The man’s clothes were dishevelled and he looked thin, too thin. He was twenty yards away from Yoler and Dicko, and he finally raised his head and stopped walking once his eyes clocked the two of them.

  “Jesus Christ on a cross!” the female blasphemed, as she usually did. “Well, I don’t pissing believe it. Look who it is.”

  Dicko could feel his rage building and wanted to run over to the man and stab him to death, but the man waved at the two of them, revealed a wide smile and pulled out two machetes that were strapped to his back.

  It was Hando.

  “I’m ready when you are,” Hando laughed.

  Yoler took a step forwards, but Dicko grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back.

  “We can take him,” she snapped.

  “Maybe.” Dicko nodded and didn’t look too sure. “But even if we did kill him, we could sustain an injury in doing so.”

  “So?”

  “A bad cut can become infected if we don’t have the right meds for it. I know we’re gonna check out the houses for medical stuff tomorrow, but that doesn’t help us today. At worst, an amputation could kill you with the loss of blood.”

  “So we just leave him, eh?”

  Dicko never answered and Hando called over, “I’m sorry for your friend,” he said. “But to be fair you did kill two of mine.”

  “So your pal with the Chelsea top didn’t make it?” Dicko was certain that one of Hando’s henchmen that had lost his hand had died anyway from blood loss. What he didn’t know was that it was Hando himself that had killed him.

  “That’s right, brother,” said Hando with a chuckle. “I’ve been all on my lonesome since then. As you can see, I’m not in the best shape.”

  “My heart bleeds.”

  Hando smiled widely and could see that during the conversation the two hadn’t pulled out their weapons. He put his back and eventually put the machetes back in the leather holsters that were strapped to his back.

  “So now what happens?” Hando asked the two of them. Neither one could give the man an answer.

  Yoler knew it wouldn’t happen, but she said, “Now, you toss those blades over to us and give yourself up. We have some justice to serve you.”

  “So, you want to kill me because of that one weak guy?” Hando shook his head and yelled, “You did two of my guys!” This was a complete lie. Dirty Ian was killed, but Hando had killed Wazza himself.

  “Maybe,” she said. “But we have two women back at our camp that would love to stick a blade in you.”

  Hando looked confused and opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

  “Let me explain,” Yoler began. “A while back, you and your scummy pals broke into a caravan where a woman and her two daughters were staying.”

  They could tell by Hando’s face that he knew straightaway who she was talking about.

  “Two daughters?” Hando looked to the side in thought.

  “Yeah, the other one, the one that’s with us, ran while you and your cronies raped Lisa and killed her fourteen-year-old daughter.”

  �
��Lisa. Is that her name?” Hando ran his fingers over his bald head and added, “I liked her. Even when she attacked me, I still liked her. Didn’t realise that there was another present.”

  “You’re one sick individual,” Yoler snarled.

  “We’re all on borrowed time, sister. I’m just trying to survive and have as much fun as I can. That’s all.” Hando pointed ahead of them and said, “Now, I’m going that way, so I need to walk past you.” He put his hands behind his head and patted the handles of the machetes. “Will I be needing these?”

  “No.” Dicko gently took Yoler’s arm. “We’re going.”

  “Good.” Hando smiled. “Not in the mood for bloodshed.”

  Dicko walked into the woodland and dragged Yoler in with him. They walked, constantly looking over their shoulder, and could see Hando on the road, passing by them.

  “Give my regards to Lisa.” He chuckled and continued with his walk. He had now disappeared from their view and Yoler shrugged off Dicko who still had a hold of her.

  She huffed, “We should have killed that fucker.”

  “It’s not worth the risk,” said Dicko. “We could get seriously injured, or worse.”

  “It just doesn’t seem right to let him go like that.”

  “I know. We can handle ourselves, Yoler, but that guy’s a maniac. Do me a favour.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t tell anyone about this,” he said. “I don’t think he’ll be a threat, so no point making the camp paranoid. With these meat wagon stories, as well as the dead, it’d be just too much for some to take.”

  “If you say so.”

  “Trust your Uncle Dicko,” he laughed.

  “God, don’t say things like that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it’s weird. We’ve slept together, remember?”

  “Fair point.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Helen Willis groaned as she stood to her feet and decided to go into the cabin and see if her son was okay. Lisa and Grace Newton had had a tearful heart to heart, and Gavin was sat up against a tree, exhausted by the ditch incident.