Free Snatchers (Book 3): The Dead Don't Cry by Shaun Whittington Page A

smiled, realising what he had just said was a little hypocritical. "Back then it was about business. This is about survival. I've never harmed anyone that didn't deserve it."
    "Really?" Karen was unsure. She placed either hand on the side of her head and sat down on the grassy, steep hill. "We are getting desperate now, though."
    Pickle was a little perplexed at what Karen had just said. Was she hinting that the pair of them should be a lot more ruthless? Was it the dehydration talking? Or was she just physically and emotionally exhausted?
    Pickle asked, "So if there's a family in there, are yer quite happy to move them out by force, is that what yer sayin'?"
    "Of course not."
    Pickle motioned with his hand for Karen to get back on her feet. She did as she was told, and wearily followed behind the man she had known for a short time.
    Pickle walked towards the cluster of trees, with Karen following suit. Once they got near to the area, they both stopped, then cautiously walked and came to a six-foot fence with a gate the same size as the surrounding fence that was situated in the middle.
    "I don't remember there being a fence." Karen rubbed her eyes, ready to collapse in a heap and sleep for a day.
    "Who used to live here?" asked Pickle.
    "Some old man. When he died, numerous people bought it and used is as some kind of retreat."
    Pickle rubbed his thin beard in thought, and added, "I suppose it's one o' these places that yer can use to have time for yourself, to pray, and get in touch with nature."
    Karen glared at the man to see if he was being serious or not. "Sounds boring to me."
    Pickle smiled and playfully punched Karen on the arm. "That's because yer a young chick. Yer should be still going to clubs and gettin' drunk."
    "Those days are well and truly over."
    Pickle went to reach for the gate's knob and tried twisting it. It wouldn't open. He used a little force this time and the gate rattled. If need be, Karen was sure that Pickle could smash through the gate, but out of respect for whom or whomever was in there, she never suggested such a thing.
    Impatiently, Karen snapped, "Just look over."
    "Okay."
    Being the same height as the fence, Pickle went on his tip-toes and could see over. The cabin was reasonably large, and in front of it there was a small garden that was dark, as it appeared to be congested with the shadows of the tall trees that surrounded the area that allowed in little sunlight. Twenty yards in front of the house was an old-looking shed to the left side of the garden. Opposite the shed was a tree stump that seemed to be the place that maybe some wood-chopping would take place.
    Pickle could obviously not tell from looking outside, but he guessed that maybe it was one of those recluse cabins that had no electricity, gas or phones. He guessed that the person/people who came here, came to get away from the stress of twenty-first century life, away from technology, and to converse with Mother Nature.
    Without warning Karen in advance, Pickle pulled himself up and threw himself over. From behind the fence he could hear Karen releasing profanities that were about him, and he stayed where he was until seconds later she followed his lead.
    Karen was clearly exhausted, and it looked as if that one climb over the fence had sapped any energy she had left. Once they were in the grounds, they both stood at the end of the garden and looked at the front of the cabin. She then questioned Pickle, "What now?"
    "Knock on the door and introduce ourselves."
    "Simple as that? We're trespassing on their property."
    "Doesn't matter what we do, Karen, they're gonna be startled at first anyway. Let's just hope it's empty."
    They tentatively walked forward and could see that the windows of the place were in desperate need of a wash. They went past the stump and the dilapidated shed, then Pickle progressed a little further forward than Karen, and was only yards away from rattling the front door.
    "That's close enough," a voice