Read Snatchers 2: The Dead Don't Sleep for Free Online Page A

seemed to have come from over the hill to the left of the prison where the village of Garsden was situated. Once the coast seemed clear, he pulled the car up into the side of the road and tried to gather his thoughts. He looked around the sun-basked hills and threw his head back. His mind briefly went back to Kyle.
    Fuck him. Rather him than me.
    He smacked his dry lips together, and began checking the car. He started looking inside the car, from the glove compartment to behind his seat. Apart from the car manual, a Stone Roses CD and a box of tampax, there was nothing in the car that could wet his lips or fill his stomach. There was a phone, but it was completely flat. He got out of the car and checked the front. The bonnet of the car had taken significant amounts of dents to its bodywork, so much so that Jason struggled to pop the bonnet open. He walked to the boot of the car and opened it. There was nothing, apart from a waterproof jacket. He lifted underneath and came across the spare tyre as well as a tyre iron. He took the tyre iron, slammed the boot shut and returned back to his seat. He shut the door, drove away, and as the engine purred he looked at the fuel gauge and shook his head.
    Only a quarter tank left!
    He drove away in hope that he would come across a garage or a shop that had food and water. A garage would be better, he thought. Fuel was a necessity, providing the electrics were still working, as the car was going to be struggling soon. His drive lasted another two minutes before he experienced his second sighting of the creatures. This time he wasn't alarmed; there was only three of them stumbling in the road. It was nothing compared to the experience of escaping the prison, and since that incident, as well as losing his friend, the sighting of three of them, especially now he was in a car, didn't do much to elevate his heart rate.

Chapter Eight
     
    He stroked his dark skin, and his almost black eyes glared into the woods as three of the creatures shambled around with their backs to him. They were unaware he was present, and he was unaware where they were going. He was confident that he could kill them, but felt that it was unnecessary and a waste of time and energy. He had a heavy bag, and had been in three abandoned houses and couldn't possibly put another object into his rucksack. He went past the three souls by crouching down and walked at a snail's pace through the long blades of grass. Once he was out of view, thanks to the condensed trees, he stood upright again, and stretched his aching back.
    He knew that his journey would have been a lot less time consuming if he had taken the car, but he told the group that he preferred to go out on foot, preferably alone, and that they needed to save on petrol as much as they could.
    Paul Parker was like most survivors; he had lost people he loved. But in his case, he wasn't sure that he had lost his family through death or they were simply just missing. He wondered how long it would be before he found them. Feeling sorry for himself was something he hardly did, because the distractions were everywhere—apart from nighttime—as every second he was looking over his shoulder.
    Then there was the guilt.
    On another one of his sole expeditions, the day before, he had witnessed from afar a family being carjacked by two men. It was a horrible thing to witness, but at least the family were unharmed, yet, distressed that they were now abandoned with nowhere to go. Paul walked away. He mentally wished the family all the best, but it wasn't really his problem.
    He then thought further back to that awful Sunday.
    They came into his house on the morning, as he lay in bed. He could hear his wife, Jocelyn, and two-year-old daughter, Hannah, screaming for their lives. He shot out of bed as soon as he heard the wails from his two precious girls. He quickly got dressed with the clothes from the previous day that were strewn across the floor, and by the time he got