Snatchers 2: The Dead Don't Sleep Read Online Free PDF

also required a different change of scenery. Even the ex-inmate, Harry Branston, who was used to incarceration, had shown signs of boredom and frustration.
    The street was almost car less, as if most of the residents had left in a mass panic. Maybe those things had already been and gone here, Pickle thought. There certainly seemed to be no evidence of killings; there were no mutilated bodies to be seen, and as far as the eye could see, there were no bloodstains. It looked like a normal street, apart from the eerie lifelessness and lack of vehicles it possessed.
    The van was parked at the side of the road, and they both got out of the van laboriously as if it was a normal day. They stretched their aching bodies, bending their vertebras into shapes of bananas and basked in the glorious sunshine that shone down above them. They casually walked to the first house, passing the Range Rover on the drive, and peered through the house window.
    If there was someone home, then they weren't downstairs, and they hadn't barricaded the house either. Despite the vehicle on the drive, Karen was certain that the house was vacant, but they needed to be really sure. They needed a house near the main road for easy access of escape, if need be, but at the same time they didn't want to impose on a family.
    Karen and Pickle decided to go round the back. They carefully stepped without drawing their guns, as they didn't want to frighten whoever could be inside. Once they got round to the uninhabited back garden, Karen noticed that the bathroom's top window was slightly ajar. They both looked at one another.
    Karen then peered into the back window and said, "Looks like there's nobody in."
    "So why leave the vehicle?" Pickle was referring to the Range Rover on the driveway.
    Karen had no answer for him and shrugged her shoulders.
    "Yer right." Pickle was now staring into the back window, peering into the empty living room. "It's completely empty. What do yer reckon? Yer think yer can get through that little window?"
    Karen gave him a half-serious and a half-jokey look. She placed her hand on her hip and bent her knee, as if she was about to do a rendition of 'I'm a little teapot'.
    "You trying to say I'm fat?" She raised her eyebrows as high as she could get them, trying to look offended, but she wasn't fooling anyone.
    Pickle half-chuckled, but never answered the question. He wasn't really in the mood for banter. He wanted a bed for the night and the feel of hot water—if there was any electricity available—on his skin and fresh clothes on his back.
    He had been wearing the camouflage gear for almost a week, and his own smell was beginning to repulse him. Although Karen had cleansed herself in a nearby stream, he felt that getting cleaned and then putting on the same worn clothes was a waste of time. Karen had managed to come across an unworn T-shirt and a dark pair of jeans that was situated in the back of the van. He didn't know who they belonged to, but they came to the conclusion that it was probably spare clothes Janine had taken when they went into the supermarket, the same supermarket where Conor Snodgrass met his fate. Nevertheless, Karen offered Pickle the clothes, but he shook his head stating that they wouldn't fit his muscular frame anyway.
    Karen was now carrying two Brownings and handed them both to Pickle to hold; he placed them in the back of his trousers as he was already carrying his shotgun. He looked around to see that the back gardens were quiet; the residential area seemed noiseless as well, apart from a few car alarms crying out in the distance. Karen slithered away uncomfortably through the frosted glass window, which they assumed was a bathroom window, and only had her legs to pull through. Once she was in, and landed heavily on a solid floor, she adjusted herself and left the bathroom to get to the back door and meet Pickle. She opened the door that had the key still dangling from the lock and he smiled.
    "Don't mind if I