Bultitude rushed back to his shelter towards two o’clock that afternoon, glad to find that Suggie had not yet left.
’I don’t think it’s wise to return to your digs,’ he said. ‘There’s an awful lot of those Roamers on the loose in Catesby.’
‘Yeah?’ said Suggie, adjusting his belt before checking that his faithful .45 was loaded with the silver darlings.
His eyes had been well and truly opened to what Appleton, Vauclare and the others represented. He now viewed this modest Woolly Back in front of him with vast respect because it was clear that the man was a grim antagonist so far as the ‘immortals’ and other parasites were concerned.
‘OK, so what’s fresh, man. What have you heard? On the radio, was it?’
‘We don’t have to rely on that, Suggie, nor on the newspapers. We have our sources out there and so have our allies. So far as those reporters and commentators know, all is well in Catesby and all along the river.’
‘But in reality something stinks?’
‘You’re right,’ said Bultitude, ‘It’s putrid in the nose of us and ours when regular folk are recruited in the army of the undead Mr Eric Vauclare and his battalions.'