Star Drawn Saga (Book 1): Death Among The Dead: A Zombie Novel (16 page)

‘
Oh,  great,
’  Tom automatically thought to himself, watching the man weave a heavy chain back into place just as the first of the Dead began to pound against gate, ‘
looks like someone here’s found religion.’

‘Well,’ panted Mark, smiling as he pushed a mop of wet curls back from his face. ‘I know Rod here, so I take it you’re Fran and Tom, Kai’s friends… I’m Mark, Brother Mark… and this is Brother Gregory,’ he continued, gesturing to the similarly dressed short man standing well beyond the rising tide. ‘Welcome to St Michael’s mount.’

Turning to look at Brother Gregory Tom saw the barely concealed thunder dancing in the man’s eyes and instantly thought, ‘
Crap,
what have we got ourselves into now…
’

Chapter 2: A New Beginning.

Once again a wet swirling blackness surrounded her, a blackness that caressed her skin and gently teased her hair with countless chilled unseen fingers. Yet despite the darkness she felt no panic or fear of the unknown horrors that surely lurked just beyond her senses. In fact all that fleetingly registered in her thoughts was the gentle tugging of the currents around her, pulling her this way and that as she floated in an all-enveloping void. At times she felt as if she was rising in the chilled darkness, being pushed upward by invisible forces, only then to feel herself slowly drifting back down again or pushed from to one side or the other; her journey through the veil seemingly forever erratic and endless. But then something changed within the blackness surrounding her. Shadows, that up until that point had been mere fleeting wisps of shifting darkness, began to briefly coalesce, becoming solid and tangible only to then dissipate again moments later, as if denying their very own existence.

It began with the elegant curve of a woman’s neck and jaw taking form and then moments later the line of man’s shoulder appeared, its muscles twisting and flexing before disappearing again. It seemed to her the phantoms around her fought to break through into her world of churning coldness, each time managing for only a few seconds before being pulled back into their unseen oblivion. And then she felt a change or shift in the world around her. The buffeting currents, that had until then pulled her gently to and fro at whim, seemed to grow in force, their unseen caresses swiftly turning to something more urgent and demanding. First the cold fingertips that had slipped unseen through her drifting hair began to snare and catch, encircling her locks about suddenly more solid and claw-like appendages. Then other hands, shoulders, legs and torsos brushed roughly past her, knocking, kicking and pulling at her in their passing.

She suddenly felt the solid grip of cold flesh tighten about her wrist, sharply pulling her down in to an endless abyss. Desperately, she tried to see her attacker, following the line of her arm over her shoulder, down to her elbow and then onto her wrist but the shifting shadows would not release their secrets so easily and all that met her was a vale of yet more eddying darkness. With the panic building in her chest and the peacefulness of the void now destroyed, Fran at last opened her mouth to cry out. Yet no sooner had her lips parted than the shadows rushed forward to steal her silent scream. They pushed past her open mouth, coating her tongue with a film of wet death and rot, continuing down her throat, eager to claim her as their own. Gagging on the putrid filth that invaded her, Fran fought to purge herself of the cloying wrongness, begging her own body to force this intruder from her. Yet even as she prayed for release the cold hands about her wrist tugged upon her even more urgently.

‘No,’ she finally gasped, somehow managing to force the single word past the darkness that churned in her throat.

‘No!’ she cried again, the desperate word now slipping swiftly past the choking shadows in its brother’s wake.

‘Get out,’ she continued. ‘Get out of me!’

‘
F… Fra.,
’

‘No!’ she hollered, thrashing in the darkness as her words seemed to at last force the cloying death from mouth. ‘Let go of me!’

‘
Fran, wake up,
’ the unseen voice whispered again.

‘Let go!’ she screamed, twisting her arm to free it of the deadly grip that still encircled her wrist. ‘Please, let me go!’

‘Fran!
’ the voice suddenly snapped, her name filled with an annoyed urgency.

And then in an instant the darkness, the shadows and the cold touch of the void were all gone replaced by a pair of beautiful dark eyes filled only with worry and concern.

‘You were j… just dreaming,’ soothed Kai, his hands wrapped delicately about one of hers.

‘What?’ she mumbled, pushing herself up onto an elbow and instantly regretting the loss of his touch as her hand slipped from his.

‘B… bad dream,’ he repeated, smiling back at her, his own hands still lingering where hers had just been as if they too missed her presence.

‘Shit, sorry, I…’ she began to say, rubbing her face to free herself of the last fleeting images of her dream.

It was then that she glanced over Kai’s shoulder and noticed Peter, hunched down with his back against the wall, looking back at her with the scared eyes of a child.

‘Sorry, Pete,’ she said, forcing a reassuring smile to her lips, ‘just silly bad dreams, that’s all. I didn’t mean to scare anyone. I’m sorry if I… Oh- ’

Interrupting her apology, Bella’s head suddenly appeared unexpectedly by Fran’s side. With a scrabble of her claws against the old tile flooring, the bitch pulled herself out from under the bed, gave Fran and Kai a cursory glance and wove her way through the row of bunks, making a bee-line for Peter. Almost as if she sensed the unsettling fear emanating from the young man, she abruptly plonked herself down beside him and began to lick at his tightly clasped hands affectionately.

‘Oh, good, Fran, you’re awake,’ said Tom, picking at his teeth as he came through the doorway she knew led to a small but almost fully functioning bathroom.

‘Hmm… I am now,’ she half-heartedly replied, giving Peter one final ‘friendly’ smile before rolling her head back and forth to stretch the aching muscles in her neck.

‘More than useless,’ she mumbled, swinging her legs over the edge of the cot as she tossed aside a rather flat and uncomfortable looking pillow that had certainly seen better days.

After the somewhat mixed welcome from the two ‘brothers’, Fran, Tom and Rod had been led along a short road from the causeway to one of two squat buildings built just on the outskirts of the small island village. At first she was relieved to see Star happily munching away at something from a bucket while behind her their cart had been parked by the side of the building; but any growing ease she had dared to feel soon evaporated when she noticed the thick bars and grilling that had been attached to the windows of the building next door.

‘What’s going on?’ she had asked, looking apprehensively from what looked like an ad hoc prison over to Rod and the two islanders.

‘It’s nothing, Fran, we…’ Rod started to say but no sooner had he spoken than the short man she knew to be called Brother Gregory spoke forcefully over his words.

‘Young woman, since the Fall we have managed to keep the Corrupt from these shores, I’m sure you’ll forgive us if we take certain… precautions,’ he began, barely keeping the contempt from his voice as he looked her up and down, as if taking in the measure of her and somehow instantly finding her lacking. ‘We have yet to make sure you are untainted and therefore within the realms of God’s creation.’

‘The Fall?’ said Tom, already feeling he knew the turn the conversation was about to take.

‘Father Matthew will discuss all this with you in the morning,’ Brother Gregory interrupted, waving away Tom’s question rather dismissively. ‘That is, assuming none of your party show signs of the Corruption and have to be dealt with before then.’

Whether he had been oblivious to the way he referred to one or all of their possible deaths so casually or that he simply didn’t think they deserved his consideration until they had proven themselves worthy of it, Fran didn’t know, but within the short time she had known Brother Gregory her initial impression of him had started off low and had been dipping ever since.

‘Brother Gregory’s right, we can’t afford to take any chances,’ added Brother Mark, his previous demeanour of concern replaced with something stronger and more authoritative. ‘And this isn’t something open for discussion, Miss. Rod will back me up on this, we do this with everyone who’s left the island and been among the Corrupt.’

Glancing over at Rod, Fran was met with a blank non-committal expression but there was still something there, something she could tell was only just being held in check. It was almost as if Rod was literally biting his proverbial tongue, holding back the few choice words he truly wanted to say to Brother Gregory.

‘Roderick?’ prompted Brother Gregory, suddenly aware the man had not voiced any of the expected reassurances.

With his gaze flicking from Fran’s to the man who had spoken, a look of anger briefly flashed in Rod’s eyes. If she hadn’t been looking at him herself, Fran would have missed it but as it was she clearly saw the contempt Rod held for this man and more importantly how he instantly pushed it back down, holding it in check.

‘It’s okay, Fran,’ Rod finally agreed, his voice suddenly neutral and strangely measured. ‘It’ll just be for the night while they check none of us show signs of turning. We’ll be allowed in the village… and for you lot, probably the castle tomorrow.’

‘Good, now that that’s all settled and everyone’s happy,’ said Brother Gregory, his tone doing little to ease the building tension before he gestured to the solid wooden door. ‘Brother Mark, if you don’t mind.’

Brother Mark nodded and quickly produced a large set of keys that hung on a chain under his blood red tunic. After taking a few moments to locate the correct one, he placed it in the lock and wedging himself against the doorframe, began to open the door. 

‘Don’t want that dog running off again,’ he said, his friendly smile returning as he noticed the strange look Tom was giving him.

Almost as if to prove his point, a dark furry muzzle immediately appeared between the door and its frame as soon as the gap was wide enough.

‘Can someone get the dog back?’ Brother Mark called through to those inside. ‘I’ve got two more of your friends here to join you.’

‘Pity,’ Tom and Fran both heard Max’s grumbling coming from within.

Then with a scurry of footsteps, Bella was pulled back from the opening door by an unseen hand, the child-like one way conversation with the inquisitive Alsatian instantly telling them it was in fact Peter’s.

‘Oh and Rod, glad to see you again,’ smiled Brother Mark, waiting for a canine ‘all clear’ from inside. ‘I’ll give Emily and Graham the good news as soon as we’re done here, they’ll be over the moon. They were pretty devastated when they heard…’

‘When they heard that bastard Alex convinced the others to leave me, Bill and Sandra to get ripped apart you mean?’ Rod growled, his fierce anger and rage rising to the surface again.

‘You’d be wise to hold your tongue, fisherman!’ snapped Brother Gregory, his glare warning of unknown reprisals. ‘Brother Alex has dedicated his life to purifying the Corrupt. I will not have his name slandered when he is not here to defend himself.’

Rod was just about to speak again when thankfully the door swung open. Almost immediately Kai stepped past a retreating Peter with Bella to pull Fran into a fiercely tight hug.

‘I th… thought they’d g… got you,’ he stammered, his whispered breath against her ear sending an unexpected shiver of desire though her.

‘You… you won’t get rid of me that easily,’ she replied, closing her eyes to briefly allow herself to drown in the sensation of being enveloped by Kai’s solid embrace.

‘And you’re o… okay? You’re both okay?’ he asked, gently pushing her back, his worried dark eyes dancing across her face before looking over at Tom to include him in his concern.

For a moment she mourned the loss of his chest pressed against hers, but with Max, Dave and his small family watching them from various positions about the small room she simply allowed his arms to fall away from her and moved over to one of the bunks to plonk herself wearily down.

‘We’re fine,’ she finally replied, pushing her damp hair back from her forehead with the back of her hand.

‘It was a bit touch and go at one point…’ Tom started to add but once again Brother Gregory spoke, regardless that someone else was already talking.

‘Now that we’ve had the happy reunion,’ he sniffed, ‘would you mind moving further inside.’

Fighting the urge to turn round and slap the smug look of superiority off Brother Gregory’s face, Tom somehow managed to hold his cool and simply gave the man a look that spoke of an anger that boiled beneath.

‘Please… if you wouldn’t mind,’ said Brother Gregory, the sickeningly insincere smile just failing to reach his coldly calculating eyes.

Just like the building next door, this room had also been a small shop of some sort prior to the arrival of the Dead but now, with all unnecessary fixtures and fittings stripped to make room for eight uncomfortable looking cots, the room was far from welcoming to say the least. But it was only when he looked up that Tom realised that their night’s stay in the room was also likely to be a cold one; for, just beyond arm’s reach, sat the ceiling joists, bare and exposed and  above them the tilted undersides of the bare tiles themselves.

‘It’s… it’s so they can… see if we’ve… turned,’ said Rod, noticing Tom’s upward gaze, his chesty cough once again braking into his words. ‘They climb through from next door to look down on us and… and deal with any problems from above with metal tipped spears.’

With a nod of understanding Tom followed Fran’s example and dropped down onto one of the nearest cots. To his disappointment they were indeed as uncomfortable as they looked.

‘Hmm, though if you ask me it sort of makes using this place to hold anyone against their will a bit redundant. I mean not many people just sit there and accept what’s about to happen to them, some will always fight the inevitable and make a run for it,’ said Tom, looking at the inside of the exposed roof tiles above them. ‘And despite the bars on the windows, it wouldn’t take much to kick your way through that lot if we really wanted out.’