Star Drawn Saga (Book 1): Death Among The Dead: A Zombie Novel (18 page)

‘Here, Max, let me help you,’ said Dave, trying to help his brother up off the floor and over to one of the cots.

‘I’ll feed your balls to the Dead, you lunatic… I fucking swear I will!’ growled Max, despite his brother’s hushed pleas for calm. ‘And what are you looking at, fucking retard!’ he spat, suddenly noticing Peter silently watching him from behind Bella, wide eyed and anxious.

‘Hey, everything alright down there?’ came a concerned voice from above them, causing each of them to look up.

From Rod’s reaction to the young man looking down on them, the unseen figure of Brother Alex had been replaced at some point during the night by another member of Father Matthew’s religious guard, one who was clearly on better terms with the fisherman.

‘Just people letting off steam, Brother Sam,’ said Rod, eyeing the almost medieval looking weapons the young man held in each hand. ‘Nothing to worry about. You won’t be needing those, none of us have become one of the Corrupt.’

Fran looked up at the young man above them, his anxious eyes moving from Rod to Tom and then to Max. Guessing him to be in his mid-to-late twenties, he was medium height, clean shaven and had a curtain like fringe of straight dark hair which partially obscured what looked to be a ‘cross’ marked in rust upon his forehead. What it meant, Fran could only guess, but she had seen enough in the last five years to recognise dried blood when she saw it. Watching him, there was something indefinable about Brother Sam, something that reminded her intrinsically of Peter. Clearly without mental impairment, it may have been the worried look both young men shared in the presence of violence that joined them or perhaps it was something as simple as the way he moved. Whatever it was she couldn’t tell just yet and not being able to pin it down certainly irked her.

Looking down at them, Brother Sam’s gaze flitted from one face to the next, looking for any indication that their souls had slipped from the grace of the Lord. With relief he saw no signs of madness in their eyes or fever on their brow and thankfully their skin still appeared healthy, untainted by the dark veins that hinted at Corruption.

‘That’s good to hear, Rod,’ he finally said, satisfied the people below him were in fact still people and as such a part of God’s planned creation. ‘Emily and Graham have been asking for you. No doubt they’ll have waited all night at the Purity Arch for your return.’

‘That sounds like my Emily,’ chuckled Rod, the mention of his wife softening something in the very depths of the man’s eyes. ‘Will it be much longer, Brother Sam?’ he continued, glancing to the barred window with the barely contained excitement of a child on Christmas morning. ‘I could sure do with seeing my family again.’

‘Don’t worry, not long now, Rod,’ said Brother Sam, smiling down at him. ‘I’m sure Father Matthew will be here shortly… after he’s led the other Brothers in morning prayer of course.’

‘Of course,’ Rod smiled back, nodding his head as his eyes wandered back to the barred window again.

‘Do you have any idea how long we’ll be allowed to stay?’ Tom asked the young man in the rafters above them, knowing any respite from the Dead would be welcome even if only for a few days. ‘For those of us not asked to stay permanently that is.’

As he looked down at Tom, the expression on Brother Sam’s face slowly changed to one of sincere pity and remorse.

‘I’m sorry,’ Brother Sam began, his tone reminding Tom of one you would use when talking to someone beyond hope, ‘I don’t, but I’m sure Father Matthew will tell you what path the Lord plans for you. And I’m in no doubt you’ll be granted ‘the sleep of the righteous’, if you wish it,’ he continued, a sad but reassuring smile on his lips. ‘Whatever you decide, I will pray for your soul.’   

‘Oh,’ replied Tom, slightly bemused by the young man’s words and looking over to Rod for explanation.

‘Erm…’ Rod began, glancing up at Brother Sam who simply nodded his approval to go on. ‘Some people, survivors from the mainland like yourselves, like you and Max, those that can’t stay here, well, for some it’s simply the last straw and they just can’t take any more…. and for them, to go back to all that,’ he continued, gesturing symbolically behind him to the mainland with its Dead population, ‘it’s simply beyond consideration, so Father Matthew offers them an… alternative.’

‘What sort of alternative?’ asked Fran warily.

‘Well…’ Rod began, nervously searching for the right words before Brother Sam spoke for him.

‘The sleep of the righteous,’ he said, his right hand slowly making the sign of the cross before continuing. ‘We are lucky here, we had an extensive and established herb garden on the island, many of which have medicinal properties to cure the sick, while others can be…’

‘Poisonous?’ suggested Fran, glancing over at Tom.

‘Exactly,’ Brother Sam replied, solemnly nodding. ‘The Lord is generous, even in our darkest times, He has provided those unable to stay here a way to avoid the Corruption forever, a way to keep their soul pure.’

‘Fuck, you let them take their own lives,’ Tom matter-of-factly stated, scratching the back of his head in disbelief. ‘You actually help them to die rather than bend your own rules?’

‘They are the rules of the Lord,’ the young man replied, as if he was talking to a child rather than a man almost twenty years his senior. ‘Father Matthew is merciful and he is blessed. If the Lord had not demanded it, he would surely let all those who find their way to our door to stay, but it is not so. It is not in God’s plan for St Michael’s mount. Father Matthew says only those…’

‘Thank you, Brother Sam,’ interrupted a man’s voice from behind them. ‘I will explain the rest to our guests. You may resume your other duties.’

Standing behind them, framed in the doorway, the bright morning sunshine throwing his imposing figure into silhouette, was a tall, broad shouldered man dressed in a full length blood red robe. Behind him Brother Gregory shuffled from one foot to the other, trying to peer past the man blocking his view and into the room of new arrivals.  

‘Yes, Father Matthew,’ whispered Brother Sam, automatically lowering his eyes, the subservient gesture not going unnoticed by Kai and Fran who shared a look of mild disapproval.

‘Roderick Adams, my old friend!’ exclaimed Father Matthew striding into the room, his arms outstretched. ‘I cannot tell you how relieved I am to see you again. The Lord has surely walked with you among the Corrupt, watching over you and by His grace granted you safe passage back to us.’

‘Well, I think He may have had some… help there,’ said Rod, starting to cough again. ‘Thanks to Fran here, I...’

‘Oh, Rod, I’ll bring you into the light of the Lord yet, you old scoundrel,’ Father Matthew laughed, pulling Rod into a fierce hug to clap his large hands against the man’s back in welcome. ‘Now be off with you, Emily and your son are waiting for you at the Purity Archway and then get yourself to the infirmary, see if Brandon has something for that nasty cough of yours.’

‘I will,’ coughed Rod, awkwardly trying to remove himself from the embrace with the man he had known for most of his life. ‘And when you’ve time, I want to talk to you about just how I managed to find myself being left on the mainland in the first place.’

‘Now, now,’ admonished Father Matthew, his hands still resting with ease on Rod’s shoulders while he pushed him at arm’s length to look him sincerely in the eye, ‘there’s plenty of time for all that. I will hear your words and I will pray on them for guidance, I promise… but first I think your family need to see you, don’t you?’

‘Excuse me but what’s the deal?’ interrupted Max, his anger only just masked by a veneer of politeness. ‘Rod said I wouldn’t be allowed to stay but my brother here, his wife and kid they…’

‘Please, Mr…’ Father Matthew started to say, waiting for Max to respond.

‘Harper, Max Harper,’ Max replied.

‘Mr Harper,’ Father Matthew continued, his arms crossing as his hands slipped effortlessly into the folds of his sleeves, ‘I was hoping to discuss this later, after you’d been given a chance eat and perhaps change into some clean clothes but…  but I can understand your concerns. To send anyone back among the Corrupt is not something I take likely.’

‘Then why do it?’ asked Tom, knowing he and Max were for some reason in the same boat.

‘It is the Lord’s will,’ Father Matthew simply replied, with a slight shrug of his shoulders.

‘What the f…’ Max growled, his veneer starting to slip.

‘Please, Mr Harper, please. Let me explain,’ said Father Matthew, knowing from Max’s red face that he was about to erupt and hoping his words would calm him. ‘When Man’s sin brought forth the Corruption upon us all, the Lord saw fit to grant myself and a chosen few a safe passage among the death and destruction. He brought us here and offered us a chance to rebuild anew, to rebuild our lives in His name. But then as to be expected more survivors came, many more. They banged and hollered at our gates, first demanding and then pleading to be let in as the Corrupt bore down on them but I knew the Lord, in his wisdom, had not chosen them so I prayed for guidance on what to do. And in our darkest hour His words came to me, the words of God filled my soul and I was told what must be done. From then on, we took in the children and the innocent. We took in the young and the healthy and we gave sanctuary to those upon whose shoulders the Lord could rebuild his world.’

‘But I’m…’ Max began before Father Matthew withdrew his hand from his sleeve to hold up a finger to let him finish.

‘But still they came, more of these men and women, who through no fault of their own were not meant to be part of the Lord’s new order. The old, the sick, those whose very souls were tainted by the world beyond… and again His words filled me and I did as he bade,’ he continued, looking from one face to the next. ‘Of those adults that found their way here we would only allow parents, those with their own children or those under the age of thirty-three to stay. The others…’

‘The others you sent back among the Dead,’ said Tom, simply unable to understand Father Matthew’s rationale, especially when people’s lives were at stake, ‘or I hear you give them a means to take the easy way out.’

‘The passing is never easy,’ said Father Matthew, a genuine look of sadness in his eyes. ‘Even armed with the knowledge that without the stain of Corruption on them the Lord will welcome them into his embrace, it is a difficult decision for any to make.  We… we simply allow them to drift off into a deep sleep if they choose it, a sleep from which there is no waking.’

‘And then you do what’s necessary before they come back?’ said Tom, suddenly thinking of Sharon’s young lifeless body back on the beach.

‘Yes,’ nodded Father Matthew. ‘Before the Corruption can take hold of them, we do what is required.’  

‘Seems a little random though,’ said Fran, ‘I mean thirty-three… why at thirty-three? Why not forty or twenty-seven or whatever?’

‘I am only the messenger,’ Father Matthew solemnly replied, holding out both of his hands, open palmed, as if to show he had nothing to hide. ‘Who am I to question His divine plan? He told me thirty-three, so thirty-three it is and always will be.’

‘Hmm,’ mumbled Tom, knowing that from something Rod had said, Father Matthew wasn’t such a stickler for these divine rules as he made out.

After all Rod had hinted that they would possibly be allowed to stay if they had medical training or some other much needed skill useful to the growing community.

‘The baby Jesus was thirty-three when he went to heaven,’ Peter quietly said to no one in particular, while he and Bella played a tug of war with an old rag.

‘Why, yes, Peter. Yes, he certainly did,’ exclaimed Father Matthew, the sudden joyous clapping of his hands startling Bella enough for her to let go of her end of the rag to look at him. ‘Now just how did you know that?’

‘Pops used to read me the stories,’ Peter replied, looking up at the man stood over him.

‘Pops? And who’s Pops?’ asked Father Matthew, smiling as he crouched down to be on Peter’s eye level.

Suddenly Peter’s face seemed to crumple in on itself, heavy tears welling up only to fall down his cheeks as the image of the savage Dead thing that had attacked his sister flashed through his mind.

‘Oh, my boy,’ sighed Father Matthew, realising whoever Pops had been he was clearly no longer in the land of the living. ‘Come on now, come on, don’t upset yourself. You know what?’ he continued, his tone softening even further and becoming one you would use with an upset and frightened child. ‘Even if your Pops did succumb to the Corruption, he sounds to me like he was a good and God fearing man, I’m sure the Lord will look kindly upon his soul.’

‘And… and he’ll be in heaven with Mum and Dad and Sharon?’ sobbed Peter, his right hand reaching up to rub this ear lobe between his finger and thumb, while beside him Bella whined anxiously as she tried to nuzzle past Peter’s arm to reach his face. ‘Sharon… Sharon said they would all be together.’

‘And I’m sure they will,’ said Father Matthew, his large slab like hands gently pulling the young man into a fatherly hug before slowly pulling him to his feet. ‘Now come on, we can say some nice prayers for your family later, what you need now is something warm inside you. How about we get you something to eat, eh?’

‘I took the liberty of warning Lucy and Kasey to prepare extra breakfast this morning… just in case,’ Brother Gregory informed from his somewhat standoff-ish position by the open doorway.