Star Drawn Saga (Book 1): Death Among The Dead: A Zombie Novel (37 page)

‘That should hold him… it,’ panted Brother Sam, correcting himself as he referred to the corpse of the young man that had once been his friend. ‘But how did this happen, Father?’ he continued as Father Matthew awkwardly tried to move away from the door while dragging a weeping Ryanne with him. ‘How have these abominations been brought among us?’

‘I…’ Father Matthew started to say just as Ryanne threw herself away from him.

‘You!’ she spat, spinning to point a shaking finger at Emily. ‘You did this to us!’

‘Ryanne?’ said Father Matthew, looking from the wild-eyed woman to a tearful Emily who was slowly shaking her head in denial.

‘No, I…’ Emily started to say, surprised by Ryanne’s accusation.

‘You think no one saw you, you Harlot!’ Ryanne hissed, disgust and rage dripping from every word. ‘Fucking like animals in the dirt… revelling in your sin!’

‘Ryanne, what are you saying? What…’ Father Matthew tried to ask but she spoke over him; a damn had been broken within her and now nothing would stop her.

‘Well, I saw you, you whore!’ Ryanne continued, her voice rising in volume. ‘You spreading your legs for him… you letting him fuck you and you loved it… you both loved it!’

‘Ryanne!’ barked Father Matthew to no avail, reaching for the woman as she stepped further away from him.

‘Your whoring has damned us all, Emily Adams,’ cried Ryanne, almost shrieking the words in her hysteria. ‘You’ve brought Hell and the Corrupt amongst us with your fucking… you whore, you fucking…’

Suddenly Odelia stepped directly in front of Ryanne and with a loud ‘crack’, her hand connected with hysterical woman’s face, abruptly shocking her into silence.

For a moment no one moved or spoke, the only sounds coming from Brother Christopher’s corpse as it repeatedly threw itself against the chapel door and the soft sound of Emily crying.

‘Thank you, Odelia,’ said Father Matthew, purposefully stepping past Ryanne to stand in front of Emily. ‘Emily?’ he simply asked.

But before she could speak there was a sharp scraping noise and the door was jarred opened a fraction more, forcing the furniture barricade behind it further into the room.

‘Shit!’ said Max, rushing with Brother Sam to put their weight against the moving pile.

‘Well, Emily?’ he continued, his voice cold and demanding. ‘I’m waiting.’

‘Father Matthew!’ Odelia suddenly gasped.

Turning to look at her, he instinctively followed the woman’s gaze to the blood covered hands forcing their way through the gap in the door, there were three of them. Apparently Brother Christopher’s corpse was no longer alone.

***

Graham watched in impotent horror as the corpse that had been Brother Alex launched itself down the hallway towards Brother Mark. He saw Brother Mark take a single step back, his lips moving in brief but heart-felt prayer as he prepared to either destroy the corrupt creature that his friend had now become or die trying. Graham knew Brother Mark had sacrificed himself to save him, yet even now as the opportunity to flee presented itself he could not look away, he could not regain control of his feet. Stubbornly they held him in place, his body somehow demanding he witnessed the sacrifice being made on his behalf. With panicky ragged breaths he watched the blood splattered cadaver leap, flying through the air; its outstretched arms ending in bloody claw like hands.

‘No!’ Graham managed to wail, the word only just escaping his lips before the corpse barrelled into Brother Mark, knocking him roughly to the ground.

Brother Mark battling to keep the snapping jaws away from him, quickly found his police training to be of little use against such a foe. With each movement the writhing corpse twisted and fought to make its deadly contact, yet he somehow held his own.  But this was a battle he knew he could not win, time was against him. Unlike the savage corpse, eventually he would tire, fatigue would set in and he would slip. In fact he had already felt the sharp biting pain as the skin on his shoulder was pinched between the cadaver’s teeth, his life only being spared this time by the thick fabric of the tunic he wore. Just how many more chances did he have left; how many more minutes of life were allotted to him and how many more would die this day if he did not stop Alex’s corpse from spreading its unholy contagion? Of course he had no idea and even as these thoughts flitted through his mind he held onto the small kernel of relief that he had at least saved Graham; his death would not be in vain.

Thinking of the young boy, Brother Mark instinctively stole a glance over the cadaver’s moving shoulder, hoping to make sure that the teenager had indeed fled; but Graham still stood there, his fear gluing him to the spot. With a sickening flash of realisation, Mark knew his sacrifice was to be wasted, his life pointlessly thrown away and swiftly followed into death’s embrace by the boy he had been trying to save. Even now, as Alex’s corpse struggled in his grasp, he caught sight of two more figures approaching Graham from behind and in that instant Brother Mark found himself praying not for his own salvation but that the boy would be granted the mercy of a quick death.

‘Move!’ shouted Fran, pushing past a stunned Graham with Kai following closely behind her.

Fran could see the Brother didn’t have much time and in fact it was going to be a close thing if she could reach him before the Dead man finally got lucky and took a bite out of him. But for once Lady Luck was on the side of the living and even as Brother Mark’s hands slid across the corpse’s blood slicked chest, they fortuitously slipped and he found himself with his hands lodged under the creature’s chin, mercifully keeping it just beyond a lethal snapping distance. Fran could see it would only take the cadaver to twist its head a certain direction and Brother Mark would lose his tenuous grip, so ignored the burning in her muscles, she forced herself to close the gap between them.

Two steps away and the solid length of pipe in her hand was already swinging under-arm through the air; as if she was swinging a tennis racket to return a serve. One step away and, thanks to the pipe increasing the extension of her arm, the tip struck the back of the struggling corpse’s skull, connecting with a wet ‘thud’ just at its base. Although the blow from the pipe sent shards of bone tearing through the creature’s brain, effectively granting it the death it had been denied, it also unfortunately forced the head to jolt violently forward; head-butting Brother Mark and breaking his nose in the process.

‘Argh!’ cried Brother Mark, spitting blood as he tried to free himself from under Brother Alex’s body. ‘Christ, I think you broke my nose… Fuck!’

‘You’re welcome,’ tutted Fran, grabbing a fistful of the corpse’s tunic to help pull the dead weight off of him.

‘Oh, my God, sorry… I’m so sorry,’ Brother Mark suddenly rushed to add, imminently aware that the young woman had just saved his life. ‘You must think I’m a total wanker. Honestly, I’m so sorry… Thank… thank you so much,’ he continued, pausing briefly to clear his mouth of bloody phlegm while at the same time smearing more of it over his face with the back of his hand, turning much of his blonde beard a deep red. ‘You just saved my life and I’m here moaning about my stupid nose.’

‘No, problem,’ she replied, glancing casually behind her, relieved to see that Graham had at last regained his ability to move and secretly wondering just what had happened here before her arrival, ‘and I think you’re right, it might be broken... certainly looks it.’

‘Small… price… to pay,’ Brother Mark huffed, at last clambering shakily back to his feet, wiping his bloody hands on his trousers as he did so.

‘D…did it b...bite you?’ asked Kai, looking the man up and down and wondering if any of the bloody smears hid an injury that had doomed him

‘I…’ Brother Mark started to say, pulling aside the neck of his tunic to double check the cadaver’s teeth hadn’t broken the skin of his shoulder,.‘No, I’m okay…by the grace of God, I’m okay. Thank you, God. Thank you, thank you.’

A wave of immense relief crashed over Brother Mark and despite his nose being a bloody mess and his eyes brimming with understandable tears, he broke out into a broad but blood smeared grin; his gratitude to both Fran and his God washing away all other concerns.

‘I… I’m sorry, Brother Mark,’ said Graham, his embarrassed and apologetic demeanour suddenly making him appear a lot younger than he actually was. ‘I just couldn’t move… my legs, they just wouldn’t move…’

‘Hey, it’s fine, son,’ Brother Mark interrupted, reassuringly slapping the teenager on the shoulder. ‘But,’ he continued, pointing a blood smeared finger to emphasise his point, ‘the next time someone risks their life for you, you bloody take the chance to save yourself… you may not get another.’

‘Yes, Brother Mark,’ the teenager replied sheepishly.

‘We need to get you to somewhere safe,’ said Fran, looking at the boy and knowing he would clearly be of no use if they came across more of the Dead, despite his promises. ‘Any ideas?’

‘The Chapel,’ said Brother Mark, matter-of-factly. ‘Father Matthew said it was to be our bolthole if the worst happened. I’m guessing if there’s anyone else left in the castle untainted by the Corrupt, they’ll be there.’

‘Okay…’ she replied, glancing briefly to Kai and hoping when they finally came face to face with Father Matthew he didn’t somehow blame all of this on them; after all, as recent arrivals, they were the only new ingredient in this strange mix of characters. ‘Lead the way… Oh, and here take this,’ she added as an afterthought, slipping a knife from the sheath on her thigh and handing it to Brother Mark.

‘Thanks,’ he mumbled, looking at the long serrated blade in his hand and realising he may be shortly forced to use it on one of the very people he had spent the last five years trying to keep safe.

With a nod from Fran urging him onward, Brother Mark swiftly adjusted his hold on the knife and began to lead the way to the Chapel; while just behind him, Graham, hoping his mother would be one of those already there, followed close on his heels, barely restraining himself from breaking ahead.

Despite being shown the location of the Chapel earlier that day, Fran and Kai found themselves quickly becoming baffled by the warren of empty corridors and walkways Brother Mark led them down. Turning left and right, they blindly followed him, every step fraught with cautious urgency while each of them tried to ignore the bloody signs that the Dead had at some point also passed this way.

‘Is it much further?’ whispered Fran, her nerves rapidly becoming as taught as an over wound clock spring.

‘Almost there,’ Brother Mark replied, pausing as they came up to the next turning.

Holding up his hand so that the others came to a halt behind him, Brother Mark pressed himself against the wall and edged along to the corner. Luckily up until now they had met nothing but picture lined corridors randomly populated by the odd suit of battered armour but Fran knew their luck could not last for ever. So at each turning she patiently waited for Brother Mark to check the way ahead; going through his safety routine step by step. She was just watching while he used the polished metal of his blade like a mirror to see round the corner, when her gaze wandered over to the blood splattered door set in the wall just past her. Whatever had happened here, it was clear to her one of the Dead had been involved. Even without the pools of thick bloody spittle coagulating on the floor by her feet or the flecks of deep crimson splashed randomly up across the walls, the smeared handprints told her all she needed to know; this was a place someone, some Dead someone, had wanted ‘in’.

‘Clear!’ Brother Mark hissed, edging round the corner with Graham right behind him.

Fran was just about to follow Graham when she came to a sudden halt causing Kai to bang into her.

‘F…Fran?’ he asked, worried she had heard something Brother Mark had possibly missed.

‘The picture,’ she hissed, looking over at an ornately framed painting of a man, probably a former King, dressed resplendent in his suit of shining armour; it was hanging slightly askew on the wall, as if someone had knocked into it and there was blood on the frame. ‘Didn’t Dave say…’

With her words faltering, her eyes slowly swivelled back to the bloody door they had just past.

‘Oh, no,’ she moaned, stepping away from the wall to walk back to the door; a sickening feeling growing in the pit of her stomach.

‘B…But he said it was op…opposite the painting,’ suggested Kai, realising the conclusion she was jumping to. ‘Fran?’ he continued, unsure if she had even heard him.

‘Hmm…’ she mumbled, her hand hovering a hair’s breadth from the door handle as she contemplated what she may or may not find lurking inside. ‘Sorry, yeah… well, maybe he got it wrong.’

With that her fingers encircled the doorknob and she gave it a twist.

***

‘We want more!’ whined the young girl.

‘Yes, you promised, Daddy,’ echoed her older sister. ‘You promised you’d give us more.’

‘A promise is a promise, Tom,’ added the voice of his lost wife, her tone both irritated and full of warning at the same time.

‘Daddy’s looking for them,’ he mumbled, as if he was talking to two children pestering him to find a certain toy. ‘He’s trying to...’

‘They ripped her open!’ snapped his wife, her words harsh, hurtful and dripping with hate. ‘Filthy hands, filthy Dead hands tearing into her, into them both! Ripping apart their flesh to pull out their organs… stuffing them in their mouths… and they screamed for you. Oh, Tom, how they screamed for their Daddy to save them!’