Star Drawn Saga (Book 2): Lost Among The Dead (36 page)

‘
What the…
’ thought Fran, instantly slinking back into the shadows; trying to work out who the mystery figure could be and more importantly just what were they up to.

Whoever it was had clearly taken precautions against the chill night air and dressed accordingly; their bulky hooded coat distorting their silhouette and hiding their face from view.

‘
Who are you,
’ she mused, watching as whoever it was struggled to control lowering the ramp, ‘
and what are you up to?
’

With the creaking of cogs turning and the soft clatter of knocking metal, the ramp slowly began to descend in fits and starts. Just why the stranger was using one hand to control its descent, Fran could only guess, but as it finally made contact with the ground with an alarmingly loud bang, the figure nervously looked about to see if they had been detected and in that instant, as the face beneath the shadowy hood was caught in the moonlight, Fran had her answer.

‘Wendy!’ sneered Fran, the teenager’s face almost luminescent in the silvery light.

But then as Wendy froze, perhaps having heard some fragment of Fran’s whisper on the wind, something else was exposed by the glowing moon overhead; something that the young girl held securely against her chest with one arm, something that made Fran’s stomach drop and a cold foreboding sense of despair creep slowly into her soul.

‘No!’ whispered Fran, gaping in shock as Wendy turned away from her again and darted down the ramp; taking Poppy with her.

For a moment, Fran simply watched the young woman leaving with the child that by rights should not be there but then as her mind processed what she was seeing, allowing her shock to transform from a momentary relief that Poppy was still alive to a blinding anger because there could only be one explanation for it, she slowly stood and with all thoughts of stealth now forgotten, strode toward the moonlight walkway in pursuit.

‘That fucking bitch!’ she hissed, marching across the suspended bridge towards the Hub; her knuckles turning white as her fist tightened about the handle of the machete. ‘If she’s hurt Sam and Mike… I’ll… I’ll...’

Yet even as the muttered words fell from her lips and a thousand justified punishments ran through her mind, Fran knew deep down that the young couple were already lost. Just what had happened to them was anyone’s guess but she knew two things for certain, neither Mike nor Sam would give up Poppy without a fight and that, Tom or no Tom, she was going to get some answers out of Wendy one way or another.

Leaving the final creaking walkway behind her, Fran stepped out onto the shadow dappled decking surrounding the Hub and with her rage still clouding her common sense, stomped across to the ramp. She was just wondering how safe it was to leave the ramp lowered when movement out the corner of her eye caught her attention; immediately causing her to drop down into a crouch.

‘
Idiot!
’ she chastised, looking back in the direction that Wendy had come to the window of a tree house some thirty metres away; the soft glow of light coming from behind the drawn blinds broken by the movement of someone in the room. ‘
Keep it together,
’ she told herself. ‘
For Mike and Sam… keep it together.
’

Realising she had almost allowed her anger to overpower her judgement and in turn risk everything, Fran took in a deep calming breath and then with two steady streams pluming in the cold air as she exhaled slowly through her nose, she calmly rose and crept down the lowered ramp to the forest floor.

‘
Right where are you?
’ she thought to herself, automatically pulling free the large machete from her belt as she peered into a smothering darkness broken by only shards of moonlight piercing through the autumnal canopy above her.

To her left Fran suddenly heard the soft tinkling of bells.

‘
No… now that’s not you…
’ she thought, instinctively moving to her right, away from the Dead she now knew wandered the shadows there. ‘I bet you know every string of bells in this wood, don’t you, Wendy,’ she whispered to herself, glancing cautiously behind her before slipping along the wide pathway, away from the ringing alarm. ‘
Where’s she going?
’ she wondered, skirting deftly around the exposing pools of light in case someone saw her. ‘What’s your game, Wendy… and who else is playing?’ she started to mutter, just as she saw a flash of movement up ahead and stopped herself.

For the briefest moment Fran thought it may have been one the Dead but then as the hunched-over figure passed through a patch of silvery light she saw it was in fact her quarry; it was Wendy.

‘Gotcha!’ she nodded, quickening her pace so not to lose sight of the young woman again.

Fran knew that to tackle Wendy out in the open would surely attract unwanted attention from the Dead so instead she followed at a distance, forever keeping to the shadows; always alert that the ravenous corpses could appear at any moment. She watched as the teenager walked briskly along dark and dangerous pathways, her unknown purpose and destination seemingly adding determination to each shrouded step. Despite the ringing of bells still echoing in the air, as far as Fran could tell the girl showed no fear or caution in her actions; for clearly this was her world. She had claimed it as her own and it was if the Dead that wandered through it were merely an inconvenience; a problem that others had to deal with.

‘
Stupid idiot,
’ thought Fran at one point, watching as Wendy, with the arrogance of youth, barely glanced down a darkened path that joined the one she was already on before continuing again, ‘
She’s going to get herself killed… and Poppy,
’ Fran reluctantly added, giving a new spin to the folly of Wendy’s careless actions.

Fran was just starting to wonder whether she could risk Poppy’s safety any longer when through a break in the trees she suddenly caught a glimpse of reflected moonlight and with it she instantly knew where Wendy was going; she was headed for the Dome.

‘
I’ll wait till she’s inside,
’ decided Fran, closing some of the gap between them as she darted forward and silently ducked into the shadows beside a row of rusting bicycles.

From her hidden vantage point, Fran watched as Wendy crossed the wide moonlit path surrounding the converted swimming complex, weave her way through long forgotten benches and stacked picnic tables, and approached a plain shadow drenched door marked with the words ‘Fire exit’. Wondering why she simply hadn’t entered the Dome from the front, Fran watched as Wendy shifted Poppy’s positon briefly in her arms and then begin to fiddle one handed with some part of the door mechanism.

‘
Oh,
she must’ve rigged it from the inside,
’ noted Fran, watching the teenager’s actions. ‘
She certainly wouldn’t have left being able to get in to chance.
’

Sure enough, with a clang of something metal falling against concrete, the door suddenly clicked open and then with the fingers of her free hand wrapped around the lip of the heavy door, Wendy began to pull.

‘
Get ready…
’ Fran told herself, rising from her knees as the gap between the door and the frame grew wider. ‘
Any… second… now…
’

But before Fran could step away from the bicycle rack something else started to move, something slow but equally as determined; something hungry and something Dead.

‘Wendy!’ Fran couldn’t help but cry out in warning, as the corpse of a Dead man appeared from the shadows to the teenager’s right, its claw like hands already eagerly reaching for her.

With her head snapping back to locate the source of the call, Wendy instantly realised she had bigger things to worry about then being discovered with a stolen infant. For the corpse looming out of the darkness had locked its hungry gaze upon her and with a moan escaping its dry blackened lips it lunged; determined to claim her as its prize.

‘No!’ cried Wendy, awkwardly trying to throw herself backwards while still keeping hold of the open door that offered her only escape.

But the Dead man’s cadaver would not relinquish its claim on her flesh so easily and as Fran sprinted forward, her machete raised, she saw its hand latch onto the hood of Wendy’s coat, pulling her struggling form towards it.

‘Fuck off!’ Wendy screamed, trying to twist herself free from its deadly clutches, while in her arms Poppy loudly vocalised her own displeasure. ‘No!’ Wendy continued, the Dead man stumbling backwards as she pushed against it.

‘Drop!’ Fran shouted, at last closing in on the struggling pair as she jumped over an upturned bench.

Thankfully doing immediately as she was told, Fran saw the Dead man’s body try to compensate for sudden shift in Wendy’s weight and in that split second she had the opening she needed.

‘Stay Down!’ Fran cried, her machete already flashing through the air towards the Dead man’s neck.

And then with her machete severing head from shoulders, the Dead man was silenced; his moaning reduced to little more than impotent gasping as his head tumbled away into the darkness, leaving his body to collapse to the ground in a heap.

‘Get inside,’ panted Fran, glancing over her shoulder; knowing their shouts and the noise of Poppy’s cries would likely attract more of the Dead.

For a moment Wendy simply looked up at Fran, scowling as she snatched her hood free of the Dead man’s now lifeless grasp; giving the headless corpse an angry kick for good measure.

‘Now!’ growled Fran, reaching down to angrily yank the teenager to her feet.

‘Alright… alright, Bitch!’ snapped Wendy, pulling herself free so she could stand on her own.

‘Just fucking get inside!’ spat Fran in reply, shoving Wendy towards the door. ‘You and I are going to have a little chat.’

With her mouth distorting into a sneer, Wendy simply looked at Fran and defiantly stood her ground.

‘I said get inside,’ repeated Fran through gritted teeth, while flicking some dark wet gore from her machete blade. ‘Now!’ Fran suddenly shouted, when Wendy still refused to move; her free hand shooting out to slap the teenager about face.

With a ‘crack’ her hand connected with the stunned girl’s cheek, snapping her head to one side.

‘Fuck!’ gasped Wendy, glaring at Fran with barely contained rage as she reluctantly backed through the open door into the Dome; Fran coolly matching her pace for pace. ‘You’re going to regret that, Bitch,’ the teenager continued, coming to a stop beside a large raised bed of tomato plants.

Inside the Dome the air was considerably warmer than outside and with the huge clear Perspex roof above them unencumbered by any overhanging foliage, everything basked in a wash of brilliantly silver moonlight. To her right, along the wall and just inside the door, Fran could hear the soft scratching of rabbits in their hutches; clearly startled by the noisy intrusion to their restful sleep.

‘Where are they, Wendy?’ said Fran, ignoring the teenager’s comment. ‘Where are Sam and Mike? What have you done with them?’

‘Tom’s not going to be very happy with you…’ sneered Wendy, shaking her head as she rubbed her face. ‘Oh… sorry…’ she continued, her sneer transforming into something more knowing and cruel. ‘Of course, I don’t mean Tom… I mean Daddy.’

‘I said, where are Sam and Mike?’ Fran repeated, almost growling as she took a step forward.

‘They don’t normally stay, you know, people that come here…’ Wendy went on to say, looking down at Poppy and smiling as if Fran hadn’t even spoken. ‘Most of the time they’re too much trouble… but… but Tom… well, now he’s just too good to let slip through our fingers,’ she continued, looking back up at Fran. ‘Tom’s a keeper for sure.’

‘I won’t ask you again, Wendy,’ snarled Fran, ‘where are…’

‘Oh, those two,’ interrupted Wendy, with an irritated wave of her free hand, ‘they’re around… somewhere… you’ll see them soon enough I’m sure,’ she added, her smile growing disturbingly wider.

And then suddenly with a flash of light and an explosion of pain, something hit the back of Fran’s head; hard.

‘Arrrgghh!’ cried Fran, falling to her knees; her machete slipping from her grasp as stars suddenly clouded her vison. ‘What the…’

‘See…’ said Wendy, sauntering slowly over to where Fran fought against the dizziness already threatening to overwhelm her. ‘I told you… you’d regret it,’ she continued, punctuating her last words with a sharp kick to Fran’s ribs.

Struggling for breath and with waves of darkness dragging her under, Fran collapsed to floor cradling her side, and as she did so she saw a shadowy figure step round her; a figure that held a length of pipe in its shaking hands, a figure that as it stepped out from the shadows and into the moonlight she recognised, a figure that was Angela Doyle.

And then the blackness claimed her.

***

‘
Come on, come on
,’ worried Kai, his eyes locked on the door ahead of him while he sat on the small sofa running his fingers nervously though Bob’s fur. ‘
Where are you, Fran?
’

It had been over forty-five minutes since she had left the tree house cabin to prepare Star and the cart for their departure and despite knowing that if anyone could handle themselves out there, it was Fran, the worry that he may never see her again twisted and gnawed at his insides like some wild animal.