Star Drawn Saga (Book 1): Death Among The Dead: A Zombie Novel (22 page)

‘And here we are,’ Ryanne abruptly announced, pushing open a heavy oak door covered with heraldic carving.

As they passed from the dimly lit and slightly oppressive corridor through to a brightly lit refectory, Fran’s fingers brushed against the deep carving. Glancing down, she noticed the relief image of a fantastical animal rearing up on its hind legs. The creature, that could have either been a lion or some sort of wolf, had seemingly been decapitated by a wide crack in the oak panelling. Warped over time by the humid sea air, the ancient woodgrain had not fared well in a lack of temperature controlled environment over the last five years. It was such a small and inconsequential thing to notice but Fran saw the cracked panelling for what it really was; a warning. It spoke of cold harsh winters and an island at the mercy of icy coastal gales. It warned of high ceilings, stone corridors and chilled walls sapping what little heat the survivors on St Michael’s mount could generate for themselves; and from what Fran had seen on her short trip up to the castle, their small woodland area would only last them another year, two at best if they were careful. It seemed obvious to her that unless a lot more trips to the mainland were planned to forage for much needed coal or wood to burn, these people would likely freeze to death if the winter was really bad. Why they didn’t see it themselves, she couldn’t fathom but it clearly added another ‘con’ to her list of reasons not to stay.

‘Ah, and here are our ladies,’ Father Matthew’s voice boomed across the room as Ryanne led Fran and Jane into the sun dappled refectory.

Unlike much of the castle, the refectory had a light and airy feel to it. With its cream painted walls dotted with what looked to be a rogues gallery of family portraits, its high vaulted ceilings and a row of tall arched windows flooding the hall with bright morning sunlight, Fran could almost feel her previous misgivings being left in the cold corridors behind her.

‘Come, come, there’s plenty to eat,’ Father Matthew continued, stepping away from the long wooden table to lead the two women to their seats.

As the tall imposing man walked towards them with a broad smile on his face, Fran could see Ryanne’s delicate hands fluttering nervously by her sides while her little ribcage rapidly rose and fell in excitement as if she were about to have an audience with the most A-list of celebrities. Fran couldn’t help but smile at the woman’s star-struck reaction and as her lips rose into a grin she happened to glance at the other seated figures behind Father Matthew’s advancing form. Almost instinctively her inquisitive eyes danced from one freshly washed and shaved face to the next, only coming to rest when she finally came to Kai. With a cup of something now frozen midway in its journey to his mouth, Kai met her gaze open mouthed and a look of mild shock on his face. Suddenly the smile on Fran’s face felt silly and somehow awkward to her, but no sooner had she started to change her expression than Kai’s own face blossomed into a smile that not only mirrored but outshone her own.

‘Thank you, Ryanne,’ said Father Matthew, breaking Fran from Kai’s hypnotic stare and causing Ryanne to suddenly gush through a torrent of worshipful ‘you’re welcome, Father Matthew ’ and ‘my pleasure, Father Matthew’s. ‘Now, I’m sure I’ve taken you out of your routine enough for one day,’ he continued, taking Ryanne by the elbow to gently turn her around, ‘I’m sure you must have lots to catch up on.’

‘Oh… oh, yes, Father Matthew,’ Ryanne replied, only just managing to keep the disappointment that she was being so briskly dismissed from her voice. ‘I… I’m sure Mrs Weaver will be needing me.’

‘Yes, I’m sure Odelia Weaver will certainly find something for you to do,’ said Father Matthew, pausing in his ushering of Ryanne from the refectory. ‘Just make sure not to let her take advantage of you… she’s not your boss anymore, Ryanne.’

‘Oh, no she doesn’t, Father Matthew. I mean, I don’t, I… I mean, yes, Father Matthew,’ flapped Ryanne, suddenly flustered by her ‘saviours’ less than pleasant criticism of the woman who had subtly dominated and manipulated her for years.

‘Well, you just see that she doesn’t,’ Father Matthew continued, giving her shoulder a friendly squeeze.

‘Yes, Father Matthew,’ said Ryanne, nervously smiling once again as she basked in the man’s attention.

‘Now, off you go,’ said Father Matthew, with a gentle smile. ‘Oh, and if you see Brother John could you let him know I’m looking for him.’

‘Of course, Father Matthew,’ replied Ryanne almost glowing with pleasure that the man before her had entrusted her with a task, albeit a very minor one. ‘Brother Mark,’ she continued, nodding a polite acknowledgement to the man sat next to Tom.

For the briefest of moments, Ryanne’s eyes turned to the only other member of the religious order in the room, Brother Christopher.

‘Brother Christopher,’ she said, somewhat a little less cordially.

‘Ryanne,’ Brother Cristopher nodded slowly in reply, a look of strange uncertainty on his face before the woman turned and left the room.

Picking up on Ryanne’s odd tone, Father Mathew’s eyes pointedly followed her as she left the room before returning to a bemused Brother Christopher.

‘Don’t worry about Ryanne,’ he said, trying to reassure Brother Christopher, ‘she always was a little on the brittle side, who knows what’s upset her now.’

‘So you knew her before? Ryanne, I mean?’ asked Fran, allowing herself to be led over to the long refectory table.

Of course there was no need for anyone to clarify ‘before what’, there was only one event in living memory that was any real reference point these days; when the Dead arrived, or as Father Matthew referred to it, ‘the Fall’.

‘Oh, yes, most of those who managed to get here in those first hours were people who had worked here,’ Father Matthew replied, gallantly pulling away from the table two chairs for Jane and Fran. ‘Odelia and Ryanne had manned the gift shop together here for years… unfortunately Odelia has the habit of forgetting she’s not Ryanne’s boss anymore.’

‘And you, Father Matthew?’ asked Jane, taking the empty seat next to Peter. ‘What did you used to do here?’

‘I was the building manager,’ he replied, waiting for Fran to take her seat, ‘which was just a posh way of saying caretaker if you ask me.’

As she slipped into her seat next to Jane, Fran wondered just what had led Father Matthew from humble caretaker to saviour of his community and more importantly what was it about him that caused even the likes of Mrs Odelia Weaver to accept him in this new role.

‘Well, someone scrubs up well,’ came Tom’s not very quiet whisper from across the table, bringing Fran’s attention swiftly back to those around her.

‘What? Oh, shut up,’ mumbled Fran embarrassingly, uncomfortable with the sudden attention Tom’s comments had thrust upon her.

‘No, no,’ began Father Matthew, placing his hands on the back of Fran’s shoulders in a surprisingly parental gesture. ‘The Lord saw fit to give you that face so there’s no point pretending it’s something it’s not. No, I’m afraid you’ll just have to accept it, Fran, under all that grime and gore you’re quite an attractive woman.’

Instinctively and almost against her own control, Fran glanced over to Kai to find his eyes were already locked on hers. 

‘No wonder your young man here is so tongue tied most of the time,’ Father Matthew continued, chuckling as he gave Kai a friendly wink to show he meant no harm.

Despite the less than polite reference to his stammer, Kai found it hard to hold any malice against this cheerful bear of a man who, after giving Fran’s shoulders a friendly shake, walked to the head of the table laughing all the while at his own joke.

No sooner had Father Matthew lowered himself into his seat than a doorway, smaller and far less ornate than the one they had come through, swung open and two young women entered carrying large trays of scrambled eggs, boiled greens and hot steaming potatoes.

‘Ah, there you are,’ smiled Father Matthew, welcoming the two women, one of which was black while the other was almost ghostly pale in complexion with her thick red hair hanging in a heavy braid down one shoulder, ‘and what miracles have you managed to rustle up for our visitors?’

‘Just eggs and potatoes today, Father, I’m afraid,’ replied the young black woman, as she placed a plate onto the table in front of Peter and Dave.

‘And some boiled cabbage… and seaweed,’ the red haired women added almost apologetically, looking disapprovingly from the bowls of steaming greenery she carried over to Father Matthew. 

‘Hmm… hardly a miraculous surprise, Kasey,’ Father Matthew replied with soft chuckle, as he waved her forward to unload her tray.

‘I… I like scrambled eggs,’ said Peter, innocently offering his comment aloud to no one in particular.

‘That’s nice,’ smiled the woman, her eyes flitting to meet Dave’s for an unspoken confirmation of her instant assessment of Peter.

‘But I don’t like boiled eggs,’ Peter continued, reaching for a large spoon to fill his empty plate, ‘they smell funny.’

‘Peter,’ Jane gently scolded, worried the young man would come across as rude or ungrateful.

‘You’re not wrong,’ the young woman replied, placing another two plates down onto the table while giving Peter a quick conspiratorial wink. ‘I don’t like them much either.’

‘Th…Th… Thank you,’ stammered Kai, as the young black woman moved one of the heavy laden plates to within his reach.

For a brief second she looked down at Kai, pausing as she wondered if he too was like the other strange but ultimately innocent young man the table.

‘You’re welcome,’ she finally said, recognising an intelligent awareness dancing in Kai’s dark eyes. ‘I’m Lucy… welcome to St Michael’s mount.’

‘K… Kai,’ he replied, moving to offer her his hand only to realise both her hands were in use carrying the tray. ‘And th… this is Fran,’ he continued, nervously nodding across the table to the beautiful woman whose eyes always seemed to draw him to her like a moth to the flame, ‘and th.. .this is T… Tom.’

‘Now, now, Lucy,’ interrupted Father Matthew, mistakenly attributing Kai’s uneasy introductions to the embarrassment he surely felt stammering in front of new people, ‘there’ll be plenty of time for all that, let’s get our guests fed… they’ll not be going anywhere for a while just yet.’

‘Yes, Father Matthew,’ Lucy replied, nodding a quick hello to Fran and Tom before placing the last of her plates on the table.

‘Oh, by the way, Lucy,’ added Father Matthew, stopping her just as she was about to follow Kasey out of the refectory, ‘how was Scott’s catch this morning?’

‘He had quite a good haul from what I saw, Father,’ she replied, placing the large tray awkwardly under one arm as she held open the door with the other. ‘Beth’s going to help gut and get them in the smoker this morning and then he’s going back out again to Foster’s Rock to collect mussels and check on the lobster pots.’

‘Good, good,’ Father Matthew nodded. ‘We’re certainly blessed to have such a skilled fisherman in that young man of yours and… and I know he was feeling the pressure when we thought we’d lost Rod back there, so you make sure to tell him I appreciate all his hard work… we all do.’

‘Yes, Father Matthew,’ she replied, a polite but all too brief smile hinting that any words of thanks from Father Matthew would hold little comfort for the fisherman.

If he could read the true meaning of Lucy’s smile, Father Matthew showed no sign of it and in fact it seemed to Fran that he returned the young woman’s gesture with nothing but a true and honest smile of his own.

‘Now,’ Father Matthew began, looking at each of the new faces about the table in turn to ensure he had their attention.

Once he had made eye contact with each of them he glanced briefly at Brother Christopher and Mark and as if an unspoken signal passed between them, in unison they bowed their heads in prayer.

‘Lord, whose love and mercy spared us from the great Corruption,’ said Father Matthew, his palms upraised to the heavens, ‘we give thanks and praise each day in thought, action and in deed and for the given food upon our table, we thank you… What He has granted, only He may take away.’

‘Amen,’ said Brother Christopher and Bother Mark in sombre unison before lifting their heads to look upon their religious mentor with barely concealed adoration in their eyes.

‘Eat, eat,’ urged Father Matthew, smiling when he noticed Jane had purposefully restrained Peter’s hand that held the heaped spoonful of scrambled eggs until ‘grace’ had been said.

Returning his smile of mild amusement, Jane relinquished her hold on Peter’s wrist only for the young man to immediately begin hungrily shovelling the eggs into his mouth as fast as he could manage.

‘You be careful, young man,’ chuckled Father Matthew, watching Peter gorge himself, ‘you’ll make yourself sick or choke, shoving it all in like that.’

‘Hungry,’ Peter only just managed to say around his mouthful of eggs without spraying any on the table in front of him, much to the amusement of Riley.

‘Not with your mouth full, Peter,’ Jane tutted, tapping her fingers against his arm while silencing her son’s laugh with a single disapproving look.

As Peter began to apologise, Tom briefly watched the continuing exchange before turning to Brother Mark sat next to him.

‘I want to thank you again… you know, for opening the gate last night,’ he began, ‘I know if it had been up to that Brother Gregory bloke, Fran and I’d probably be fish food by now.’