Star Drawn Saga (Book 1): Death Among The Dead: A Zombie Novel (41 page)

Brother John, looked at the hand latched onto his arm and then with the smallest of nods, stepped aside allowing Max to take his place by Brother Sam.

‘Make sure you brace yourself,’ said Brother John, his words somewhat distant and confused. ‘You don’t want to put your shoulder out.’

‘No, you’re right, I don’t,’ Max replied, a smile momentarily twitching at his lips. ‘You ready?’ he continued, looking back at Fran to make sure she would follow close on their heels.

‘Yeah… let’s get this done,’ she slowly said, her eyes narrowing, a little unsure of what had just happened but ready nonetheless.

‘One, two…’ Max counted aloud, as he and Brother Sam stood next to each other preparing to shoulder the door down.

On the count of three the two men rushed forward, smashing into it with such force that the old wood literally splintered off around the hinges, causing the door to collapse inward. With their momentum carrying them both onward into the cottage, Max and Brother Sam tumbled in after the door; collapsing in a tangle of limbs on the tiled kitchen floor.

‘Heads up!’ called Fran, leaping over the two men as they scrambled to get to their feet, fearful one of the Dead was about to attack.

Almost immediately the sound of Jack’s barking stopping and as she moved, out of the corner of her eye, Fran saw a black and white shadow speeding past her, making a beeline for the now open doorway.

‘
Oh, great
,’ she thought, her head turning to look in the direction the scared animal had fled from. ‘
That doesn’t bode well.
’

Sure enough, standing by the kitchen range and already reaching out for her, begging for a taste of flesh, was Frank White; he was dead.

‘
Damn,
’ she thought, swinging the crowbar behind her, ready to strike the killing blow.

But then she noticed something, something just didn’t look right in the kitchen and whatever it was it irritated her enough to pause.

‘What the fuck are you doing!’ hissed Max, looking incredulously from Fran to Frank White’s growling corpse.

And then in an instant she knew what was wrong. It was Frank, or rather his cadaver, despite its arms reaching out to them, it hadn’t actually moved from its original spot by the stove.

‘Hang on a minute,’ she said, ignoring Max’s agitation to slowly edge around the small room, keeping the kitchen table between her and the Dead man at all times. ‘I just want to check something.’

With a sudden abundance of flesh to choose from, Frank’s corpse didn’t know which way to turn. In fact, if the whole situation hadn’t been so tragic it may have been comical; the way it first reached for Fran, only to then change its mind and go for Max and Sam, and then finally return its hungry attention back to Fran again.

‘Thought so,’ she at last said, dropping down into a crouch and seeing a rope; one end having been threaded through part of the heavy range while the other was wrapped tightly around one of the corpse’s ankles. ‘Looks like Frank tied himself to the range before he died so he couldn’t hurt anyone else… But… I… I can’t see any bites or wounds on him,’ she continued, studying the agitated cadaver, looking for the source of his demise, ‘I can only guess he must have been having a heart attack or something and rather than risk it he sacrificed himself… the poor man.’

‘Yeah, well, now he’s just another corpse waiting to be put down,’ grumbled Max, pushing past a forlorn looking Brother Sam, to go back outside.

‘You’re all heart,’ called Fran, knowing that despite his phrasing, Max was essentially right; whatever had made up Frank White as a person was no longer there in the room with them.

‘Will you help me move this table over,’ she said to Brother Sam, placing her crowbar down, taking one end and gesturing with a nod to the other.

‘Sure… yes, of course,’ Brother Sam Corrupt quickly replied, eager to focus his attention on something other than Frank’s shell.

‘I just need to get a bit more room in front of him,’ she continued, grunting from the effort as the two of them lifted the heavy kitchen table and with shuffling steps moved it out of the way.

Once she was satisfied there was ample room for her to do what needed to be done, she indicated for Brother Sam to drop his end of the table.

‘You can go outside if you like,’ she suggested, noticing the way the young man’s dark eyes kept returning to Frank. ‘You knew Frank, you don’t need to see this.’

‘Father Matthew says the Corrupt brought their fate upon them with their own failings,’ he said, nervously looking over at the growling corpse, straining against its self-imposed restraints. ‘It is God’s will.’

‘Look,’ she continued, retrieving her crowbar from the table top, ‘what you believe is your business, I’m just saying you don’t need to be here if you don’t want to.’

Brother Sam looked at her, his large dark eyes holding a strange sadness in them. She knew he had seen and done terrible things in the name of his God and despite his belief that it had been divinely commanded, she could see it haunted him.

‘Just go,’ she finally said, sparing him one more horror to stalk his dreams. ‘I’ll be done with Frank in a moment… go and see if Jack’s okay.’

‘Thank you,’ he replied, the words barely a whisper as he glanced one final time at Frank’s cadaver, reverently crossed himself and then left; gingerly clambering over the fallen and splintered door on his way out.

‘
Just you and me now,
’ she thought, a sad smile on her lips as she stepped closer to the growling creature. ‘You knew you were dying but you sacrificed yourself,’ she continued, this time speaking aloud. ‘You put others first. You know, you’re a rare breed Mr White… and it’s a pity there aren’t more like you left.’

As those words fell from her lips, she darted under his out stretched arms, the crowbar already swinging, her exact point of attack instinctively chosen. With a nauseating ‘snap’, the left kneecap shattered under the impact of the metal bar, sending Frank’s cadaver tumbling to the floor and then, seeing an opportunity to end it quickly, Fran used the momentum of her initial swing to twist and slam the other end into the side of the Dead man’s skull. With a judder reverberating through the metal in her hands, she felt the tip scrape past broken bone until the tension subsided and it was ripping its way through the softer and more vital tissue of the brain.

‘I’m sorry,’ she mumbled, looking down at Frank’s motionless body, the crowbar still lodged in his skull distorting the side of his face.

After a sharp tug and a rather unpleasant sucking sound, Fran pulled the bar free; sending a spray of brain matter and gore splashing across the back of her hands.

‘
Great!
’ she thought, reaching for a somewhat grubby looking tea towel looped over the oven door to wipe herself and then her weapon clean.

‘Are you done?’ said Father Matthew, suddenly appearing in the doorway and seemingly making a point to barely spare a glance at the old man’s body.

Fran inwardly bristled at the man’s irritated tone and looking at him, she purposefully waited until she was satisfied that she had removed all of the gore from her hands and respectfully placed the towel over Frank’s ruined face until she spoke.

‘Yes, Father Matthew,’ she said, pushing herself up from her knees to walk to the doorway, ‘I’m done.’

Once Father Matthew had stepped aside to let her pass, she noticed Jack lying at Brother Sam’s feet, his head resting on his paws as he looked forlornly up at her.

‘Do you know if he follows commands well? I mean, from one of us…’ she asked Brother Sam, about to bend down to give the sad dog a reassuring pat until she realised her hands would still smell of his former owner’s blood. ‘If not we’ll have to find him a lead or shut him in somewhere.’

‘Oh, old Jack’s okay,’ said Brother Sam, the dog at his feet lifting his head slightly at the sound of his name. ‘He’ll do as we say… we won’t need a lead. He was just spooked by…’ he continued, feeling as though he had to justify the animal’s previous behaviour. ‘Well, you know.’

‘Okay… well that’s good then,’ said Fran with a gentle smile, realising it was not only Jack who was in need of some reassuring. ‘So where now?’ she continued, turning to Father Matthew. ‘Where else can we expect to find more survivors?’

‘That’ll be the harbour,’ he replied. ‘There’s a row of fisherman’s cottages. Emily said Rod should be home but if we’re lucky, Scott could’ve got him, Lucy and the others safely into one of the fishing boats.’

‘Others?’ asked Fran, as they started to make their way to the harbour. ‘What others? I mean apart from the rest of Max’s family? Oh, and Roy,’ she continued almost forgetting the old gardener they had left holed in the cart.

‘I noticed a few faces missing back there,’ Father Matthew replied, thumbing back the way they had come. ‘At least five, so...’

‘So if we’re really unlucky we could be about to walk into the arms of… what? Eleven hungry corpses?’ Fran grumbled, the grip on her crowbar instinctively tightening as she finished his thought. ‘Great!’

‘We walk with the Lord,’ said Father Matthew with certainty, as if Divine intervention was a common occurrence for him. ‘There is nothing to fear.’

‘Well, that’s as maybe,’ Fran began, dropping her voice in volume, ‘but I’d try to keep Brother Sam at the back if I were you, I don’t think he has the stomach for this sort of thing.’

‘He has dealt with the Corrupt before,’ Father Matthew replied, almost dismissing Fran’s suggestion.

‘But he probably didn’t know them before they…’ she started to say.

‘Before they fell from grace?’ he offered, looking over at her. ‘I do not see how that would make any difference. The Corrupt are an abomination and should be treated as such.’

‘Oh, forget it, never mind!’ snapped Fran in return, angrily waving away her own words to swiftly end the conversation; clearly Father Matthew was so totally blinded by the very dogma he had constructed that there was no way he could comprehend anything else beyond it. ‘I’ll keep an eye on him.’

***

As it turned out she needn’t have worried, for as they reached the harbour, the dipping sun already starting to bathe everything in a soft orange glow, there was Dave and Jane dragging the battered corpse of a man out of a cottage while Rod stood by leaning heavily on Riley’s shoulder.

‘It appears you have everything under control already, Mr and Mrs Harper,’ said Father Matthew, his booming voice startling the small group.

‘Oh my God, Father Matthew, Emily and Graham!’ babbled Rod before anything else could be said. ‘Have you seen them? Are they…’

‘Rod, Rod, they are fine,’ Father Matthew assured. ‘They are both fine… safely barricaded in the chapel… Riley is with his mother…but-’

‘But! But what?’ asked Rod, his face visibly paling as horrific images flashed through his mind, ‘What? What is it?’

‘Talk to your wife,’ Father Matthew flatly replied, his features briefly clouding with a dark anger.

‘Talk to Emily, what about?’ Rod started to ask but it was clear Father Matthew would say no more about it. ‘What’s going on?’

‘So, Kathy, her father, Bill and Henry have fallen…’ tutted Father Matthew, clearly changing the subject as he turned his attention back to Dave and the corpses that he and Jane had just pulled out of the cottage. ‘Is it just these three?’

‘No, there’s two more over there,’ puffed Jane, using a clean part of one of the corpse’s sleeves to wipe a splatter of gore from her hands. ‘Rod and I dealt with those two before we holed ourselves up in his hidden room… and these three, well, Dave...’

‘Hidden room?’ said Father Matthew, his eyes flitting from the two corpses Jane had just pointed out to him briefly back to Rod. ‘Well, Dave, Jane,’ he continued, making a mental note to question Rod about this hidden room later, ‘it appears you and your family have proven yourselves worthy additions to our little family. You have dealt with the Corrupt quickly and without false mercy.’

‘Glad to see you’re okay, had me worried for a bit there,’ said Max quietly to his brother, before simply nodding a rather noncommittal ‘hello’ to his sister-in-law. ‘Jane.’

‘Max,’ Jane flatly replied, a somewhat unconvincing smile on her lips; her eyes momentarily flicking questioningly to the figure of Brother John stood silently behind him.   

‘You should’ve have seen Dad, Uncle Max,’ Riley suddenly blurted out, his excitement and pride clearly evident. ‘They didn’t know what hit them. We heard him downstairs and when we came out he… ’

‘Riley,’ said Jane, giving her son a warning look that told him to be quiet.

‘No, no,’ chuckled Father Matthew, walking over to ruffle Riley’s hair, ‘the boy is rightly proud of his father, Jane, nothing wrong with that.’

Father Matthew was about to continue when Brother John interrupted him.

‘Father,’ he said, nodding out across the rolling water to a small fishing boat just passing the curved harbour wall, its grubby sails snapping in the wind. ‘Looks like Scott made it.’

‘And if Lucy is with him, then we are all accounted for,’ added Brother Sam, reverently crossing himself. ‘God willing, this nightmare is at an end.’

‘Yes,’ Father Matthew slowly agreed, taking note of the identities of the newly found bodies while they watched the small boat at last draw up along the quayside. ‘God willing,’ he continued, suddenly striding off to greet the returning fisherman.