Star Drawn Saga (Book 2): Lost Among The Dead (19 page)

‘What is it?’ he asked again, kissing the top of her head as she allowed that dark part of herself where she buried all her pain, fear and loss to briefly surface; exposing it as raw and bloody as any physical wound.

After allowing herself some time to truly grieve for all those she had lost over the last five years, Fran pulled in a few deep and shaky breaths to steady herself and with the early dawn light streaming through a chink in the curtains, she sat back on her heels, looking at Kai.

‘Sorry… I’m sorry… I’m being an idiot,’ she sniffed, wiping her damp cheeks while Kai rested his hands on her shoulders, his dark eyes full of worry and sorrow. ‘I… I didn’t mean to scare you… But… God, it was… it was just so real,’ she sighed, blowing out a deep breath to finally calm herself; an embarrassed smile on her face.

‘D…do you w…want to talk about it?’ he asked, tenderly brushing her cheek with the back of his hand.

‘No, honestly,’ she replied, turning her head slightly to kiss his fingers, ‘I’m okay. It was just a bad dream, that’s all… hardly a rarity for anyone these days,’ she continued, softly cupping his hand in hers.

‘You’re sure?’ he repeated, his dark eyes still clouded with concern.

As if to push her point home, she suddenly leant forward and kissed Kai gently on the mouth; trying to ignore the image of him bathed in moonlight, his lips flecked with coughed up blood, that flashed across her mind.

‘Absolutely,’ said Fran, closing her eyes, her lips brushing against his as she spoke.

‘Why do I feel like you’re t…trying to change the s…subject,’ whispered Kai, reaching up to run his free hand idly through her short hair.

‘You complaining?’ she asked, arching an eyebrow as she closed the gap between them again, this time their kiss growing in intensity; her mouth hungry for his. ‘Take off your clothes,’ she finally whispered, pulling away from him, already tugging her own T-shirt over her head; the need to feel his skin next to hers building.

‘Fran,’ said Kai, aware she may be deflecting him.

‘Kai,’ she sighed, tossing her top to one side as she manoeuvred her legs one at a time until she was sat straddling him, ‘I love you and right now… I… I just need to feel alive, okay,’ she continued, her hands starting to pull at his clothes.

Looking up into her eyes still red from crying, he knew he could no more deny her than he could command the Dead to lie down and as her hands slipped under the fabric of his clothes, her fingers delicately running across his stomach and ribs, he knew he didn’t want to; he wanted her as much as she wanted him.

‘I love you,’ he whispered, his lips brushing against her neck as his hands slid slowly up her back to unhook her bra.

‘You’d better,’ she smiled, roughly pulling at his top to lift it over his head; pausing only when it became apparent Kai would need to move his arms to remove it fully.

‘Okay, okay,’ chuckled Kai, awkwardly pulling his top off himself to throw it behind her, ‘calm down, I’m not g…going anywhere.’

‘Good,’ she whispered, kissing him again, her words momentarily tinged with an unspoken sadness until she slipped her bra straps from her shoulders, at last allowing the garment to fall away from her. ‘I’m counting on it.’

***

‘I’m going to check on Star,’ said Fran half an hour later, tying the final lace of her boots.

‘Aww… L…leave it to Tom,’ Kai moaned, crawling across the bed to where she sat, his hands slipping about her waist as he playfully nuzzled the back of neck. ‘Come b…back to bed.’

‘Kai,’ she smiled, her hand reaching behind her to touch his face; grateful that any residual anxiety from her nightmare had finally evaporated. ‘Don’t… come on, play… fair,’ she finally said with a laugh, despite having instinctively tilted her head to one side to enjoy the sensation of his lips moving down her neck. ‘Hmm… You’re such a bad influence,’ she almost growled, as she shook herself and reluctantly forced herself to stand; almost immediately missing his touch.

‘Arrugh!’ groaned Kai in exasperation, throwing himself backwards onto the rumpled bed covers. ‘You’re the b…bad influence,’ he smiled, stretching as he watched her grab her jacket off the back of a chair.

‘Oh, really,’ said Fran, zipping up her jacket; the sight of Kai’s naked muscular body sprawled across the bed in front of her almost making her change her mind.

‘I f…feel used,’ he replied in mock shame.

‘I didn’t hear any complaints,’ Fran chuckled, walking back round the large double bed to retrieve the machete resting against the bedside table. ‘Come on,’ she continued, leaning in to give Kai one last quick kiss; making sure to pull away before he could drag her back onto the bed, ‘get dressed. The sooner we’re on the road again, the sooner we get to this White Oak Park place and the sooner you can feel used on a regular basis.’

‘P…promises, promises,’ laughed Kai, looking over his side of the bed for his underwear as Fran returned to the bedroom door.

‘What? You want it in writing?’ she replied with a smirk, looking back at Kai; her hand hovering on the handle while by her side Bob waited excitedly to be let out of the room.

‘Well…’ he started to say before she interrupted him.

‘Just get dressed, Casanova,’ she chuckled, pulling open the door. ‘See you downstairs.’

And with that Fran stepped out into the hallway; subconsciously avoiding the frozen smiles of the family portraits that she knew awaited her.

***

‘Hey,’ said Fran, stepping into the kitchen surprised to see Sam and Mike already there, ‘and how’s Poppy today?’

‘Oh, hi,’ smiled Sam, looking up from the baby cradled in her arms. ‘Well, someone’s fed, changed, happy and awake… for now… When do you think we’ll be on the road again? I think I’ll need to dose her up at least half an hour before we go.’

‘About an hour I’d say,’ replied Fran, walking over to take advantage of seeing the baby girl both awake and in a contented mood. ‘She certainly was a find,’ she continued, smiling as Poppy’s tiny fingers grabbed hold onto one of hers. ‘Mrs Bradbury I mean… I’ve not come across anything like that before… you know, a shop… sort of gives you a bit of hope that things might get back to normal one day.’

‘The wheels of commerce will always find a way to turn,’ mumbled Mike, his head stuck in one of the kitchen cupboards; a small collection of useful found objects piled up on the marble counter, ‘no matter what shit hits the fan.’

‘Well at least you’ve got some proper sleeping tablets now,’ Fran pointed out, walking over to the back door to open it for Bob. ‘That should put your mind at ease a bit.’

‘Yeah, I guess so,’ replied Mike, only half listening, intent on his task of ferreting out anything worth keeping that Mrs Bradbury and company had missed. ‘Bingo…’ he suddenly exclaimed, finding a unopened pack of batteries wedged right at the back of a drawer. ‘And with that torch I found in that cupboard under the stairs, I can give you the miracle of light.’

‘Well, now I know what Donald Trump’s wife felt like,’ smiled Sam, getting up from the glass kitchen table to examine the other items her husband had found. ‘I hope it doesn’t all go to my head.’

‘Hey, give me a break,’ said Mike, adding the batteries to his pile, ‘I was lucky to find this lot. They pretty much cleared this place out. There’s not a scrap of food, tube of toothpaste or piece of loo roll left in the place. They’ve nabbed all the good clothing,’ he continued, unscrewing the cap on the torch as he spoke, ‘Yeah, if you’re in the market for some high heels and a party dress then you’re in luck but apart from that, don’t bother… Oh, and they’ve even cleared out anything usable from the cutlery drawer.’

‘Mrs Bradbury certainly runs a tight ship,’ commented Fran, noting that apart from the torch and batteries, Mike had also found a long screwdriver, some thick gauge knitting needles, both of which could be used as a weapon in an emergency, two boxes of matches, a half empty disposable lighter, a small sewing kit, the type you used to get free in hotels and the jewel of his finds, a third of a small pack of polo mints. ‘She doesn’t leave behind much for the rest of us… Anyway, I’ll leave you to it. I’m going to go check on Star and see what sort of night Tom had… Oh, and if Kai’s not down in five minutes can you give him a shout.’

‘Yep, will do…’ replied Mike, a big grin spreading over his face as the bulb in the torch suddenly flared into life. ‘Ta-da!’

‘My hero,’ smiled Sam, giving her husband’s beard a playful tug. ‘Who’s got a clever daddy, Poppy? Hmm?’

‘Just shout if… well, you know,’ added Mike, as an afterthought just before Fran walked out the back door after Bob; wanting her to know that despite the fact she was the best of all of them to deal with the Dead, if she needed it, a cry for help wouldn’t go unanswered.

‘I know,’ she replied, glancing back at the small family, a twinge of sadness pricking at her heart. ‘Back in a bit.’

Stepping out into the misty early morning light, the air alive with birdsong, Fran made her way along the weed-choked gravel path back towards the front of the house. As she pushed her way past a large rose bush, its final blooms of autumn tinged brown with decay, she realised the chances of Mike and Sam getting their ‘Happy ending’, whether they got to White Oak Park or not, were going to be slim; for there, lying in the grass in front of her, its fingers claw-like, its torn skin grey and moulding, it very presence a reminder of the reality of their situation, was a severed arm.

‘No, Bob!’ said Fran, using her leg to nudge the small dog away from the thing that for so long had inevitably been a source of food for him. ‘Leave it… no, Bob, no.’

Yet no sooner had she convinced the animal to leave the decaying flesh alone than she noticed another hand hidden in the tall grass a few steps in front of her. This time she wasn’t quick enough and Bob, doing what he had probably done for the last five years, darted forward, snatching up the remnant of a human carcass and started to make a meal of it; chewing enthusiastically on its fingers one by one. But Fran knew she had more pressing things to worry about than Bob’s lapse in diet, for she noticed yet more scattered limbs ahead of her; whatever had happened here Tom had clearly already dealt with it but nevertheless it still worried her.

‘You alright, girl?’ she mumbled to Star, once she got to the cart; patting the mare’s flank and running her hand across her back. ‘You’re not bothered at all, are you… heh?’ she continued to mutter, glancing around for Tom, while Star, ignoring her presence, idly munched away at the tall grass.

It was then that she spotted him, partly hidden by a huge rhododendron bush, facing away from her and standing motionless in the far corner of the front garden. Worryingly, as she stepped round the three and a half headless corpses in her path, she noticed Tom still held both of his curved blades in his hands and for a moment she wondered if he was waiting for more of the Dead to come charging though the bush in front of him. So tightening her grip on the machete in her hand, Fran moved forward; wary that the Dead could appear at any moment.

‘Tom?’ she softly called, barely sparing a glance at the upturned and decapitated head of a Dead man; its filmy eyes following her hungrily. ‘Tom what…’

It was then that she noticed the low rumble of Tom’s voice; he was talking to himself again, the spectres of his lost family having claimed him once more. She knew these ghosts were as real to him as she was, perhaps even more so. So with the realisation that Tom was only partly there in the corpse strewn garden with her, his mind temporarily lost to his psychosis, she slowed her approach.

‘Tom?’ she called again, her tone full of concern, as if talking to a small child. ‘Tom, are you alright?’

Instantly his mumbled conversation stopped, his neck muscles suddenly tensing as he became aware of her presence.

‘Tom?’ she repeated, instinctively taking a small step back; wary of his strange behaviour.

Slowly Tom started to turn to look at her; his gore splattered face contorted in disgust, his lips moving once more in mute conversation.

‘Yes, I know,’ he suddenly growled, replying to some statement only his fractured mind could hear.

‘Tom!’ warned Fran, adding strength to the word, hoping he could see her for what she was and not some monster conjured up by his mania. ‘Tom, it’s me!’

But her words went unheard and unregistered. For with an animalistic grunt, Tom suddenly broke into a sprint, charging across the garden towards her; his face a mask of intense rage, his gore covered blades held aloft.

‘Oh, Shit!’ she spat, her mind racing for a way to separate Tom from his wickedly sharp weapons; knowing only then would she have a fighting chance to take him down without either of them suffering permanent injury.

***

‘
Kill it!
’ hissed his wife, her voice whispering from the shadowy corners of his mind. ‘
Rip it to shreds, Tom! Rip it limb from limb… just like they tore apart our babies, our two beautiful daughters.
’

‘Yes,’ sneered Tom, his eyes burning with hatred as he bolted back through the tall grass to destroy the lone cadaver that had somehow snuck up behind him; even now mocking his grief with its very presence.

As the cadaver loomed closer, his mind vaguely noticed that the corpse had been a young woman in life and despite the decay and terrible wounds she had suffered, he could almost make out the woman she once was. There was something distantly familiar about the image he fleetingly saw flashing across the pale and drawn features; like a strangely distorted reflection or glimpse of a memory. Yet each time his shattered mind fought to grab hold and make sense of what was in front of him it twisted and turned, slipping out from his grasp until only the hungry corpse remained once more.