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

by Charlick, Stephen

  As Fran and Kai walked off, leaving Rod behind them, she hoped he would find some way to forgive Emily’s betrayal and move forward with her still by his side; after all there was enough heartache and sadness in the world at the moment as it was, they didn’t need more.

  ***

  ‘Knock, knock!’ said Fran, poking her head round the open doorway. ‘Anyone home?’

  ‘Down here!’ grunted Jane, from somewhere under the kitchen table. ‘Oh, move out of the way, Jack... stupid dog,’ she went on to mutter, clearly not talking to Fran anymore.

  ‘Oh,’ said Fran, ducking down to look under the table where Jane’s scrubbing of the floor was being hampered by a forlorn looking Jack, ‘there you are…. Having a spring clean?’

  ‘Something like that,’ said Jane, dropping a worn scrubbing brush into a bucket of water as she leant back to sit on her heels, ‘you know, trying to make it a home… our home.’

  ‘I know,’ Fran agreed, taking something from her pocket. ‘Look,’ she continued, gesturing for Jane to get up off the floor, ‘we need to ask you about something.’

  ‘Sounds serious,’ said Jane, looking from Fran to Kai as she got to her feet and began to roll down her damp sleeves. ‘What’s up?’

  ‘This,’ Fran simply replied, reaching forward to place the small silver frame on the table in front of Jane.

  ‘What the?’ Jane started to say, leaning forward to take the framed photograph.

  ‘What can you tell us about Max... his past, I mean,’ said Fran, wanting to get right to the point.

  ‘God, he looks so much younger…’ Jane began, tilting the photo to catch the light, ‘and it’s probably only been what? Ten… no, twelve years ago. I guess we’ve all aged a bit in the last five years.’

  ‘Jane,’ Fran prompted, nodding for her to actually reply.

  ‘Oh, sorry, yes…’ she started to say, placing the frame back on the table in front of her. ‘Well, let’s see… it must have been about thirteen or so years ago when Max’s wife, Elaine, was diagnosed with cancer… they tried all they could to save her but it was too late, it had already spread. Apparently she had a pretty hard time of it, what with the twins and all... and when she finally died… well, Max, he just went to pieces.’

  ‘Sorry,’ interrupted Fran, ‘twins? So Max has two children?’

  ‘No… not anymore,’ Jane replied, glancing down at the photo again. ‘As hard a time as Elaine had with her terminal diagnosis, Max had it twice as bad when she finally died… He had always liked a drink but with his life falling apart around him, he let it take over and soon he was downing bottles of vodka like there was no tomorrow… which I suppose for him he thought there wasn’t. Anyway, social services got involved and of course the kids were eventually taken into care. I don’t know what happened to them after that, if they were fostered out or anything. I guess they’re both dead now anyway,’ she continued, picking up the frame again, clearly unaware of the similarity between the young boy in the photo and Brother John. ‘Course Dave blamed himself, thought he should have done more…. But then that’s Dave all over, always wanting to save people. He was the same when we met at Bournemouth University. I was a mature student there and still getting over… Anyway,’ she rushed on to say, suddenly dismissing her train of thought, with an irritated wave, ‘that’s what he does, he saves people and it killed him to let Max down when he needed him most but what could he do? Social services were hardly going to give two six year old children to a single bloke, no matter how well meaning he was.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Fran, realising Max’s story, such as it was, ended there. ‘Can… can I ask you not to say anything about the photo,’ she went on to say, holding out her hand waiting for the frame to be returned, ‘not even to Dave, not yet.’

  ‘Sure,’ said Jane, handing the frame back, the look on her face showing she was clearly bemused by the request, ‘whatever you say.’

  With a smile of gratitude, Fran slipped the framed photograph back in her pocket and turned to leave.

  ‘Well, see you later,’ said Fran, as Kai held the door open for them both.

  ‘I don’t think they’re right you know,’ Jane suddenly called after them. ‘About Tom, I mean. I don’t think he’s to blame.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Fran, before turning away, ‘and no, neither do we.’

  ***

  As luck should have it, Fran and Kai got to fill in another piece of their puzzle within moments of leaving Jane. No sooner had they started walking towards the harbour than they ran into Lucy carrying a large wicker basket of mussels and crabs.

  ‘Hi, Lucy, how’s Scott?’ asked Fran, remembering how devastated he been at the loss of his mother.

  ‘He went out this early this morning,’ Lucy replied, gesturing to the basket in her arms. ‘He was quiet when he got back but I think being out on the water helped him a bit… it always calms him down, being out there with just the gulls and the waves to keep his thoughts company.’

  Fran and Kai both nodded as if they understood.

  ‘Anyway, I’m glad I found you,’ Lucy continued, slowly lowering the basket to the ground to momentarily rest her tired arms. ‘I wanted to talk to you both.’

  ‘Is this anything to do with why Scott lied about not coming back to the island yesterday?’ asked Fran, getting right to the point.

  ‘What? How… how did you know?’ flustered Lucy, taken aback that Fran had already guessed the truth. ‘Anyway, yes… yes, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.’

  ‘Go on,’ prompted Fran, knowing in her heart that Scott was innocent of the causing the mayhem that had occurred but still curious of his reasons to lie nonetheless.

  ‘Well,’ said Lucy, discretely glancing around her to see if anyone else was within earshot, ‘yes, you’re right, he did come back to the island yesterday afternoon… but it’s not what you think. You were there by the greenhouse yesterday, you saw what sort of man Brother Alex is… was… well, Scott had just had enough and when I finally told him what had happened, he went ballistic and brought the boat straight back to port… I begged him not to cause trouble, I told him it wasn’t worth it… but he wouldn’t listen… I’ve never seen him so mad… anyway, I waited on the boat and later when he comes back his knuckles are red and bleeding and he tells me he’s sorted it with Brother Alex… but he didn’t kill him, he couldn’t have… he just couldn’t.’

  ‘I know, Lucy,’ said Fran, reaching out to calm the tearful young woman, ‘he had a bite mark… Brother Alex had been bitten. Scott may have beaten him up but he didn’t kill him.’

  ‘Oh, thank God!’ choked Lucy, relief flooding through her as her belief in Scott’s innocence was justified by Fran’s words. ‘But you… you won’t tell Father Matthew, will you?’ she continued to say, her relief suddenly tinged with fear. ‘About Scott I mean… I don’t think Father Matthew would…’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ interrupted Fran, knowing exactly what Lucy was thinking; after all, who knew just how Father Matthew would react to one of his previously chosen acolytes being beaten to a pulp, ‘I don’t see any reason why he needs to know.’

  ‘Oh, thank you,’ gushed Lucy, a fresh wave of tears threatening to fall, ‘I’ve been so worried… you wouldn’t believe.’

  ‘Yeah, I think I would,’ Fran muttered, knowing exactly how bad things could get on St Michael’s Mount if Father Matthew took a mind to reap out some Divine justice. ‘I really would.’

  ***

  ‘I knew there was something wrong when I was looking at the bodies,’ said Fran a few hours later, watching Father Matthew pace back and forth in his office while he tapped the crucifix about his neck thoughtfully against his lower lip, ‘I just couldn’t put my finger on it… it was driving me crazy… and then I remembered what Graham had said about Tom dispatching Kevin in one blow and that was it, I realised what had been wrong.’

  Father Matthew paused in his pacing to look expectantly at her.

  ‘There was ano
ther cut on his neck, a cut where there shouldn’t have been one,’ she continued, using her finger to indicate on her own neck where Kevin’s wound had been, ‘from here to here. So you see…’

  ‘Someone had already slit Kevin’s throat,’ concluded Father Matthew, lowering himself wearily into his seat. ‘Killing him and bringing the Corrupt among us.’

  ‘Exactly,’ agreed Fran, with a sharp nod.

  ‘And… and have you worked out who did this?’ asked Father Matthew, looking over at Fran.

  Fran glanced over at Kai, his brief nod for her to continue giving her the resolve she needed. They both knew their theory was based more on coincidence than any solid evidence but as circumstantial as it was, they hoped it would be enough to, if not totally convince Father Matthew that Max or Brother John were somehow involved, it would at least cast some doubt over Tom’s guilt.

  ‘Sort of,’ she at last said, reaching into her pocket for the framed photo of Max and his two children. ‘We found this.’

  ‘And what is…’ Father Matthew started to say, picking up the small tarnished frame.

  ‘It’s too much of a coincidence,’ Fran blurted out, seeing the realisation of what he was looking at dawn on Father Matthew’s face.

  ‘There are no coincidences… and no such thing as chance,’ mumbled Father Matthew, slowly looking up from the photograph, ‘this… this was God’s plan.’

  ‘But surely you can see there must be a connection somehow?’ said Fran, rushing in before Father Matthew could lose himself to thoughts of Divine plots and plans. ‘Max meets his son, Brother John, against impossible odds and after all this time… and then all of a sudden the Dead, I mean the Corrupt, are here and all hell breaks loose.’

  ‘Hmm,’ said Father Matthew, his eyes narrowing as strange fanatical thoughts, alien to the likes of Fran and Kai, whirled about his mind; at last coalescing into a sense of normality and reason only he could fathom, ‘I need to talk to Brother John.’

  ‘But he’s not going to just admit it,’ said Fran, incredulous as Father Matthew, stood and walked past her, heading for the door. ‘Father, Father Matthew!’

  ‘I will talk to Brother John,’ Father Matthew repeated, as he stepped out into the hallway. ‘He will not deceive me.’

  ‘Wouldn’t bet on it!’ muttered Fran, jumping up to follow him; Kai following closely behind her.

  ***

  Rushing to keep up with the taller man’s strides, Kai only just managed to catch the refectory door as it started to swing shut after Father Matthew.

  ‘Brother John!’ Fran and Kai heard Father Matthew bellow as they stepped into the room, just a few steps behind him.

  Sat together at one of the long tables was Brother Gregory, Brother Mark, Brother Sam and a slightly stunned looking Brother John twisting in his seat to look behind him, his spoonful of soup still paused midway to his mouth.

  ‘Father Matthew?’ asked Brother John, his eyes flitting from the imposing man striding towards him over to Fran and Kai, unsure what was about to unfold. ‘What... what is it?’

  ‘Would you care to explain this!’ said Father Matthew, his words cold and forceful, as he tossed the small frame onto the table in front of Brother John.

  With a clatter, the tarnished frame ricocheted against a cup and came to rest face up in the middle of the table. For a moment no one at the table moved, each looking in surprise at the small photograph showing Brother John as a child and then with his hand shaking from barely contained rage or perhaps fear, Brother John reached out and closed his fist over it.

  ‘You had no right.’ he whispered, his fingers tightening about the frame still further as he drew it to his chest.

  ‘Brother John!’ prompted Father Matthew, his tone telling him an answer was expected.

  ‘You had no right,’ Brother John repeated, slowly turning in his chair, his face dark and foreboding.

  ‘Brother…’ warned Father Matthew, his patience visibly about to snap.

  ‘You had no right!’ Brother John suddenly shouted, his chair screeching across the floor behind him as he shot to his feet. ‘Who the fuck do you think you are!’

  A sharp intake of breath from the other Brothers told Fran, no one spoke like this to Father Matthew, not if they wanted to see another day and then suddenly, so fast that she barely saw him move, Father Matthew darted forward; his large hand grabbing the younger man under his chin.

  ‘You will show some respect, boy!’ Father Matthew growled, his strangle hold almost lifting Brother John off his feet before releasing him again.

  Dropping to his knees, Brother John coughed and spluttered, sucking in air as a red mark from Father Matthew’s grip began to colour his neck.

  ‘Now… speak, explain yourself,’ demanded Father Matthew, looking down at the Brother John.

  ‘Fuck!’ coughed Brother John, massaging his red neck. ‘I…’

  ‘Max is your father, isn’t he?’ Fran quickly offered, noticing the vein in Father Matthew’s neck throbbing angrily while he waited for Brother John to reply. ‘What happened?’

  ‘What happened?’ barked Brother John, glaring at Fran as he rose to his feet again. ‘I’ll tell you what happened, that old Pisshead drank himself into oblivion… never mind that he had two kids to look after. Never mind that he wasn’t the only person who had lost someone… Dawn and I lost our mum but did he care, did he fuck! He just drank his pain away,’

  At the mention of his sister, Brother John’s words faltered and Fran genuinely felt a twinge of pity for him.

  ‘We… we didn’t know what had happened,’ he continued, coughing away the emotional lump that had formed in his throat. ‘We weren’t told why she got sick, why she died. We were just left to fend for ourselves… we were six years old and we were left to look after ourselves. Sure, Uncle Dave would come over now and then with bags of shopping for Dad but it wasn’t enough… certainly not enough to stop us being taken into care… I can remember we were so scared when the social worker finally came to take us, and all good old Dad could do was sit in the kitchen and wait for it to be over… that bastard couldn’t even bring himself to say goodbye.’

  ‘It was Kevin, wasn’t it?’ Fran interrupted. ‘He was the social worker in charge of your case… and Max recognised him, didn’t he... just like you recognised Max?’

  ‘Yeah, I recognised Max alright… but that old soak,’ laughed Brother John, the sound full of brittle past resentment, ‘he wouldn’t have recognised his own reflection from back then... No, it was Dave, Uncle Dave… he’s the one that recognised Kevin Harrison… knew him as soon as he clapped eyes on him that first day. Fuck, can you imagine my face when I finally do the big reveal of who I am to Max and he turns round and tells me the bastard that put me into foster care was right under my nose all this time.’

  ‘But… but you were rescued from a neglectful home,’ said Fran, a little at a loss as to why he seemed to harbour such anger toward Kevin. ‘Surely you should have thanked Kevin?’

  ‘Thanked him!’ balked Brother John. ‘He split us up, me and Dawn, we were sent to different foster homes. I’d lost my Mum, my Dad and then Daw… then when I’m thirteen someone from Social Services sends me a letter telling me she’s been killed in a car crash... just like that… she’s gone. No comforting words, no a hug, no nothing… just a fucking letter telling me my sister’s dead.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Fran found herself saying, realising her words sounded empty and hollow.

  ‘Sorry?’ said Brother John, shaking his head. ‘You’re sorry! Well don’t trouble yourself, darling, there’s a lot of it going round these days…’

  ‘Did you and Max kill Kevin?’ interrupted Father Matthew, his words as heavy and as cold as stone. ‘Did your actions bring the Corruption among us?’

  ‘What?’ said Brother John, sounding genuinely surprised by Father Matthew’s accusation. ‘Fuck, no, no way, it wasn’t me. I…’

  He was about to say more when Father Matthew lashed out, s
triking him with the back of his clenched fist.

  ‘Liar!’ he roared, his blow sending Brother John flying backwards, smashing him into the heavy wooden table behind him and then tumbling onto the floor on the other side.

  With a hard sickening thud, they heard Brother John’s head connect with the stone floor, inevitably causing him some damage, and then after a few indefinable mumbled words, unconsciousness claimed him and there was silence. Fran was about to charge around the table to help him when she felt Kai’s hand latch about her elbow, holding her in place.

  ‘No, stay out of it!’ he signalled, with the smallest shake of his head.

  ‘Brothers!’ Father Matthew barked. ‘We have harboured a viper among us, a servant of evil!’

  ‘I knew it!’ hissed Brother Gregory, theatrically crossing himself as he looked down at Brother John’s motionless body on the floor.

  ‘Brother Gregory, round up the others,’ Father Matthew continued, rubbing the back of his hand. ‘Tell them they shall know who brought this evil among them… tell them they shall truly have their retribution.’

  ‘Yes, Father,’ he replied, eagerly scurrying past him.

  ‘And Brother Mark, Brother Sam, bind this… man,’ sneered Father Matthew, gesturing towards Brother John, ‘and then find Max Harper… he has many sins to pay for.’

  ‘Yes, Father Matthew,’ nodded Brother Mark, ‘and what shall we do with them?’

  ‘God’s will shall be done this day,’ boomed Father Matthew, holding his open palm aloft in righteous indignation, ‘and I shall see to it! St Michael’s Mount will be pure and untainted once more…. The sins of these men shall be washed from our shores… washed and cleansed in His righteous fire.’

  ‘No!’ gasped Fran, the horrific realisation of what he had planned for Max and Brother John hitting her like a punch in the stomach.

  ***

  ‘Right, so which one of you is Sherlock and which one’s Dr Watson?’ asked Tom, smiling as he stepped into the refectory.

  ‘Oh, Tom, thank God!’ cried Fran, rushing over to wrap her arms around him. ‘Are you alright? How’s your head?’