Star Drawn Saga (Book 1): Death Among The Dead: A Zombie Novel (42 page)

‘Beth Keys, she was his mother wasn’t she?’ said Fran, rushing to keep pace with Father Matthew’s broad strides, ‘Scott will need to be told that…’

‘That she was found wanting in the eyes of our Saviour,’ interrupted Father Matthew, pausing to look down at Fran. ‘That the taint of Corruption was upon her soul and that she…’

‘That his mother has just died, you f…’ Fran snapped, cutting off the man’s words; her anger making her reckless.

‘You will watch your tone!’ Father Matthew bristled, his cold interruption saving Fran from saying something she would regret.

‘I,’ began Fran, visibly trying to restrain herself as she went on to speak through gritted teeth. ‘I’m sorry… I… I guess it will take me a while to get used to the way you do things around here.’

‘Yes,’ Father Matthew replied, his cold glare judging her and weighing her response, ‘it will take a while,’ he at last continued, mistaking her self-control for an acceptance of his just authority, ‘but you will adjust.’

‘Yes,’ she simply replied, while the phrase ‘
Fuck you!
’ shouted through her thoughts.

Deciding to wait on the quayside in silence, Fran watched Scott’s small sailboat slowly come alongside the only other vessel berthed in the harbour, Rod’s larger and slightly more impressive ‘Black Princess’. With a flurry of activity on deck, Scott darted from one part of the boat to the next; cogs were turned, ropes pulled and finally the anchor allowed to drop. Scott appeared to be in his late twenties, had close cropped dark hair, his jawline was shadowed with dark stubble and, quite incongruously for someone who spent much of their time out at sea, he also wore a pair of small, black-rimmed glasses.

‘Evening Father!’ Scott called, with a brief wave, ducking under the boom as he started to lower the sail. ‘What is this, a welcome home party? We’ve only been gone a couple of hours’

‘We? So Lucy is with you then?’ asked Father Matthew, as Scott tossed him a thick rope so the boat could be tied to one of the bollards to prevent it from drifting.

‘Yeah,’ he replied, warily, taking Father Matthew’s hand to pull himself up onto the quayside. ‘Why?’

‘
Oh crap, he doesn’t know!
’ thought Fran, noticing the confused look on the young man’s face.

‘How long have you been out?’ Father Matthew asked, ignoring the young man’s question.

‘Erm… well, I went out to Foster’s Rock earlier to collect the mussel crop and then when I got back, Lucy was here waiting for me, she was upset… so we went back out again, just the two of us, for a bit of privacy... you know,’ he replied, bending down to check Father Matthew had secured the boat correctly.

‘And you haven’t been back since?’ said Father Matthew looking down at the young man.

‘Lucy, come up here, will you!’ called Scott, before replying to Father Matthew’s question. ‘No,’ he continued, nervously looking away to double check the rope again. ‘No, we didn’t come back. Why? What’s happened?’

‘
He’s lying,
’ thought Fran, and from the look on Father Matthew’s face, he thought so too.

‘The Corrupt,’ Father Matthew simply replied, his cold expression telling Fran he was about to rip this young man’s heart out and stomp on it for good measure.

Almost at the same time, Scott took a sharp intake of breath while Lucy, who had just appeared from the boat’s small cabin, gasped in shock.

‘No,’ whispered Lucy, raising her shaking fingers to cover her mouth, ‘not here!’

‘Yes, here,’ sneered Father Matthew, somehow taking the very presence of the Corrupt on the island as a personal insult, ‘and our Lord has found many souls to be wanting… and as such they have been cast into the darkness.’

‘Oh, my God, Mum!’ whispered Scott, a horrific realisation slowly dawning on him.

‘I’m… I’m so sorry,’ Fran said softly, cutting off Father Matthew’s insensitive diatribe before it could begin.

‘No!’ shouted Scott, shaking his head in denial, looking from Fran to Father Matthew and back again; while, choking back a sob of her own, Lucy clambered across the small deck of the boat to comfort her lover. ‘No, you’re lying, you’re lying,’ Scott continued, the heavy tears already filling his eyes belittling his accusation. ‘Why are you lying? My mum’s okay, she’s okay, she’s got be okay, my mum… she’s…she’s….’

But even as he railed against this horrific reality he felt his world crumbling about him. He knew it was true, he knew his mother was gone and had been ripped from his world in the most traumatic manner and as Lucy’s arms wrapped about him, his knees collapsed beneath him and he knew nothing would be the same again.

‘But... but how did this happen?’ asked Lucy, cradling Scott to her chest as his grief overwhelmed him, ‘How?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Fran, Scott’s raw grief bringing tears to her own eyes, ‘but I intend to find out… I promise.’  

‘I will be conducting a service, shortly,’ Father Matthew interrupted, seemingly oblivious to the young man’s heart wrenching sobs. ‘We shall put this day of testing to rest with the setting of the sun.’

For a moment Father Matthew just looked at the two weeping figures, slumped to their knees, almost as if he was waiting for one of them to speak.

‘All are expected to attend,’ he finally said, prompting a nod of understanding from Lucy, before turning and striding back to the others still stood outside Rod’s cottage.

‘I’m sorry,’ Fran repeated again, her soft words lost amid Scott’s sobbing and Lucy’s heartfelt consolation.

For a second she simply stood there, feeling awkward and adrift; after all, these two people were virtual strangers to her and to be in the presence of such an outpouring of loss seemed both wrong and somewhat intrusive.

‘So sorry,’ she whispered again for a third time, before slowly turning to follow Father Matthew; leaving Scott and Lucy behind her to deal with their pain and grief as best they could.

She was half way back to the others, the sound of Scott’s weeping receding behind her, when she noticed Brother John and Brother Sam each dragging one of the corpses by its feet over to the edge of the Quayside.

‘What are you doing?’ she asked, watching as Brother John let the feet of his corpse drop and moved to roll the body over the edge into the lapping water below.

‘Getting rid of the stiffs,’ he simply relied, placing his boot against the hip of the corpse lying at his feet.

‘No, wait! Don’t!’ she cried, rushing forward to stop him.

‘Hey!’ he said, as Fran jumped in front of him, her feet precariously close to the edge of the quayside. ‘What’s your problem? Crabs have to eat too…’

‘No, please wait,’ she continued, her words already causing a nauseated looking Brother Sam to happily let go of the corpse he was dragging. ‘Father Matthew!’ she continued, calling the man back over. ‘Father Matthew, please tell them to stop... they… they can’t just dispose of the bodies, not yet.’

‘And why not?’ he asked, sparing a disapproving glance down at one of the brutalised bodies.

‘Please, if I’m going to prove Tom isn’t to blame, I need the bodies… all of them,’ she began, hoping he was going to be more accommodating than his blank expression promised. ‘Perhaps I can piece together what happened, perhaps not… who knows? But please, I… I need to try.’

‘Following the trail back to its source?’ he pondered, tapping his entwined fingers against his chin; the fact that he hadn’t outright denied her request, giving her some hope.

‘Yes,’ she rushed on, hoping a thin ray of sense and rationale was about to pierce the insanity of his dogma. ‘Hopefully.’

‘Okay,’ he finally agreed, after a few moments of agonising silence, ‘but I will not have Corrupt corpses littering up the place, they are an affront to the Lord,’ he continued, turning to Brother John. ‘Brother, after the service I want you, Brother Sam and Brother Mark to organise a clean-up crew…’

‘And what are we supposed to do with them…’ asked Brother John, giving the body at his feet an annoyed kick. ‘Father?’ he quickly added as an afterthought, the flash of anger in Father Matthew’s eyes telling him his tone had not been appreciated.

‘How about the building where we were quarantined in last night?’ suggested Fran, rubbing her arms to warm them up as a chill ocean breeze blew across the harbour. ‘Take out the beds and it’ll work as a temporary morgue.’

‘Perfect,’ Father Matthew nodded, the wind ruffling his thick hair. ‘Brother John, see to it later, will you.’

‘Yes, Father,’ Brother John replied, giving Fran a look that practically screamed, ‘
thanks for nothing, Bitch!
’

Satisfied she would now have a chance to examine each of those who had died, Fran trailed behind Father Matthew back to join the others, leaving Brother John moaning under his breath about the extra work her request had just landed him with. But Fran didn’t care, after all Tom’s life was on the line and no amount of petty grumbling was going to deter her from finding out the truth of what had happened here; she just prayed that when she found it, it was the truth she was hoping for.

***

Within half an hour everyone still left alive on the island, barring the one obvious exception, was gathered around the Purity Arch awaiting Father Matthew’s words. Words of comfort, consolation or simply of remembrance, Fran did not know but as she stood with Kai amid the rest of the congregation, the growing wind snapping at the multitude of red ribbons, she could feel the expectant tension in the air growing around her. One thing was certain though, whatever Father Matthew was about to say, she was pretty sure ‘God’s love and forgiving mercy’ would be playing no part in it. To complete the scene, the sun, that only a while ago had bathed everything a warm orange hue, had now began its final decent to the horizon; and as if its passing had left a vacuum in the vast expense of sky behind it, deep bruise like clouds rushed in to fill the void.

‘Rejoice!’ Father Matthew suddenly bellowed, the single word silencing a dozen murmured conversations. ‘Rejoice, my children, for you are the chosen. The Lord has looked upon your soul,’ he continued, opening his arms wide to encompass all those present, ‘and He was pleased with what He saw within you. For you are the righteous, you are the pure of spirit, untainted and without flaw.’

Like all true showmen, Father Matthew paused, making sure to make eye contact with each and every one of those around him; making his message all the more personal to them as he began to speak again.

‘Remember this, you have been spared. The Corruption that has swept across our home and stalked our hallways has left you untainted for a reason… and that reason? Simply to serve Him,’ he continued, pointing a stabbing finger to the darkening heavens. ‘To serve our Lord so that we may prosper here in our new Eden.’

Fran heard a few heartfelt ‘Halleluiah’ and ‘Praise Him’ calls from somewhere in the crowd. From whom she could not tell but one thing was certain, it certainly wasn’t from Scott; who even now seemed only able to stay upright thanks to Lucy’s shouldering support.

‘Now, what of those… those who have been found wanting… those who have fallen?’ boomed Father Matthew, his gaze drifting to Scott’s almost catatonic form.

‘
Please don’t be a complete heartless shit! Not now,
’ thought Fran, the silent squeeze of Kai’s hand in hers letting her know he was thinking along the very same lines.

‘We draw a line, we leave them in our past!’ stated Father Matthew, pulling from an unseen pocket in his robe a fistful of long red ribbons. ‘We forget them, as we forget their failing.’

Walking forward he selected a ribbon and held out his hand, the ribbon fluttering back and forth in the growing wind.

‘And we get on with our lives,’ he said,  his voice lowering as if his words were meant only for Scott, ‘God has seen fit in His grace to spare us… it is not our place to question Him or rile against what is.’

Slowly Scott tilted his head up, his red eyes finally meeting Father Matthew’s imposing gaze head on and as his hand shakily reached out to take the ribbon from him, his head bobbed ever so slightly in mute understanding. As their hands finally touched and the long strand of ribbon slipped from his fingers, Father Matthew nodded in return.

‘Scot,’ whispered Lucy, as the man she loved found enough inner strength to stand on his own two feet again. ‘Shall I?’

‘No,’ he replied, his voice hoarse and brittle. ‘It’s alright, I… I need to do this… for Mum.’

‘Okay,’ she murmured, her hand slipping slowly from his back as he took a step away from her.

With achingly slow progress, Scott made his way to the Purity Arch; the length of ribbon in his hand snapping and dancing in the wind while behind him Father Matthew moved deliberately amongst the crowd. As he came upon a chosen individual he would pause, giving each of them their own strip of fluttering red cloth and then, with it clutched tightly in their hands, they would follow Scott’s lead and approach the Arch that had become a symbol for the lost.

‘As we tie the names to the Arch, we tie the fallen to our past,’ boomed Father Matthew, his hands finally empty as the last ribbon was taken from him.

Turning he watched as Scott shakily knotted one end of his ribbon to the scaffolding Archway, the multitude of ribbons already there seeming to caressing him as they were caught by the buffeting wind.