Free Star Drawn Saga (Book 1): Death Among The Dead: A Zombie Novel by Stephen Charlick Page B

could he promise her was that her passing would be clean and it would be quick. So, with her back pressing against him, he slowly lifted his left arm to wrap about her neck. For a second her words faulted, her panic bubbling briefly to the surface before she continued. She spoke of childhood memories, she told him of first loves, she listed her regrets and she spoke of the million and one pointless little details of a life finally coming to an end.
    ‘And… and you will make sure Peter’s safe,’ she continued, glancing down at the final pebble that remained in her left hand, the others having slowly slipped from her grasp one by one while she spoke, ‘because I… I need him to be safe.’
    ‘Yes, don’t worry we’ll… we’ll take care of him… I promise,’ he said, his words reduced to almost a whisper.
    Then with his resolute gaze drifting out over to the crashing waves further off shore and before she could speak again, Tom violently jabbed the paper knife through the base of Sharon’s skull and up into her brain. For a brief second the young woman’s body jolted in his grip, the electrical impulses of her scrambling brain misfiring and then suddenly she was still.
    With a sigh, Tom gently pulled the knife free from her skull, lowered her now lifeless body down onto the wave lapped shingle and once he had made sure her eyes were closed, he carefully straightened up her arms and legs. Collecting the donated boots under one arm, Tom then pushed himself wearily up from his knees and without looking back, slowly and silently made his way back up the beach, leaving behind him Sharon’s motionless body for the rising tide to claim one gently breaking wave at a time.
    ***
    ‘Are you sure you don’t want one?’ asked Fran, offering Peter one of the large apples.
    With his arms wrapped about Bella’s neck and his face buried deep in her dark fur, Peter didn’t look up or speak but simply shook his head in reply.
    ‘Now, come on, Peter,’ said Jane, Dave’s wife, gently stroking his dark curly hair with her thin delicate fingers, ‘I know you haven’t had anything to eat all day… come on, just a few bites?’
    ‘I… I’m not hungry,’ Peter mumbled through a moving wall of fur.
    Jane’s eyes glanced over at Fran, a look of motherly concern flitting across her face.
    ‘Just a little, Peter… Please for me?’ she continued, reaching across the cart to take the apple from Fran. ‘Fran, Tom and Kai are being very kind sharing their food… you don’t want them to think you’re ungrateful, do you?’
    ‘Not hungry,’ he repeated, the statement somewhat belittled by the unexpected and rather loud gurgle from his stomach.
    ‘Well, it’ll be a while before we get to St Michael’s mount, so how about you just pop it in your pocket and you can eat it when you’re feeling peckish,’ suggested Fran, her voice only a little above that of a whisper just in case the cart was at that moment passing any of the Dead.
    ‘What… what’s peckish mean?’ Peter whispered in reply, suddenly tilting his face up from Bella’s fur to look over at Fran.
    Even with only the criss-crossing beams of light illuminating the cramped interior of the cart, Fran was struck by the innocent and vulnerable beauty of the dark eyes looking back at her. Still a little red from the silent tears he had shed over the last hour, his eyes held the most unusual and changeable colouring Fran had ever seen. They seemed to almost dance from a rich midnight blue to a deep bottle green and then back again, all the while holding onto the tiniest flecks of amber as if to ground them in reality.
    ‘It means hungry, Peter,’ said Dave, biting into the soft ripe flesh of a golden pear that Fran had given him. ‘Just keep it and eat it when you feel like it, okay?’
    ‘Yes, Mr Dave,’ Peter nodded, returning his face to the comfort of Bella’s furry solitude.
    ‘Mr Dave?’ mouthed Fran, her brows creasing questioningly.
    ‘Oh, when