Blue Skin (Book 4): Blue Skin Page 7

  “How long have you been in to gardening?”

  “Only since we moved in with Rose. So,” she thinks for a moment, “maybe three or four months.”

  I scan the greenhouse, but I don’t recognise a single plant or vegetable. “I used to hate gardening, but now I’d gladly give it a try.”

  “Me, too. But there’s nothing else to do around here. Dad says we have to learn how to survive, and growing our own food is one of the most important things.”

  I brush my hand over the leaves of—what vaguely looks like—a tomato plant. “Your dad sounds like a smart man.”

  “He is. He used to run his own carpentry business.” She points at the house through the glass. “He put all the bars on the windows. All by himself.”

  “Wow! He must be strong, too.”

  She nods.

  “Can you teach me how to grow vegetables?” I ask.

  “Okay. Most of these are just in here for the spring. Once the summer comes, we can move them into the garden.” She walks over to a plant. “Do you like cucumbers?”

  “Of course. Doesn’t everybody?”

  “We’ve got lots.” She points at the bottom of the field. “Rose has got apple trees, too. That’s why we came here. When mum died, Dad said it wasn’t safe to live in town anymore.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say, remorse in my voice. “I lost my mother, too.”

  “Did vampires kill yours as well?” she asks quietly, her eyes narrowing.

  A cold shudder runs through my body. I want to tell her the truth, but it’ll raise too many questions, with answers no ten-year-old should have to hear. “No, she died a long time ago. Before any of this started.” I quickly change the subject. “Is that yours?” I ask, pointing at the Polaroid camera on the table.

  Ellie picks it up and looks at it with love. “It was Mum’s.”

  “Cool. Haven’t seen one of those in years.”

  She takes a picture of a plant, and in seconds a photograph slides out. “Mum didn’t like digital. She said photos don’t belong trapped inside a computer or a phone. They belonged in your hand. In the real world.”

  “She was right. We hardly ever printed our photos,” I think back to my boarded-up house, “and now they’re lost forever.”

  “You can always make new ones,” she says, optimistic. “Rose has a good camera, too. And a computer. And you can borrow mine anytime you like.”

  “Thanks, Ellie. I may take you up on that one day.” I smell the leaves of a plant, trying to guess what it is. But to me, it’s just a plant. “So, how do you know Rose?”

  “Mum used to be a teacher in the same school as her.”

  “Oh, right. I bet it was fun having—”

  “Everything all right, El?” I flinch when a deep voice cuts me off.

  Standing in the greenhouse doorway is Neil. His burly frame wrapped in a thick blue dressing gown, a pair of red flip flops on his feet.

  “I was just showing Freya our plants.”

  Without making eye contact with me, he steps inside and grabs her hand. “Come inside,” he says, escorting her outside. “Rose needs help with the dishes.”

  “Okay, Dad,” she replies as she’s marched across the garden to the house, leaving me alone and deflated.

  Patience, Freya. He just doesn’t trust you yet. And he probably thinks you’re some idiot kid who knows jack shit about life, about survival.

  I’ll show him.

  I’ll win him over.

  I pluck a tiny tomato from its branch, pop it in my mouth, and then instantly spit the bitter, disgusting fruit on the floor.

  That is not a tomato.

  17

  I’m in another lab. This one is smaller, dirtier. Doctor Moore is standing over me. I try to move, but my ankles and wrists are bound to the operating table. “Let me go!” I scream, but he ignores me, his attention on the bare skin of my forearm, and the scalpel in between his fingers. I cry out when the blade cuts me, and my stomach turns when the blood dribbles from the wound. Helpless, I look to my left. Ben is lying on another table, his eyes are open, stretched wide with horror as Michael Matthias floats the stun-gun baton across his bruised and bloodied chest.

  He should have healed by now.

  Why hasn’t he healed?

  What the hell have they done to you?

  Michael rams the baton down onto Ben’s chest, unleashing a torrent of electricity through his frail body. I close my eyes as my brother releases a shrill cry of agony, the sight too much to bear.

  A lifetime passes before the sound disappears, before I can open my eyes again. This time I’m in the garage of The Facility. Ben is standing in the entrance, below the sliding door.

  Don’t leave!

  Stay with me!

  But he shakes his head.

  And with a flash of blue, he vanishes into the night.

  I try to run after him, but something is pulling me backwards. It’s Sean. He’s telling me that Ben is better off without me. He needs to be with his own kind. I tell him he’s wrong, and pull even harder, until I fall to the ground. I look up, but Sean has gone.

  I’m all alone.

  “Sean!”

  Nothing. Just the echo of my strained voice.

  “Sean!”

  Where are you?

  I scramble to my feet, but I can’t find him.

  “Sean!”

  I run outside to the car park. It’s empty.

  “Where are you?”

  I start to sob, my chest aching, my body hunched over in turmoil.

  I’m still crying when I wake up, and I’m still calling for Sean.

  But he’s not next to me on the sofa bed. I look up at the attic window. The sun is beaming through the glass, past the metal bars. Disorientated, I rub my eyes and climb off the bed. I check the clock on the wall. 11:12 a.m. Jesus Christ, it’s late. I haven’t sleep this long in forever.

  In the sink, I swill my face, and stare at my reflection, struggling to shake off the nightmare, and this feeling of guilt, burning like poison in my gut.

  Get a grip of yourself. Ben is gone. You’ll never find him. You just have to accept it and move on.

  Move on to what?

  I head downstairs. The moment I reach the living room, I hear something that takes me back to before all this shit started. It’s the sound of a video game.

  Sean is sitting on the sofa, grasping the white Nintendo Wii steering wheel, his focus locked onto Mario-Kart. Ethan and Ellie are next to him, yelling at the TV screen, each with their own steering wheel.

  I stand behind the sofa, spectating as Sean takes the lead as Luigi. Ethan is a close second as Mario, and trailing behind as Princess Daisy is Ellie.

  Rose hands me a cup of coffee. “Heaven knows what they see in this,” she says, rolling her eyes. “It’s just a lot of noise to me.”

  I nod, but really I feel the opposite.

  Sean crosses the finish line, drops his steering wheel on the sofa, and punches the air in celebration. “Three in a row! Get in there!”

  Ellie giggles as Ethan crashes into the barrier, allowing her to take second place. Sean high-fives her, and then spots me. “Oh, hey, Frey. Sleep all right?”

  “Yeah.” I motion to the screen. “Having fun?” But it’s pretty obvious he is.

  Beaming, he kisses me. “I haven’t played one of these things in years. It’s Ellie’s.”

  “Well, Ellie,” I say to her, “be glad you let him win, because he’s the worst loser in the world.”

  She smiles. “I know he is. He lost the first two games.”

  “What?” Sean says, pretending to be insulted. “I’ll have you know that I let you both beat me.”

  Ethan and Ellie look at each other, shaking their heads.

  “Do you have a fourth controller?” I ask her.

  Ellie races over to the cabinet drawer beneath the TV, and pulls out another steering wheel.

  “Thanks, El,” I say as she hands it to me. “How about we make it i
nteresting? Girls versus boys.”

  Ellie’s face lights up. “Okay.”

  Ethan and Sean throw each other a smug look.

  “Budge up then,” I say, squeezing in next to Ethan on the sofa. “Right then, El, let’s show these losers how it’s done.”

  18

  It’s finally stopped raining after almost a week. I don’t normally mind a little bad weather, but an out of bounds garden, especially one as beautiful and as big as this is criminal. Helping Ellie and Rose in the greenhouse has been a real joy. And those lingering thoughts of Maggie have all but dissolved.

  Once my foot touches the garden path, I take in a lungful of clean evening air, and gaze up at the sky. It’s a mixture of orange and purple. The sun will be setting shortly.

  Ellie and Neil are sitting on deck chairs, staring out at the vast field. “Hello,” I say, loitering by Ellie’s side. “Heck of a nice evening.”

  Swallowed up by his puffy hiking coat, Neil just nods, his gloved-hands resting on an iron bar across his lap.

  “You okay, El?” I ask, her body wrapped snugly in a thick pink coat.

  “Yes, thanks,” she replies with a mouthful of crisps.

  “You helping your daddy tonight?” I ask her. “Keeping us all safe?”

  Before she can answer, Neil taps her on the thigh. “Time to go in, Ellie. It’s getting late.”

  “But it’s not dark yet,” she says with an upset frown.

  He points at the back door. “I don’t care, Ellie. Inside now. It’s not safe out here.”

  “Bye, Freya,” she scoffs, heading for the house.

  “See you, El.” And then she’s gone, leaving me alone with the grumpiest man alive. “Mind if I sit?” I ask with dread. You’d think after that gym nest, talking to an overprotective father would be a breeze.

  “It’s fine,” he mumbles. It’s not fine, far from it, but I sit down anyway.

  I settle into my seat, trying to get comfortable before I speak. God knows why this is so hard. I’ve already spoken to him a couple of times.

  I suppose asking him where the salt is kept, or how many miles we are from the nearest town, isn’t exactly stimulating conversation.

  Say something, Freya.

  Anything.

  Talk.

  The weather. This house.

  Words.

  Any words.

  Ask him about his job as a carpenter.

  Ask him about his old house.

  His old school.

  “I’m sorry to hear about your wife.”

  You idiot! Don’t ask him about his bloody wife!

  He’s gonna scream at me.

  He’s gonna tell me to go back inside. Tell me I should leave the security to the big strong men.

  “Thanks,” he says, his voice barely audible.

  Jesus. That was a miracle. “Ellie told me your wife was a teacher at Rose’s school.”

  He nods. “Biology.”

  “Really. I used to love science at school. Well, maybe ‘love’ is a bit of a stretch seeing as I failed it. But I preferred it to maths and English.” You’re waffling, Freya. “What was Ellie like at school?”

  “Smart—when she stayed focused.”

  “A daydreamer, huh?”

  He nods again, but still no eye contact.

  I’m about to say something else, but nothing comes out.

  A minute passes. No words.

  Say something, for Christ’s sake!

  Not about his wife.

  “Are you home-schooling Ellie?” I ask, relieved to cut through the quiet.

  “Rose is. I’m not good at that sort of stuff.”

  “You can teach her carpentry.”

  He doesn’t respond. This is painful.

  “Maybe one day you could teach me a little, too,” I suggest, even though the chances are pretty remote. “I’m a fast learner.”

  “Maybe.”

  That’s a hard ‘no’ then.

  The sun retreats behind the trees, turning the lush field into dark green. This time of day should be terrifying, but out here, with just miles of emptiness, it feels like it used to feel.

  Safe.

  “I never got to thank you for letting Sean and me stay with you.”

  Neil finally looks at me. “Look, I’m sure you and your boyfriend are good people, but I don’t know you, which means I don’t trust you. But this is Rose’s house, so I’ve got piss all choice in the matter.”

  “You can trust us. Sean used to work for the HCA.”

  Neil snorts. “I trusted the government to keep our country safe, and look how that turned out. These useless politicians let this virus spread. They let vampires, looters, overrun our streets.” He shakes his head in loathing. “Trust means nothing at all. It’s exactly what took Lana from me.”

  A thick atmosphere cloaks the garden. I want to press him further, but then I risk pissing him off. So I wait. Wait for the air to clear. Wait for Neil to tell me in his own time.

  Be patient, Freya.

  A minute passes, two, maybe three, and then something unexpected happens.

  Neil speaks.

  “Jill Manning, our old neighbour had a young boy. A vampire. When the HCA came to our street, she asked my wife if they could use our basement as a hideout. I told Lana that it was too dangerous to have a blue in the house. But Lana being Lana, not one to take my advice, convinced me it was the right thing to do. She said we’d known Jill for twenty years, and that she’d have done the same for us.” He takes a breath. “But then the skinny fucker got out of the basement, broke the lock clean off the door, and attacked Ellie in her bed.” He takes a moment. “Lana managed to get to her in time, but...”

  A lump forms in my throat. “I’m so sorry.”

  “By the time I heard the screaming, Lana was dead.” Neil clutches his fists. “And then I snapped the bastard’s neck.”

  I stifle a bout of tears, lost for words, lost of something of value to say.

  “I couldn’t live in that house anymore. Too dangerous.” He drags his fingers through his beard. “The whole town was fucked.”

  “There’s not much I can do for you to trust us, but I know what you’re going through. I know that more than most. I lost my mother and my brother to this virus. Sean lost his parents, too. And with every day that passes, the world gets a little worse, a little scarier. But we’re safe here, if we work together. Let us help protect this place, and I promise you’ll change your mind about us. Just give us a chance.”

  Neil doesn’t reply.

  “Safety in numbers,” I continue. “I’m not as weak as I look. This life has a way of toughening you up.”

  Neil glances at me. “Ellie is all I have left. I can’t lose her. I won’t lose her.”

  “So, let Sean and me take a few nightshifts. You can spend more time with her.”

  The sun has set, colouring the land in a thick blanket of darkness. No matter how far we are from the world, the night is no less disheartening.

  Neil gets up, grabs the bar, and walks away. “I’ll think about it”

  I smile, curbing an air-punch. “That’s all I ask. And if not, then I’ll happily stick with the gardening. Ellie’s been a wonderful teacher.”

  “Like her mother.”

  He disappears around the side of the house, leaving me alone in the garden. There’s a chill in the air, but my chest is warm with hope. Maybe he’s not such an arsehole after all. He just needed a nudge in the right direction.

  Or maybe, just maybe, he’s going to smash my head in with the iron bar.

  19

  I don’t even like apples, but on a sunny day like this, it beats the hell out of sitting inside, moping around, wondering where Ben could be.

  Ellie’s basket is almost full. I have doubts about her quality control, but who cares? She’s smiling, humming some unrecognisable song.

  What more could you ask for?

  Rose is taking her time, triple checking each apple before she drops it
into her basket. I suppose she’s used to all this. I bet she’s spent years and years strolling around this fantastic garden, picking real fruit, from an actual tree.

  I can’t even remember the last time I ever picked apples.

  Oh, yes. It was Arthur Cranford’s garden. The old prick had a huge tree. Stephanie Grant and I used to sneak over his fence when he was out walking his dog. God knows why we felt the need to steal them. Neither of us ate any. I think it was just the thrill of the crime. I think he might have caught us once. Called our mothers. For the life of me, I can’t recall Mum even giving me a lecture. I think she thought he was an old prick, too.

  Reaching up to the branch, I take hold of a shiny green apple, twist it, and it comes away from the tree. There are no bruises, no holes where a maggot has burrowed. A perfect specimen.

  I drop it into my basket and then grab another.

  “How are you getting on, Freya?” Rose asks, taking a sip of water from her plastic bottle.

  “Good thanks. I’m enjoying it,” I reply. “It’s been a while since I did this.”

  “I love it out here. The novelty hasn’t dried up just yet.” She points at the patch of grass behind me. “Jeff used to sit there with his murder-mystery novel, while I did the picking.”

  “What?” I say, playfully. “While you did all the hard work?”

  Rose puts her water bottle on the ground and picks up her basket. “I liked it that way. I got his company, and he got to read his book.” She reaches for an apple. “It was perfect.”

  “I bet it was.”

  “And anyway, I couldn’t trust him to pick a good one. His apples had more holes than a pincushion.”

  I chuckle and then remove the last apple from the branch.

  “How about you, Ellie?” Rose asks. “That basket getting too heavy?”

  Ellie shakes her head. “I’m fine, thank you.”

  “Would you like some water?”

  “Maybe later.”

  “Okay, lovely.” Rose turns to me. “This little princess had never seen an apple tree until she came here. Isn’t that right, El?”

  Ellie nods, pulling a branch down to her height.

  “She thought apples came from the Rainforest,” Rose continues.