“That’s nothing,” I say. “I used to think that chickpeas came from chickens.”
Rose and Ellie laugh.
“How old were you when you thought that, Frey?” Ellie lets go of the branch and it springs back into position.
“I’d rather not say,” I reply, pretending to be coy.
Beaming, Ellie looks at me. “Come on, Frey. Tell us.”
“Fifteen,” I say under my breath.
They laugh again.
I should be embarrassed, but right now I feel happy. Their laughter is a wonderful sound, and it’s been missing from my life for too long.
We move onto the next tree. “What did Jeff do for a living?”
“He was the Headmaster,” she replies, “where Ellie’s Mum and I taught.”
“Really? What was he like as a Headmaster?” I ask. “Was he as scary as mine?”
“Sometimes,” she replies, inspecting an apple. “It was a stressful job.”
“I can imagine. Was it a big school?”
“Yes. Quite big, I suppose,” she replies. “Maybe a thousand students.”
“Wow, that is big. Much bigger than my old school.”
“But do you know what, Freya? He hardly ever complained. That school meant the world to him. I think the only part of the job that frustrated him was not being able to teach.”
I pick an apple, but it’s rotten and gross, so I drop it on the ground. “I would have thought that would be a good thing?”
“Oh, no. Children he could handle, but budgets and politics were a pain in the backside.”
“I never thought of it like that.” I glance over at Ellie. “Did you like school, El?”
“Sometimes.” She wipes the sweat from her forehead. “Except Mr Thomas the art teacher.”
“What was wrong with him?” I ask.
“He was always shouting at us, even if we didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Are you sure you weren’t doing anything wrong?” Rose asks with a suspicions grin.
Ellie shakes her head. “No, we weren’t. He was just a nasty old fart.”
I chuckle. “Reminds me of my old English teacher. Mr Harris. He was a grumpy old fart, too.” I pluck an apple from its branch to inspect it. “He gave me detention once for—” I scream when I see the giant daddy-long-legs on it, and then launch the apple across the field.
“What’s wrong?” Ellie asks, startled.
I turn to her, my heart pounding, my hands trembling. “Spider! On the apple!” I take a breath, trying to settle my nerves. “It was huge!”
Ellie laughs. “The world has been taken over by vampires, and you’re scared of a spider.”
“Don’t let Neil find out,” Rose says, a giant grin spread across her cheeks, “otherwise he’ll never let you guard this place.” She nudges Ellie and winks at her. “Especially if a swarm of spiders attacks the house.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I say with sarcasm, “laugh it up. But don’t come crying to me when the bugs crawl into your beds.”
“I like bugs,” Ellie says proudly.
Before picking the next apple, I inspect it, making sure it’s clear. I pull the fruit from the branch and drop it into my basket.
Vampires I can handle.
But spiders...
20
“How many acres does she own?” Sean asks as Neil unlocks the shed.
“I’m not sure,” he replies, focused on removing the stiff padlock from the door. “About a hundred.”
“Bloody hell,” Sean says, “that’s bonkers. She must be loaded.”
The lock clicks and the door opens. “Not really. Well off, I suppose. The land used to belong to her in-laws. They used to lease some of the fields to the local farmers.”
With envy, I glance at Sean. “I’d love to have this much land. Our own Solace Park.”
“Yeah. That would be nice,” Sean replies.
Neil switches on the light, and we follow him inside.
For such a massive garden, the shed is pretty basic. The walls have various tools attached. Rakes. Hammers. Shovels. Sweeps. There’s a small workbench at the back, which is covered in dust, loose screws and other debris, and a shelf filled with paint tins and other boxes.
Sean’s eyes bulge with excitement when he sees the ride-on lawnmower. I can’t see what the big deal is really. He can drive a car, so why would driving a lawnmower be so exciting?
Neil points at each side of the shed. “Okay. Take your pick.”
I scan the gardening tools, but the only thing resembling a weapon is a pitchfork. I’d look like Satan carrying that big thing around. And there’s an axe, but that looks too heavy. A weapon should be light, easy to swing.
“Just take the baseball bat instead,” Sean says, presenting me with the handle. “You took it. You should be the one to keep it.”
“No, it’s too long,” I say, inspecting the shed like I’m shopping for shoes. “I want something smaller.”
Neil lets out an impatient groan, clearly regretting his decision to let us take the nightshift. “Come on, Freya, for Christ’s sake. The sun’s almost set. Pick something.”
Under pressure, like a shoe shop is about to close, I speed-scan the shed, ready to give up on the hunt.
“Look, this is silly,” Sean says. “We’ve got a perfectly good crowbar in the house. It’s small, reliable and—” The light catches the blade of something on the bottom shelf. I drop down and grab the wooden handle. “This’ll do,” I say, brandishing the machete like it’s He-Man’s sword.
Sean makes a very unsubtle tut sound, clearly jealous of my awesome discovery. A part of me considers giving it to him, being the bigger person and all that.
Nahh. The machete is way cooler than his, so it’s mine.
“Halle-bloody-lujah.” Neil knocks the light off and we leave the shed.
There’s a chill in the air this evening, so I zip my jacket right up to my throat. Sean has his grey hoodie on, the one I got him just after we started dating. It looks good on him. It looks good on me, too. Maybe I’ll borrow it next time we’re on security duty.
That’s if there is a next time.
Neil walks us to the back of the house to the deck chairs. “I usually sit out here for twenty minutes or so, and then move around to the front of the house. And then I switch back and forth until dawn.”
“Do you want us to take a stroll down to the trees?” I ask. “Just in case.”
“You can if you want, but it’s too dangerous. They could be easily ambush you from down there. Up here, near the house, you have a good vantage point of the area. If there’s anything down there, you’ll see it.”
“When was the last time you had anyone come to the house?” Sean asks.
“No one since I’ve lived here,” he replies. “It’s too out of the way. This is why we have to protect it. If looters found out about this place, they’d try to take it.”
“Yeah,” Sean says, “I suppose they would.”
“Those arseholes that attacked Ethan are just the tip of the iceberg. Things are gonna get so much worse. Give it another month, two if we’re lucky, and all that’ll be left is them and the blues.”
There’s no debating this time because he’s right. It’s painful to admit it, but I’ve seen it with my own two eyes. I’ve lived it, breathed it. We both have.
“Right,” Neil continues, “if you see anything, or need me at all, just wake me. Don’t hesitate. Don’t be heroes. And most importantly, don’t be stupid. Understand?”
Sean nods, but his face is slightly creased with annoyance. It’s too subtle for Neil to notice, but not for me. I’ve seen it before. Having someone tell him how to deal with vampires, after everything we’ve been through, and especially after working for the HCA, must be pretty frustrating for him.
But, we’re both too smart to bitch about it. Not when Neil holds all the cards. And in all fairness to him, Sean and I could be bull-shitters, a pair of con artists, with zero experience at dealing wi
th vampires.
“Thanks, Neil,” I say with a thumb up. “We’ll be fine.”
“Yeah, cheers, Neil,” Sean says. “We’ll give you a shout if we see anything.”
Neil glares at us for a moment, like we’re a couple of kids responsible for feeding the hamster. I mean, patrolling the grounds is a simple enough task, but if something happened to Ellie, on our watch, then we’d be screwed.
And we’d bloody deserve it, too.
Finally, he leaves us and disappears into the house.
Sean sits down on the deck chair with a frustrated sigh. “Jesus Christ. You swear we were guarding the bloody Queen.”
“I know,” I sit next to him, “but it’s his daughter. You can’t blame him for being overprotective.”
“I suppose.”
I take Sean’s cold hand as the last glimmer of sunlight creeps behind the trees. Our arms dangle between the deck chairs like an old married couple, lounging at the beach, gazing out at the ocean.
This is how I imagined our future. Simple, yet perfect. A house of our own. A garden. Obviously not as big, but big enough. A place for Ben to live, without fear, without ridicule. A home.
But the more time that passes, the more improbable that future seems.
“I wish we had a few cold beers,” Sean points out. “I saw a six-pack in the fridge.”
“Yeah, that would go down well with Neil. The first night on the job and we’re pissed out of brains.”
“I’m joking,” he says, but I bet that’s only half true. “I’d never do that. I’m not a total idiot.”
“No?” I say with a cheeky grin, and then Sean playfully squeezes my hand in retaliation.
There’s a moment of tranquillity as we soak in the peacefulness of the garden. Well, it’s hardly a garden when it’s a hundred-odd acres of land. More like a small island cut off from the rest of the world.
“Quad bikes would be good,” Sean says, breaking the silence with a random comment.
“What?”
“Yeah, quad bikes.” He points at the field in front. “With all this space. Can you imagine?”
“Not really.”
“What are you talking about? Quad bikes would be awesome. Haven’t you ever had a ride on one?”
“No,” I reply. “Only a go-kart.”
“I mean, it’d be pretty dumb wasting petrol on one, especially during the apocalypse—but it’d be bloody fun.”
“Yes, Sean,” I say with clear sarcasm, “it would be fantastic.”
A retort almost leaves his lips, but he smiles and gives me the middle finger instead.
After a few minutes, I cross my legs and slouch. This is way too relaxing to be work. But what’s the alternative? Pray for danger? A little action to pass the time? In this new world, danger and action lead to death.
“Do you really think Neil’s gone to bed?” Sean asks.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, do you really think he trusts us enough to leave us out here alone?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. Probably not.”
“I bet he’s watching us right now.” Sean glances up at the house. “Spying on us. Making notes.”
“Who cares,” I say. “Let him spy on us. At least then he’ll know that we’re up to the task. Maybe he’ll relax a little. Maybe he’ll take that stick out of his arse and smile.”
Sean snorts. “I doubt it,” Sean says, chuckling. “And this shift system—it’s dumb. Don’t you think? Rather than each of us take shifts guarding the house, wouldn’t it be better if we did two-man shifts? Keep it like this all the time. Me and you one night. Ethan and Neil the next night. Or even mix it up.”
“That’s a good idea. It’d be a lot safer.”
“Yeah. And not so boring. Less likely someone’ll fall asleep on the job.”
“Why don’t you put it to Neil in the morning?” I suggest. “See what he thinks.”
Sean turns to me. “Can’t you tell him? He likes you.”
I laugh. “In your dreams. He can’t stand me. It’d be better coming from you. Plus, it was your idea.”
He sighs, and then gets up. “Fine. Let’s take a stroll to the front of the house.”
“All right,” I say, and then follow him.
My eyes search the field, all the way down to the trees, as we make our way around the house. There’s a wooden bench to the left of the front door. The red paint is flaking, but it’s clean. No dirt or bird shit. Sean and I sit heavily, groaning in unison, even though we’ve done absolutely nothing since we came out.
I rest my back against the arm of the bench, and swing my legs onto Sean’s lap.
“Do you think that’s a good idea?” he asks, checking the living room window behind us.
“Good point,” I say, realising how bad a first impression it would be. Best wait until Neil trusts us, or at least until it’s four in the morning.
Tonight, the sky is clear, littered with stars. It’s stunning. Moments like this I wish I’d paid attention to that Brian Cox astronomy documentary that was on a few years ago. At the time, all I can remember is texting the girls about something dumb, and thinking Brian Cox was kind of hot for a science geek.
I glance at Sean. Guess I’ve got a thing for geeks now.
After about twenty minutes, we take another walk around the house, then to the shed, and until finally stopping at the deck chairs again.
This back and forth goes on for another hour or so before the yawning begins. Sean spots it and the infection spreads.
He leans back on his deck chair, checks his watch and sighs.
“What time is it?”
“9:15.”
“Bloody hell,” I say, astonished. “It’s gonna be a long night.”
“Yep.”
“How about a game?” he asks, his words buried beneath another yawn. “That should kill a couple of hours.”
“Okay,” I reply, my enthusiasm reignited. “What game?”
“I don’t know.” He pauses to think. “‘I Spy’?”
“‘I Spy’? Seriously? How old are you, Sean?”
“All right, then, how about ‘Twenty Questions’? I’ll think of something, and you’ve got to guess it.”
“That’s more like it. You go first. Question number one: are you a person?”
“Hang on, Frey,” he says, flustered like there’s prize money riding on it. “I haven’t thought of something yet.”
As I wait, my eyes wander across the field. It’s still clear. Not even the sound of a distant animal. Just miles of grass, lit up by moonlight.
“Okay,” Sean says, pleased with himself, “I’ve got one.”
“Are you a person?”
He shakes his head.
“Are you a movie?”
He nods.
“Are you Empire Strikes Back?”
Sean’s face drops in deflation. “Shit.”
I chortle. “That was easy.” I pull his arm over to me and check his watch. “9:21.” Disappointment weighs down every muscle in my body.
This really is going to be a long night.
“Your turn,” Sean says.
Where the hell’s a vampire when you need one?
21
“Everybody. Pay attention,” Rose says, her face like stone with sincerity. “We’ve got a crisis on our hands.” She puts the bottle of red wine on the dining table. “We’re down to our last crate.”
I grab the bottle and our glasses. “Don’t worry. We’ll do another supplies run on Wednesday.”
“That would be wonderful,” she says, her words a little slurry. “Maybe try that supermarket over in Crossmore. This crate tastes like shit. Whoops!” She covers her mouth, shooting Ellie mortified look. “Sorry, my love. It slipped out.”
Ellie giggles. “It’s okay. I hear Dad swear all the time.”
“No, you don’t,” Neil says from the sink, scrubbing the grease off the baking tray.
“How many beers are left?” Sean asks.
“Maybe another twenty bottles,” Ethan replies. “We could definitely use a few more.”
Rose sits next to me at the table. “Absolutely. And chocolate. Dark chocolate. We ran out of that two weeks ago.”
“Stick it up on the list then,” Ethan says, pointing at the small whiteboard attached to the fridge door.
“That list is for emergency supplies,” Neil says, his voice firm, his eyes still glued to the baking tray and the welded on pastry. “Booze and chocolate are not essentials.”
“Oh, lighten up, Neil,” Rose says, rolling her glazed over eyes. “You swear it was the end of the world.”
I lock my lips together, stifling a giggle. Sean does the same, followed by Ellie and Ethan. There shouldn’t be anything funny in what’s happened, but somehow Rose always manages to lighten every mood.
She’s a star.
Ethan exhales to blow away his hidden laugh, and takes out the next Trivial Pursuit question card from the pack. “Okay, to the lady of the house,” he says, peering across the table at Rose. “Sport question.”
Rose sighs and then takes a swig of wine. “Bloody sport.”
“‘How many pockets does a standard billiard table have?’”
With a shrug, Rose answers: “Four?”
Behind me, I hear a tiny titter coming from Neil.
“Nope,” Ethan replies. “The answer is ‘Six’.”
“Oh, well,” she says, taking another gulp of wine, “win some, lose some.”
Ellie throws the dice, gets a four, and moves to a blue space. Geography.
Rose slips on her reading glasses, takes a question card, and then turns to Ellie. “Okay, Little-Miss-Clever-Clogs. Let’s see you answer this one.”
Ellie straightens in her chair and fires off a smug grin. “Bring it on.”
Bloody hell. Where the hell’s that shy little girl I met last month?
“Okay then. Geography,” Rose continues. “‘What US city is also known as The Big Apple?’”
Without hesitation, Ellie spurts out her answer: “New York!”
“Christ, that was fast,” I say with a small clap. “Well done, madam.”
With an arrogant grin, she throws the dice. Two. Geography again.
My turn to read out a question. “‘The rubber tree is native to which continent?’”
Blue Skin (Book 4): Blue Skin Page 8