by Leyton, Bisi
Wisteria
By
Bisi Leyton
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
By Bisi Leyton
Copyright© 2012 Bisi Leyton
Cover Art by Olivia Smith, http://aivilo0.deviantart.com/
No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied for reviews.
DEDICATION
To my hero and close friend.
To the soko soup, made when I’m feeling down.
To the one person I know who comes running when I fall,
I love you, Mummy.
GLOSSARY OF TERMS
Biel Core: A Black orb used by the Family, to generate power.
Biter: A human infected with Nero Disease. Biters are extremely violent and only eat the flesh of healthy humans. Also called the Infected, Fleshers, and Flesh eaters.
Bean Vine: The wisteria plant. Also called Strangle Weed by the Family.
Black List: The list of people or items empirics are sent to retrieve.
Blue light: See Pulse.
Burnfruit: A brown fruit indigenous to the Family’s realm.
Cohort: Small unit of the Family, traveling together.
The Cure: Euphemism for killing a biter.
D’cara: An insult in the dialect.
Den: Houses or accommodations used by the Family while on earth.
The Dialect: The language spoken by the Family.
Elders: See Seven Elders.
Eminent: Title given to the Famila by the Thayns.
Empiric: A Famila trained to conduct special investigations.
Famila: A member of the Family’s race.
Favorite: A Thayn selected to serve a Famila closely.
Faycard: Device used by the Family to renew humans. It looks like a playing card. The faycard was a powerful focal point of the energy used by one of the Famila. Can also be used for playing simple tricks on children and humans.
Flesh Eaters: Another term for biter.
Flesher: Another term for biter.
Great Walk: The rite of passage every male in the Family must go through. It lasts 1,000 days.
Haro Caste: The fourth caste in the Family and the lowest. They work with the Thayns.
The High Street: The main business street of a town. The British version of Main Street.
Ino Caste: The highest caste of the Family and made up of the leaders.
Ilac Caste: The second caste; they include warriors and soldiers.
Jade Ocean: A green ocean near the Family’s home.
Journeying: To travel between realms via the thresholds.
Liege: The master /mistress of a Thayn. The person who renewed them and to whom the Thayns are loyal.
Mosroc: A deep emotional and mental bond between two people in the Family.
Motorway: The British word for highway.
Nero Disease: A sickness that causes humans to turn into biters. Also called Nero Plague, the madness, or Nero illness.
OBE: Stands for Order of the British Empire. An honor given by the King or Queen of England.
Obsidian Coral: Red coral used by the Family that enables them to journey through thresholds without dying, as thresholds are very dangerous and will rip any traveler apart.
Obsidian Crystal: Synthetic obsidian coral, deadly if used to travel through thresholds.
Pillar: A clan within the Family. There are seven Pillars in the Family. Each Pillar has four castes.
Piron Net: An artifact used by the Family to conceal their dens on Earth from humans.
Pulse: A blue light that emanates from the family. The blue light has many uses including: converting of humans to Thayns, healing the injured Family, and sometimes healing humans.
Prime: The first child and heir of a Sen.
Qwaynide: An insult in the Family Dialect.
Regeneration: A period of long rest during which Famila heal themselves.
Renewal: The process of turning humans to Thayns.
Sandwine: A strong beverage.
Sha: Okay in Yoruba.
Shana (singular and plural): Tattoo-like dots on some Famila.
Sen: A chief and head of a Family Pillar.
Sen-Son: The son of a Sen.
The Seven Elders: The heads of the seven Houses of the Family. Also referred to as the Seven or Elders.
Sixth Form: English equivalent to the American 11th and 12th Grades. Sixth Form takes two years to complete.
Sleepwalker: What some humans call Thayns.
Strangle weeds: What the Family calls Bean Vine.
Terra: The Famila word for Earth.
Terran: What the Family calls humans. It means Dirt people.
Thayn: A human who has been turned into a devoted follower of the Family by being renewed. Also called Sleepwalker.
Threshold: A Gateway used by the family to travel between realms.
Vappa: Means jerk or ass in the Family’s DialectYear Eleven: English equivalent to the American 10th Grade.
PROLOGUE
Thirteen months after the first official case of Nero Disease
“Wisteria, run!” Rebecca O’Leary screamed over the radio.
Wisteria Kuti whipped around and came face-to-face with the blood-red eyes of a hungry flesh-eating biter. The biter was a man, infected by Nero Disease, who had long lost his mind. He looked more animal than human and he wanted one thing—to feed on the flesh of uninfected people. The biter growled and staggered toward Wisteria.
She fled down the deserted road to the nearest house. The front door was locked. She kicked at the door, but it didn’t open. Taking out her handgun, she smashed through the window of the door.
“Ugh,” more biters growled behind her.
She spun around, fired once, and hit one in the head. She unlocked the door by reaching in and turning the lock. Once inside, she chained and bolted the door.
Crash—a biter smashed through another window into the house.
Wisteria’s heart jumped and she darted up the stairs as fast as she could.
“Get out of the house, Wisteria!” Rebecca radioed.
I’m trying.
A biter grabbed her ankle as she ran. Falling hard on the steps, she wailed in pain. “Ah.” No time to cry, Wisteria. She fired at the biter holding her. One bullet left.
Three more biters appeared below and started coming up the stairs. Leaping up, she sprinted to the top floor and dashed into the first open doorway that led to the master bedroom. Locking the door, she headed straight for the window.
The infected clawed at the door, tearing it apart and snarling as they entered.
Trying to open the window, she found it was stuck and the panes were too small to fit through. She pulled harder—nothing. Then she heard the biters’ cries. They were now in the room with her.
“Just hold on,” Rebecca said over the handheld radio.
Wisteria fired at a biter.
The bullet went through one and hit another—two fell.
She fired again. Click. No bullets. “Wonderful.” She stoned the biter with her useless weapon, but that had no effect.
Noticing a red-handled samurai sword in the corner of the room, she dove for it. Another biter entered the room. She took the sword out of the sheath and pointed it at the approaching biters. The blade trembled in her grip, and then there was a gunshot… two more biters fell.
Thirty-something Lara Kut
i stood in the doorway with two handguns trained on Wisteria, which she slowly lowered. “Wisteria, what the hell are you doing here?” the older woman seethed.
“I was cleared to work,” she explained to her mother.
“You’re prepared to die out here?” Her mother glared at Wisteria. “You think we’re playing here? And how the hell did you leave Smythe?”
“Major Coles cleared me.” Wisteria shook her head.
“Coles knew?” Her mother’s eyes thinned at the mention of Coles.
Something moved in the corridor.
Her mother whipped out her handguns and aimed them at the door.
A few seconds later, red-headed Rebecca O’Leary entered. “You’re all right.” She was red-faced and out of breath. “I told you that you would be.”
“You sent her out here alone?” Wisteria’s mother didn’t lower her weapons.
“Mum, it’s Rebecca,” Wisteria said. “I don’t think she’s infected.”
“You almost got her killed.” Her mother ignored Wisteria.
“Lara, the girl’s fine.” Rebecca seemed unfazed. “We almost get killed every day.”
Her mother stomped her way over to the taller woman. “Don’t ever take my fourteen-year-old daughter on one of your boozed up, pathetic patrols again.”
“Whatever, Lara.” Rebecca tried to sound nonchalant, though she did look rattled by Lara’s fierce words.
Turning away, Wisteria cautiously made her way through the quiet house. Bodies of cured biters lay motionless on the ground. Making her way down the stairs, she saw a tall brown haired man at the front door, Lieutenant Andrew McDowell, her mother’s patrol partner.
He shook his head and chuckled when he saw her.
Still without a word, Wisteria walked toward him and out the front door. She felt like such a fool.
“Hell of a first day,” Andrew commented as he followed her. He then unlocked the backdoor of the battered SUV they used for patrols.
“I messed up,” Wisteria replied nervously and slid inside. She felt foolish because her mother had had to rescue her. Wisteria wanted to be a tracker to prove she could take care of herself.
“So, Coles agreed to this, knowing you’re only fourteen?” Andrew frowned and took her firearm from her.
It was partly true—he had agreed, Wisteria thought to herself without answering him. She’d convinced Major Coles that she was sixteen.
CHAPTER ONE
Two years later
“Summertime, boys and girls,” the gravelly voice of Jake, the controller, crackled on the radio that was on the dashboard of the beaten up and much abused SUV.
Sixteen-year-old Wisteria was now assigned to be a tracker on her mother’s team. She reached out to answer the radio from the back seat, but her mother reached it first.
“Jake, you start singing and I’ll boil your face in oil when I get back,” her mother replied.
“Whoa,” Andrew remarked jovially as he adjusted his tranquilizer rifle. “Trouble in paradise?”
“Shh,” her mother snapped back. “We need to focus.”
The three of them were parked in front of Green Heart Pharmacy and they sat in silence.
Wisteria watched through the iron mesh that used to be the rear window. As a tracker, she monitored the number of biters around the Isle of Smythe. The epidemiologists and other scientists on the island told the trackers where to look and tried to predict the biters’ movements. Usually, they were wrong, but the trackers were still able to collect valuable information about the biters and monitor their activity level.
The hope was that one day, perhaps far into the future, people could start living on Norton again. Today, she was tasked with photographing any infected. For some reason, the doctors on the Isle of Smythe needed them. Things were quiet today. They hadn’t seen a soul, living or dead, in Norton.
“Okay, darling, I’ll stop singing if you’ll have dinner with me tonight,” Jake teased.
Wisteria knew Jake said this to wind her mother up and it always worked.
“Give me the damn radio,” her mother demanded from Andrew.
“Jake,” Andrew spoke into the radio as he continued to scan his side of the street. “Lara says she’d love nothing more than to go out with you.” Andrew snickered.
Being on the outside terrified Wisteria and she couldn’t laugh. Their weapons wouldn’t provide enough protection if a lot of biters swarmed. She learned to keep cool, but how Andrew found the levity to joke amazed her. She guessed it was because of his twelve years in the army.
They heard a crash.
“Shh!” Her mother shut off the radio. “The back, Wisteria, watch the back.”
They all crouched lower in the SUV.
Wisteria focused her attention on the area behind them. Her trained gaze steadily centered through the caged rear window. The blood in her body rushed to her head as she braced herself. She double-checked that her rifle and sword were by her side.
There was another crash and a dog ran past.
“A dog,” Andrew muttered.
“Wait,” Wisteria whispered.
A woman emerged from an alley behind the vehicle, dressed in filthy rags, her hair caked with dirt. Limping toward them, with a blank expression and blood-red eyes, her putrid stench filled the air.
No, this wasn’t a woman. It was the flesher of a woman, a biter, and as it moved closer, the hairs on Wisteria’s neck stood on end.
“Wisteria, take the picture,” her mother reminded her. “Hair, nails, eyes, and mouth, those are the pictures you need. Like you’ve done a hundred times.”
“I know,” she whispered back to her mother. Containing her fear, she focused on the approaching biter.
“You’ll be fine,” Andrew calmly encouraged.
Wisteria knew her job, but Andrew’s relaxed tone made her feel even surer of herself. Steadying her camera, she photographed the woman’s features.
“Do you have it?” Her mother started the car. “Andrew, check it.”
“I have it, Mum.” Wisteria tossed him the camera and collected the rifle next to her.
“Don’t even think about it.” Andrew reached for the weapon. “Use the dart gun.”
“The sound of a gun will attract biters from miles away,” her mother lectured.
“I just grabbed the wrong one by mistake,” Wisteria admitted. “I know what I’m doing.” She aimed the rifle and fired it out through the rear window’s iron mesh. Instead of bullets, a cyanide dart shot out, hitting the biter in the head.
The flesher marched defiantly forward, refusing to fall, but then collapsed.
“Right.” Her mother maneuvered the vehicle out of the parking lot. “Focus on the left side, Wisteria. You don’t need to worry about the back, now that we’re moving. I’m checking the mirror.”
Wisteria sighed heavily. She was already watching the left side and didn’t need to be reminded. She began to question her decision to be a tracker for the third time that day.
“We haven’t seen any biters here for six months and now we’ve had two sightings in three days,” she said, oblivious to Wisteria’s frustration. “It could be a problem.”
“Lara, it’s only the second sighting in six months,” Andrew added. “It’s actually a good sign.”
They sped through Norton, moving past empty playgrounds, backyards, and abandoned vehicles. This was once home to fifteen thousand people, but now it was derelict. Only trackers from the Isle of Smythe and the occasional refugees passed through the town—and the biters.
A long drive later, they came to a narrow bridge. At the foot of the bridge was an iron gate, covered in barbed wire.
Andrew radioed to Jake and less than a minute later, the gate opened. They drove across a barbed wire bridge while under the hardened gaze of armed guards.
Suddenly, Wisteria felt safe.
At the end of the bridge was a massive wall. Squinting, she could make out several soldiers on top, watching them with their weapons
trained on them. After waiting for several minutes, the gigantic gates of the inner wall opened and revealed a dingy, granite mining town that was the Isle of Smythe.
They drove past the rows of run-down houses, navigating over potholes. The so-called road was lined with the skeletons of rusted cars.
Even before Nero, the Isle of Smythe was this way, according to Rebecca, who had lived on the island for fifteen years. She said, Smythe was a dump then and was even a bigger dump now.
As usual, there were very few people outside. Wisteria counted four.
They parked at the front of an old bank. This was the trackers’ station where most of their ammunition and supplies were stored. The entire structure was now covered in sheets of metal and a fence was erected around the parking lot.
“You need to try and not get so tense out there,” Andrew advised as Wisteria got out of the SUV. “You know what you’re doing.”
“Andrew, I was calm.” She looked over at her mother, hoping she wasn’t listening, but her mother was already gone, probably updating someone about the trip. “The gun thing was a stupid mistake.”
“We’re lucky there wasn’t a swarm.”
“I’ll work on it.” She started to leave.
“Wait,” Andrew called. “You did good though.”
“Yeah, whatever,” she muttered.
On every trip over the last months, something always went wrong.
“Seriously, you’re better at this than most.” He smiled down at her. “No one got hurt. That’s a success to me.”
Andrew was such a nice guy. If she’d been a lot older and if he wasn’t Major Elliot Coles’s only friend, she might’ve stood a chance with him. “I’ve got homework and you’ve got a debriefing with Major Coles.” At his smile and friendly encouragement, she suddenly became self-conscious. Turning away, she strolled out of the gate and made her way along the muddy road. She jumped around the massive potholes that were now filled with black water from the morning rain.