Wisteria (Wisteria Series)

by Leyton, Bisi

  “Watch where you’re going,” Keith Wicks, her neighbor, yelled as she nearly ran into a sheep. The older man was crossing with a small flock of them.

  “Sorry, Mr. Wicks,” Wisteria replied.

  “Bloody refugees,” he muttered as he moved along.

  Wisteria wasn’t originally from the Isle of Smythe. She was one of about seven hundred refugees who arrived here in the last three years to escape the biters. Some of Smythe’s locals resented the migrants, but most were just glad to be alive.

  * * * * *

  The next morning was a school day. Like all the under-eighteens in Smythe, she had to be in class. At nine o’clock, Wisteria was on her window seat in the crammed classroom. The school was just an ordinary house used as a school. The old schools were in Norton and now only the biters hung out there.

  This meant the younger students and pupils were crammed into this makeshift building. It was like most of the buildings—in desperate need of repair. Several of the windows were broken and replaced by wooden panels. Many of the ceiling panels were missing. There were even holes in the roof and the walls. Handwritten graffiti covered the walls, and even after several attempts to scrub it off, it still remained. The room needed to be repainted, but that was a luxury.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, I need you to quiet down. As part of your reward for all your hard work, I’m giving you a test,” Mr. Silas Cheung, the mathematics teacher, announced to the year eleven class. He scribbled the test over the black square on the wall, which served as their blackboard.

  “Mr. Cheung, what’s the point of taking the stupid test? No one cares!” Steven Hindle yelled. “It’s not like I need it to get a job.”

  Some students laughed.

  “Steven, if you want to leave by all means, get out of my class.” Apparently annoyed, Mr. Cheung pointed to the door.

  The boy hesitated.

  “Are you afraid?” The teacher asked.

  The younger man got to his feet, glanced over at Wisteria, and then winked at her.

  She quickly looked away from his hypnotic blue eyes.

  “Does anyone else want to join Mr. Hindle on his crusade?” the man asked the class.

  No one said a word.

  Wisteria wanted to leave with him. Maybe they would be able to spend time together, and then he would tell her how beautiful she was. She laughed at her foolishness, because she couldn’t compare to Steven’s girlfriend, Hailey Davenport. Hailey was simply beautiful. She glanced at Hailey and her friends—Karen, Melissa and Yvette—as they sat together at the back of the class.

  Hailey’s light gray eyes shot from Steven over to Wisteria and her pretty face briefly reflected a frown.

  Wisteria on the other hand was short, shapely, and dark with black hair and very dark eyes.

  “Hindle, what are you waiting for? Get out of my class,” Mr. Cheung repeated.

  “You can’t talk to us like that,” Gareth Hubbard, Steven’s best friend, piped in.

  “Really, Gareth?” the man asked.

  “Yeah, you shouldn’t.” Steven continued his defiance.

  Cheung walked up to Steven and stopped when he was about a foot away. Though man was shorter than Steven, but he didn’t look intimidated. This was unusual, because Steven’s father, Tom Hindle, was one of the senior scientists in the town.

  His father ran the quarantine center and was part of a group still trying to find a cure. He was also on the leadership council and this made Steven as untouchable as any student could be. Most teachers treated him and other children of the island’s leadership with kid gloves. They could get away with anything expect missing school; not even Steven could do that.

  The number two rule in the Isle of Smythe was to earn their keep. This meant everyone had a job and one of their jobs was to go to school. The number one rule was to follow the rules. Break the rules and you’d be leaving the Isle of Smythe. They all had seen what had happened to the Nelsons. No one wanted to face a life outside.

  “Mr. Cheung, those biters don’t scare me,” Steven boasted.

  “Hindle, have you ever seen the infected?” The teacher raised a brow in disbelief.

  Steven’s rebellion was futile, but it endeared him to his classmates and to her. He was a native of the town and not a refugee. Some locals never went outside since the Nero outbreak. In her heart, Wisteria knew he’d be less pompous if he understood what the outside really looked like.

  “Give me a shotgun and I’ll be fine,” Steven continued to brag.

  A couple of the students cheered.

  In the days following the outbreak, Wisteria, her mother, and her brother travelled from Dover to Norton. On a normal day, the journey took an hour and a half, but it took them over three months to make it through. Those were the dark days. She shuddered at the memory of those days and nights of continual screaming by people she knew who were turning into biters or being dragged away at night. Going to school was like going on vacation for her when they first arrived, but that was before she’d met Hailey.

  Now, she was stuck here. In her heart she wanted to believe that she wasn’t going to be in the Isle of Smythe forever. One day, all this madness would blow over and she would be able to return to Lagos…to her real life. This was why she needed to be a tracker; it was a job that taught her how to take care of herself on the outside, ensuring that when the family was ready to leave, she’d survive.

  Steven slammed his book on the table and dropped into his seat.

  Victorious, Mr. Cheung smirked and returned to the blackboard.

  “Don’t worry; I’m not going anywhere,” Steven whispered to her.

  Gareth chuckled.

  Wisteria ignored them both. They weren’t actually her friends. Most days, she didn’t operate in the same universe as Steven or Gareth.

  “Steven, I gave you a chance to leave my class. That offer’s still open.” Cheung fumed. “Wisteria, do you want to join him?”

  “She wants you to kick her out of the class with Steven,” Yvette said with a slight French accent.

  Several students laughed.

  “Make all her dreams come true,” Melissa Abner added with a snort.

  “Come on Karen, she’s not that desperate,” Hailey responded sympathetically.

  The rest of the class, including Steven, erupted into laughter. In the two and a half years that she’d lived in Smythe, her crush on Steven was a never-ending source of ridicule. Trying to ignore them, she focused her attention on her notebook and scribbled the words, Colista-Bren-Navida-Dor-Elson over and over. She didn’t know what the words meant, but they gave her comfort.

  * * * * *

  Eighteen-year-old Bach looked down from the penthouse balcony of the once-bustling Hunter Tower in Central London. Thirty-one floors below, several of the infected Terrans, or humans, as they preferred to be called, moved through the streets. Why the Terrans created such a sickness astonished Bach. Eighty percent of the population was infected or dead. The infected were now turning on the few who managed to escape the infection.

  Bach’s people, the Family, looked similar to the Terrans. The similarities were only superficial. He considered the Terrans to be even worse than the infected. But in a way, he was glad he was here.

  It was expected that before any male of the Family turned nineteen, they must complete the Great Walk, a thousand day experience away from their home. Granted, Bach did not have to leave his home realm to go to the human’s realm. He could’ve gone to one that didn’t require journeying across the different plains of existence, but he’d come to Terra because he wanted to see this world die. He’d had a horrendous experience with Terrans as a child, around the time his mother died. Now, over a year after arriving into the center of the madness, Bach was tired and bored. He thought the Terrans would be gone by now, but a few of them still held on.

  “How many?” Enric, his friend asked, as he joined him.

  “Seventy-three. Why?”

  “I meant, how many days have
we been on the Great Walk. How much longer until we are declared men?”

  “Six hundred and fifty-nine days gone.”

  “Almost one for each spot on your arm.” He flicked Bach’s arm.

  “My shana are not spots.” Bach remarked.

  “Yes, I know. They are birthmarks that move,” Enric recited.

  Bach had a trail of black marks that ran from his shoulder down past his elbows and disappeared somewhere on his forearms. This was something he and his brothers inherited from their mother. “They do not move,” Bach corrected him.

  “They disappear and reappear, when you are in love,” Enric mocked. “I cannot believe we have been here less than a thousand days.”

  “Are you starting to regret that you have done this with me?”

  “I chose to come on your Great Walk with you, Bach. I could have sailed the Jade Ocean or gone into the Moon Desert, but I came to Terra as your friend. The same way my father came with yours.” Enric leaned over the banister. “I am past regretting this. So, anyone down there I can use? I need a new Thayn.”

  “No, they are all infected.”

  “Are you sure?” Enric peered over the edge. “Not even one you can renew for me?”

  “Why do you need another Thayn?” Bach wasn’t happy that Enric had even one. “What is wrong with the one you have?”

  “Piper,” Enric scoffed and climbed up on the railing next to Bach. “You know how she is.”

  Enric’s Terran, Piper, was unstable to say the least. He renewed her shortly after they arrived; she was his first Thayn. Unfortunately, she didn’t turn out right as he’d done it without having the necessary knowledge. He wouldn’t receive the knowledge until he ascended to the Ino caste after the Great Walk.

  Bach, on the other hand, was born into the Ino caste, so was taught from an early age how to turn free-minded Terrans into devoted Thayns. “She is the way you made her.”

  “The way I made her? If you had renewed her when I asked, then she would be fine and I would not have needed another.”

  “Enric, I do not want Terrans around me,” Bach said angrily.

  “No, she would effectively be my Thayn, once you have directed her to serve me,” Enric said.

  “I do not want Terrans around me,” Bach repeated.

  “Enric, leave Bach alone,” Felip, Bach’s steward interjected as he came into the balcony. “Everyone in the Family knows Bach is allergic to Terrans.”

  “I am sick of this, Bach. Piper has been here for months and you appear fine,” Enric retorted.

  “She is your Thayn. I do not have any need for her.”

  Bach rarely saw Piper. Enric had the sense to keep her away from him.

  “You have Felip.” Enric pointed at the steward. “He is practically Terran.”

  “He is only part Terran and completely one of us.” Bach rubbed his temples in frustration.

  No one spoke about Felip’s mixed heritage. Enric found out during the long walk because Felip required a greater amount of obsidian coral for the journey. Enric initial reaction had been revulsion, but over the last four hundred days, it had improved to irritation.

  The steward’s ancestry was an embarrassment to the Family and especially Bach’s Pillar, the Third Pillar. Bach understood that firsthand, as Felip and he were cousins. Bach’s father, the Sen of the Third Pillar, often referred to Felip as the “great mistake.”

  Bach didn’t know how much Terran was in Felip, but he looked like the rest of the Family, except for his eyes. They weren’t pure green as was the case with the rest of the Family. His green eyes had brown speckles, something his Terran ancestor left with him.

  “Only the Family can take the Great Walk. Felip would not even be here if he was not one of us,” Bach continued.

  That wasn’t entirely true. Bach saw no Terran in Felip and treated him like the Family. Only when Felip completed the Great Walk would he be considered Family in every sense and by everyone. And no one would call Felip a mongrel.

  “Do not concern yourself with me.” Felip laughed, unscathed by Enric’s insults. “I know who I am. I also know Enric’s tetchy because he is having difficulty controlling Piper today. He’ll be fine in a few days.”

  Bach was amazed that Felip was so relaxed. He would’ve thrown Enric off the side of the building if he’d said that to him. A fall off the Hunter Tower wouldn’t hurt Enric, but it would get his annoying friend out of his face, at least for the moment.

  “Piper might be the last Terran we see for months,” Felip replied.

  “This is going to be a very dull walk. I do not see why they believe this will convert you into a man.” Enric groaned.

  “The Seven have their reasons,” Felip stated. “But that is not why I am here. Enric, can you leave us, please?”

  “Bach, you sent Felip with a message to the Sen. I would like to hear what happened,” Enric said. “And any other news from home.”

  Only the Steward was allowed to journey to the home world during the Great Walk. “Enric, when Bach and I are done, I will tell you whatever you need to know.”

  “You decide what I need to know?” Enric glared.

  “No, I will,” Bach retorted.

  Enric nodded and walked out without a word.

  “How is he?” Bach watched the glass door close behind Enric.

  “Your father is very well. He is getting used to his new wife,” Felip replied. “There is nothing really to say about home.”

  “So, why did you ask Enric to leave?”

  “Because, I know how much it infuriates him.” Felip smirked as he walked back and forth on the railing.

  “You need to be careful that Enric does not break your arms.” Bach laughed.

  “He might be strong, but I am smarter.” Felip slumped, but Bach caught him before he fell over the side.

  He dragged Felip back to the safety of the Penthouse and set his friend down on the ground. “What is wrong?”

  “The obsidian coral I used for the journey home was cracked.” Felip attempted to get up. “I forgot to check it before I left.”

  “You went in through the threshold without it? You could have died.”

  The Family used portals, called thresholds, to travel to their realm. Journeying through thresholds drained every one of their essences. The only way to make it through safely was by carrying a certain amount of obsidian coral. Travelling without it promised a painful and prolonged death.

  “I thought I would be fine,” Felip slurred.

  “You should not have provoked Enric so soon after your journey home,” Bach reprimanded. “You should save your energy.”

  “I had to. It is too easy.”

  “Felip…”

  “I will be fine in a few days after I have regenerated.”

  Bach was not comfortable with his answer. His friend looked pale, but he was right. He needed to regenerate. “Felip, this conversation is over. Please go and get some rest.” He ushered his friend into the penthouse.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The following day, Wisteria unlocked the large metal gate outside her home. Sunny days were dangerous, as biters moved better on days like these. She noticed the bean vine creeping over the gate again. If left alone, the violet vine would grow long and thick enough, so anyone could climb in. She saw the plant as a threat to the security of their home.

  There was a constant need to uproot all the plants. Her mother seemed to love the flowers and used it to make lotion, perfume, soap, and a variety of other cosmetics. She unlocked their iron door and entered the house. Her small house on Cooper Road was a smattering of mismatched furniture they’d scavenged over the years.

  “Good evening, Wisteria,” her mother greeted as she walked up behind her.

  Wisteria was surprised her mother was home. When her mother wasn’t out patrolling, tracking, or charting the movement of the biters, she was at town hall giving Major Coles hell. She rarely got in before sunset.

  “Good afternoon, Mum,” she gree
ted her mother.

  “Come here.” Her mother strolled into the living room and she seemed unnaturally pleasant.

  Suspiciously, Wisteria entered the living room and sat down in their overstuffed armchair.

  A tall, blond haired girl with shiny blue eyes walked in and smiled at her. It was Amanda Weiss, a sixteen-year-old refugee who cleared quarantine last week.

  “Hi, Amanda,” Wisteria greeted her.

  “I promised Tammy Hubbard you’d take Amanda to the ration center and get her signed up.” Wisteria’s mother rose and walked out with no please, or even a thank you.

  “I’m glad you made it out of quarantine.” Wisteria tried not to sound irritated.

  All new arrivals went through a week of isolation to see if they were infected.

  “Three didn’t make it out. They were infected,” Amanda muttered.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Wisteria knew the only treatment for the infected was a bullet to the head.

  “Come on, I’ll take you.” Wisteria motioned to Amanda as she made her way out. “Well, what do you think?” Wisteria asked as the girls headed to the town square. “Is our wonderful island what you expected?”

  “It’s hard getting used to sleeping without a weapon in my hands,” Amanda replied. “I’m dying for a hot bath and my cell phone.”

  The internet and mobile phones were distant memories. The only news the community got came from the trading ships and it always conflicted. They were mainly rumors and stories about countries that were disease free, but that always depended on the person. Sometimes, it was Cuba or Mexico, while other times it was Tibet or Australia. Most people believed that Luton Airport was safe, but no one knew how bad things might really be there.

  “Here we are. Our local supermarket.” Wisteria pointed to a detached house where a few people were waiting in line. “This is where we get our rations.”

  “So, everyone gets food here.” Amanda sounded impressed. “Are we getting anything good?”

  “I don’t know, but we get one large allocation a month and a smaller one, once a week. Normally, we get dried meat and tinned or canned vegetables, but it’s always a bit of a surprise.” Wisteria joined the end of the line.