Emily Taylor - The Teenage Mum

by Vi Grim



  Emily Taylor Book 4

  The Teenage Mum

  ©2013 Vi Grim.

  Published by Vi Grim

  Originally Published as ‘Yellow’

  writetovigrim@gmail.com

  Cover photo©Dreamtime

  Inside cover illustration ©Lulu

  All Rights Reserved Worldwide

  1st September 2015 Edition

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please download an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Also published by Vi Grim

  Emily Taylor Book 1- Abducted

  Emily Taylor Book 2- The Slave Girl

  Emily Taylor Book 3 – The Apprentice

 

  1

  Clank, clank, clunk, whoosh, clank, whoosh, tap, tap, clank.

  Cars and buses whoosh by as I skip along the side of the motorway, juggling an empty coke can like I'm Pelé. I kick it at a road sign. It hits target and bounces up in the air in a shower of sparks.

  'Goal!' I shout, raising my hands in the air and dancing about as chips of paint rain down on me like confetti.

  The traffic honks and roars in appreciation as it whooshes by.

  I trap the battered can before it hits the ground, tap it in the air a couple of times then boot it at the next sign.

  Clank!

  Another perfect shot, it hits bang on target and bounces out into the road.

  Boooop!

  A huge juggernaut hoots as it shoots by inches away, blowing my hair into my eyes.

  Its eighteen wheels squash and flatten my can, squishing it into the tar.

  I'm young, like about ten, and wearing the bright yellow summer dress with red strawberries that I wore all that last summer at home. It ain't summer though, more like winter. I blow out dragon's breath into the frosty, grey air. I don't feel the cold, not a bit. I skip down the off ramp heading for home, and bangers and mash, with peas and gravy for dinner.

  Suddenly, horns honk angrily and there’s a screech of tires. Cars and trucks swerve to avoid a huge slimeball that's heading down the lane towards London. A red double-decker bus smashes into it, splattering blue slime all over the place. A lump of sticky, revolting goop slams into my face, knocking me off my feet. I jump back up and run blindly, clawing with my hands to try and get the slime out of my eyes. It stings! I trip and fall heavily, winding myself. Grabbing the hem of my dress I wipe the sticky slime away as I struggle to my feet, gasping for air. I look around. The slimeball is coming straight for me. I'm frozen; my legs won't work. I scream as the slimeball opens its huge mouth, its fangs slicing through me as it hoovers me up.

  The roar of the traffic turns to the booming of surf and I open my eyes and blink in the bright morning light. Everything's blurry, I can't focus. I'm bathed in sweat and panting like a dog. I close my eyes again and breathe deeply, happy to be curled up snugly on my sofa, free from my nightmare.

  I open my eyes again but still can't see properly, just a line of golden sand with shimmering sea blue on one side and tree green on the other. There's a yellow blob on the beach. I rub my eyes and struggle to focus but they won't work. My world stays blurry and the yellow blob, a mystery.

  My body is on fire. The foul, burnt electronics smell of singed hair hangs about me. Remembering what happened, I reach up and feel my head. There's just rough stubble; my hair has gone.

  Scruff is gone too. I'll miss him, stupid dog. And Castor, shot down in flames by the Baron.

  What's happened here on Camillo is worse than my nightmare.

  I spose I'm lucky to be alive. I don't feel it; dead doesn't seem like a bad option at the moment.

  Remembering what happened makes me shudder. The slimeball chased me into the lettuce patch, sunk its fangs in and was gobbling me up when Zeus zapped it. I hate slimeballs, hate them with a passion, they're the most horrible disgusting creatures in the universe.

  Being hit by Zeus's thunderbolt doesn't agree with me either, everything hurts. Even my teeth hurt. It feels like there's a dagger in my side. I reach down. Yes, there's definitely something sticking out. I can't see; my eyes still don't work. I give it a wriggle. Sharp pain bounces around my body. I pass out.

  When I open my eyes again they work better, my world is still fuzzy, but not as blurry as it was. I stare at the yellow blob on the beach trying to make out what it is.

  A head with four spikes sticking up like a crown, comes between me and the yellow thing. ‘Emily would you like a cup of tea?' asks Zeus.

  'I'd kill for a cup of tea. Does it come with an Afghan?'

  'Of course, Earl Grey or Lapsang Suchong?' he asks.

  'Nothing fancy,' I say. 'Gumboot tea, sweet and white, like me, with an Afghan.'

  'You don't look sweet or white,' says Zeus.

  'Oh, and by the way,' I say. 'Thanks for saving me.'

  'It was close,' says Zeus. 'He almost got the lettuces!'

  I swipe at him but it sends such a wave of pain through me that I pass out again.

  When I come to, I have a sip of my luke warm tea. There's lots of sugar in it. He must figure I need sweetening.

  'Are you going to leave that thing sticking out?' asks Zeus.

  'What thing?' I ask.

  Seeming not to hear, Zeus continues, 'You teroids are always sticking things in your bodies, dangly things in your ears, bits of metal through your tummy buttons and nipples and rings and pins and studs, who knows where else.'

  It sounds painful. It is painful, whatever it is.

  'Do you want to keep it?' asks Zeus.

  'Keep what?' I demand grumpily.

  'The slimeball fang stuck in your side. Do you want to leave it there for decoration?'

  I scream.

  'That's a no then,' says Zeus, and grabs the fang and pulls.

  I scream again, knocking over my cup of tea as I struggle to get away.

  'Stop, stop, leave it alone,' I shout, stomping my foot painfully.

  'So you want to keep it then?'

  'No!'

  He goes back into the house leaving me in my painful, blurry world, listening to the sound of the surf.

  Eventually his footsteps return and he puts a warm cup of tea in my hand. I sip silently on it and munch on the Afghan, saving the walnut for last. It's the best bit, but it hurts my teeth to bite it.

  Once I've finished my tea, Zeus says, 'Right, let's pull it out,' and grabs the fang.

  I hit him and he disappears.

  I regret hitting him. The fang stays in, my world remains blurry, and I get sick. I lie on the sofa, listening to the surf, having nightmares about slimeballs and trying to focus on the yellow blob that's appeared on my beach. Negrita curls up beside me. She snarls and scratches when I go to stoke her. Remembering Enzo, I reach into my pocket. He's still there, safe in his cage. I give him a squeeze, reassured by his presence.

  'Is Castor dead?' I ask Pollux.

  'He darn well deserves to be!' answers a hard, unfamiliar voice.

  ''Who are you?' I demand.

  'Renard,' answers the slug, 'I'm Castor's replacement.'

  'So he's dead?'

  'No, but he will be soon, when the sun dries him out.'

  That's it; the yellow on the beach is Castor. I click my fingers and I'm lying on the beach beside him. His skin is dry and cold to touch. I call to him but there's no answer. I click my fingers, the biggest click I can muster.

  Bing!

  I'm back on the sofa and, by the looks of the yellow filling one of the windows and the door; he's in the living room. I strug
gle painfully to my feet and feel around until I find the hose, turn it on and squirt it at the yellow blur.

  'Thanks Em, you're a star,' says Pollux, the other sentry slug.

  'You should have left him to die,' snarls Renard, reproachfully.

  I don't like this new sentry slug.

  I must get the fang out; it's poisoning me. Without thinking, I grab it and pull. The pain makes me throw up but out it pops. I throw it as hard as I can and hear a plop as it splashes in the sea. Blood and stuff flows out, lots of it.

  'Do something, quick!' says Pollux, sounding a bit worried.

  I grab the nearest thing, Negrita and push her against the hole. She snarls and breathes fire then struggles and twists out of my grip and is gone.

  I feel jiggling in my pocket. I reach in and flick open Enzo's cage. He wriggles his way out and pushes against the wound. I cup my hand over him to hide him; I don't want that Renard to see him, I don't trust him.

  'Careful,' cautions Pollux quietly. He doesn't like Renard neither.

  Enzo's touch is cool and squishy, like someone's holding an ice cream against the wound. I can feel all the badness being sucked out. My body goes all light and wobbly and I drift away.

  2

  Slimeballs haunt my dreams. I relive the slimeball chasing me across the paddock, seeing him suck up the panicked sheep and Scruff. In my dream I can hear Scruff yapping and sheep's bells clanging inside it as it pursues me through the sugar cane. Then it's upon me and swallows me up. I expect to be crushed but find myself floating in space with Scruff and the sheep. Scruff barks and yaps and the sheep baa to each other. We gradually drift apart until they're lost from sight and there's just space with the occasional distant clanging of bells. Weird.

  'Shame, shame, the shame of it. I'd rather be dead,' says a familiar voice.

  I wake up slowly. Someone's bandaged my side and covered me with a blanket. Negrita must have forgiven me cos she's curled up at my feet, snarling softly.

  'Shame, oh shame,' continues the voice.

  I look around to see Castor's face filling the window. It's so good to see him alive. I can see, I can see again!

  'I saw your yellow bits,' I tease.

  'Shame, shame, shame, shot down by the Baron. There hasn't been a sentry moon shot down for centuries.'

  'You're useless,' says Renard.

  What a horrible thing to say. I click my fingers and am up in his cockpit. He has mean slanty green eyes that are blood shot around the edges. His face is covered with scars.

  I slap him. 'Shut up!' I yell before he has a chance to say anything. 'If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all.'

  He sniggers at me. I punch him in the face and teleport back to my sofa.

  'Shame, shame, shame,' mumbles Castor.

  'Get over it,' I say, and getting up painfully from the sofa, go across to the window and give him a kiss.

  He blushes and brightens up.

  'I saw your yellow bits,' I tease again. His face drops.

  'Shame, shame.'

  'Oh, do stop that. I didn't really see them, everything was all blurry.' I give him another kiss.

  'You know us slugs are touchy about our yellow bits,' he says, a hint of humour returning to his round face.

  Two blue blobs are coming along the beach. Big round blue blobs with legs and arms, running around, kicking a football.

  'What are you doing?' I ask, when they reach me.

  'Come on, come on,' they say together. 'What are we?'

  'Slimeballs!' I push them over and send them rolling down the lawn to the beach.

  'We've been looking after you,' says Azziz, once they've extracted themselves from their slimeball suits.

  'Thanks,' I say, giving them each a big hug. 'I can't remember anything. Has it been long?'

  'Weeks.'

  I reach up and feel my head. The scabbing has gone and there's short hair, soft like a cat's fur.

  'Let's have a look at our patient then,' says Jesus.

  I shiver in the cool air as he lifts my top up. He gently unwinds the blood-stained bandage which goes around me about twenty times. The wound has scabbed over and looks healthy. Jesus rubs some ointment on it and bandages me up again.

  'What about Castor?' I ask.

  'We hose him down each day and feed him lots of lettuces. We've piled up lots of sugar cane around him. It helps keep the damp in and protects his modesty. Heaven forbid if someone saw his yellow bits! Apart from his dented pride, he's fine now. Just needs a new moon. They're custom made so it takes a while.'

  'The sooner, the better,' I say, rolling my eyes skyward towards Renard.

  'I know what you mean,' says Jesus, giving me a wink. 'We're hurrying them on as much as we can.'

  Pachum, pachum.

  Lasers arc across the sky. Blue burning slime crashes down on top of us.

  Whoomph!

  A slimeball lands in the sugar cane a hundred yards away and charges towards us. I try to open the door but it's blocked by Castor's bulk.

  'Run, run,' yells Azziz, grabbing my hand. We run around the side and in through the back door just as the slimeball slams into my cottage with a mighty thud that sends plaster raining down on us.

  Its face presses against the window and the cottage shakes as it tries to force its way in.

  Pachow!

  The slimeball is zapped.

  'Sorry for the delay,' says Pollux. 'It took me a while to get around to this side.'

  'Canon malfunction,' says Renard laughing. 'It just slipped through.'

  I click my fingers and are back up in Renard's moon. Looking him in the eye, I snarl at him, 'You let that through on purpose,' and hit him as hard as I can.

  When I get back down, Jesus and Azziz are sitting out on my front lawn munching on charred bits of slimeball. They offer me some. 'You really must try it,' says Azziz. 'It's one of those things where you need to acquire the taste, like olives and anchovies.'

  'Laser grilled slime on a bed of lettuce leaves, it simply the best,' says Castor.

  I pick up a lump of slime and throw it at him.

  Maybe I shouldn't have hit Renard. He has his sweet revenge, letting slimeball after slimeball slip through his defences and get to ground on my asteroid.

  I don't like slimeballs. First one nearly ate me and now a dodgy sentry slug is letting them rain down on my asteroid. Azziz and Jesus come to stay with me. As always, it's nice to have their company and they delight in the action when slimeballs get to ground. After a nasty incident where three slimeballs attack the house together, they set up a photon canon by the empty window and we take turns at blasting them when they attack.

  'It's all my fault,' says Castor from under his sugar cane hut. 'I'm so sorry.'

  'Oh Castor, it's not. You can't get things right all of the time. Look at us people, we only get things right once in a while, if we're lucky.'

  'That's what we all like so much about you teroids. You bumble along through life and make amazing things happen. You're not scared to make mistakes.'

  I walk around to the front of the house and give him a big kiss on the cheek.

  Pollux does his best to stop the slimeballs getting through the defences but it takes time for his moon to orbit round to my side. He apologies profusely for Renard, 'I've never seen anything like it, he's almost as bad as the slimeballs. He should be disconnected.'

  'Disconnected?' I ask.

  'Yes! Disconnected from the slug Internet. It's eons since we last had a rouge slug.'

  'No one's disconnecting me!' shouts Renard.

  When he's next overhead, he lets another slimeball through.

  I grab the canon, pick off the slimeball before it hits the ground then fire a couple of shots at his moon. Much to my surprise there's an explosion. Yes, got him!

  'You'll live to regret doing that,' he snarls, as his moon disappears over the horizon trailing black smoke.

  'He deserved that,' says Castor, then adds, 'It might well
be the last we see of him. I've just heard that my moon's ready. Thanks for everything.'

  He disappears and a few moments later a gleaming new sentry moon appears overhead.

  I'm itching to go and visit but hold back because I'm sure he needs time to get familiar with his new moon. After a minute and a half, I can't wait any longer and with a click of my fingers, I'm up there.

  'You took your time,' says Castor, as I look around his cockpit. 'It's an SM6. The SM5 had new weapons systems; this one has better ergonomics and thermal shielding.'

  'Ergonomics!' I say. 'How can you put ergonomic and slug in the same sentence?'

  'It's so comfy,' he says, giving a little involuntary shiver that shakes the whole moon. 'In the old Mark III, I just sort of squidged in. The old ones came in two halves like a seashell, you slithered in and it closed up. This one's based on a snail shell, my yellow bits fit perfectly inside the spiral. I guess snails have been onto it for a long time. You never hear them complain about cramps or going dry.'

  Looking down at Camillo, I can see lines mown through the forests and prairie by the slimeballs. 'What a mess,' I say, shaking my head.

  'It'll grow back.'

  Remembering my horse, I ask, 'Is Trigger okay?'

  'He's fine, he might be a little long in the tooth but he can still outrun a slimeball. There he is.' Castor zooms in on Jesus's vege patch where Trigger is munching his way through the Brussel sprouts.

  I never did like sprouts.

  'If he goes near the lettuces I'll fire a laser at him,' says Castor, his eyes dancing with humour. He is happy with his new moon.

  'I must be going,' I say, and give him a peck on the cheek.

  'Don't forget to plant plenty of lettuces when you get back in your garden.'

  'I'll wait to the end of the month, until it's a bit warmer,' I reply.

  'Don't forget the glass house.'

  'All right then, tomorrow!'

  3

  It's nice to be back in my garden, I work away, enjoying the winter sunshine. Castor clears the rotting remnants of the slimeball with a quasar torpedo, splattering it around the garden. The zinodes work on replacing the fence with a high, reinforced concrete, slimeball proof wall. I think it's more to protect the slug's lettuces, than to protect me. At first it looks a little ugly but now they've covered it with stonework, it looks much better. When the bougainvillea they've planted covers it up, it'll look great.