Oh shit!
It’s a police car!
Before the cop can get his door open, I bolt along the pavement, and then down another narrow lane.
My legs are aching again, but I keep moving, like a fly dodging a swatter.
At the end of the lane, a taxi almost clips me as I sprint across another road. My eyes are locked onto a small row of houses just a few yards up ahead. Clearing the low wall of the first house, I land in a garden. The sound of cars and people fades a little when I force open a wooden garden gate. Just as I reach the back of the house, I’m met with the loud barks of a Rottweiler. It propels itself at me from across the patio, so I catch its throat with both hands and twist its neck until the barking disappears. For a split second, I think about feeding on the animal, but then a porch light comes on and I’m over the six-foot fence and running down another lane.
At the end of the lane, there’s a sign for the train station. I follow it, barging through another group of men and women.
A police car whizzes by. Then a second. I glance back, but they don’t stop, so I carry on, passing a set of traffic lights and more shops.
A moment of relief hits me when I see the train station.
But that relief quickly disperses when I’m met with a set of iron gates, and a giant padlock attached to the centre.
I pull on the lock; it doesn’t budge. In a temper, I shake the gates; the loud rattle echoes into the night, drawing even more attention to me.
I look down at my hands as I move them away from the gates. They’re trembling. I place one of them over my chest to feel my heart as it thrashes.
To the left, there are two large wheelie-bins pushed together. Legs in agony, I limp over to the bins, push them apart, and then crawl between them. I sit against the metal fence and then pull my knees into my chest, hugging them tightly.
I close my eyes, picture Mum and Jared before I butchered them, and I start to sob.
27
“Thea!” a voice calls out, snapping me out of a half-trance. I lift my heavy head and peer through the gap between the bins. There’s a car parked up on the curb. I wipe my tear-soaked eyes and try to focus on the vehicle. Is it a police car?
The bins start to separate, the tiny wheels screeching along the concrete.
“Get in the car,” Kate says, holding out a hand.
For a brief second I remain still, struggling to think of a reason not to take it. But in defeat, I reach up and grab it. She pulls me to my feet and walks me over to the passenger side of her car; my legs still sore as I climb onto the seat.
Kate looks at me briefly, and then checks her mirror and we head off down the road.
My body is tired, my mind even more so. Too exhausted, too broken, even to feel anger. I can barely think straight let alone speak, so I rest my head against the window, and keep my mouth shut.
As I watch the road become narrower, eventually becoming a dirt track, I think about Mum lying on the carpet, bleeding to death. I push the memory to the back of my mind and force myself into a numb state. It’s easier this way. Maybe it’s time to accept my fate, accept that there’s no hope, no family, and no home to go to. This is my life now. Kate accepted her fate a long time ago. I need to do the same.
We’re monsters.
And monsters should live in the shadows.
By the time we arrive at the farm, the sky has turned a shade of purple. The sunrise is almost here. Kate drives the car into the barn and shuts off the engine. We glance at each other for a moment, but still remain silent because no words can truly sum up this nightmare.
It just is what it is.
As I climb out of the car, my jelly legs buckle, so I grab hold of the door. Kate races over to me, wraps her arm around my shoulder and walks me into the house. I scan the living room. I’ve only been gone a few hours and already the place feels strange, as if I’ve been away for years. It even smells different, like the scent of someone else’s clothes.
She steers me up the stairs and into my bedroom. In my head, the room morphs into my old bedroom, from back home. Light pink walls, pretty white desk with papers and pens scattered across the surface, old soft toys resting on top of the wardrobe, and light blue curtains hanging over the window. But then the curtains disintegrate, revealing just a boarded-up window. The rest of the room follows, changing back into this lifeless, wooden prison cell.
I pull the quilt over me, and rest my iron head against the pillow. Kate is still standing in the doorway, gazing at me, probably wondering if I’m going to run again.
I think she knows the answer to that.
“I’m not a bad person,” Kate says.
Her words seem alien, like neither of us has spoken for years.
“I just fuck up sometimes,” she continues. “But I only wanted to keep you safe. You’re just a kid—a smart one—but still a kid nonetheless. And no fourteen-year-old should have to deal with losing a mother the way you did.”
My chin starts to shudder again.
“I had the chance to block the memory from you—and I took it. And if I had the chance again, then I’d probably do the same.”
I bring the quilt up to my mouth to hide my anguish.
“I may never understand why your mother did what she did,” Kate says. “All I know for certain is that she loved you and Ivy more than anything in the world. So whatever her reasons, no matter how crazy, how deluded, she must have done it out of desperation.”
I don’t respond. I can’t. My words are drowning in tears.
Kate releases a drawn-out breath and then sniffs loudly. “Well, that’s all I’ve got to say on the subject. I don’t have all the answers for you; all I have is your back. And you’ve got that for life.”
I almost say Thank You, but nothing leaves my lips.
“Good night, Thea,” Kate says as she steps onto the landing, closing the door behind her. “Sweet dreams.”
My eyes don’t leave the door until I finally close them and drift off to sleep.
28
“Ivy?” I call out, croakily, half-asleep, my vision clouded over.
“No, sweetheart,” Mum replies, softly, walking over to my bedside, “it’s Mum.”
“I thought you were Ivy,” I whisper, eyes stinging as the haze slowly lifts.
“I didn’t mean to wake you. I was just turning the TV off.”
“I had another dream,” I say, quietly. “About Ivy.”
Mum sits on the edge of the bed and gently strokes my hair. “Did you, sweetheart? What happened?”
“We were playing in the garden.”
“That sounds nice,” she says with a smile. It must be forced because she’s been crying again; her lips are puffy and her eyes are bloodshot.
I shake my head. “She was being mean to me. Telling me that it was my fault that she died.” I suddenly burst into tears, my stomach and chest tightening as the sadness ripples through me. “It was horrible.”
I hug her tightly. “Don’t cry. It was just a dream. It was no one’s fault.”
Mum shushes me delicately for a few minutes, but it does nothing to drive away the agony.
“Do you want to sleep in my bed tonight?” she asks me.
I nod against her chest.
Mum picks me up and carries me into her bedroom. She lays me on her bed, pulls the quilt over me, and then climbs in next to me. I close my eyes, but I’m not sleeping. I can’t get Ivy out of my head, and the dismay of never seeing her again. It doesn’t feel real. None of this does.
The sound and rhythm of Mum’s slow, gentle breathing starts to soothe me, sending me almost to sleep. It makes me feel safe—even after everything. I wish I could ease her pain. I wish I could bring back her old smile, and the way she used to snort like a pig when she laughed.
I wish…
I forgive you, Mum.
And I still love you with all my heart. I wish you were still here; I wish life had been kinder to you. But I promise to go on living, to stay true to mys
elf. You gave me life, gave me love, and I promise to hold on to it tightly. And I promise to hold on to you and Ivy’s memories, too. Not the bad stuff, just the good times. Just the fun times.
So, good night, Mum. Sweet dreams wherever you are.
I miss you…
Eyes still closed, I wake with a smile on my face, the memory of Mum still warm in my chest. I try to hang on to the dream, to her smell, the feel of her arms wrapped around me, her voice in my ear, whispering that everything will be all right.
It will be…
I finally open my eyes and my smile melts because there’s a tall man standing over me, holding a white cloth.
Oh shit!
He leaps onto me, holding the cloth over my mouth and nose.
It smells like nail-vanish remover, only sweeter.
I start to feel lightheaded.
Using both knees, I lift him off me and launch him to the side of the mattress. He lands with a loud thud, but then quickly rolls onto his feet, grabbing my ankles. I kick out wildly, but my legs feel weak.
What the fuck was on the cloth?
I watch the ceiling through half-open eyelids as I’m dragged across the floor, my bare heels scraping along the rough wood.
Stay awake!
Just as my body passes through the doorframe, I hear a cracking sound. Coming to a stop, I raise my head and find the man down on the floor; his back against the landing wall, his head slumped forward and his eyes shut.
“Get up, Thea,” Kate says with grave urgency. She reaches down and hauls me to my feet. My legs start to give way, so she wraps her arms around my waist to steady me.
“They’ve chloroformed you,” she says as she guides me over to her bedroom. “A high dose. You’d be out cold if you were human.”
“Who is he?” I ask in a panic as the effects begin to wear off.
“I don’t know,” she replies as we step over another man, mid-forties, wearing a black beanie-hat and a blue overall, lying motionless on her bedroom floor.
“Police?”
Kate shakes her head as she walks over to the boarded window. “Hunters.” She breaks off a tiny piece of wood letting in a thin beam of sunlight. “They’ve found us.” She puts her eyes over the gap in the wood, and then quickly retracts it. She winces in agony as her sweltering eye socket starts to heal in seconds. “There’s a white 4x4 parked out front.”
My heart is pounding against my chest as the nerves take over. “Oh shit! Is there anyone else out there?”
“I couldn’t see anyone, but I only had a quick look.”
I start to hyperventilate. “It’s all my fault.”
“It’s not your fault, Thea.”
“Yes, it is. I should have never run off last night. Someone must have followed us.”
Kate grabs my hand and pulls me out of the room, back onto the landing. “It’s got nothing to do with you. We should have never stayed here this long.”
“But if I—”
She shushes me. “We need to check the rest of the house,” she whispers, prodding the bathroom door open with her foot. The broken door creaks open revealing an empty room. She goes over to the window, peels off another piece of wood, and then glances outside.
“Fuck!” she mutters, holding her singed eye.
“What did you see?” I ask, frantically.
She pushes past me, heading back onto the landing. “Another car,” she replies, staring up at the attic hatch.
My stomach churns with nerves. “How many people?”
She glances down the stairs, and then at the hatch again. “I couldn’t see any.”
“What are we going to do?” I ask. “Hide up the attic?”
Kate kneels beside the man from my bedroom. “No. We’ll be cornered up there. They could set fire to the house.” She empties the contents of his jeans pockets.
“What are you looking for?” I ask, just as she pulls out a small knife from his inside jacket pocket.
“Check the other guy?” she quietly orders me, pointing at her bedroom.
I nod, and then make my way over to him. Just before I kneel next to him, I ask, “What if he wakes up?”
Kate stands up, shaking her head. “Not likely.”
From his pockets, I scoop out a wallet, some loose coins and a mobile phone. Still tight between his dead-fingers is a white cloth. Chloroform again. I almost sniff it to make sure, but stop myself.
“Anything?” Kate asks, standing over me. “Car keys maybe?”
“No. Just the chloroform.”
Kate lets out a frustrated sigh.
“What now?” I ask, springing to my feet. “Make a run for it?”
“No. We’ll never find shelter fast enough. We’re gonna have to make a dash for one of the cars.”
I give her a terrified nod.
Kate creeps over to the top of the stairs. “I want you to wait right here,” she whispers, pointing at the floor. “Understood?”
“You can’t go down there alone,” I say too loudly, grabbing her arm. “It’s too dangerous.”
She pulls her arm free and then takes my hand. “Don’t worry about me. Just stay put—no matter what.”
“What if something happens to you? I’ll be left on my own.”
Kate looks at me, her eyes wide with focus. “Nothing’s going to happen to me. They’re just hunters. Most of them are fucking idiots. I mean, look at them.” She motions with her head at the two dead men behind me. “They brought chloroform to a vampire fight. That’s got to be one of the dumbest things ever.” She hands me the knife. “Take this.”
“What about you?”
“I won’t need it,” she replies, turning to face the staircase. She takes a deep breath and slowly makes her way down towards the living room, one hand on the banister, the other balled up into a fist.
Crippled by dread, sweat running down my face, I watch as she edges towards the foot of the stairs. She stops when she reaches the bottom step, and then quickly scans the kitchen and living room.
“Anything?” I whisper.
Kate turns to me with a deep grimace. “Keep quiet. They could still be—”
A deafening bang ripples through the house, causing me to stumble backwards in fright. With ringing ears, I see Kate, clutching her stomach, screaming in agony as blood pours from between her fingers.
I race down to her, but then fly back when the front door suddenly opens, letting in an explosion of sunlight. Covering my face with burning arms, I scurry up the stairs, out of its path.
“Kate!” I scream.
After a few seconds, I hear the front door slamming shut, and then the furnace disappears. I open my throbbing eyes. Kate has vanished—and there’s a man standing at the foot of the stairs, with short-brown hair, holding a shotgun by his side.
“I’m not gonna hurt you,” the man calmly says. “I just want—”
In a rage, I leap down the stairs towards him. I can hear the breath leave his lungs and his ribs crack as my knees connect with his chest. As my entire weight pins him to the floor, the gun flies from his grip, skidding into the living room. He reaches for the wooden handle, so I grab his wrist and snap it like a twig. Screaming out in agony, he bucks his hips and drives a knee into my lower back. I don’t flinch. Instead, I ram fist after fist into his face, crushing his nose, breaking his jaw, and cracking every tooth in his mouth.
Die you bastard!
Just fucking die!
But then I stop suddenly, nearly forgetting about Kate. Opening the front door, the blazing light hits me in the face, burning my eyes again. Grasping the doorframe, my body in agony, I feel the skin on my fingers begin to melt.
“Kate!”
I close my eyes and step outside, but the pain is too much to take. Returning to the house, I move away from the doorway, out of the sun. I notice my jacket, draped over the couch. Leaping over the comatose man, I race over to it, grab it and pull it over my head.
“I’m coming, Kate!” I roar as I dash outs
ide again, using the jacket as a shield.
Kate is sitting against the apple tree; her head slumped forward, drool hanging from her mouth, smoke coming off her red and blistered skin. Across her bleeding stomach is a piece of thick rope, secured to the tree.
Parked up in front of her is the white 4x4, with blacked-out windows. There’s a bald man, standing over Kate, watching as her body sizzles.
“Let her go, you fucking bastard!” I growl, struggling to walk; each muscle seizing as the heat overwhelms me.
Kate slowly lifts her head and looks at me. “Go, Thea,” she mumbles through severely scalded lips. “Run for the trees.”
“No!” I scream as my knees buckle. “I’m not leaving you!”
Drained of energy, I start to crawl along the concrete path, my jacket hanging over my face, obscuring my vision.
“Go!” Kate cries. But I keep moving—inch by inch, my fingernails scraping against the concrete path.
I hear the bald man laughing. I want to smash his head in. Rip his throat clean out. Drain every last drop of—
Something slams into the back of my head. My body collapses into a heap, mouth hanging open, my vision clouded.
Someone takes hold of my wrists and then drags me across the ground, towards the 4x4. With one half-open eye, I see the man’s bleeding, broken face. It’s the prick with the shotgun.
I should have killed the bastard!
The bald man opens the back door of the car, and I’m flung onto the seat.
The door slams.
“Let her go!” I say, my words croaky, my eyes shut. “She’s my friend.”
I somehow manage to throw my limp body at the door, and press my face against the window. I see Kate through the darken glass.
She’s on fire!
“You bastards! Let her go!”
My scorched fingertips reach for the door handle, but my wrist is too lifeless even to clutch it. I twist my head, hoping to find an escape route through one of the front doors. But I’m caged in; a thick strip of metal mesh is separating me.
Kate!
The two men climb into the car and we drive off. Even through the rumble of the engine, Kate’s screams are deafening.
Thea (Book 2): A Vampire Story Page 11
