by Susan Gates
‘After much consideration,’ the Prime Minister was saying, ‘my family and I have decided that being Verdan is the obvious, indeed the only choice. We’ve been given an opportunity to put things right and repair the damage that we have done as humans. We must seize that opportunity! My ministers and other world leaders agree with me. This is a global movement. A chance for people, of whatever creed or colour, to join together to become new, purer life forms, and save our planet!’
There was wild cheering in the background.
Other photos were flashed up on the screen of leaders across the world, entire governments, who’d all become Verdans.
Then there were interviews with Verdans on the street, in London.
‘Of course,’ said a Verdan woman, ‘it’s everyone’s free choice, and I’m not prejudiced against humans. And we’ll never force anyone. But I do want to say this to anyone who’s still human: How can you carry on polluting the planet with your waste products, breathing CO2 into the atmosphere? It’s dirty and selfish…’
Dad switched off the programme, snorting in disgust. ‘Looks like we’re the bad guys now, son. It’s me and you against the world.’
Jay said, ‘Look, Dad, maybe she’s got a point – ’
‘What? Are you turning against me too?’
‘I’m just saying! Why can’t we even talk about it?’
‘I bet you’re disappointed, really, aren’t you?’ shouted Dad. ‘That those two chances you had of going Verdan didn’t work!’
Jay threw down his half-eaten burger and got up.
‘Where are you going?’ demanded Dad.
‘I’m going to get the sign. Time to close up.’ Jay walked out of the Diner.
Dad yelled after him, ‘You’re coming back, aren’t you?’ To Jay’s surprise, Dad’s voice sounded suddenly desperately lonely and insecure.
‘Course I’m coming back,’ Jay told him. ‘Where else can I go?’
Jay carried the ‘OPEN’ sign back up the slip road. The setting sun washed the whole landscape with a fiery glow. The tangled weeds and tall grasses of their little plot seemed to be burning.
A green hand shot out of the vegetation and seized Jay’s wrist.
Jay dropped the sign. ‘Get off!’ He tried to twist himself free.
Viridian slithered out of the bushes. ‘Shhh,’ he said. ‘Your lives are in danger. They’re coming. Be quick.’
He dragged Jay towards the trailer, his grip like a vice. He seemed to have become taller, stronger. His skin had a glossy, dark green sheen, and he wore camouflage trousers and a green T-shirt.
Dad leapt up in surprise as the two of them almost fell in the door.
‘You’ve got a cheek,’ he spat, glaring furiously at Viridian. ‘Showing your green face again around here. And what are you doing dressed like that? Think you’re some kind of action man?’
Viridian stared Dad down contemptuously. He said, ‘The Cultivars are coming. Jay’s got about fifteen minutes to live. And they’ll probably kill you too.’
‘What?’ said Dad, shocked out of his anger. ‘Why do they want to kill Jay?’
‘Because he’s an Immune,’ said Viridian. ‘And all Immunes must be terminated.’
‘An Immune,’ echoed Jay, in a dazed voice.
‘Yes, you can’t catch the plant virus,’ said Viridian, impatiently.
At last everything began to make sense. It wasn’t because of antiseptic, or a dud batch of virus that he didn’t get infected.
‘I’m immune,’ Jay repeated, in an awed voice.
‘But why do they want to kill him?’ persisted Dad.
‘Look, there’s no time for all this now,’ Viridian said, urgently. ‘Just take my word for it. If you don’t do as I say, you’re both going to die.’
Dad opened his mouth to argue.
‘Just listen to him, Dad,’ Jay begged.
‘I persuaded the Cultivars to let me go ahead, scout around,’ Viridian went on. ‘But they’re not far behind. They’ll be here soon – ’
Dad interrupted. ‘Why should we believe you? You’re one of them, aren’t you? This could be a trap.’
Viridian turned to Jay. ‘Do you think you’d have escaped this morning if it hadn’t been for me? I let you out of the circle. I made sure you weren’t pursued. Blood brothers, remember. Even if you are an Immune.’
Jay’s guts felt like water. He was in an agony of indecision. Did he trust Viridian or didn’t he?
He stared into Viridian’s eyes. Their depths glittered, with pure green fire that seemed almost sacred. Jay had to tear his own eyes away.
And he suddenly found that he’d made up his mind.
‘I believe him, Dad. He’s here to help us.’
Dad muttered something they couldn’t make out. Then he said, ‘OK. I’m listening.’
‘Right,’ said Viridian. ‘You’ll have to blow up the Silver Bullet.’
‘What?’ said Dad, outraged. ‘You must be joking.’
‘The only way to survive,’ said Viridian, ‘is if I can convince the Cultivars you’re dead. You have to blow up the trailer, drive away, find somewhere to hide. I’ll tell them you died in the explosion.’
‘I’m not going to blow up my trailer,’ said Dad. ‘It cost me every penny I’ve got. If they’re coming, we’ll defend it. We’ll fight them off.’
‘Don’t be stupid,’ said Viridian. ‘There’s twenty of us at least.’
‘How many?’ said Dad, appalled.
‘Twenty,’ repeated Viridian. ‘They’re coming across the fields from the Research Station.’
‘We don’t stand a chance, Dad,’ said Jay.
‘Look, if you want to save Jay’s life, you have to act now,’ said Viridian. ‘Once they’re here, there’s nothing I can do to stop them. They’ll kill him immediately, no question.’
‘Will they have guns?’ asked Dad.
‘No, we don’t believe in them. We’re working on proper Verdan weapons. But even without them, Cultivars can easily deal with two puny humans.’
Dad didn’t even react to the insult. The thought of blowing up the Silver Bullet was more than he could bear. He appealed to Jay one last time. ‘You sure you believe him? I just don’t see why – ’
Viridian interrupted. ‘Stop wasting time. If they don’t think he’s dead they’ll hunt him down. He’s an Immune. Wherever he goes, they’ll find him.’
‘If we just tow the trailer, go far enough away from Franklin…’
Viridian flashed Dad a scornful look. ‘There are Cultivars all over the world,’ he said. ‘A network, in contact all the time. We’re getting ready to take control. We’ll take the Verdan revolution to new heights.’
Dad stared into Viridian’s fanatical green eyes. ‘What the hell does all that mean?’
‘Look, there’s only one question for you to worry about,’ said Viridian. ‘Do you want to save your son’s life or don’t you?’
Dad gave a deep, grieving sigh, as if he’d finally realized there was no other way. Then, at last, he sprang into action.
‘Jay, load up the van. Take all the food you can find. Not the freezer stuff. Cans of stuff we can eat cold. And soft drinks.’
While Dad raced back into the Silver Bullet, grabbing clothes, duvets, anything else they might need, Jay filled his arms with cans from the shipping container: beans, sardines, canned fruit, custard. He came staggering back to the van to dump it in, then made the same trip again and again.
Viridian didn’t help. He stood gazing out towards Franklin over fields flushed red by the light of the dying sun.
‘No time to load any more,’ he said. ‘They’re coming.’
At first, Dad and Jay could only make out a green blur in the distance, a mile or so away. It looked like trees. But then those trees began to move. They were Cultivars. Like alien invaders, they came marching across the fields.
‘Come on, Dad,’ said Jay. ‘We have to go.’
Dad drove the van to the slip road. He r
aced back, and got a big can of petrol out of the generator building.
‘I’ll do it, Dad,’ said Jay.
‘No,’ ordered Dad, in a choked voice. ‘Go and sit in the van. Start it up.’
Jay sat in the van with the engine running and watched Dad, through the open door of the Diner, pouring petrol everywhere.
Viridian ran to the van, in an easy, wolf-like lope. Jay opened the window.
‘Give me your phone,’ ordered Viridian. ‘I’ll contact the leader, delay them a few minutes.’
Jay handed over his mobile. Then Viridian was gone, diving into the green wilderness around the edge of their plot.
Dad hurried back to the van, walking backwards, pouring a steady stream of petrol. Then he knelt down, sparked a match and lit the petrol. Flames flared up and went speeding along the petrol trail towards the Silver Bullet. Dad leapt in the van.
‘I left the gas taps wide open,’ he told Jay.
The stove was fuelled with propane gas. When the petrol flames ignited the gas there’d be an almighty bang.
Dad took a last quick glance back. Then they were speeding down the slip road.
They were on the motorway when the Silver Bullet went up. Even in the van, they heard the muffled boom. In the van mirrors, they saw a brilliant white fireball behind them in the evening sky, then a pillar of black smoke rising and spreading out into a mushroom cloud.
For a few minutes, neither of them spoke.
Then Jay said, ‘Dad, I’m really sorry.’
‘I don’t want to talk about it, OK?’
They drove on in silence. Dad gripping the steering wheel with bone-white knuckles, staring grimly ahead.
Finally, Jay said, ‘Dad, where are we going?’
Dad’s voice, when he finally answered, was quiet. He said, ‘Not far. What’s the point if there are Cultivars wherever we go?’
‘So where are we going then?’
‘Somewhere dark,’ answered Dad. ‘Verdans hate the dark.’
A minute later, he added, ‘Did I hear that green freak right? Did he say something about you and him being blood brothers?’
‘No, Dad,’ said Jay, his nerves jumping even more than they were already. ‘He didn’t say anything like that.’
Dad let the subject drop. Jay breathed a sigh of relief.
* * *
The Cultivars crowded around the crater where the Silver Bullet had exploded. Wispy smoke rose from its black, skeletal remains at the bottom of the gaping pit. Smouldering debris and glass shards lay scattered among the chairs and tables. The ‘OPEN. Best Burgers in England’ sign had been blown into a tree.
The generator building had gone up too. Bricks had been hurled all over the Rainbirds’ plot. Only the shipping container was still standing, its metal sides scorched black by the ferocious heat.
Viridian stood with the Cultivar’s leader, Teal. She was the one who’d recruited him for the Cultivar programme. She’d approached him on the streets, soon after he’d become a Verdan.
She’d said, ‘I’m from an elite group of Verdans called Cultivars. We aren’t content just to have chlorophyll skin. We want to take being Verdan to its furthest limits. Want to join us?’
And Viridian had said, immediately, ‘Count me in.’
Viridian had excelled as a Climber, a trainee Cultivar. The small doses of artificial sunshine he’d been allowed while training had sharpened his aggression, made him hungry for more. In record time he’d won his purple belt and been made a Cultivar.
Then things had really started happening.
Teal and the Verdan scientists carried out experiments on Viridian and the other Cultivars. They had changed Viridian’s body with extra sunlight and gene therapy, making him greener, taller, stronger than other Verdans. But they had also changed his mind. Verdans were gentle and peaceable. But Cultivars were as tough and competitive as the world’s most successful plants. Plants like Japanese knotweed. Or nettles. Or bramble that stole other plants’ nutrients, shaded them from the life-giving sun, strangled and killed them with its spiny arms so it alone could thrive.
Viridian had known for a while that he’d have to get rid of Teal. Once she was out of the way, he’d take her place as Franklin’s top Cultivar. And that was only the start of his ambitions.
But until today, he hadn’t been sure how to eliminate her. Not until he’d realised Jay gave him the perfect way to do it.
‘Looks like a gas explosion,’ said Teal looking down into the crater. ‘Was it an accident? Nobody could have survived that.’
‘That’s what we’re supposed to think,’ said Viridian. ‘That it was an accident. That they died in the blast. But go and search in the wreckage. You won’t find their bodies.’
‘So what happened?’ said another Cultivar.
‘I saw them, the Immune and his father,’ said Viridian. ‘They rigged up the trailer to explode. Then they escaped in a van. I would’ve stopped them but I had to take cover.’ He addressed the crowd of Cultivars. ‘The thing is, either they were really lucky, escaping in the nick of time. Or someone warned the Immune we were coming.’
‘Warned an Immune?’ said Teal. ‘Who would do that? You’re not saying it was one of us?’
‘I’ve suspected for a while,’ said Viridian, ‘that there are spies among us. Immune sympathisers.’
‘Immune sympathisers? That’s madness,’ said Teal. ‘We all know Immunes must be killed. Or else everything we’ve gained will be lost.’
‘But that’s just what some of us secretly wish for,’ said Viridian in silky smooth tones. ‘To go back to the bad old days.’
The other Cultivars looked sideways at each other. They were murmuring doubtfully. But Viridian was powerful, a brilliant rising star. No one dared cross him.
Except Teal.
‘I don’t believe it,’ she burst out, her green eyes fiery. ‘I’m senior to you, Viridian. I recruited you. I won’t have you spreading dangerous rumours. Be quiet, unless you have proof that one of us warned him!’
‘Oh, I have proof,’ said Viridian, softly. ‘It’s here, on the Immune’s phone. He dropped it, as they were escaping.’
He held up Jay’s mobile for them to see. ‘The traitor’s number is on this phone, showing they were in contact. He also texted her about twenty minutes ago, to tell her everything had gone according to plan.’
‘Her?’ said Teal.
She gazed into Viridian’s triumphant eyes, then looked at the number on the screen of the phone he held. And for the first time, she began to feel afraid.
She grabbed her mobile from the pocket of her combat trousers. It had been switched off, like all the Cultivars’ phones, as they marched over the fields.
She switched it on.
‘I think you’ll find,’ said Viridian, as he snatched the phone from her, ‘that the Immune’s message is in your inbox.’
‘That’s no proof!’ said Teal. Her voice sounded desperate. She saw that the Cultivars had moved away as if they didn’t want to be contaminated. Now she was standing alone.
‘I have much more proof,’ said Viridian. Every Cultivar was quiet, listening. He had them hooked. ‘It’s on your laptop back at the Research Station. All sorts of sickening stuff about how Immunes must be saved and the virus must be eliminated.’
‘You’ve hacked into my computer,’ whispered Teal. ‘I didn’t write that.’
She realized, with a flash of pure terror, that she’d totally underestimated what a dangerous and ruthless rival Viridian was. But it was too late now.
‘No more lies,’ said Viridian. He turned his eyes, glowing with conviction, to the other Cultivars. ‘Arrest the traitor.’
Two Cultivars moved alongside Teal. Each grasped one of her arms.
‘What about the Immune?’ asked another Cultivar.
‘Catch him and kill him. Death to all Immunes. Now I’m in charge here, things will change. There’ll be nowhere for Immunes to hide.’
‘And what about spies
and Immune Sympathisers?’ asked the other Cultivar.
‘They must be Etiolated,’ said Viridian. ‘Without mercy.’
Chapter 6
Dad drove like a maniac. It was lucky there weren’t any police cars about. In fact, there wasn’t much traffic at all.
‘Where are all the lorries?’ said Jay, gazing down the eerily empty motorway. He was worried for about two seconds because truck drivers were their main customers. Until he remembered that Rainbirds Diner didn’t exist any more.
Dad said, ‘There’s no lorries because there’s no deliveries. Businesses all over the world must be going bust. What do Verdans need to buy? Nothing.’
‘Except minerals,’ said Jay, pointing to a tanker trundling down a slip road. It said, ‘NITRATES’ on the side.
‘They don’t even need to buy those,’ said Dad. ‘They can get them by licking rocks. Get down!’
Dad took one hand off the wheel, slammed it on top of Jay’s skull and shoved him down out of sight. ‘It’s OK, he’s gone,’ said he added after a minute, lifting his hand.
‘What did you do that for?’ said Jay, rubbing his head.
‘That trucker was a Verdan. And those green freaks want to kill you. I don’t understand why. I don’t understand anything any more.’
‘But the Cultivars aren’t after me now,’ protested Jay. ‘I’m dead, aren’t I? They think we died in the explosion.’
‘Yeah,’ said Dad. ‘That’s provided Viridian told them, like he said he would.’
‘Why don’t you trust Viridian? He helped us, didn’t he?’
‘I don’t trust any of those green freaks,’ said Dad grimly. ‘So far as I’m concerned it’s us against them.’
Soon Dad turned off onto a side road, then another. Then the van was bouncing along a track, its wheels crunching on stones. They crossed hilly scrubland, dotted with gorse bushes and twisted, stunted trees. A misty twilight covered the landscape, making everything grey and blurred.
‘Funny looking hills,’ said Jay, just to break the silence. They were conical, with rounded tops, like hills a child would draw.
‘They’re not natural hills,’ said Dad. ‘They’re old slag heaps.’
