The Ferals - Book One of the Ferals Trilogy

The Ferals

Book one in the Ferals Trilogy

Publisher: Leigh Clapham

2019

Copyright © 2019 by Leigh Clapham

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review or scholarly journal.

First Printing: 2019

ISBN 978-0-244-20212-5

Leigh Clapham

Woden Street

Salford, Greater Manchester, M5 4UU

Ordering Information:

Special discounts are available on quantity purchases by corporations, associations, educators, and others. For details, contact the publisher at the above listed address.

U.S. trade bookstores and wholesalers: Please contact Leigh Clapham Email: [email protected]

For Taegan. Keep reading.

Acknowledgements

I would like to thank Rob, who diligently guided, proofed, and encouraged me, and Sam, who was the first person brave enough to give it a go.

Contents

The Ferals

Acknowledgements

Chapter 1: The Flu

Chapter 2: Hospital

Chapter 3: Arrival

Chapter 4: Death

Chapter 5: The Plan

Chapter 6: The Coffee Shop

Chapter 7: Graveyard

Chapter 8: The Traitors Head

Chapter 9: Them

Chapter 10: Transformation

Chapter 11: Snow

Chapter 12: The Valley

Chapter 13: Village First

Chapter 14: Hamlet

Chapter 15: Raid

Chapter 16: Ruined

Chapter 1: The Flu

Ryan stood in the back garden, his head arched back as he took in the scene. It was a chilly night but he’d had the forethought to throw a coat on before venturing out; even so he kept his arms crossed and was dancing around on the spot to keep the feeling in his toes.

He’d tracked only one so far, but he knew there would be more.

The garden was suddenly illuminated by the kitchen light coming on and he spun around to see his mum pottering around by the sink.

‘Mum, come here a minute!’

She swung the window open, ‘What you doing out there?’

She’d clearly just come out of the bath; a towel was wrapped around her head and a thick furry dressing gown his brother and he had bought her for Mother’s Day was wrapped tightly around her.

‘Come see!’

‘No, it’s bloody freezing out there!’

‘Trust me, just come out for a minute, you won’t regret it.’

She hesitated a moment, then pulled a face that made it clear it would only be for a moment.

He returned his gaze skyward and saw two more in quick succession streak through the black.

The satisfying crunch of frosted grass underfoot signalled his mother’s approach.

‘So, what am I looking at?’

He pointed, ‘Shooting stars.’

As if on cue a half dozen or so white trails flashed momentarily through the sky.

‘Oh Ryan, aren’t they beautiful.’

He just smiled.

They stood in silence for a few minutes and watched as increasing numbers of meteors burned brightly into the night sky for a few seconds before flaring out of existence.

‘Why are there so many?’

‘Must be a meteor shower’

‘Mmmmm. Well speaking of showers, I best get back inside before I catch my death. Don’t stay out too long,’ she tapped his shoulder and shuffled off inside.

Ignoring her advice, he watched until he couldn’t feel his toes.

The teeth rattling screech of his alarm forced Ryan to open his eyes. His face buried in his pillow with his cheek laid in a damp patch; he must have been drooling again.

He hit snooze.

Seconds later the alarm went off again, his phone still in his hand he sleepily tapped snooze.

Slowly reality began to bleed through into his dreams and involuntarily his eyes fluttered open.

Throwing his long arms out to stretch he took in his room, daylight illuminating the curtains and casting a reddish hue onto everything.

It was daylight. Daylight.

He kept rolling the idea around his brain, he knew it had some meaning but he wasn’t getting it just yet.

Then it clicked.

The sun wasn’t usually up when he went to college at this time of year, which meant that unless there was such a thing a nocturnal window cleaner with a torch, he was late.

He ended up in a cold shower that left him gasping for breath, skipping breakfast and shaving altogether, and hauling his jumper on back-to-front before mounting his neglected bike and, still wet, pedalling off into the frosty winter morning. 

When he finally pulled into college, after a hurried journey through backstreets and a clogged main road, his wet hair had combined with a sharp wind to give him a severe case of brain freeze.

Late for class he’d been shamed by his tutor in front of the seminar and had spent the rest of the lesson acutely aware his jumper was on the wrong way.

Ryan had finally given up on the day during a free period when he realised his wallet was on the bedside table, meaning he’d have to go hungry until he got home.

Sulking, he checked twitter, moaned to his followers, and pulled out a magazine.

A thud shook him out of the article he’d been scanning as Candice slumped into the chair opposite, throwing her mangled and graffitied backpack under it as she did.

It was a mangy thing, held together by hope and stitches with band names scrawled over every inch of it in white marker.

‘Still no handbag then?’

‘What would I do with a handbag?’

‘I dunno, put stuff in it?’

She frowned.

‘Hit boys with it?’

She smiled, ‘Well, punching isn’t exactly good for your knuckles. And you can put heavy things in bags, like bricks. You may be on to something there’

‘You scare me sometimes.’

‘Good.’

Ryan had first met Candice when they were 13; one morning a short, slender black girl had been ushered into his class and introduced as the latest addition to his form group by a smiling Mr Weston.

He still remembered how the mood in the room changed the moment she’d walked in. Her hair was short, she wore no makeup, and she stood like a boy. He had automatically known what everyone was thinking; prey.

He’d been right, by the end of that first day she’d been the subject of whispers, rumours, and taunts. To her credit he’d noticed she hadn’t so much as flinched. About a week later he’d saw her on the way home, backpack slung loose over her shoulder as a small girl with a big mouth called Josie had raced past and snatched it, throwing it back towards her mates. They’d attempted to play a game of throwing it back and forth, usually the kid ended up begging and sometimes even crying until the gang either threw it back or hung it from a high branch of the nearest tree.

But Candice hadn’t begged or cried, she’d just walked straight up to the biggest of the gang punched her, threw a few choice swear words at her companions, picked up her bag and walked off like nothing had ever happened. 

The bullies stayed clear of her after that.

‘You see the meteor shower last night?’

‘Just a bunch of rocks on fire,’ was her curt response.

He ignored her, ‘I watched it with my mum for a while. Surprised we could see ‘em to be honest, with all the light pollution’

She pulled an expression that put Ryan in mind of his aunt’s Pug, Rupert.

‘Did you see all the stupid things people fall for online? One guy honestly thought that a photo of Paris being destroyed was real. Moron.’

‘I saw.’

She put her phone down on the desk. Who she’d been texting he had no idea, he was practically her only friend.

‘Now,’ she said, ‘The real interesting bit is that no one saw them coming. I mean, how many telescopes are pointing up into the sky and not one person saw a giant meteor shower coming our way?’

‘It’s a big sky.’

She made a sound like a balloon letting out air.

‘Rubbish. This thing’s huge, it’s still going on now, we just can’t see it because the planets turned.’

‘It’s still going on?’

‘Yeah, I reckon we’ll be seeing more tonight.’

‘Think there are any big rocks waiting to hit us?’

Arching an eyebrow, she just smiled, ‘Worried you’ll die a virgin, are we?’

A sharp kick from his right foot only made her smile more.

‘You’re too easy, Ryan.’

His brother’s bike was cluttering up the hallway when he got home; it was caked in mud and just asking for a shouting match with one or both of their parents. They were somewhat protective of their new carpets.

He scavenged for food in the kitchen, moving and rotating jars and bottles in the cupboards. He had finally settled on Scotch broth when his mother shuffled into the room.

‘I didn’t hear you come in. How was college?’

‘Crap’

‘Ryan, you know I don’t like you swearing’

‘Okay. It wasn’t great; better?’

‘Don’t talk back! You’re not too old to take over my knee you know’

He caught himself mid-eye roll but, as with all mothers, it was too late.

‘Don’t roll your eyes at me! I raised you and your brother to be gentlemen, not dragged up…’

She’d go on like this for a while and any interruptions would only result in a longer speech. So, he stuck to the script; she’d moan and berate him he’d nod and answer yes and no at the right moments, and she’d eventually drift off back to whatever she had been up to before.

Whilst she was in the ‘Whilst you’re under my roof’ portion of the speech he noticed she’d been coughing occasionally. Seizing an opportunity to be the caring observant son he asked about her cough.

‘Oh, it’s nothing!’ she said, her manner completely changing from disciplinarian to sick mother mode.

He had always found that interesting about his mother. She ruled with an iron fist and you crossed her at your peril, but she did seem to like the attention being sick afforded her.

‘I should have known better than to go outside last night. What was I thinking? Dripping wet and standing in the cold, of course I was going to catch something.’

And so, the ‘Why aren’t you a politer son’ speech turned into the ‘I’m not really ill’ speech, and he was free.

Whilst waiting for the soup to heat up in the microwave they exchanged basic chit chat about their day.

After a painfully detailed description about how Mrs Anderson was under investigation at work for stealing out of date crisps, she added, ‘Oh and Theo’s here again. He’s staying for dinner.’

‘Urgh’

Theo was a tall, blonde, broad, athletic boy who was known for being good at sports and good at getting into fights. Whereas Jake was an average height, brown haired, thin geek who was good at academia and got beaten up often, at least until Theo came along. How they had become fast friends was a mystery to him, almost as much as why his parents tolerated Theo in their house. Especially after Ryan had relayed the rumours about his home life, and the facts about his fighting to them both on many occasions.

‘Now, now, he’s a nice boy’

‘But he’s always here mum!’

‘He’s a good influence on Jake’

‘So are tranquilizers’

Supressing a smile, she walked out the room coughing as she went, ‘Make sure to wash up when you’re done, and be nice to your brother’

‘I’m always nice,’ he said to himself.

He’d developed a system to do project work. First rule, he wasn’t allowed to have the telly on. Second rule, he wasn’t allowed to justify breaking the first rule. Third rule (well it was more of an incentive really) was that he had to remember that every good grade was a grade closer University, and London.

Midway through a set of algebraic equations the sound of gunfire began to feed through his wall broken occasionally by the sound of a bomb going off or a car crashing. Grasping his pen, he worked through it. In the middle of a series of differential equations sudden dull thuds against his bedroom wall exhausted his temper. Up and out he swung the door to Jake’s bedroom open and bellowed, ‘Would you shut the hell up!’

The two boys were on the bed with controllers in their hands looking a little startled.

‘You never heard of knocking?!’

Ignoring his brother, he stuck to his guns, ‘Keep it down, I’m doing work’

Jake gestured to the telly, ‘It’s not even loud’

‘I can hear it in my room, it’s loud!’

‘Fun sponge.’

‘Just keep it down I’m not asking you to turn it off.’

Jake got up. He wasn’t a match for Ryan, he was a good 5 inches shorter for starters and too skinny to do any real damage, but apparently no one had told Jake that as he pushed Ryan in the chest sending him staggering backwards and out into the hall. Just in time for Jake to slam the door shut.

Suppressing his rage, he marched down stairs and told his mum about the mud caked bike on the new cream carpet, he’d keep the physical stuff to himself. His mum tended to overreact to the occasional pushing and shoving; his dad, having grown up with three brothers, seemed to get it.

Pretty quickly Theo was silently shuffling past Ryan in the downstairs hallway, head hung low, as his mother went to town on how inconsiderate a son Jake was and made him take the bicycle outside to clean with the threat of hoovering up to follow.

Walking through the house with the bike frame resting on his shoulder Jake shot Ryan a look promising some form of revenge, but for now Ryan had the peace and quiet he needed.

That night, his work finished and submitted online, he was lazing around reading a prospectus for University. He’d thumbed through it a few times but it still excited him that in 10 months he’d be on his way to London and a new life. Bars, parties, girls, studying. Girls. Studying girls.

As he sprawled out on his bed in jeans and socks a wrap at the door interrupted his fantasy.

‘You okay mate?’

‘Yeah’

Every night since he was 5 his dad had come into his room and spoke with him. When he was little it was a bedtime story, but as Ryan had gotten older they’d evolved from little catch ups and a part of the day to look forward too, to awkward interactions.

It was a ritual born of guilt; his dad always worked stupid shifts at the factory since they were small and made a point of trying to see both him and his brother each day even if only for a few minutes.

‘Dad, why did you have to have another son?’

He laughed, ‘Yeah I heard you were arguing. Nice stunt with the bike by the way.’

Ryan felt a bit deflated by that.

‘Nothing gets by mum, does it?’

He winked an awkward-dad wink ‘You’re learning’

His dad was only in his late thirties but he looked a lot older, his work had worn him down. He’d started off on the production line when he was 19 and was first dating his mum, when they later discovered she was pregnant with him they’d had a quickie marriage and he had a word with his manager about progression. Ever since he’d been climbing the corporate ladder, but no matter the pay rise or the bigger holiday entitlement, they rarely saw him outside of weekends; sometimes not even then.

‘I’ll have a word with Jake, off in there anyway to relay your mother’s concerns about the carpets. And we can’t have him pushing you about, now can we?’

Ryan’s eyes went a little wide at that last bit, ‘How do you…’

His dad smiled back with a very smug look, ‘Never underestimate your mother, she can see through walls.’

Ryan grimaced at the thought.

‘It doesn’t matter, dad, I can handle him.’

‘That’s what worries me; you’re a damn sight bigger than your brother. Anyway, after I’m done you fancy taking a look at the meteor shower later? Just us two.’

His dad said it in a matter of fact way but Ryan knew it was something he genuinely wanted to do. But it had been a long day and the novelty had already worn off.

‘Na, it’s okay dad. I saw it last night and I had a bad day. I’m just gonna go to sleep.’

‘Okay son, night.’

‘Night dad.’

With that he left.

The next morning, he found himself stood at the bus stop with his less than happy brother.

Jake was in his uniform, tie loose around his neck. He’d be finishing school in the summer and then he would end up in the same college as Ryan, a thought that would usually fill him with dread if it weren’t for the fact he’d be long gone by then, the benefit of an 18-month age gap. He was forever grateful his parents had decided to wait before having kid number two.

To look at, they weren’t too different, same brown hair, same blue eyes. The only real difference was build. Jake was of average height and looked more suited to running, which considering the bullying he’d had a few years back was a trait that had proved useful. Ryan on the other hand was tall and had a lot more in the way of muscle, a trait that had proved useful for whacking the bullies that went after Jake.

‘You didn’t have to send mum upstairs.’

‘Well if you weren’t acting all tough in front of your mate I wouldn’t have to.’

Jake flushed, ‘I wasn’t acting tough!’

‘Sure, you weren’t, that’s why you thought you’d push me about?’

A double decker bus pulled in, sending up a spray of filthy water as the tyre ploughed through the gutter.

Jake flashed his pass at the driver without so much as a look and climbed up to the top deck leaving Ryan alone. The driver took his time slowly counting change and much to Ryan’s disgust, coughing all over his hands as he did.

He managed a stiff ‘Thanks’ as he took the warm, moist coins and dumped them in his pocket.

Whilst the bus made its stops and took on board its mix of the usual suspects and random folk he’d never seen before he let his mind wonder. For some reason buses and trains always gave him time to think and process things. Today his mind was on Emma Hillard.

She went to his college but, much to his annoyance, wasn’t in any of his classes. She was pretty, beautiful really, light skin and dark hair with big grey eyes. It had taken a while for him to figure out what her eye colour was; after all it was hard to learn something as intimate as the colour of someone’s eyes from the occasional stolen glance from 20 feet away. They were in different circles of friends at college, went to different parties, different classes, and most likely would be headed off to a different university come next year. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t fantasise about some way to talk to her.

One of his favourites was the idea of a big fire in the college. The gas tanks in the science labs would, for no real reason, explode. In the carnage that followed he’d find her trapped under the rubble and, ever the hero, would single handed and almost superhumanly, dig her out and carry her in his arms into the car park triumphantly.

It was a daft fantasy, but a fun one.

Candice was already at their usual meeting place when he arrived and was drenched from head to foot.

‘You biked in this weather?’

She tried to blow a strand of wet hair over her left eye but eventually gave up and had to wipe it aside.

‘Gran’s sick again, had to take her back to the hospital last night.’

‘Sorry.’

‘No worries. Just meant I had to use my bus money on a taxi back from A&E. So, it’s the bike for a few days.’

Candice often had home problems like this; she lived with her grandparents ever since her mum had died in a car accident. Her dad had never been around.

The first time this happened Ryan had made the mistake of offering to pay for a bus pass; the sort of kind gesture that friends do for one and other. She didn’t speak to him for days after that. Truth was, she’d rather cycle through the cold and rain with her pride intact than ever feel like she had to owe someone a favour.

Time flew by without any of the problems of the day before and Ryan felt a lot more relaxed. He’d even picked up on talk of a party at the weekend. Some students’ parents were out of the country and had, rather naively, left their daughter at home alone thinking she could be trusted. Wrong.

Ryan knew the girl, Simone; she was something of a legend when it came to parties.

Naturally this meant the whole college wanted an invite, something which Candice had sharply corrected him on when he mentioned it at lunch.

Ryan sat sorting skittles into colour groups whilst Candice glanced at her phone every few minutes.

‘Any news on your gran?’

‘No. She’ll be fine. It’s him I’m worried about, he’s got a cold. Again.’

Him was her granddad. Ryan had noticed a long