Blue Skin: Book Four: Blue Skin, #4

By Steven Jenkins

The World is Dying

 

Boarded-up shops, burnt-out cars and abandoned homes. The government hangs on by a thread. Looters control the day. And hordes of ravenous monsters own the night.  

 

Ben is out there somewhere, living with his vampire brothers and sisters, leaving Freya and Sean to hunt for him in the darkest of corners. But without money, food, or a real home, their chances of finding him feel impossible.  

 

Amidst the chaos, a stranger reaches out. A new friend. An ally with the promise of a better life.   

 

But in a world this decrepit and dangerous, friends are a rare commodity.  

 

And just like humanity - trust is on the brink of extinction.

 

 

The fourth book in a 5 part vampire dystopian, thriller horror series

 

 

WHAT THE READERS ARE SAYING:

★★★★★ Big fat five stars!

★★★★★ Brilliant page turner!

★★★★★ One of my fave authors!

★★★★★ Thank you for writing this series!

★★★★★ A thoroughly terrifying vision!

★★★★★ Really can't wait for the next one!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Steven Jenkins
• Release date: Sep 8, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393163978

Steven Jenkins

Steven Jenkins is a San Francisco-based cultural critic whose writings on film, music, art, and literature appear in national periodicals, exhibition catalogues, and artist monographs. He is the author of City Slivers and Fresh Kills: The Films of Gordon Matta-Clark and Model Culture: James Casebere, Photographs 1975-1996.

Book preview

Blue Skin 4

Book Four

Steven Jenkins

Contents

Free Books

HANNAH SMITH

1.ONE

FREYA LAWSON

2.TWO

3.THREE

4.FOUR

5.FIVE

6.SIX

7.SEVEN

8.EIGHT

MICHAEL MATTHIAS

9.NINE

10.TEN

11.ELEVEN

FREYA LAWSON

12.TWELVE

13.THIRTEEN

14.FOURTEEN

15.FIFTEEN

16.SIXTEEN

17.SEVENTEEN

18.EIGHTEEN

19.NINETEEN

20.TWENTY

21.TWENTY-ONE

SEAN RICHARDS

22.TWENTY-TWO

FREYA LAWSON

23.TWENTY-THREE

24.TWENTY-FOUR

25.TWENTY-FIVE

BEN LAWSON

26.TWENTY-SIX

27.TWENTY-SEVEN

28.TWENTY-EIGHT

29.TWENTY-NINE

30.THIRTY

31.THIRTY-ONE

32.THIRTY-TWO

FREYA LAWSON

33.THIRTY-THREE

34.THIRTY-FOUR

35.THIRTY-FIVE

SEAN RICHARDS

36.THIRTY-SIX

37.THIRTY-SEVEN

38.THIRTY-EIGHT

39.THIRTY-NINE

FREYA LAWSON

40.FORTY

41.FORTY-ONE

SEAN RICHARDS

42.FORTY-TWO

FREYA LAWSON

43.FORTY-THREE

SEAN RICHARDS

44.FORTY-FOUR

FREYA LAWSON

45.FORTY-FIVE

SEAN RICHARDS

46.FORTY-SIX

FREYA LAWSON

47.FORTY-SEVEN

48.FORTY-EIGHT

MICHAEL MATTHIAS

49.FORTY-NINE

Blue Skin - Also Available

Touch - Also Available

Burn the Dead - Also Available

Ghost Novels - Also Available

Little Horrors - Also Available

Liam Tate - Also Available

Novellas - Also Available

Thea - Also Available

Twisted Locker - Podcast

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HANNAH SMITH

ONE

I grasp the door-handle for dear life, unable to stop my head from hitting the window. For God’s sake—slow down! You’re gonna get us killed!

I can’t slow down, Gregg says, his hands squeezing the steering wheel, his knuckles drained of blood. We’ve got to find somewhere.

I check the time. Curfew’s already past.

The back of my head fuses to the seat as he slams his foot on the accelerator. Gregg!

We might catch one of the smaller petrol stations. Not every town follows the curfew. The tyres screech as he launches the car off the motorway, heading towards a roundabout.

Jesus, Gregg! This is getting dangerous!

Just hold tight, he says, sweat gathering across his brow, his shoulders hunched over with tension. We’re almost there. He takes us down another empty road. Tall, overhanging trees on either side, blocking what’s left of the sun.

Do you even know where you’re going?

Of course I do. Odenway.

I’ve never even heard of Odenway. How do you know if it has a petrol station?

I know it does. He checks the fuel gauge again. I’ve been there before.

Half a mile passes before the car judders, and just a few metres before it comes to a complete stop.

Fuck! Gregg slams his fist onto the steering wheel, and then throws his head back against the seat.

I put my hand on his arm, willing myself to stay composed. Calm down. It’s going to be all right.

He looks at me, unable to hide the fear in his eyes. It’s not, Han. I really fucked up this time.

No, you haven’t. We can call for help. I pull my phone out from my handbag and push the Home button. The screen lights up and my heart sinks.

No signal. No Internet.

Gregg does the same.

He opens his window and holds his phone outside.

Any joy?

He shakes his head and climbs out of the car.

I follow him, raising my phone into the air.

Still no signal. No Internet. Nothing.

In front, all I can see is an endless abyss of trees, shutting out the world. There’s a burning in my stomach. I want to scream. I want to tell Gregg that it’s his fault we’re in this mess. But just seeing the distress in his pale face stifles another argument. He’s been through enough. We both have. We have to stay strong. We have to work together. Let’s not panic. My words are calm, collected, like I’ve done this before. The sun hasn’t set yet. We can walk to the town. Find somewhere to stay until dawn.

He checks his watch and then scans our surroundings.

We can make it, I continue. And maybe we’ll get a signal before we even get there.

A signal’s no good. No tow truck will come out this late.

"Look, stop being so bloody negative, Gregg. We’ve got no choice. We either wait in the car until dawn, and pray to God they don’t come for us, or risk walking to the nearest town. Make a bloody decision, for Christ’s sake."

Biting his nails, he ponders silently.

Okay. Fine, he says. We’ll walk. But we have to move fast. He looks at his watch again. I say we’ve got another thirty minutes before dark. He locks the car with the key-fob, takes my hand, and we set off on foot.

After about a hundred metres, a fast walk turns into a gentle jog. Gregg’s head is constantly checking the woods either side of us, praying that nothing is watching, following us, waiting for the perfect moment to pounce, to pin us to the road, to tear us limb from—

Shut up, Hannah. There’s nothing else we can do right now, so what’s the point in worrying? Just suck it up and keeping moving.

Half a mile in and I gasp with exhaustion, my hips aching, my ankles swollen.

Are you all right, Han? Gregg asks, slowing his pace down. Do you need a rest?

I’m fine. I take a deep breath and pick up speed.

A mile passes. Maybe two. Sweat is pouring from my head, my hair clinging to my cheeks. My chest is tight, my leg muscles are screaming, and the blister on the back of my heel is on fire.

It’s just a little pain. Ignore it. Push it to the back of your mind. This is just another drama. And you’re good at drama. You’ve spent your life dealing with it.

The trees disappear as we reach a junction. I should feel relief that the endless road has finally ended, but the lack of overhanging trees reveals the true colour of the sky.

Jet black.

I swallow the terror and turn to Gregg. Which way now? There’s a post sticking out from the grass on the other side of the road. The sign at the top is missing.

He looks in each direction, his grip on my hand tightening.

Gregg?

"Shush. I’m thinking."

Every rustle, every gust of wind, is torture. What if there’s an army of them watching us? Waiting? Following our every move?

It’s this way, he says, and we’re moving again, turning left. Come on.

Are you sure? It’s a stupid question because I’m almost positive he isn’t.

Yes. Of course I’m sure.

Ten minutes pass and I’m forced to slow down.

What’s wrong? Gregg asks.

My blister. It’s agony.

He points ahead. We’re almost there. It’s just over this hill.

How do you know? I snap, limping. We could be miles away.

You have to trust me, Han.

I do trust you, I say, my eyes welling up, but I’m just scared. What if they find us?

He stops and pulls me close. I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise. But we’ve got to keep going. No matter what. He kisses me on the lips. I won’t let you down.

I know you won’t, I say, sniffing, and we’re away.

The hill is steep, Gregg’s momentum pulling me towards its peak.

Almost there, Han, he says with forced optimism. Just a little further.

I want to believe him, but how could he know for sure?

Another ten metres.

Five metres.

I’m panting, struggling to breathe, battling to shut out the searing pain in my foot.

Last push.

I feel dizzy. I need to stop. Need to rest. Need to—

Gregg stops. See? I told you to trust me.

For a moment, the fatigue disappears as my gaze follows the road down the hill to streetlights, shops, and parked cars.

A town!

Every inch of my body fills with warm relief, with a newfound vigour. We made it.

We’re safe!

We jog, perhaps a quarter of a mile before we reach the first shop. A post office. Closed. The windows and door covered with wooden panels, the walls spray-painted with graffiti.

A little further up, there’s another row of shops on each side of the road. A hairdresser. A mini-supermarket. A clothes shop. Some offices.

All boarded up.

What are we going to do now? I ask, nervously squeezing Gregg’s hand.

I don’t know. Keep looking. There’s got to be somewhere we can stay ‘til dawn.

At the centre of the road, there’s a hiking shop, the glass protected by metal mesh. Gregg rattles the door-handle. Locked. Hello! he shouts through the letterbox. Anybody in there?

I grab his arm. Stop it. You’re being too loud.

We’ve got to try, Han. Someone’s bound to let us in.

How do you know someone’s in there? I ask. It’s a shop.

There’s probably a flat upstairs.

Even if there is, I doubt anyone lives here. It’s a ghost town.

Gregg gives the handle once last shake, and we move on to the next building. A flower shop. Derelict. He stands back, peering up at the window. No boards, just a pair of drawn curtains behind the glass.

Gregg picks up a small stone from the pavement and launches it up at the window. It bounces off the glass and lands by my feet.

No response.

He throws another stone. This time it hits the windowsill and almost lands on my head. I leap out of its path onto the road.

And that’s when I see it.

"Gregg," I whisper in horror, tugging on his coat, gazing at the blue figure standing just ten metres away.

What? he asks, scanning the ground for another stone.

Look.

His eyes follow my gaping stare, and he winces. "Oh, shit, he mumbles, pulling me close. Don’t move a muscle."

The vampire stands like a thin statue, his piercing yellow eyes glued to us.

Inch by inch, we back away.

What do we do now? I ask, the words catching in my throat.

I don’t know, he replies, his lips barely moving. Maybe it’ll go away.

You think?

It’s probably just wondering if—

From behind, the sound of wood splitting reaches my ears. I glance over my shoulder and find another vampire standing outside the hairdresser’s.

Stay calm, Han, he says when he spots it.

I can’t speak, the inside of my mouth dry, my body cramping.

From the side of a shop, a third vampire emerges. Then two more from the opposite side.

We stop in our tracks, frozen with fear.

We’re surrounded!

Between a dilapidated baker’s shop and a coffee-shop, there’s a narrow passageway. We can go through there.

Gregg sees the passageway, and we slink across the road, our eyes darting back and forth, desperate to keep the creatures in view.

Our pace picks up when a sixth vampire appears to the left of us. Then a seventh.

The moment we reach the alleyway, we explode into a sprint, Gregg towing me behind him like a trailer. Within moments, we come out the other end and onto a street. Empty parking spaces, overflowing bins, and more abandoned shops.

No vampires.

It’s gonna be okay, Gregg says with weighted breaths. We’re gonna make it.

Please, God, let him be right.

We keep running, pushing past the fatigue, the blisters, and concentrate on finding refuge. Behind me, I hear the distant sound of footsteps. Lots of them.

Jesus Christ, they’re coming.

Past a burnt-out van, through a playground full of rusty swings, we reach a concrete pathway surrounded by thick oak trees.

Legs and chest burning with acid, Gregg yanks my arm, redirecting us through a small clearing between some trees. Come on! he says as I scrape my arm and cheek on the brambles.

The noise is getting close.

We need to hide.

After a few metres, we reach a thick bush, and stop. Gregg crouches down behind it and I follow.

The footsteps are metres away, bare feet slapping against the concrete path. Gripping the wooden stem of the bush, I hold my breath and wait for them to pass.

Thirty seconds. A minute. No sound. No footsteps.

I think they’ve gone, he whispers, but I shush him anyway.

Another minute passes.

Silence.

Let’s keep moving. Just as Gregg begins to stand, I hear a rustling sound, so I yank him back down.

I hear it again, this time crystal clear.

With one hand clutching mine, and the other over his mouth, Gregg stares at me, a look of grave hopelessness in his eyes. A look of defeat. A wordless goodbye.

I stifle a flood of tears and squeeze his hand tighter than ever before.

Something scuttles across the ground.

What was that?

Pulse soaring, I peek through a narrow gap in the bush.

They’ve found us.

Out from behind a tree, something small emerges. The moonlight catches four small legs. Grey and furry. A bushy tail. It’s just a squirrel, I whisper, almost smiling.

In relief, we stand up and watch the critter’s journey as it scurries, unfazed by our presence, across the dirt and fallen leaves, past a broken log—and straight into the jaws of a female vampire.

Ruuuuun! Gregg screams as he hauls us through a thick bush, the sharp twigs tearing at my clothes.

The moment we step onto the field, Gregg’s hand is ripped from mine, and his body is flung to the tall grass. I cry out in horror as the vampire leaps on top of him, pinning him by his wrists. Panic-stricken, I grasp the creature’s shoulder and try to pry her off.

She won’t budge.

Run, Hannah! Gregg cries, bucking his hips hysterically. Ruuuuuun!

I don’t run. I can’t. Instead, I grab a small rock from the grass and drive it down onto the vampire’s skull. The force cuts her skin, but nothing more. Barely a flinch.

I keep hitting. Kicking.

Screaming for the creature to let him go, to leave us alone.

But I’m too late.

An ocean of blood spews from Gregg’s throat, drenching the vampire as her jaws clamp around his neck. Run...Hannah, he says, choking. Gooooo!

Blinded by tears, I keep pounding the stone against the creature’s skull, again, and again, until eventually she retracts her head, and turns to me, hissing like a wildcat. And then, in a flash of blue, I’m launched to the ground, staring up in dismay at her wide open mouth, her blood-soaked fangs. I squirm violently, kicking, scratching, convulsing in a fit of panic, but she’s too powerful, too aggressive. She lowers her jaws to my throat. Razor-sharp teeth graze my flesh.

I close my eyes, accepting my fate, and wait for it to be over.

Wait to be with Gregg again.

Wait for the sound of my alarm clock ringing. To be safely in bed.

Away from his world.

Away from this unspeakable nightmare.

Seconds pass.

No bite.

I open my eyes.

The creature is sniffing the air around me. Her