Blood Memory: The Complete Season One (Books 1-5) (16 page)

Jordan sank to the floor,
curling up into a ball. His body shuddered.

Moonlight beams caught
nightmare images: an eyeball dangling on a cheek, a face torn beyond recognition, an arm shredded and hanging limp from its socket, a cracked jutting femur, snapped ribs amid partially-digested intestines. The body was curled up in the corner of the small office, like a child trying to escape from the monsters in the closet.

The smell was overpowering,
like a dog left out in the sun for two weeks after it had died. But there was more than that. There was something behind
the stench of flesh. Something sinister. Jordan had gone to a slaughterhouse once, and it had had the same smell. It was death, he realised.

Joel’s hand shot out and grabbed his ankle. His grip was surprisingly strong. One eye had been ripped from its socket, but the other stared at Jordan intensely. Joel moved his lips to speak, but his vocal chords had been torn
out during the feeding frenzy.

Jordan took out his penknife an
d prepared to bring it down on his friend. Joel reached up with a slow movement, staying Jordan’s hand. He shook his head.

“
Joel?” Jordan’s voice shook.

In answer,
Joel tapped his own T-shirt with a fingerless hand. Jordan reached under it and unsheathed his four-inch serrated-edge knife.

Jordan
’s eyes filled. He nodded. He put the tip of the knife to Joel’s eye. “I’m sorry it had to end like this, Joel.” Jordan pressed his weight onto the knife into Joel’s brain, to the hilt, meeting little resistance. Joel’s back arched. Blood gurgled from the wound and pooled out over the floor. With the last trickle of life, Joel smiled.

Joel
’s final words came back to Jordan. “We have to do anything we can to protect them.”

“I’ll take care of them,” Jordan said. “I promise.”

Waves inhaled, pulling themselves back, then exhaled, breaking over the seashore. The moon hung huge and bone-white in the sky, peering at its reflection in the dimpled surface. Abrasive lights flickered from behind, catching Jordan’s shadow and making it dance to an irregular beat on the unblemished beach before him.
The house was ablaze with red-hot flames. Thick tendrils of smoke licked the sky.

Jordan, silhouetted by the fire, stood before the house. Inside, footsteps thudded their way up a staircase, toward the roof. Jordan stood, frozen in place. Inhuman screeches emanated from the house.

Jordan had an overwhelming desire to run into the building. He stepped toward it, but the heat was unbearable. His skin blistered. The house creaked and groaned and grunted. The flames rose higher and burned brighter.

On a large semi-circular window in the house’s loft, a tiny hand pressed against the
glass. High above the hand, near the apex of the curve, faceless bright green eyes glowed.

A scre
am rose from the fiery pit…

Jordan flew up into a sitting position. His breaths were rough and ragged, his shirt clung damply to his chest. He put a hand to his forehead and let out a long breath. He was in bed. Someone mu
st have moved him in the night. He put a hand to his head.
What a strange dream…

There was a
scream.

Jordan looked over at the bunks around him. The blankets had been thrown back, empty. Jordan’s heart rate doubled. Where was everyone?

The scream came again – from outside the door. From a young throat.

Jordan was on his feet and pushing open the door before he was aware of what he was doing. A crying and hysterical Jessie was being led back into their room by
Anne.

“Is she all right?” Jordan asked.
“What happened?”

“Jessie had a bit of a shock, that’s all,” Anne said. “She’ll be all right.”

“But she’s not bitten?”

“No.”

Stan and Mary were looking down at something on the floor in the next room. The blood ran from Jordan’s face. It was the room where Joel’s body was.

T
he sunlight cast a less enchanting light than the moon and revealed the body in all its grim detail. Blood had splashed across the wall in three large sprays. Gnawed fingers laid out of reach. The smell had abated, but now flies were feasting voraciously.

“Jessie found him,” Mary said as Stan tore down the curtains and laid them over the body. “She came out to refill the buckets with water for us to wash in, then she must have come across him…”

“She should never have found him,” Jordan said.

“To think he got this close…”

Jordan’s jaw set. “We’ve got to go.”

“Go? Go where?”

“We’re not safe here. The sooner we get out of here, the better.”

“What about the body?” Stan asked. “The least we can do is bury him.”

“We can’t,” Jordan said. “Lurchers could come at any time. We have to get away from here.”

“He was a part of our family,” Stan said. “We can’t just leave him here.”

“He’s as good as buried anyway,” Jordan said. “The whole world is a grave now.”

Mary stepped forward.
“But Jordan, Jessie needs time to grieve.”

“She can grieve later when we’re on a boat.” They opened their mouths to argue, but Jordan cut them off
. “Pack up. We’re leaving.”

Jordan walked down the corridor and pushed the door open. Jessie was curled up in a blanket with her head on Anne’s lap. Anne stroked
her hair.

“How’s she doing?” Jordan asked.

“She’s in shock.”

“How are you feeling?”

“I can’t believe he made it all this way.”

“I know.”

“He didn’t deserve to die like that.” Tears came to her eyes. “But what can we do? It’s happened.”

Jordan put a hand on Anne’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.” He nodded to Jessie. “Will she be okay?”

“I think so.”

“How long will she be like this?”

“She might be okay in an hour or a few days. It depends. I just don’t know.”

“Can she walk?”

“Slowly. Why?”

“The Lurchers could be back at any minute.”

“Can’t we wait just a little while?”

“We have to get moving.” Jordan kneeled before Jessie. “Jess. I know what you saw today
was a bit of a shock, but we have to get back on the water. Okay? We’ll be safe there. Can you stand up?”

With the slightest of movements Jessie
’s chin nodded.

The docks were a complete disaster.
The storm had turned strong seafaring vessels into a miasma of twisted metal and wood. Rigging was tangled in the sails. Masts lay snapped and useless. Upturned hulls had become breeding grounds for seagulls.

They walked down each quay, wary of any weak or rotten boards that squeaked underfoot.
Gulls cawed loudly overhead, causing Jessie to flinch. Anne wrapped her arms tighter around her. But Jessie wasn’t the only one being all but carried by someone else. Mary was even paler than Jessie.

“Is she all right?” Jordan said to Stan.

“We can’t walk like we used to.” Stan forced a smile onto his face. “She just got a little hurt from the storm, that’s all.”

“Here’s one!” Anne shouted. The boat she pointed at looked to be in good condition. It was docked away from the other
s. ‘Big Daddy’ was written on the stern in a masculine blocky gold font. She was sixty-five feet if she was an inch. She was a thing of beauty, consisting of the same thing all beautiful women were: smooth curves. She was modern, clean, and designed for speed.

“Let’s get on board,” Jordan said. “Come on, Jess. Be
careful. The gangplank’s a little slippery. You next, Mary.”

The deck had only a little chipping caused by the rain and bird crap. Mary and Jessi
e sat on the pink leather sofa.

“Anne, Stan, you prepare for cast-off,” Jordan said. “I’ll go and try to see if I can get this heap started.”

“Hardly a heap, is it?” Stan said, looking around.

“It looks new,” Jordan agreed, “but there’s no telling the state of the inside from the out. You should know that, Stan. You’re sixty years old but move like a teenager.”

Stan made a fart noise with his lips. “A teenager ten times over, maybe.”

“What can I do?” Mary said, still out of breath from the climb up the gangplank.

“You can stay and look after Jessie,” Jordan said.

“Babysitter duty, huh?”

Jessie stared directly ahead, eyes fixed on some indeterminate spot. Ordinarily she would have protested at such a remark.

“Jordan,” Anne said. “Be careful below deck. Anything could be down there.”

As Anne and Stan moved back down the gangplank, Jordan headed below. The walls were inlaid with walnut and chased with polished-to-perfection stainless steel. He got the feeling no one had so much as stepped onto this boat since it was transported here. Maybe it had never been used. He grew excited. He opened a door. It was a cabin with a single bed. Another door, another small cabin. On his third attempt he struck gold, and couldn’t help but smile. There wasn’t so much as a speck of dust in the entire engine bay.

Jordan
performed all the checks Joel had taught him with Haven’s engine, and then started the engine.

CHUG CHUG CHUG CHUG CHUG.

“Yes!” Jordan raised his arms triumphantly in the air. He ran back up the stairs to the main deck. “I did it! We’re outta here!”

As Jordan’s eyes blinked and acclimatised to the sunlight, he became aware that something was very wrong.

Jessie sat staring into space, unchanged. Mary was now on the floor, crawling toward the gangplank. Anne and Stan hastily hacked at the boat’s mooring. For some reason they hadn’t simply lifted it. They were doing it with such force and ferocity that at first Jordan couldn’t quite fathom a reason for their behaviour.

“They’re coming!” Mary shouted, pointing off into the distance. “They’re coming! They’re coming!”

Jordan looked in the direction she was pointing. His breakfast turned to water.

It was like watching something from an ultra-realistic war movie where a bomb had gone off, blowing bystanders’
clothes off, and they belatedly ran for cover. Their arms flailed wildly, heads rolling back and forth on broken necks. Dried crusted blood clung thickly to their skin, giving the impression they were wearing matching sweaters. Their movements were jerky, unnatural. Jordan had never seen them out in the open before. Despite their missing or useless floppy appendages, they moved quickly.

“What are you doing?” Jordan shouted to Anne and Stan. “Just lift it!”

“Don’t you think we tried that?” Anne said. “It’s stuck!”

Jordan ran down the gangplank and moved to grab the knife from Anne, but she pulled away from him. “Take Stan’s!” she said.

“Bollocks you’ll take mine!” Stan was moving visibly slower than Anne, his moves heavy and sluggish.

“Gi
ve it here, Stan,” Jordan said.

“No.”

“Mary’s lying on the deck up there. You should help her.”

Stan hesitated. “You’d best not be lying.”

“I’m not. Get up there. Help your wife. Then get to the bridge. You’ll have to drive us out of here.”

Stan handed the
machete over. “I already did all the hard work anyway.”

The Lurchers were halfway down the quay now.
Their tongues lolled from their mouths like dead snakes. One Lurcher’s jaws slammed shut on its tongue and sliced through the muscle. Blood spurted from its mouth. Several of the other Lurchers fell on him. Another seized his sliced tongue and ate it. One jaw hung loose, flapping to the side. Drool dribbled down its perforated cheekbone.

Jordan froze. Those mad eyes… That insane gape… Jordan was suddenly back in his nightmare, the house on fire,
and he was frozen stiff. He almost dropped the machete in terror.

“A little help?” Anne shouted, sweat rolling down her face
.

Jordan blinked
and shook his head. He hacked at the rope. The engine revved and the boat lurched forward but was stuck fast.

The Lurchers
produced a scream that sounded like it could never have issued from a human throat.

Anne slashed at the rope, putting her whole bodyweight
behind each blow. The blade in Jordan’s hand was already blunt but he continued to hack. Big Daddy revved again and pulled forward. Made taught, the rope was easier to chop.

The Lurchers screamed again
, closing fast.

“We can’t do it in time!” Anne screamed.

“Keep going!”

Big Daddy jumped like it had been stung, but still
couldn’t pull away.

The Lurchers were just twenty
yards away now. They bared their teeth like hungry wolves, growling from deep in their chests.