Blood Memory: The Complete Season One (Books 1-5) (24 page)

He moved to a box that hung from the wall. Inside were half a dozen cigar-shaped objects. He grabbed a handful and stepped back out onto the deck. He held the object with one hand, twisted the end off and pulled the pin. Almost instantly bright red smoke flared. He waved it gently and let the c
ool sea breeze take the signal.

Terry took a seat. The bulge in his pants was almost painful. It must be the excitement of the moment. He had twelve whores in all. Eleven had escaped, but there was one remaining, still tied up in his bed waiting to be broken in. He thought about at what moment he would tell her her baby brother was dead. Maybe just before he climaxed.

He picked up another flare and fired it.

Anne’s arms were sore and heavy. Each time she pulled the trigger the gun kicked up and sent
another set of reverberations up and down her torso. Her ears hurt. Even her face hurt – from all the scrunching up in a pre-emptive attempt not to be surprised by the blast of the gun – which always failed. Her aim wasn’t worth toffee, but the guards firing at them didn’t know that.

Selena screamed
, waving the gun around like a kid’s toy. An Amazonian warrioress. The fort drifted into the distance and she stopped firing. She had a big grin on her face. “Great stress reliever, don’t you think?”

“Killing people?”

Selena chuckled. “No. Shooting at them.”

A small wave broke across the hull and sent a spray of water into the wind,
which swirled around them. Selena raised her arms as if she were flying, closed her eyes and let the breeze wind its fingers through her short curly hair.

Jordan joined them. “Are you both
all right?”

“I am now,” Selena said. “Thank you for freeing me.”

“Sorry for taking so long to make the decision.”

“You freed me. That is enough.”

Jordan looked back in the direction they’d come from. “Here they come.”

Three small speed
boats gave chase. Anne saw the muzzle flash before she heard the thunk of bullets in the boat’s fibreglass frame. Selena hit the deck instinctively. Jordan grabbed Anne and pulled her down.

“They’re faster than us,” Selena said. “What are we going to do? I can’t go back there. I won’t.” She reloaded the gun, aimed over the side and fired in a random spray.

Jordan took a plain box from his pocket. On it were half a dozen flashing lights. “Hopefully you won’t have to.”

“
Oh my God!” Selena said, eyes wide with awe. “Is that what I think it is? Where did you find it? Can I press it? Please! Please!”

Anne looked closer at the box and noticed there was a big red button in the middle of it. No button that big and red could ever be used for something good. She felt stup
id for not knowing what it was.

Jordan shrugged. “Sure.”

Selena slapped a palm on the button.

Whatever they were expecting, it didn’t happen. Selena looked at Jordan,
disappointed.

“Wait a minute…” Jordan fiddled with a couple of dials.
“Try again.”

This time, something did happen.

Barry put his heavy boot on top of the plexiglass frame in an effort to stabilise the rifle, took careful aim and fired. A second later the bullets thudded into the boat
. The thieves ducked.

The skimmer’s hull skipped across the sea’s surface.
The catamaran tossed up spray. Barry didn’t move, letting it sting his bare skin. Fred, behind the wheel, and ducking under the short windscreen, guided their skimmer over the wake created by the catamaran. The skimmer took the movement well, bouncing down onto the flatter surface. Two other skimmers, packed with Barry’s men, zipped to and fro in the catamaran’s wake, firing their guns.

“Get closer!” Barry shouted.

Fred maneuvered the skimmer back across the incoming wake, bouncing fitfully, and approached the catamaran from behind. Barry spied a mop of hair pop up over the side. He took aim. He squeezed the trigger.

BOOM!

Barry was knocked back onto the floor. A huge fountain of water rose up into the air. Their skimmer sped through it, soaking them. Fragments of boat and body rained down. Barry raised an arm to protect himself. A studded ear smacked on the windscreen with a comical splat.

Barry sat up. “The hell was that?”

“I don’t know, boss,” Fred shouted over the blaring engine. “One minute Jared and Michael were there, the next, boom. Gone.”

Barry got to his feet. “Boats don’t just blow up. Did they fire something?”

“I didn’t see anything. They could have done, but we’d see the smoke.”

“Did they throw something over the side?”

“I’m not sure, boss. If they did, it was a bloody lucky shot.”

“Pull back a bit, Fred.” Barry spoke into a walkie-talkie. “Lads. Slow down a bit. Give ‘em some room. We might have some litterbugs on our hands.”

“All right, boss,” the reply came.

The other
skimmer slowed down and pulled up beside Barry’s boat. They hovered beside one another. The catamaran was big and quick, but slow compared to their skimmers. Barry raised the walkie-talkie to his mouth. “Let’s circle round to either side. We’ll head left. You go right. We’ll fire at them from other sides.”

“Yes, sir.”

The other skimmer began to pull away.

BOOM!

The other skimmer exploded in a mass of metal and fire. A giant plume of powdery white shot up into the sky. Barry was almost sent over the side, his cheek grazing the water. Fred pulled on the steering wheel, struggling to keep the skimmer from going over.

“Jesus!”
Fred screamed. He shook his head. “I don’t like this, boss. I don’t like this at all.”

Barry straightened up
and wiped the water from his face. The remains of the second skimmer were still raining down, splashing into the sea.

“Shut up
,” Barry said. “They definitely didn’t throw anything.”

“No, sir.”

Barry frowned. Then how did they blow up the two skimmers?

Ba
rry’s eyes widened. He turned and looked at the contents of the sparse skimmer. It was intentionally scant to enable greater speed. There weren’t a whole lot of places to hide something. Barry searched, tossing everything out of the boat. Rope. Life jackets. Spare fuel. He broke into a cold sweat. He searched under the seats and fishing nets. Nothing. Where else could they have possibly-

The med box!

Barry pulled the lid up and found it. Amongst the bandages, painkillers and antiseptic cream was a soft grey block. He picked it up. It squelched and molded to his fingers. He looked up at the stolen boat ahead.

“Speed up, Fred.”

Fred looked at the object in Barry’s hand with fear. “Just toss it, Baz.”

“I said speed up!”

Adrenalin pumped like a river through Barry’s body. Their skimmer drew closer to the catamaran.

“That’s it,” Barry said. “Hold her steady.” He
drew his arm back, preparing to throw the block. He saw something. His blood froze in his veins.

A man stood on the stolen boat’s stern, a remote control held in one hand. He could press the button and destroy him at any moment. B
ut he didn’t. It was a message.

Barry lowered the C4 and
tossed it overboard. “Let’s go.”

Weak-
kneed, Jordan sank to the deck.

“It worked?” Selena asked, brushing away the tears that had formed
in her eyes.

Jordan nodded. “They turned back.”

Needing to see it for herself, Selena peered over the side. “But the remote… It ran out of battery…”

Jordan grinned. “Yes, but they don’t know that.”

They had tried and tried to set the last block of C4 off, but to no avail. The batteries had run out of juice.

Selena burst into tears and hugged her knees. “It’s over. It’s really over.”

The confident gun-wielding Amazonian Selena was gone and had been replaced by this child.

Anne hugged Selena from behind. “Yes,” she said, “it’s over.”

Jordan watched the tall figure in the speedboat pulling away from them, back to Terry’s fort. “It’s not over yet, not by a long shot,” he thought. But he said nothing.

The moisture condensed and formed droplets that clung to the wispy white hairs on Stan’s arms. He squinted, attempting to see through the thick mist that had descended about an hour ago, but could barely see more t
han a few feet beyond the prow.

A gull swooped down from the white abyss, surprised to find a boat there, and immediately pulled out of its dive. Stan was equally unable to judge
the distance. He felt certain they should have been in sight of the land by now.

“Bloody fog,” he murmured. “You don’t think we’ve missed the dock somehow, do you Mare?”

“No,” Mary said. She stood at Stan’s elbow. Her perfume filled his senses. “Keep going, and you’ll see it.”

“I’m worried, Mare. I’m worried about heading out into the world, into the unknown. Into the abyss.”

“Can’t be any worse than it is here.”

“Can’t it? At least we know here. We know these waters, no matter how treacherous. They are our home.”

Mary nodded. “Home is where the heart is, but the heart isn’t where we always think it is.”

“I know where mine is,” Stan said, smiling.
He looked over at Mary, but she was gone. Nothing but empty space where she had been standing but a moment ago. He cast about the deck.

The boards creaked
. The rigging clicked. He was alone. Stan looked back out at the fuzzy white wall before him. He took a deep damp breath and let it out slowly. He saw something.

Not the jetty, but the upturned carcass of a yacht. Driftwood and debris circled it like pilot fish. T
hey were getting close.

A
prow emerged, breaching the mist. Torn sails fluttered in the soft breeze, the mast swallowed at half-mast. Stan turned the wheel to starboard. The ghost ship’s deck had been pulled up, revealing dead darkness in its cargo hold. What looked like oil had been sprayed over the decking, drenching it.

A bell rang with lifeless clangs in the mist.
It grew louder as Stan continued his search for the jetty. Soon he came across a bouy floating in the bay, a figure clinging to the side.

“Hey!” Stan called. “Hey!”

The figure’s head turned. Half of its face had been smashed in. It reached out a hand to grasp uselessly at the air, at Stan, who turned back to the wall of mist before him.

What appeared to be broken twigs
floating on the surface of the water came into view. The quay had been reduced to a few disjointed boards drifting away from the main body, demolished from when they’d last used it.

Stan turned the engine off and let the boat coast the remaining short distance.
The cat handled like a dream. A touch of the steering wheel resulted in an immediate response from the engine. They couldn’t have wished for a better craft for their long journey ahead, or a better-looking one for that matter. Before landing at Terry’s fort they had made a lazy circle around it to eyeball the boats in the small dock. There had to be a dozen boats of various shapes and sizes. Amongst them was what they were looking for – a catamaran. A seventy-five foot behemoth perfectly designed for long distances and to ride out the high rolling seas. It had twin sails and plenty of deck space.

Stan looked to the sky, but with the mist as thick as it was, it was hard to judge the time. The others would be rousing soon, if they hadn’t already. He walked to the
stern and picked up the anchor.

Stan tossed
it overboard. They had to go onto the land.

A floorboard creaked, causing Anne to start awake. She looked around, her eyes adjusting to the darkness. The only source of light
was the dim haze emitting through the porthole, illuminating a skulking Selena.

“Oh… I’m sorry,” Selena said. “I didn’t know anyone was here. I hope I didn’t wake you.”

Anne stretched and swung her legs off the sofa. “I was already awake,” she lied.

The
cat didn’t have the rich character of Big Daddy, but it did have a certain elegance born of practical use and reliability. The cabinets and table tops were chipped and stained, the pots and pans bore dinks and dents of inexperienced cooks. The cabinet doors drifted open and slammed closed during a particularly deep swell. But the living area was wide and open. The sofas had been patched up, the stuffing having come out of it. The bedrooms, though small, were well situated at the rear. Anne felt at home immediately.

Selena frowned. “You slept here? You should have said. You could have had my bed.”

“That’s all right. I slept well.”