Blood Memory: The Complete Season One (Books 1-5) (25 page)

There was a low grumbling sound. Selena hugged her
stomach and blushed. “Sorry.”

Anne smiled. “You must be hungry.
”

“Starving.”

Anne moved to a small backpack in the corner. She took out a packet of crisps, a tin of fruit, and a can of Coke. “We don’t have much to eat, I’m afraid. The crisps will be soft, the drink flat, but the fruit should be okay.”

Selena smiled down at the food before her. “It’s a feast.
” Selena popped a crisp into her mouth. “So, what’s the plan today?”

“Today, food shopping. We’ll go to a supermarket in town.”

Selena looked up. “On the land?”

“After the Terry fiasco, there’s nowhere else we can
go.”

“Can we get anything we like?”

“Anything still edible.”

Selena eyed a cherry before popping it in her mouth. “My boyfriend used to say, ‘If it’s in a tin, put it in
’.”

Anne smiled. “I like that.” After a moment of silent chomping
, Anne plucked up her courage and said, “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“If it’s too painful you don’t have to talk about it, but… how did you end up on Terry’s fort?”

Selena looked up from the food
with a distinct look of unease and inner agony.

Anne shook her head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. Forgive me, it’s too soon.”

“It was my boyfriend,” Selena said. “He was in the navy. Heading to sea was his idea. ‘It’s my second home,’ he always said. Twelve months after the Incident and we were still alive. It was the only wisdom he ever showed. My boyfriend was not good at fishing. We tried, but never caught much. Not enough to live on. We soon went through our supplies. We went onto the land to get food, but were always chased back by nzambi.”

“Nzambi? What’s that?”

Selena did a passable impression of a Lurcher.

“Ah. You mean Lurchers.”

“Lurcher… Yes, I heard some of the men say Lurcher… But nzambi is the original word. Nzambi… zombie. Our ancestors believed a bokor – a sorcerer? – could bring dead people back and control them, get them to do their bidding. We called them nzambies.

“Anyway, my boyfriend, he said to go to Terry and trade stuff we had on board. ‘We might be able to get some food for our junk’, he said.” Selena shook her head. “Never in
a million years would I have suspected the ‘junk’ he talked about was me. He traded me for half a bag of food.” Tears shimmered in her eyes. She forced a smile onto her face. “Look at me. I’m worth at least two.”

Anne reached across the table and squeezed her hand gently. “Ten,” she said.

“I was there till you rescued me. That Terry is worse than nzambi. He turned us into sex nzambi. We’d have been better off if they put us out of our misery.”

“
But you have no holes…”

“
I thought it was better to do what they ask without fighting, without the drugs.” She turned away, ashamed of herself. “Maybe I was wrong.”

“
You did what you had to to survive. We’ve all done the same.”

“
Not exactly the same.”

H
eavy footfalls thumped down the stairs behind them. Selena dried her eyes.

Stan ducked into the room, blowing into his hands to warm them up. He stopped
, sensing the atmosphere. “I can come back.”

“No,” Selena said. “Come in, please.”

“Thank you. The mist’s really thick out there. Chilly.”

“I know,” Anne said, gesturing to the blank white porthole. “We saw it earlier.”

Stan sidled up to Selena and proffered his hand. “I don’t think we were formally introduced yesterday. I’m Stan.”

“Selena.”

Stan extricated a packet of crisps from a backpack. He screwed up his face in derision. “Cheese and onion.”

“Here,” Anne said as she tossed him another packet. “Ready salted.”

Stan opened the pack and munched. “How are you this morning, Selena?”

“Better, thank you.”

“Sleep well?”

“Like the dead.”

Stan raised an eyebrow. “These days I take that to mean not very well, then.”

Selena chuckled.

Stan frowned. “Your accent…”

Selena blushed. “It’s strong, I know.”

“No, that’s not what I mean. You have a beautiful accent. Where are you from?”

“I am from The Congo.”

“Good morning,” a voice behind them said.

Jordan, hair standing up haphazardly, crossed the room and slid onto the sofa beside Anne. He pilfered a crisp. “What time is it?”
he asked.

“We have no idea,” Stan said. “There’s a thick mist outside and we can’t see the sun. My guess: early-morning. If the sun were any higher, the mist probably wouldn’t still be here.”

“It’ll clear up,” Anne said.

Jordan nodded. “Hopefully not too fast. If we hurry, we could go onto the mainland, shop, and be back on board without the Lurchers ever knowing. I was hoping to get everything we needed thrown into the bargain with Terry. Obviously that didn’t happen.”

“I’ll say,” Stan said.

“He’ll be after us,” Jordan said, opening a bottle of water. “He’s probably looking for us as we speak.”

Stan pulled a pen and scrap paper from a backpack. “We should make a list of the things we need today.”

“Food should be top of the list. And spare
sailing equipment.”

“I know some about
sailing,” Selena said. “My brother taught me.”

Jordan’s eyebrows knitted together.

“Her boyfriend was in the navy,” Anne said.

“That’s great. Do you think you can help us find the parts we’ll need? We’re going on a little trip to safer waters. To the Indian Ocean. You’re more than welcome to join us.”

“When are you going?” Selena asked.

“As soon as we can.”

Selena shrugged. “I have nowhere else to go. I’ll come.”

“Medicine,” Stan said, adding it to his list. “Books and some board games wouldn’t go amiss.”

Jordan nodded. “Yes, but that’s not a priority. If we see them, we’ll grab some. If not, never mind.”

“We could do with some new cooking utensils,” Anne said, thinking out loud. “The ones in here look like they’ll fall to pieces soon.”

“Fishing rods,” Stan said. “Won’t last long without them.”

Jordan nodded. “Good thinking. We’d best get going. This mist isn’t going to last forever.”

The cool mist pressed against Jordan as he climbed the stairs to the deck
. The sails were folded away, clinging to the masts like a baby to its mother. The sun was a large patch of blurred yellow in the sky. The broken figureheads of a dozen galleons stood proud in the mist like totems to the sea god. Gulls cried overhead and drifted in and out of view as if they were on strings.

“Blimey
,” Jordan said. “You really weren’t exaggerating, Stan. It’s like we’re in a cloud.” He hopped onto the jetty, and then lifted Jessie down. The jetty stretched off into white oblivion. “Stay close,” Jordan said, taking his first tentative steps. “We don’t want to get lost out here.”

“Maybe we should have a code word,” Stan suggested, “in case we get separated.”

“I nominate ‘Marco’.”

“Vito,” Anne said.

“On what grounds?”

“Why do we need a code word? How about, ‘Where are you guys?’?”

“You’re no fun, Anne.”

Jordan looked back over his shoulder at their cat. It
rocked steadily with the water, and melded with the mist that surrounded it, as if becoming a part of it.

Their feet met the
cobbled streets of Great Yarmouth city centre. They were slippery and slick with condensation. Old fashioned boutiques with smashed front windows appeared from the fog like a thought popping into existence. There was a fluttering sound somewhere to the right. The group froze, instinctively forming a circle, looking out in all directions. The fluttering got louder.

“It’s coming from this direction,” Stan said, pointing down an alleyway. With his stick raised high,
his knuckles white, he edged forward. Wings flapped from the mist. Stan jumped back in shock, his hand on his chest.

“It’s just a bird,” Stan said. “Looks like it hurt its wing.”

The pigeon fluttered about pathetically. The feathers stuck up like it had been hit by a car… or mauled.

“Let’s keep going,” Jordan said.

The cobblestones gave way to tarmac. They followed the yellow road markings on the street. Occasionally someone would say, “Hold up,” open a car door and search amongst the items inside. They found little of value.

The supermarket wasn’t particularly big – one of those inner city ‘express’ shops. The fruit and vegetables had turned
to black mush. Swarms of flies swirled above their heads. They covered their mouths with their T-shirts to keep from gagging.

They grabbed two loitering trolleys and p
ushed them down the aisle.

“Let’s split up into two groups,” Jordan said. “Anne, Jessie and Stan. You go into one group. Selena and I in the other. We’ll meet you by the checkout.”

Selena approached a bargain bin. “Ooo. Buy one, get one free.”

Jordan smiled.

Selena picked up a tin of tuna and read the back. Jordan took it out of her hand and put it back on the shelf. “Trust me, you won’t want to eat more fish.”

Selena placed a dozen packets of rice in the trolley. “I wanted to
thank you for rescuing me yesterday.”

“Don’t thank me. Thank Anne. I would have left you.”

Selena shrugged. “Even so.”

They turned into the next aisle and stopped.
Sprawled in the centre of the aisle was a remarkably fresh decapitated body. Tins of sweetcorn lay in the congealed blood.

“Huh,” Jordan said. He pushed the trolley
around the body and through the blood, forming tracks.

“Where did you learn to fight like that?” Sele
na asked.

“I don’t know,” Jordan said as he shovelled cuppa soup sachets and bags of pasta
into the trolley.

“My boyfriend had some weapons training, but he wasn’t as good as you. What were you? A Navy Seal or something?”

“That’s American.”

“Okay, the English equivalent.”

“So I can use a gun, so what?”

“That wasn’t just using a gun. You were
a killer.”

“Thos
e guards weren’t well trained.”

Selena paused. “How do you know that?”

“They’re dead, so they couldn’t have been very well trained, could they?”

“If it wasn’t for you, Stan would be dead and Jessie and Anne and me would be locked in a cage.”

“If it wasn’t for me, we wouldn’t have even been there.”

“What do you mean?”

“Seeing Terry was my idea. We could have just come onto the land in the first place and avoided him altogether.”

“Land is not safe.”

“Neither was Terry.”

Selena hefted a multipack of spam and loaded it into the trolley. “If anyone can get us to the Indian Ocean, it’s you.”

“I’ve got a hole in my life six years deep. We’re alive now because of luck. That’s all.”

Selena cowered slightly under Jordan’s glare.
They walked on for a moment.

“We need a name for our boat
,” Selena said. “It’s unlucky to sail without one.”

“Any suggestions?”

Selena thought for a moment. “How about ‘Hope’?”

There was the rattle of a trolley as the
other group rounded the corner.

“Have you finished?” Jordan
asked.

“We got some medicine,” Anne said, pulling the trolley to a halt. “Did you get everything you wanted?”

“Yes. Where’s Stan?”

“He’s still perusing the wine section.”

Jordan cupped his hands around his mouth. “Stan! Just grab the most expensive stuff!”

Jordan peered into Anne’s trolley. “A lot of sweets and chocolate, I see…”

Anne pointed to the statue-like Jessie. “Blame Jessie.”

Jordan shook his head in mock anger. “Jessie, Jessie, Jessie.”

“Coming! I’m coming!” Stan stumbled toward them, arms brimming with boxes.

“I know we said you could bring whatever you wanted, but that’s too much wine, Stan.”

“It’s not wine.” He dumped the board games and playing cards into the trolley, a childish grin on his face. “A lifetime’s worth.”

A skeleton in a uniform sat at the checkout, her blonde hair hanging in ringlets
, her hand laid out on the keyboard. They wheeled past it and cautiously approached the security gates.