Blood Memory: The Complete Season One (Books 1-5) (28 page)

“This doesn’t mean I worked there.”

Marsh gave him a flat stare.

“The truth is if I was lying I didn’t know I was. Between one year and seven years ago, I don’t remember a thing.”

“
What, like amnesia? I thought that only happened in bad soap operas.”

“
Unfortunately not.”

Marsh came to a stop in front of Jordan.
“Come with us, Jordan.”

“What?”

“You’re obviously a good soldier. You could do more good with us than with them.”

“Thank you, but I belong with them. We’ve made a decision, and we’re going to stick to it.”

Marsh didn’t attempt to hide his disappointment. “I can’t argue with that, I suppose.”

“What about you, Marsh? You could get out any time you wanted.”

“And leave Baxter to his own devices? The compound would be destroyed within a month.”

The smell of the salty sea air
got stronger. The regular clothes stores gave way to fish and chip shops and beach gear stores.

Marsh thrust his fist into the air again.

“Do we have to keep stopping like this?” Jordan said.

Marsh ignored him, and moved his head in that hypnotic fashion of his, absorbing all the sights, sounds and smells of the area. The sea was close and the mist was
fading. They needed to push on.

“There’s nothing here,” Jordan pressed, stepping
forward.

Marsh’s arm shot out, lightning-fast. “Wait.”

Clang.

Everyone – besides Marsh, who remained transfixed on something ahead – jerked in the sound’s direction, b
ut met only the shroud of mist.

“It’s them,” Marsh said, not taking his eyes away from the distant spot
he was focused on. “They’re planning an attack.”

“
Planning?” Jordan repeated. “The things that emerged from the outbreak weren’t capable of planning.”

“I hope you haven’t forgotten how to use this,” Marsh said, handing Jordan a handgun. Having seen the exchange, the Corporals did likewise to Anne, Selena and Stan.

“Won’t the noise attract more of them?”

“My boy, they’re all already here.”

Jordan peered around at the mist with fretful eyes. “Just how smart are they?” He was surprised at the evenness of his voice.

“They’re cunning, all right. I don’t rightly know what IQ, though I’d wager they couldn’t qualify for Mensa anytime soon. But when it comes to killing, they’re as cunning as any enemy I’ve come across. You can thank Queenie for that.” Marsh waved to the Corporals. “Get away from the buildings.
”

Jordan looked up at his surroundings.
The buildings had overhangs like the peaks of top hats, and though a man could never make the jump from one roof to another across the street, the buildings were short and squat and a man could fall on them from above without seriously hurting himself.

Jordan pushed his pram to the side of the road and turned to the others.
“Get rid of the prams.”

“But Jordan, the food-” Stan said.

“No arguments. We’ll find more later.”

Clang.
From the other side of the street this time.

Everyone jumped. Anne let out a little scream.

The group walked forward, guns aimed and moving randomly, through the mist, looking for something – anything – that might emerge.

Then there came another noise. Like shards of glass on corrugated iron. Jordan’s skin crawled. Laughter.

Shapes emerged in the rapidly dissipating mist. A bare torso. An arm through a window. A crooked grin in an alleyway. A bloody leg behind a wheelie bin. They appeared for just a moment, and then were gone like smoke on a stray wind. Taunting. Now you see me, now you don’t.

Grunts and groans f
rom in front, then from behind.

“They’re surrounding us,” Marsh whispered.

The mist grew bright as the sun emerged from behind a cloud and zapped each and every vapour particle. The mist was swept aside like a curtain, and the world – unfortunately – became clear. The group was exposed.

What had been a quiet cobbled street leading to the seafront now crawled with the un-dead. Bloody blistered feet dragged acro
ss the cobble streets. Protruding eyeballs spun around at awkward angles. Exposed ribcages showed the hissing of a punctured lung dribbling yellow pus. A granny turned, a long strip of skin from her scalp to the back of her legs torn off and dragging behind her. A teenage boy had his arm missing above the elbow. A trucker’s bowels hung out over his dungarees.

There was the briefest moment of blissful
silence before Marsh bellowed, “Fire!”

The group opened fire, tearing into the front ranks. The air blazed with a red mist as body parts pirouetted in the air, performing a sick dance as they tumbled to the ground. Bellies spilled their contents – mostly swallowed fingers, toes and undigested jewellery. Anne swore
she even saw a fox’s tail. Stomach acid scorched cobblestones and dissolved bare flesh. Eyeballs popped wetly underfoot. The Lurchers continued pressing them, loss of limb nought but a minor inconvenience. Stan reached back, making certain Jessie was safe at the centre of their circle of death firing in all directions.

“Aim
for their legs!” Marsh shouted.

Gun barrels dropped instantly.

As the bodies fell on top of one another, a wall emerged quickly. They were shot, trampled – or both – and all the while they helped to make the wall grow higher. Lurchers slipped on their own innards as they steamed relentlessly forward.

Only Jessie didn’t bear the frantic expressions of the others. Her face was calm and peaceful, her fingers weaving themselves through the necklac
e at her wrist, pulling taut.

A Lurcher with a breast missing stepped toward Stan and Anne, threatening to breach their circle. Stan turned, shooting
the Lurcher through the eye, the back of her head exploding in a chunky red mist.

The rate of firing slowed as the flood trickled to a stop. A few more shots echoed through the streets and once again the world was silent and peaceful, save for the odd grunt and groan from a fallen – but not dead – Lurcher. All around them, in a rough oval, were the bloody entrails of hundreds
of Lurchers. The remains writhed and twitched. Some still made the effort to crawl toward them.

“Is everyone all right?” Jordan asked, turning. “Is everyone okay?”

“We’re fine,” Anne said. “How are there so many of them? Where’d they even come from?”

“Don’t ask me,” Baxter said. “I only work here.”

Selena stepped up to a Lurcher – his dead black eyes locked on her, reaching up, stretching his three remaining fingers toward her. Selena shot the Lurcher in the head. She aimed at another and fired. She moved to another and pulled the trigger. Click. The gun was empty. Click. Click. Click. Selena kept pulling the trigger, seemingly unaware it did nothing.

Nasser touched her on the arm and spoke. “Conserve your ammo. They’re no risk to us now.”

Corporal Nasser tried to take Selena’s gun, but she pulled away, clutching it to her chest, like a child with its comfort blanket. Nasser wrapped an arm around her. His other arm hung in a painful half-cocked posture.

“Nasser…” Baxter said, barely a whisper. “Your arm…”

Nasser lifted it, revealing a large chunk missing from his forearm. “Sorry, Sarge. The bitch came out of nowhere. I barely had time to turn before she sunk her teeth into me.”

Marsh pressed the back of his fingers to the soldier’s forehead. “How do you feel? You’re still warm.”

“Don’t worry about me, Sarge. I’ll do what needs to be done. Just let me fight a little longer. But if something happens…”

Marsh laid a reassuring hand on Nasser’s shoulder. “You’ll do it.
”

There was warmth in Marsh’s smile that took Anne aback. How used to butchering did a man have to be to go through what they had and still ma
nage to smile warmly like that?

Baxter glared at Jordan. Three guesses who he blamed for Nasser’s misfortune.

“Let’s move,” Marsh said, “before the second round begins.”

“Second round?” Stan said
, wide eyed.

Marsh smiled.
“You didn’t honestly think that was all? That was just a taster, an aperitif.” Marsh slapped a hand on Stan’s shoulder. “My friend, here on the land there are always more Lurchers. Let’s just hope today’s bout isn’t quite so demanding as the Thrilla in Manila, huh?”

“How far is your boat?” Marsh asked Jordan, brow furrowed with deep frown lines.

“Close. It’s moored up on jetty twelve.”

Marsh nodded. “Listen, the compound might be a little far for us to get to after all this fighting. Can we stay on your boat till we can get back to the compound? If you’re willing to wait, I’m sure we can find enough food to replace what you lost.”

“What happened to watching us sail off into the sunset?” Jordan said with a smile.

“Plans change.”

Jordan nodded. “I have to warn you: there are some… undesirables after us.”

“You have been busy. I take it your culpability is unfounded?”

“Mostly.”

Marsh laid a hand on Jordan’s shoulder. “Should the time come, we’ll help you fight.”

“There could be a lot of them.”

A devilish grin formed on Marsh’s face. “I’d be disappointed if there weren’t.”

“I hope you like fish.”

They marched toward the seafront as fast as they dared, always mindful of an attack that could come at any moment. The salty sea air was stronger now, but to Jordan’s senses
it smelled sweet.

Nasser stumbled. Selena caught him, and braced his weight. Stan hooked his head under Nasser’s other shoulder. Nasser smiled gratef
ully as they carried him onward.

The avenue they ran down passed under a familiar entryway. Above it was written:

WELCOME TO GREAT YARMOUTH PLEASURE BEACH – MORE FUN FOR EVERYONE!

Still nailed to the haunted house was the first Lurcher Jordan had seen
on land. The flesh up to the Lurcher’s hips had been stripped bare, the white of his bones shining through.

The group covered
one hundred yards before Marsh pumped the air with his fist. They came to a halt just as another wave of Lurchers descended upon them.

“Clip!” Jordan shouted.

Marsh tossed up a fresh one, which Jordan caught and reloaded with the smooth efficiency of thousands of hours of practice.

They were
sandwiched between the teacup ride on their left and a large shooting gallery on their right. The park was silent, the multi-coloured light bulbs dim. A sound like the low growl of a tiger built in volume.

The group formed into its circle of
death.

Amongst the bright colours and childish games of the fairground, the Lurcher attac
k took on a more sinister edge.

Lurchers stumbled over the teacup ride, accidentally grabbing the centre railing, causing the cups to spin. Stan took aim and fired at them as they squeezed between the giant vessels. They fell there, clogging up the spaces, reducing the number of Lurchers who could pass through.

A Lurcher screamed and swung a clawed hand at Jordan, who ducked, avoiding the swipe. He spun, and put the gun to the Lurcher’s forehead and blew it away. Grey matter splattered over the teddy bears and toys heaped up on the prize cabinet. The Lurcher fell to the floor of the shooting gallery. Cute yellow ducklings sat frozen on their way across a perilous journey of oil tankers, icebergs, buoys and pirate ships.

A Lurcher with half her face missing popped up besi
de an iceberg. Jordan shot her.

Another Lurcher’s head rose, and Jordan fired, but the Lurcher bobbed back down, avoiding the shot. Jordan tracked his sight along the firing range, waiting. He began to wonder if it hadn’t gone somewhere else when the Lurcher appeared – closer, beside a pirate ship. Jordan got him this time.

Against the continuous Lurcher onslaught, Nasser grew slow and powerless. The kickbacks rocked him like slugs to the face.

There was a momentary lull in the Lurcher barrage.

Marsh turned to Selena. “Girl. You take him – take Nasser – away from here.

Nasser shook his head – a laboured effort. “No sir, I can fight.”

Marsh gripped Nasser’s shoulder and squeezed gently.

“You’ve done enough, soldier. The least you deserve is somewhere peaceful at the end.”

With the last of his strength, eyes shimmering, Nasser saluted. “It’s been an honour, sir.”

Marsh returned the salute. “The honour was mine.”

Nasser fell on Selena, using her as a crutch. She hobbled away with him.

The remaining members in the circle tightened, becoming smaller to compensate for the loss of two guns. Jessie was jammed in their ce
ntre: the pearl at their heart.