Blood Memory: The Complete Season One (Books 1-5) (60 page)

Jessie
tossed her blonde hair over her shoulder and took aim. She scrubbed the battlefield below. A soldier was on his knees, a Lurcher taking a bite out of his shoulder and tearing it away. Jessie moved to another soldier battling three Lurchers. He sprayed them with bullets, their heads exploding like dropped watermelons. An unseen Lurcher ran at him from behind. Jessie took aim and took the Lurcher in mid-stride. The body hit the ground at the soldier’s feet. The soldier looked up at the surrounding houses, pinpointing the location of the shot that had saved him. He smiled and nodded at Jessie, then raised his rifle and continued with the battle. Jessie turned and fired again, each time saving a soldier in peril.

She aimed at a Lurcher that had been badly wounded, but was still able to crawl along the floor toward an unsuspecting soldier. Jessie aimed her rifle and pulled the trigger.
Clack!
Empty.

The Lurcher below opened its jaws wide and clamped itself around the soldier
’s heel. The soldier screamed, aiming his rifle at the head and blowing it to smithereens.

“You did well,” Anne said.

“I didn’t do enough.”

“
You did what you could.”

Just then
Anne looked down and saw Jordan. He fired his gun with one hand and punched with the other.

“Jordan!” Anne shouted through the gap in the window. “Jordan!”

“Where?” Jessie said, searching. Anne pointed him out, and together they shouted and pounded on the glass, but to no avail. It was just too noisy out there.

BOOM!

A cloud of black smoke and fiery flames erupted somewhere outside the compound. For a moment everyone stopped to look. Anne took the opportunity and beat on the window.

Jordan looked up. Their eyes locked.

Powerful emotions welled up inside Anne. Relief, joy, excitement. Her eyes overflowed.

Then his expression changed. Anne’s smile faded as she watched him turn and run away.

“No…” she said. She pressed her hand against the window. “Don’t go. No!”

“Where’s he going?” Jessie said, a quiver in her voice. “I don’t understand. Anne? Where’s he going?”

“I… don’t know.”

The emotions bled out of her, and she felt cold. There was a terror in his eyes before he ran that she recognised from the beach house.

Heavy footsteps thumped up the stairs outside the door. Anne got to her feet. “Get up, Jess.”

“That’s them, isn’t it? They’re coming.”

“Yes. And we’re going to fight them until we have no more fight left.”

Anne removed her belt and wrapped it around her hand, letting half of it hang loose like a whip.

“We don’t know how many there are,” Jessie said.

“That doesn’t matter. We have to try.”

Jessie held the gun butt-first, like a club. “Okay.”

The footfalls reached the top of the stairs. The door
squeaked open on rusty hinges. The figure – a burly skin-headed Lurcher with a hideous scar stretching from ear to nose – grinned at them.

Jessie ran forward and shoved the Lurcher. He fell back, into the Lurchers behind him on the stairs. Taking Jessie’s cue, Anne crowded the top of the stairs, kicking, punching, jabbing, spitting and screaming, half the time not even looking at what they were pulverising.

They fought till their legs and arms burnt and their blows were weak. Something grabbed Anne’s hand and pulled the belt away. The figure did the same with Jessie’s gun. But they didn’t stop hitting out with their fists and feet, screaming bloody murder. But it did no good – they were exhausted, and fell back against the floor, gasping for air.

Anne cradled Jessie close. “I’m sorry, Jess.”

“At least we’re together.”

The figure was covered head to foot in blood. Anne glared up at it defiantly.

The figure knelt down.

Anne flinched.

“What was my third rule?”

Anne searched the face through the blood. Out of breath
she said, “Always have someone… guard your back.” Tears spilled down her cheeks. “I thought… I thought…”

Jordan took her in his arms. “Never.”

Jessie grinned, her breath coming back to her. “I knew you’d come back.”

“Why did you run?” Anne asked.

“I saw the Lurchers run into the house, and there was no way I could get in through the front door-”

“So you came in the back.”

He smiled. “I did used to live in one of these houses, remember.”

“But there are still Lurchers. How did you get past them?”

Jordan moved to the window. “Come take a look.”

The front Lurcher ranks were still attacking the soldiers, who were taking a much more defensive stance, but the rest of the Lurchers – packed in like sardines – tore each other to pieces.

“Their leader is dead,” Jordan said. “They’re normal Lurchers now. They’re mindless animals, attacking anything that moves.”

“How?”

“Commander Harris. He killed Tim, their leader.”

Anne looked up at him with tears in her eyes. “It’s over?” Her voice shook. “It’s really over?”

“Yes. It’s over.”

Jordan and Anne embraced and kissed.

“You guys…” Jessie said, blushing and turning away. “I thought you said it was safe.”

Jordan let the cool salty breeze wash over him, dislodging the events of the past two weeks as he dabbed the finishing touches to the cat’s stern. Little damage had been done to it while it was in the Lurchers’ charge – a few scratches and mysterious pools of blood here and there. Nothing a mop and a fresh can of paint couldn’t fix.

The sun’s reflection had tiny dimples that
drifted across the sea’s calm surface. It was silent, peaceful, and not even seagulls had come out to blot the scene.

Jordan contemplated the large empty space where the boat’s name should be. The wanted to incorporate Selena’s ‘Hope’ suggestion, but all three of them had been scratching their heads over something good.

Footsteps on the quay.

Jordan swung round, tin raised. Commander Harris had his hands raised in a gesture of mock surrender. Baxter stood beside him, not reacting.

Jordan put the tin down. “You know, it’s not uncommon to make your presence known before you scare the crap out of someone.”

“All ready for the trip?” the
commander asked.

“Almost. Anne and Jessie are bringing the last of the supplies now.”

“I envy you. Leaving for greener pastures. Or should that be bluer pastures?”

“You can come with us, if you want.”

Commander Harris leaned on the railing. “My place is here.”

“
How’s the rebuilding going?”

“We cleared away the bodies and turned over the soil. Nothing will ever grow there again. We’re filling in the remaining secret entrances now.”

“Good.”

“We searched amongst the bodies. There were seven to eight thousand of them in all, leaving two or three thousand still at large. We never did find a body like the one you described – this ‘Tim’.”

“It was a big explosion. His body might have got blown to pieces.”

“It might. At least if he – or someone like him – comes back, we’ll know what
to do.” Harris looked out at the ocean. “Everywhere will be the same, you know. Maybe worse. Out there it’s the unknown. At least here you know the land, these waters. Here, you have the compound. Friends. You can make a life here.”

Jordan shook his head. “We belong at sea.”

“I thought you’d say that.” Harris extended his hand. Jordan shook it. “Any time you change you mind, the offer’s still there.”

Harris turned and walked down the quay.
Baxter considered Jordan, and then nodded his head – a move so imperceptible it might never have happened at all. Harris and Baxter nodded to Anne and Jessie as they passed.

“What did he want?” Anne asked, unloading the box she carried into Jordan’s arms.

“Just to say goodbye.” He sat the box on the deck. “We’re all set. Are you both still sure about going?”

“My life is at sea.”

“Jess?”

“Mine too.”

Jordan smiled. “Let’s cast off, then.”

“Wait,” Jessie said. “A name. It’s bad luck sailing without one.”

“I almost forgot. Jess, go get the paint. It’s in the cabin.”

Jessie ran down the stairs. Anne wrapped herself in Jordan’s arms.

“Stan and Mary would have been proud. A new family. Oh, I made a new list of names, by the way.” She dug into her pocket.

“Let’s hear them, then.”

“They’re works in progress, remember.”

“Hit me.”

Anne read from the list. “Future Hope.”

“Too obvious.”

“Hope Unabashed.”

“Eugh.”

“Destiny’s Hope.”

Jordan grimaced.

“What kind of name were you thinking of, then?” Anne huffed.

“I don’t know. I guess I’ll know when I see it.”

“What’s taking Jessie so long?” Anne moved to the stairwell and shouted down. “Jess, did you find the paint okay? Jess?” She turned to Jordan. “I swear, she’d lose her head if it wasn’t screwed on.” She headed down the stairs. “Jess?”

Jordan leaned against the railing, listening to the water as it lapped against the hull. The sun was nearing its apex. They would need to cast off soon or risk losing the light. He looked out across the docklands, letting his eyes pick up details, letting free association work its magic.
Sea, blue, cool, wet, sun, land, water hope, reflection, hope dock, quay, boat, yacht, flag…

Flag.

A mid-sized yacht across the dock caught his eye. The flag flapped crimson at the top of the mast. A stiff wind caught it and stretched it to its full length. A golden ring on a field of purple.

He
’d seen that flag before. But where…?

Jordan felt weak. He steadied himself on the railing. He looked down the stairs where Jessie and Anne had gone but hadn’t returned yet. It was too quiet.

Jessie bound down the stairs. The cabin was dark, full of lumpy supply provision shadows. Fish hooks in a tin pot clinked as the boat rocked. Baked bean and sweetcorn tins stacked like miniature skyscrapers. Stuffed ice cream tubs of homemade condiments courtesy of Doreen and her cohorts. Enough food and materials to last for years to come.

Someone had drawn the curtains.
Jessie pulled them apart, and caught sight of a hand a split second before it wrapped over her mouth. Her arms were twisted behind her back. She was dragged into the shadows.

Soft warm air brushed against her ear. “Sh-sh-sh-sh-sh.”

She kicked her legs, but her feet didn’t touch the floor. She tried to bite the man’s hand. She was rewarded with a sharp twist of her arm. She whimpered and stopped fighting.

They waited.

A few minutes later, Anne called down into the cabin. Jessie struggled, to no avail. The man holding her was too strong.

Anne descended the stairs. The moment she reached the bottom, another large shadow detached itself from the darkness, grabbed her and trussed her up as unceremoniously
as Jessie had been. Anne peered around the cabin, eyes adjusting to the darkness. She caught sight of Jessie, held by her own captor.

They waited.

The thick course hair on the man’s arms tickled Jessie’s face. She heard Anne struggle, managing a whimper and a light scuffing of her shoes, but no more.

Minutes or hours passed – it was hard to tell in the darkness. Jessie sensed the man holding her grow impatient. He shifted from foot to foot. He sighed out through his nose.

Jordan called down into the darkness. “Jessie? Anne? Is everything all right?”

Jessie heard Anne’s muffles as she struggled, but nothing loud enough for Jordan to hear. Jessie shut her eyes and prayed he would not come down the stairs. Her prayers weren’t answered.

The moment his foot touched the floor a deep voice said, “Hello Jordan.”

The cabin was flooded with light as the curtains were drawn back. There were five large men in trench coats in the cabin. Two held Jessie and Anne in their large strong arms. The women struggled but couldn’t get free. The remaining two men restrained Jordan. If he was surprised, it didn’t show.

Terry the trader smiled, a nasty-looking scar across his cheek. It was red raw and stretched with resistance. He appeared to have added an extra chin to his already massive frame, his mop of thinning hair stretched taut across his scalp, barely able to carpet it. His small watery eyes drank Jordan in.

“No one hits me in my water and gets away with it,” Terry said. “No doubt you thought I’d forgotten. I’m sorry to let you down.”

“Let them go,” Jordan said. His voice was calm and steady.