Blood Memory: A Post-Apocalypse Series (Book Five)

by Perrin Briar

  “We have work camps,” the man said. “Work in the fields for a few years and you’ll be able to buy your own ship like the one you have here.”

  “Years?” Jordan said.

  He weighed the man up. He was officious-looking, with the distinct air of someone lacking in imagination. Jordan would have to be clear.

  “How much would you be willing to take to let us through?” Jordan said.

  “I’ve told you, sir,” the man said. “Sixty kilograms for all of you.”

  “I know what you said,” Jordan said with a wink. “I meant, how much would you be willing to take?”

  The man’s eyelids drooped half-closed.

  “Are you trying to bribe me, sir?” he said.

  Jordan looked to one side.

  “Uh, no,” he said. “Of course not.”

  “Good,” the man said. “Because that would be a very serious offence, and dealt with to the fullest extent of the law.”

  “Right,” Jordan said. “Well, it’s a good thing I didn’t try to bribe you then.”

  “It certainly is, sir,” the man said drily. “If there’s nothing else.”

  He turned and moved on to the next boat.

  Jordan’s legs felt weak. He fell back on the deck and shook his head in despondence.

  “I can’t believe it,” he said. “We crossed three and a half thousand miles to get here, fought pirates, Lurchers, survived starvation, and now we get here and can’t pass through.”

  “Let’s head to Port Fouad,” Anne said. “We’re not in any great rush. We can take our time and think through our options. I’m sure there’ll be a way we can get through.”

  Jordan’s mind was distant with thought, running through possible solutions. As it turned out, there was an obvious one, flashing in the front of his mind. But he didn’t know how Anne would take it.

  They peeled out of the queue and headed toward Port Fouad.

  5.

  Port Fouad was home to a large mosque, its spires visible from miles around. They were bent over slightly to one side and held in place by a series of taut cables. It was no doubt meant as a symbol that even at the end of the world the house of God was unbreakable, but it had the opposite effect on Jordan. It was a manmade structure and easily destroyed.

  Anne approached Jordan, who guided Hope Tomorrow into Port Fouad’s dock.

  “Need any help?” Anne said.

  “No, I should be okay,” Jordan said.

  “I told Jessie and Ori about our situation,” Anne said. “We threw around some ideas.”

  “Come up with anything good?” Jordan said.

  Anne shook her head.

  “Nothing concrete,” she said. “The most obvious is to sail back and head around Africa.”

  “That’ll take forever,” Jordan said. “And it’s dangerous. Imagine how many pirates there are there.”

  “Without payment we’ll have no chance this way,” Anne said.

  Jordan pulled down the sail, slowing their approach.

  “We do have another option,” Jordan said, lowering his voice. “And it’s sitting on the sofa in our cabin.”

  “Ori?” Anne said.

  “The police are looking for him,” Jordan said. “And that ransom is starting to look very attractive right about now.”

  “He was trying to make life better for the town,” Anne said. “We can’t just hand him over like that.”

  “I’m trying to make a better life for us,” Jordan said.

  “I know,” Anne said. “But not like this.”

  “Why not?” Jordan said. “We don’t owe him anything. He took action, and now he has to live with the consequences. We were, for once, given a gift. We shouldn’t squander it. Imagine what he might be worth! We could write our own ticket! We could hand him in and still have enough to live on for months to come!”

  “We can’t hand him over to the king!” Anne said. “He’ll have him killed, probably tortured too.”

  “It seems a lot to give away,” Jordan said.

  “We’re going to do the right thing,” Anne said. “We’ll come up with another way.”

  Jordan sighed, and then took down another sail, reducing their speed further.

  “Even if we sold everything we have it wouldn’t amount to sixty kilograms,” Jordan said.

  “We could catch fish,” Anne said. “Eat what we need, and then exchange the excess for non-perishables.”

  “I thought you were sick of fish?” Jordan said.

  “I am,” Anne said.

  “Fish won’t be worth a lot,” Jordan said. “You saw all the trawlers out there.”

  “Then we’ll find another way,” Anne said.

  “You keep saying that,” Jordan said, “but what other way is there?”

  “We’re not handing him in!” Anne said.

  Jordan steered Hope Tomorrow to a stop alongside a quay. Jessie and Ori came up the stairs. Ori had a scarf wrapped around his head.

  “Well,” Ori said. “I suppose this is goodbye.”

  “It is,” Jordan said, tying up the mooring line with knots tighter than usual.

  “I appreciate everything you did for me,” Ori said. “All of you. I’m sorry things couldn’t have worked out better for you. Maybe when we overthrow the king we’ll have a Jordan, Anne and Jessie day, or something.”

  He smiled, and then hugged and kissed Anne and Jessie on the cheek. As Ori approached Jordan his eyes moved to the side, spotting something. He lowered his gaze to his feet.

  Jordan turned to see a pair of police officers in uniform walking down the dock. Jordan looked at Ori and didn’t see a man, but a pile of tins, stretching up into the sky. It would be so easy…

  The officers passed.

  “Good luck out there,” Jordan said.

  He offered his hand. Ori shook it.

  “Thank you for everything,” he said.

  “You’re welcome,” Jordan said with warmth he didn’t feel.

  Ori pulled up his hood and stepped onto the quay. He merged into the crowd of dusty brown and was gone.

  “Good riddance,” Jordan said under his breath.

  “He wasn’t that bad,” Anne said.

  “He’s walking away with our ticket out of here,” Jordan said. “I’m glad to be rid of the temptation.”

  “When I saw the police coming, I almost handed him in, to claim the ransom,” Jessie said.

  Jordan couldn’t keep from smiling.

  “What stopped you?” Anne said.

  “It was wrong,” Jessie said with a shrug.

  “I’m proud of you,” Anne said, wrapping an arm around Jessie, and then Jordan too. “Both of you.”

  “That makes one of us,” Jordan said. “But it certainly makes our lives more difficult.”

  “How long will it take for us to earn the amount we need?” Jessie said.

  “Assuming we can save two kilograms of food a week, which would be a bit of a challenge,” Anne said. “About seven months.”

  “Seven months,” Jordan said, shaking his head.

  “It beats the risk of sailing around Africa, doesn’t it?” Anne said. “Plus, we’ll get through the canal. And we’ll still have our beloved Hope Tomorrow.”

  “I suppose,” Jordan said. “What other choice do we have?”

  “Absolutely none,” Jessie said.

  They made a deal with the port master to moor their ship to the quay. With so many ships coming and going Jordan had expected unreasonable prices, but he was surprised. The port master explained that while it was true a lot of boats passed through the port, not many laid anchor.

  “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask,” the port master said from below his thin pencil moustache. “I’m the last boat on quay one.”

  He left with a whistle on his lips and a skip in his step.

  That evening after a disappointing dinner, Jordan, Anne and Jessie unpacked their food supplies and stacked it up. Jordan braced the weight with his arms.
r />   “How much do you think we have?” Anne said.

  “About two kilograms,” Jordan said.

  “Two kilograms?” Anne said. “Is that all?”

  “We could sell everything we have,” Jessie said.

  “That’ll bring us about half a tin,” Jordan said. “If we’re lucky. I can’t believe we came all this way to be stopped now by red tape.”

  He looked out a porthole at the town before them, bustling with people heading in a thousand different directions, all with a sense of purpose.

  “We’ll have to go job hunting tomorrow,” Jordan said. “With any luck they’ll have need of a few weary travellers like us.”

  “I wouldn’t count on it,” Anne said.

  “Let’s get some shuteye,” Jordan said. “We’ll think clearer after a good night’s sleep.”

  6.

  Jordan awoke to the sound of rain. His eyes were slits. They were heavy and he could barely open them. He rolled over, and the sound dimmed. He looked up at the portholes on one side of the ship and found they were dry, while those on the opposite side were wet. And now he looked at it, he could see the rain didn’t fall in its customary spits and spots, but in single cascades, like from a teapot spout. The rain was also yellow.

  Drunken cackles grunted from the throats of several men outside, their flies zipping up.

  Jordan poked Anne in the ribs.

  “Anne,” he said. “Anne. Wake up.”

  “Ngh?” Anne said, rolling onto her side.

  “Anne, get up,” Jordan said. “Someone’s outside.”

  Anne worked her face, but her eyes wouldn’t open.

  “Outside?” she grunted.

  Heavy work boots kicked the hull of their catamaran, causing Anne to start.

  “Ay, ay!” a deep throaty voice said. “When the boat’s a’ rockin’ don’t come a knockin’!”

  The others laughed.

  “What’s going on?” Jessie said, stirring from her sleep.

  “Just some drunken idiots,” Jordan said. “Go back to sleep.”

  Jessie didn’t need much coaxing. She laid her head back on her pillow and continued to snore.

  Jordan got up and put on his jeans.

  “You’re not going out there?” Anne said.

  “I’ll just ask them to move on,” Jordan said.

  “Give them a minute,” Anne said. “They’ll leave.”

  “I’ll just have a quick word,” Jordan said.

  He lifted up the sofa cushion and jabbed the passcode into the safe. He had to do it twice, his eyesight still a little blurry with sleep. He took out a gun and loaded it.

  “I’ve never seen a conversation that needed a gun before,” Anne said. “Except on True Detective.”

  “This isn’t a gun,” Jordan said. “It’s punctuation.”

  He tucked the gun into the waistband of his trousers.

  “Jordan, wait,” Anne said. “Don’t go out there. If something happens we’ll get blamed for it. We’re the foreigners here.”

  “At least one of them is speaking English,” Jordan said. “They’re foreign too.”

  “Just wait,” Anne said. “We don’t need trouble right now.”

  Jordan ran his hands through his hair.

  “Fine,” he said. “How long do you want to wait?”

  “Until they’re gone,” Anne said.

  Jordan bit his bottom lip.

  “I’ll wait five minutes,” he said. “Then I’m going out there.”

  The men began singing, a football anthem, and kicked harder at the side of the boat, which rocked and banged against the quay.

  “They’re going to damage her,” Jordan said. “We can’t afford repairs. I have to go.”

  “Jordan, don’t!” Anne said.

  But he had already unlocked the door and was pushing it open. He hopped off the deck. It was the middle of the night, the only light source a streetlamp at the end of each quay.

  “Can I help you?” Jordan said.

  The men turned to face him. There were four of them, large, with bulging stomachs, muscle not fat, Jordan suspected. Their eyes passed over him as if anticipating the challenge of approaching prey.

  “Hello there, friend!” one of the men said in overly brightened tones.

  He was of a barrelish disposition with a gigantic head.

  “What can I do for you?” he said.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt your party,” Jordan said. “But we live here and were trying to get some sleep. Would you mind taking your party elsewhere? I don’t mean to cause trouble.”

  “Were we causing a ruckus?” Large Head said.

  He pulled on his can, and then tossed it onto Hope Tomorrow’s deck.

  “Thanks,” Jordan said. “I’ll recycle it tomorrow.”

  “I’ll tell you what,” Large Head said. “You give us a good reason to go and we’ll go.”

  The can Large Head had tossed onto the deck chugged as the beer spilled from it. It had hardly been touched. The beer in the other men’s hands looked similarly well-stocked. Jordan scanned the quay around him, but didn’t find anyone else present.

  “I suppose I don’t have one,” Jordan said. “Do you have an extra beer? Maybe I’ll join you.”

  “Always room for one more,” Large Head said.

  Jordan approached him and sniffed his breath.

  “Doesn’t smell like you’ve been drinking for long,” he said. “Or at all.”

  Large Head grinned, his eyes glinting in the moonlight.

  “Looks like we’ve got a sharp one here, lads,” he said, his voice losing its imposed slur. “I like your boat.”

  “Thanks,” Jordan said. “We do too.”

  “Give it to me,” Large Head said. “This doesn’t need to be difficult.”

  “You made it difficult the moment you stepped onto this quay,” Jordan said.

  “Did you hear that, lads?” Large Head said. “He said we’re making this difficult.”

  Large Head turned to glance at his friends. Jordan caught the slight shift in bodyweight, the repositioning of feet and shoulders. Large Head leapt forward, bringing his globe of a forehead at Jordan. But Jordan was ready, and leaned back. Large Head stumbled, losing his balance.

  “Quick fella, aren’t you?” Large Head said.

  Jordan brought his pistol out. He aimed it at Large Head. A peashooter against the moon.

  Large Head just smiled.

  “You’re not going to shoot me,” he said.

  “I can shoot you and your friends and then get out of here and never look back,” Jordan said.

  “And I say you’re full of hot air,” Large Head said.

  “Want to take the risk?” Jordan said. “Do any of you?”

  Jordan raised his voice but didn’t take his eyes off the man before him.

  “Maybe after we’re done with you we’ll go see what you’ve got hidden in the cabin,” Large Head said, his voice soft. “I’ll bet you have something tasty tucked away.”

  Bile rose up out of Jordan’s stomach, bubbling hot, but he kept it under control.

  “Get out of here,” Jordan said. “Before things turn ugly.”

  Something clattered on the quay behind him. Jordan turned to see what it was. In that split second, he knew he’d made a grievous mistake.

  Large Head struck fast, knocking the gun from Jordan’s hands and into the water.

  The other men sprung forward like a pack of ravenous lions.

  Jordan backed away, lining the men up as best he could, keeping them from surrounding him. He pushed with all his bodyweight and strength into Large Head, sending him reeling into the man behind. It wasn’t meant to inflict pain, but to break the men up.

  Jordan rushed a man standing to his left, slamming his fist into his sternum, pounding the oxygen out of his lungs. He wheezed and doubled over. Jordan helped bring the man’s head down, and his own knee up. The attack was as vicious as it was fast, followed by a loud crack and snort like a g
utted pig as the man stumbled back.

  “By dose!” the man said. “You broke by dose!”

  The fourth man was on Jordan now. He had a broad flat nose and jutting brow. He threw a huge ham-sized fist at Jordan’s head.

  Jordan ducked and rolled to one side, coming up onto his feet. He teetered on the edge of the quay. Broad Nose ran at him, sensing a quick victory. Jordan threw himself aside, and spun, pushing the thundering bull of a man into the water.

  Something connected with the back of Jordan’s head. A pair of muscular hands threw him down onto the quay. A heavy weight sat on top of him. It was Large Head.

  Jordan twisted and squirmed to get free, rocking his weight to get the walrus off, but he was too hefty.

  Large Head wrapped his hand around Jordan’s throat, raised his right fist, and smashed Jordan on the cheek. Jordan felt like he’d been hit by a truck. The second man rushed over and pressed his weight on Jordan’s legs, and suddenly Jordan was back in the school playground, confronted by bullies.

  Large Head threw his fist at Jordan again, but this time he turned his head to the side. Large Head’s fist skimmed Jordan’s face and smashed into the quay. Jordan heard a sickening crunch. Large Head howled and clutched his wrist. It was bent out of shape, perhaps even broken.

  Jordan struggled harder, but the combined weight of the two men was too much.

  “You broke my wrist, you cocksucker!” Large Head said.

  He flew into a rage, smashing Jordan in the face with the fleshy part of his fists. The blows came thick and fast. Jordan moved his head side to side, but it made no difference. Blood sprayed down his cheek and his jaw crunched.

  Bang!

  A gunshot. Large Head turned to see who had caused it.

  “Get off him now,” Anne’s voice said.

  Her voice was calm, more foreboding than if she’d screamed. Jordan couldn’t see her behind the hefty figure on top of him.

  “You won’t shoot me,” Large Head said. “You might hit him.”

  Bang!

  Large Head rocked forward and rolled aside, off Jordan and onto the quay, clutching his backside with both hands.

  “You bitch!” he growled.

  Anne was now visible through puffed up eyes. A terrible maiden of revenge. She aimed the gun at the man on Jordan’s legs. The man held up his hands and took a step back. Anne shot him in the leg. He dropped like a sack of spuds.