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

by Perrin Briar

  “I’ve got an idea,” Jordan said.

  “Now we’re in trouble,” Jessie said.

  Jordan ran down into the cabin to the safe Jessie had unlocked and left open. He took out a small plastic bag and returned to the deck. He stuffed a small block of C4 inside the young girl’s lifejacket and then plugged a detonator into it. He zipped her jacket back up.

  “Now toss her over the side,” Jordan said.

  “Are you sure?” Jessie said.

  Jordan nodded.

  “Okay…” Jessie said.

  She tossed the young girl over the stern. The girl grasped at the air as she went over and hit the water. She grappled at the bow of the first speedboat, but lost her grip and then flipped under the surface. The second speedboat likewise rode over her. Another thirty seconds passed before there was an explosion.

  “No good,” Jordan said. “Too long.”

  He prepared another Lurcher, this time shortening the fuse.

  “Not too short,” Anne said. “You’ll end up blowing us up!”

  “There must be a better way to do this…” Jordan said.

  Jessie’s eyes widened with an idea.

  “I’ve got an idea,” she said. “I’ll be back in a sec.”

  Jessie ran down the steps and into the cabin.

  “Whatever you’re doing, make it fast,” Anne said. “They’re about to ram us from behind!”

  Looking over the side, Jordan could see the uniformed officers in the front boat. The king was in the second boat, waving his arms as he gave orders.

  Jessie came running up the steps.

  “Hold out her hands!” Jessie said.

  Jordan seized the Lurcher’s hands. Jessie squirted the industrial-strength superglue into them. Then Jordan held the Lurcher in position, watching the speedboat behind. He chose his time carefully, and then let the Lurcher go.

  This Lurcher likewise grabbed at the speedboat’s underside, but had no luck either. It was just past the second speedboat when it exploded in a spray of red.

  Jordan prepared the third Lurcher, the same as the first, this time with an extra dollop of superglue. He tossed him over the side.

  The Lurcher took the speedboat full in the face, holding its hands up as it did so. It was dead, but his hands were stuck firmly to the speedboat’s underside.

  Boom!

  The C4 exploded, lifting the front end of the speedboat up out of the water. Then, when the fire reached the speedboat’s engines, they exploded too, throwing the boat up into the air like a child’s toy during bath time. A great column of water rose up into the sky, the white water like feathers on a swan’s back.

  The second speedboat turned sharply to avoid the debris. Two men fell from its stern, into the hungry waiting jaws. The speedboat followed Hope Tomorrow but cut its own way through the floating Lurcher forest to avoid the mistake of its ally.

  As the boat swung out to one side, Jordan thought he caught sight – just for a split second – of several more boats in the speedboat’s wake, but the spray from the front boat covered them like a curtain.

  Hope Tomorrow picked up speed again as the number of floating Lurchers began to dissipate, and the land pinched back on either side of them, forming the exit of the canal.

  They heard gunfire, distant pops like from party poppers. Jordan and Anne hit the deck, Anne keeping one hand on the wheel.

  “Why are they firing at us?” Anne said. “If they want the key they’ll never get it if we’re dead and we can’t tell them where it is!”

  Jordan frowned. Anne was right. It didn’t make sense. He got to his knees and peered over the side through his binoculars and saw the flashes of light from the gun barrels. The speedboat was slowing down, shrinking into the distance.

  “Jordan!” Anne hissed. “What are you doing? Get down!”

  “It’s all right,” Jordan said. “They’re not shooting at us.”

  “What?” Anne said, still not getting to her feet. “Then what are they shooting at?”

  “Something behind them,” Jordan said.

  “Behind them?” Anne said. “What are you talking about?”

  “When they swung out earlier, I thought I saw boats on their heels,” Jordan said.

  “Someone’s chasing them?” Anne said.

  “Looks that way,” Jordan said. “And whoever it is, it’s gaining on them.”

  They came to the next stage of the canal. It was slightly wider than the rest of the waterway they’d seen so far and had a series of small islands grouped in the middle. Anne turned right and took the fastest route, perhaps able to shave a few seconds off the powerboats behind them.

  As they came around the final few islands, Jordan looked behind him but couldn’t make out any pursuers. The shooting had stopped too.

  “I think they’ve stopped,” Jordan said.

  “Are you sure?” Anne said.

  “They’re not moving, and they’re getting farther away,” Jordan said. “Finally, a bit of bloody luck.”

  They were approaching the end of the canal and would enter the Red Sea, one step closer to their goal of reaching the Indian Ocean.

  “You were saying?” Anne said, gesturing to the canal exit.

  Parked on either side of the exit were a dozen orange and green speedboats.

  “Looks like you may have spoken too soon,” Anne said.

  The Red Sea, Egypt

  36.

  Just my luck.

  Ahmed sighed and tossed his cards on the table. David scooped the money up, dragging it to the growing pile of cash beside him, a big grin on his face. The other two players weren’t impressed either. David had the devil’s own luck. He had joined the guards two weeks ago and was assigned to canal duty within three days, a position that took everyone else at least three months to receive. But there was no real animosity. The whole unit considered David a kind of adopted son – no matter how much he fleeced them.

  Being a guard on duty at the Suez end of the canal was a privilege. It entailed very few actual duties, besides collecting payment from traders who passed through on their way to Port Fouad. No one caused trouble, or risked incurring the wrath of King Faisal and losing their ability to use the canal – a career death sentence if there ever was one.

  Ahmed avoided all corruption and made it perfectly clear to those who served under him that should they get caught taking a bribe they would not incur the wrath of the king, who Ahmed would ensure would not hear about the event, but would instead face the wrath of the other men on duty. Being a canal guard was a cushy deal, especially in the New World. And they all knew it.

  Ahmed cast an eye over his unit. He had gathered a group of men he considered friends. Mido was introspective and quiet. He sat whittling a wooden block, letting the flakes drop into the sea. It was his form of meditation, he’d said, to process the questions in his mind. With the relaxed lifestyle they enjoyed Ahmed wondered what kind of thoughts those could possibly be. He shrugged. Each to their own.

  A few more of his charges were asleep on the deck of another speedboat, this one farthest away from the others. It was quieter out there and they could sleep in peace. Their feet hung over the side, light snoring emanating and spreading unimpeded across the flat expanse of the sea.

  Two of his men were actually working, receiving payment from a loaded trading ship that wanted to pass through the Suez Canal. It was a heap of junk, with half its body consisting of rust, the rest patchworked together. The trader’s name was Maged. He was a reliable sort, making a shipment every two weeks or so, though he never failed to try to get a discount.

  “Ship ahoy!” Amir said.

  He was on scout duty, keeping a lookout in both directions – from the Suez Canal as well as out to sea. Currently, he was facing the canal.

  “Trading ship?” Ahmed said.

  “No sir,” Amir said. “A catamaran.”

  Ahmed dealt the cards again and shook his head at his own hand. Just my luck.

  “Freq
uent user?” Ahmed said.

  “No, sir,” Amir said. “I don’t believe I’ve seen her before.”

  “Does she look friendly?” Ahmed said.

  “Friendlier than a cat to cream, sir,” Amir said.

  Fifteen minutes later a catamaran in good shape, if a bit beaten and dented, edged out of the canal smooth and slow. Only her jib sail was fully extended. On her deck were a man and woman. The man was good-looking, with tanned skin beaten by the sun. At a glance Ahmed could tell he could handle himself. The woman was pretty, with an open face. She was of average height, in great shape. Tomboy-ish, but not without femininity. In another life Ahmed might have taken his chances and rolled the die with her, but that life had passed, and judging by how his current hand was going, so had his luck.

  The couple on the catamaran looked around at the arrangement of the guards’ speedboats and appeared surprised, but relieved. They unfurled the main sail and let it catch the stiff breeze that came down across the flats of Egypt, and headed out into the Red Sea onto pastures new.

  Two losing hands later, and Ahmed was beginning to feel tired. He considered joining the napping boat just across the way, when another shout went up.

  “Ship ahoy!” Amir said. “We’ve got company!”

  It was their term for a fellow guard speedboat heading in their direction.

  “How long do we have?” Ahmed said.

  “At the clip they’re going, ten minutes,” Amir said.

  The men put away their cards and scooped up their winnings, or in Ahmed’s case, losings, and tucked it in their pockets.

  “Hold on a minute,” Amir said. “It gets worse. It looks like it’s the king’s own ship!”

  “The king?” Ahmed said. “Are you sure?”

  “The crown emblem is on the front, sir,” Amir said.

  Ahmed hopped across the hoods of the speedboats, from one to the next, and then climbed up the ladder to the lookout deck. He took Amir’s binoculars.

  In the middle distance, coming like a bat out of hell, was indeed the king’s boat. It had a large entourage in its wake.

  That was very unusual. In all the months Ahmed had been with the canal guard he had never known the king to inspect the outposts. Something must have happened. He peered around at his unit with an icy glare that had none of its earlier familial warmth. He swore to himself, if one of his men had taken a bribe…

  But no. The king wouldn’t have bothered himself with that. He would have sent guards. Maybe the king was just on his way through to check on his estates to the east and west? But Ahmed was on good terms with Donya, the lady in charge of the king’s farms. Surely she would have warned him about anything untoward going on? Either way, he had to keep up appearances.

  Ahmed turned to his men.

  “Everybody up!” he said. “The king is coming! Get yourselves into shape!”

  The whole outpost was suddenly alive with activity as his men tidied up, splashing water on their tired faces and got ready for the arrival of the king. They organised themselves into rows on the decks of their speedboats and waited with bated breath.

  The king and his long entourage approached the Suez entrance. The engines grew loud, like a swarm of angry bees. Ahmed’s breakfast of reheated beans repeated on him. The king’s boat slowed and entered the outpost first.

  Ahmed’s men stood with their eyes down, heads bowed as the royal vessel came to a stop. Ahmed affixed his best smile onto his face as he raised his eyes to address the king. The words froze on his lips. A squawk escaped from the back of his throat.

  Saliva drooled out of the mouth of one of the most hideous creatures Ahmed had ever laid eyes upon. His skin was pasty and pale, his cloak and rich dress robes torn. His crown had slipped down from his head and sat around his neck like a collar. It was a Lurchified Prince Haji.

  And he wasn’t alone.

  His boat was packed with hissing undead, each wearing the orange uniforms of the guard. Behind them were dozens more speedboats, the entire fleet chock-a-block full of the disgusting creatures. And Ahmed’s men still had their heads bowed.

  “Men!” Ahmed shouted. “At arms!”

  His men looked up just as the Lurchers leapt from their boats and ran over the hoods. The guards reached for their weapons, but most were too slow. Those that were fast enough lunged with their knives and swords, piercing the chest cavities of the growling Lurchers. The creatures turned their heads in curiosity at the blade piercing their flesh and stepped forward, impaling themselves further, and bit the guards on the face.

  Ahmed struck down one Lurcher, slicing off its head, before another tackled him to the ground and vomited a heady mix of blood and saliva over his face. He clamped his mouth and eyes shut and threw the body off, over the side. Another Lurcher was on him, and lowered her mouth to his neck, and then paused, sniffing him. She looked up and took after another of his men.

  Ahmed sat up, wiping the blood off his face. David, the last of his men still standing, was fighting for his life on the napping boat, about to have the last sleep of his life. His luck, apparently, had run out.

  Ahmed felt an itch under his skin, feeling like he’d been bitten by a horsefly. He scratched it and felt a moment of relief. Then the itch returned, and this time felt itchier and hot. He scratched again, and now it spread further. His hands formed claws and tore at his skin until his fingers came away bloody. He was Turning. He collapsed onto his side, his breath hoarse through his throat, gasping for air like a fish out of water.

  The last thing he saw before his eyes shut for the final time was a small figure dressed in a black costume tear out of the Suez Canal in his own speedboat, passing through the melee like it was a field in the country, and raced across the water.

  Amir was right. A king had come. It just wasn’t the one they’d expected.

  Just my luck.

  37.

  “We’re here,” Jordan said with a smile of satisfaction, looking out at the rolling lopping waves spread out before him like a dishevelled blanket.

  “This is the Indian Ocean?” Jessie said.

  “No,” Sam said. “This is the Red Sea.”

  “Then how are we ‘here’?” Jessie said.

  “It’s a short hop to the Indian Ocean from here,” Jordan said.

  Sam put his hands on his waist and breathed in a chest full of the deep salty sea air. The sun was nearing the horizon, turning the sky red and reflecting off the sea.

  “I never thought I was going to see the sun set again,” Sam said. “Thank you all. Do you suppose it’s called the Red Sea because of sunsets like this?”

  “I think I’ve got a book on the Red Sea,” Jessie said. “Or, at least, a chapter. It said the Red Sea got its name from its location. Some Asiatic languages use colours to mean direction. Just as the Black Sea’s name refers to north, the Red Sea refers to south.”

  “You have books?” Sam said.

  His eyes were wide and he could barely contain his excitement.

  “Only a few,” Jessie said.

  “We’d have more if someone didn’t keep trying to fish with them,” Jordan said.

  “Fish?” Sam said with a frown. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

  “Don’t worry,” Jessie said. “Neither do we. It’s just a hallucination Jordan has sometimes.”

  “Only ever seems to happen when I’m correct, for some reason,” Jordan said.

  “I’d love to see what books you have,” Sam said. “I haven’t been able to touch one in so long.”

  “All right,” Jessie said, “but try not to be too disappointed.”

  “So long as you’ve got just half a page I assure you I won’t be,” Sam said.

  Jessie and Sam descended the steps into the cabin.

  Anne took Jordan’s hand and kissed it. She leaned her head against his chest.

  “Back at sea again,” she said.

  “This time with a new passenger,” Jordan said.

  “What do you want to do
with him?” Anne said.

  “Whatever he wants,” Jordan said. “Take him home – as far as the coast will let us, anyway. Or he can stay with us.”

  “You’d let him stay?” Anne said.

  “He seems a good enough kid,” Jordan said.

  “What about Tim?” Anne said.

  It was a name Jordan had nightmares about and dreaded hearing, but right then, with the hope of tomorrow, he was pleased by the fact he didn’t even blink.

  “We’ll tell Sam everything we know about him,” Jordan said. “If he still wants to live with us, he can.”

  Anne smiled and wrapped her arms around him.

  “Right answer?” Jordan said.

  “Yes,” Anne said. “For once.”

  She nuzzled in close to his chest. Birds fluttered up into the sky like they were returning home. Jordan felt at peace.

  A scream pierced the silence.

  It came from Jessie’s throat.

  Jordan and Anne broke apart and ran down the steps into the cabin. Why do we keep trusting strangers? Jordan thought. If Sam had harmed one hair on Jessie’s head…

  They hit the foot of the stairs, their eyes adjusting to the cabin’s darkness.

  “Hello there,” a voice said. “Reunions can be such touching affairs, don’t you think?”

  Jordan and Anne recognised the voice immediately. It was Ori.

  38.

  Ori pushed Jessie and Sam forward, into Jordan and Anne’s arms. Ori kept his gun – one of their pistols from the safe – on them, his eyes wide and crazy.

  “Now this gun,” he said, “is the right weight. Fully loaded and ready for action.”

  “How did you get here?” Jordan said.

  “He was hiding in the pile of food,” Jessie said. “When we came down into the cabin the sheet was ruffled like someone had disturbed it. I pulled it back and found there was a hole in the middle. I screamed, and he burst out of the restroom with one of our guns.”

  “Jessie, bright as a button, as always,” Ori said. “It’s good to be out of there. There’s only so much time you can spend crouched down like that surrounded by chocolate bars.”