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

by Perrin Briar

  “I just remembered we saw some earlier we liked.”

  “That’s a shame.” Mr Griffith stood still. “If you change your mind, you know where we are.” He made no move to leave.

  Stan backed away. They hurried to the door.

  “What about the prams?” Selena asked, struggling to keep up with Stan.

  “Not worth losing our heads over.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He kept his hand in his pocket the whole time, and never blinked once. He’s a few shy of the full dozen, if you ask me. If there’s one thing more dangerous than a pack of Lurchers, it’s a mentalist with a knife who’d do anything to protect his little sphere of denial.”

  Stan and Selena returned to the local supermarket to find Jordan, Anne and Jessie awaiting them. They had found three prams, each stained with splatters of claret. They had already transferred the items over. The prams weren’t as big as the trolleys, so now they needed three of them.

  “Glad you could make it,” Jordan said. “We were about to come looking for you. No luck?”

  Stan gave him a look and said, “Let’s just get the hell out of here.”

  It was the first time Jordan had heard Stan curse. Before they took another step, footfalls echoed and bounced off cobblestones from somewhere in the mist. A patch of fog darkened with the shadowy figure of a man.

  82.

  The gun came first, held rock steady in gloved hands, US flags of ownership stitched on the uniform’s shoulders, the jungle combat camouflage worse than useless in the misty surroundings.

  The soldier was tall and held himself with the bearing of a man who’d had years of being obeyed. The sight of the prams made his sneer deepen. “Out doing a little early-morning thievery, are we?”

  Jordan took an instant dislike to the man’s tone. “Hardly thievery if no one owns it anymore, is it? Half the stuff we’ve got here is past its sell-by-date anyway.”

  “Then it’s a safety hazard.”

  Stan smiled and stepped between the two young men, attempting civility. “We’re not doing any harm. Let us pass,” he read the name on the soldier’s uniform, “Baxter.”

  “Corporal Baxter,” Baxter said, eyes returning to Jordan. “Ever been to the army camp to the north?”

  Jordan shook his head. “No.”

  “You sure?”

  “Positive.”

  Baxter’s eyes drifted over the others and caught on Jessie. “What’s wrong with her?”

  “Nothing,” Anne said, drifting over to stand beside her. “She hasn’t been bitten.”

  Baxter smirked. “Bitten? Who said anything about getting bitten? She don’t look the whole nine yards to me. Mind if I take a look?”

  Jordan stepped forward, blocking him. “Yes, we mind.”

  The muzzle of Baxter’s gun edged ever so slightly in Jordan’s direction. “Stand aside.”

  Jordan eyed Baxter. He held the gun to the side like an action hero. He was over-confident. Jordan’s body tensed, ready for action.

  Stan stepped forward, eyes beseeching. “Please, Corporal. Just let us pass. I promise you won’t see us ever again.”

  Baxter shook his head. “I can’t take the risk. I have the security of over five thousand people to consider.”

  The gun barrel drifted to one side… One inch… Two inches…

  “So if you’ll just stand aside…” Baxter said.

  Jordan shifted his weight.

  “Baxter!” a voice barked from the mist.

  Baxter paled, and turned as if expecting Cerberus itself to be standing there. It wasn’t Cerberus, but two more soldiers. One man – presumably the one who’d spoken – looked twice the age of the others. He was a solid tree trunk of a man. Short powerful arms and legs made him stout and immovable. The relenting skills of a rock. He looked over the assembled with stark blue eyes before finally settling on Jordan.

  “Sarge,” Baxter said. “I just found these survivors-”

  The sergeant spoke over him. “Did you welcome them?”

  Baxter flushed. “I was just about to, sir, but-”

  “You’ll have to excuse Corporal Baxter,” the sergeant said, turning to the assembled. “He’s somewhat prickly by nature. I’m Sergeant Marsh, US Marine Corp. To my left is Corporal Nasser.” Nasser was a tall man with an attractive Middle Eastern appearance. “On my right, Corporal Baxter – who you’ve already had the misfortune of meeting. We come from a well-defended, well-stocked compound about one mile to the north by the name of Burgh Castle. We can provide you with food, warm beds and safety.”

  Stan nodded to Baxter. “If this fella’s any indication of your compound’s safety standards, I think we’d be better off with the Lurchers, thanks.”

  Baxter’s jaw muscles tightened. He glared at Stan.

  “I apologise for any offence caused,” Marsh said sincerely. “Please know it was not intentional, was it Corporal?”

  Baxter spoke through clenched teeth. “No sir.”

  “Thank you for the offer, sergeant,” Jordan said. “But we’d sooner be on our way.”

  Jordan pushed the pram forward, but the soldiers didn’t yield.

  “You know, it’s funny,” Marsh said, scratching his chin. “I thought we’d rounded up all the local survivors.”

  “We’re not local. We’re just passing through.”

  “Where are you from?”

  “Here and there.”

  “Care to be more specific?”

  Jordan shook his head. “Not really.”

  A soft chill wind blew across the expanse, emphasizing the silence.

  “We’ve never met a survivor who didn’t want our help before,” Baxter said.

  “There’s always a first time.” Jordan looked back to Anne and the others. “Come on guys, the sooner we get to the docks, the better.”

  “The docks?” Marsh said. “Sailing off into the sunset?”

  “Something like that.”

  Corporal Nasser ran an admiring eye over Selena, who looked away. Jordan noticed, and apparently, so had Marsh.

  “Do you speak for every member?” Marsh asked.

  “They’re welcome to come and go as they please,” Jordan said, “but I’m going to the docks.”

  Marsh addressed the others, put on a warm smile and spread his hands non-threateningly. “Well? Do any of you want to come to the compound?”

  Stan offered a small smile. “We’d just the sooner get going, thanks.”

  Corporal Nasser was looking at Jordan with a thoughtful expression on his face. “You look familiar. Have we met before?”

  Jordan shook his head. “Can’t say we have, no.”

  Marsh laid a hand on Nasser’s shoulder. “Corporal Nasser here has a fine eye for faces. If he says he recognises you, it must be from someplace. Are you from this area?”

  “I said no.”

  “We could give them an escort, Sarge,” Nasser said, sneaking a look at Selena. “Make sure they get to the dock, okay.”

  Marsh nodded. “Good idea, Corporal. What do you say?”

  “All right,” Jordan said. “But once we get to the docks, you leave us.”

  Marsh shook his head. “Once you’re sailing off into the sunset, we’ll let you go.”

  “Fine with us.”

  “Great,” Baxter said. “We’ll be late for tea. It was my favourite tonight as well – bangers and mash.”

  Nasser clicked his fingers. “That’s it! Now I recognize you! You used to work in the canteen at the base – before the Incident. Served horrible gruel most days, I seem to recall.”

  The soldiers tensed, a noticeable uneasiness. “Is that true?” Marsh asked, voice cold as ice.

  Jordan shook his head. “I never worked in the canteens.”

  “He’s lying!” Baxter said. He received a glare from Marsh, but he continued on. “You know how good Nasser’s head for faces is. If Nasser said he saw him, he saw him.”

  Jordan looked over the soldiers, eyes fi
nally settling on Marsh. “My father was stationed there when I was young.”

  Nasser shook his head. “He was definitely there in the canteen not fourteen or fifteen months ago, Sarge.”

  There was a pause.

  “Are you sure?” Marsh asked Nasser.

  “I’d stake my own mother on it, sir.”

  Marsh turned to Jordan. “You said you were there as a child. And what did you do there as a child, Jordan?”

  “What do normal kids do? Play. Climb trees, walls. Normal kid stuff.”

  Marsh nodded, eyes distant with thought. “Why are you going to the docks? I assume you have a vessel standing by?”

  Jordan’s mouth felt dry. “Yes.”

  “And, should we feel compelled to restrain you and force you to accompany us to the compound” –Stan, Anne and Selena stiffened– “we would find the remainder of your crew besieging us at the compound until they garnered your release. Isn’t that right?”

  Marsh’s eyes shone. His smile crinkled his eyes.

  “That’s correct…” Jordan said.

  Marsh nodded. “In which case, I would expect you and your crew to take to the sea and never return. Is that also correct?”

  “Sarge!” Baxter implored.

  “Am I right?”

  “You are,” Jordan said.

  “Sarge, you don’t actually believe what they’re saying?” Baxter said. “They’d say anything to get away.”

  “They will get away – far away – and we’re going to help them.”

  Baxter pursed his lips. “The Commander won’t be happy about this-”

  In a flash, Marsh was up in Baxter’s face. “And who’ll be telling him, I wonder? If you hadn’t noticed Corporal, the Commander isn’t here. And I don’t intend on having to kill these people if they decide to put up a fight, do you? Do you want to shoot them? God knows there’s few of us left as it is, without us turning on each other as well.”

  Marsh turned back to Jordan. The fire was still in his eyes, but his voice was cool as ice. “We’ll escort you to your boat, but I want your word that you will never set foot back here again.”

  “You have it,” Jordan said.

  Marsh nodded. “Then let’s get going – before this mist clears up.”

  83.

  The mist had partially surrendered to the sun, but small thick pockets clung stubbornly to the streets. The sunlight that managed to pierce through the mist caught the cobblestones that were still damp. They crested a hill that looked down on the docklands two miles or so in the distance. The mist had dissipated completely from the sea, and the sunlight reflected off the calm water. Jordan felt his heart swell with the thought of being on the sea again. He and Marsh walked at the head of the procession.

  Marsh picked up a tin from the pram Jordan pushed. “Goddamn baked beans. I’d never eaten so many of these things in my life before coming here. Things got so bad we no longer needed to turn the heating on in the barracks – the men produced more than enough heat by themselves.” Marsh barked at his own joke.

  “To Lurchers a compound is like this can – just waiting to be torn open. We’re obsessed with security at Burgh Castle – and for good reason. All across the country compounds have been smashed and destroyed. For all we know, we might be the last one left.”

  Marsh tossed the tin back in the pram. He filled Jordan in on his story. Before the Incident Marsh had toured every dangerous territory the US dared throw a stick at. After serving out his final tour of Afghanistan, he’d been placed at RAF Marham. He resented having been left out of the action. He could have made Colonel by now, but the hunger for the fight had kept him in the field. He’d been transferred to Burgh Castle six months later. “I was supposed to be transferred back to the US within a few days when the shit hit the fan. Since then I’ve been leading scouts all over the place.”

  The street dipped down and went around a right-hand bend. The dock was not visible, but seagulls cried overhead, and the smell of salt was like energy in their lungs.

  “How long have you been at sea?” Marsh asked.

  “A year.”

  “How’s it been?”

  “Not easy, but we had a lot to be thankful for. We almost always had enough food and rarely ever saw Lurchers.”

  “Doesn’t sound so bad.” Marsh looked at Jordan with his ice-cold eyes. “So you haven’t seen or heard anything out of-” Marsh stopped. He raised a fist in the air and moved his head slowly from side to side, reminding Jordan of an owl hunting mice. After a few minutes, Marsh waved his hand forward, and they continued on as if nothing had happened. “-the ordinary?”

  Jordan tilted his head to one side. “Out of the ordinary? Like how?”

  Marsh shrugged. “The Moaners acting strange, not their usual amiable selves.”

  “We got shipwrecked last week. They didn’t attack us till the morning of the following day. We assumed we just got lucky.”

  Marsh nodded. “Maybe.”

  “Why? What have you heard?”

  “Just rumours.”

  “There are always rumours.”

  “Not like these. There’s been tales of some strange goings-on.” Marsh paused. “Look, you seem like good people. If you’re heading out to sea, there’s really no need to concern yourselves with this.”

  “I’d rather know and be prepared.”

  Marsh took in Jordan’s serious expression and pursed his lips. “Fair enough,” he said. “We think there’s been coordinated attacks against the compound.”

  “Why would anyone attack you?”

  “Not someone. Something. Them. The Lurchers.”

  Jordan almost laughed at the notion, but Marsh’s expression was stern. “You’re serious? But that’s not possible. They’re animals. Stupid animals.”

  “That’s what we thought. Their attacks on our defences seemed to be random. But then Einstein – that’s the name we gave a scientist we’ve got – actually checked. Damn bright fella, Einstein. He was one of the smartest people in the world before the Incident happened. Now, he’s probably number one. We joked that if he ever did Turn, he’d still be smarter than most of us. So anyway, he found out the attacks weren’t random at all, or if they were, it beat all odds. They were testing our defences one place at a time.”

  “But the Lurchers we ran into weren’t smart.”

  “Einstein reckons it’s not all of them – just one. And somehow that one is able to control the others. A kind of hive mind, he said. That’s why we nicknamed him ‘Queenie,’ as in queen bee, leader of the colony.”

  “What are you saying? That this one, this Queenie, can control the others?”

  “That’s precisely what I’m saying. At least, that’s the theory. I know what it sounds like – really, I do. But if you saw how these things act now…” Marsh shivered.

  “But if that’s true, why doesn’t this Queenie just call all the Lurchers at once to smash the compound?”

  “We don’t know. Maybe Queenie – if he’s real – can only contact a few people in a certain area. Or maybe he can only control so many, who knows? That’s why we do these scouting missions – to keep tabs on how many Lurchers there are still out here.”

  “Scouting?”

  “For survivors. And keep an eye on Lurcher activity. To the best of our knowledge, we have the largest, most well-defended compound on this island.” He said with not a small trace of pride. “One day we hope to rebuild.”

  “Do you honestly think that day will come?”

  “It will. But this Lurcher – Queenie – threatens everything we’ve been working for. One day we’ll have to confront him. And destroy him.”

  A moment passed as Jordan processed the information. “You know, I always thought the land wasn’t safe, that our future – if we still have one – would be out there on the ocean.”

  “Maybe it is. Not even Einstein can predict where our future will be.” Marsh froze and his fist punched the air again.

  Jordan didn’t l
ike to keep stopping the way they did. It would take them forever to get back to the boat. But he supposed it was better to be safe than sorry. The fist dropped, and they continued on.

  They entered the old market square. It was a wide open space with a series of lampposts that ran down the centre of it. They skirted along the edges like rats escaping the light. The Saint Nicolas church stood sentinel over the square like a watchful protector.

  “If you want,” Marsh said, “I can have Nasser take a look at your ID tags. He might be able to tell you which division you were in.”

  Jordan hesitated. He took his dog tags off and handed them to Marsh, who peered at them the way Stan might look at a smartphone.

  “Two years with the British Army and I still can’t understand these things.” He turned to the back of the group. “Nasser. Come up here a minute.”

  Nasser jogged up to them. “Yes, sir?”

  Marsh tossed the dog tags to him. “Decipher these, will you?”

  Nasser inspected the tags. “It doesn’t tell me a lot, sir. The system was designed to identify a fallen man. Without a computer terminal I can’t tell you much.”

  “What can you tell us?”

  “293097. It means you were Royal Army, in the Services Corps.” He turned back to Marsh. “Any more than that, I don’t know.” Nasser tossed the dog tags back to Jordan and returned to Selena.

  “Looks like Nasser and your girl have hit it off,” Marsh said.

  “It’s easy for some,” Jordan said, putting the dog tags back on.

  Marsh frowned and lowered his voice. “Why did you lie about working in the canteens?”

  “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.”