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

by Perrin Briar

  Memory Jordan dropped to his hands and knees and peered under the bed. He saw what had caused her reaction, and then turned to her with a smile. “A mouse? Seriously?”

  “Be careful! It might bite!”

  “Mouse bites have been known to be fatal.” The mouse disappeared into a tiny hole in the corner.

  “Is it gone?”

  “Yes. Danger averted.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “No. It’s still there. It’s putting on its ninja costume. Yes, it’s gone.”

  “My hero,” she said, climbing down from the stool. “Good to see all that combat training hasn’t gone to waste.”

  “Unlike yours.”

  “How am I supposed to sleep here tonight with an animal infestation?”

  “I wouldn’t consider one mouse an infestation.”

  “Where there’s one there’ll be hundreds.” She looked at herself appraisingly in the mirror, and caught a glimpse outside. “Jordan, come here a minute.”

  “What is it this time? A killer caterpillar?”

  “There’s a man outside. See? Standing on the hill.”

  She was right. He stood on an outcrop, head cocked to one side in a comical fashion, as if thinking deeply on a particular problem.

  “You should go help him. He might be lost.”

  Jordan felt Memory Jordan’s insides twist. “Get Mia and stay upstairs.”

  “Why? It’s just a man.”

  “Just do it, please.”

  Memory Jordan rushed down the stairs. In his haste he accidentally knocked over the umbrella stand, sending the living room lamp to the floor, light bulb smashing.

  “Bugger,” he said.

  As he walked across the beach he dialled the emergency services on his phone. It was engaged. He tried again, but met the same hollow ringtone. Memory Jordan stopped and looked back up at the house – at the bedroom window where he knew Rachel would be watching. Jordan noticed the bay window was still empty.

  Memory Jordan drew up close to the man. He hadn’t moved. His back was to him. He wore a grey hoodie and baggy blue jeans. He appeared to be staring intently at something on the other side of the mound.

  “Excuse me,” Jordan said. “Can I help you?”

  As the man turned in a slow, awkward movement, Memory Jordan realised the man did indeed need help, but not the sort he could give.

  155.

  Anne stood on the wind-blown bluff of hill. The beach and sea was visible for miles. The surf roared like a tempest. She looked over her shoulder for Jessie, but found no sign of her. Jordan reached out for something she couldn’t see.

  156.

  The man’s neck had almost been severed, a thin flap of skin and flesh holding the head in place. His cheek rested on his shoulder, drool oozing from his missing lower jaw. His eyes stared with blood-red intensity.

  Jordan felt Memory Jordan’s emotions – his fear was many times more powerful than his own. It was a colossal dark mountain of terror, and the memory river diverted sharply, flowing so fast Jordan could hardly keep track.

  Memory Jordan was frozen, mesmerised by the man standing before him. The man’s tongue flapped, splattering sticky saliva. He shambled toward Jordan in a laggard old man shuffle.

  Great head-sized objects streamed down the memory river now, dark and solid, threatening to dam it, to burst its banks. Hesitating only once, Jordan reached for one of the chunks with both hands. To his surprise, it was as weightless as the others. He peered into it…

  157.

  Pain!

  It seared from his right thigh to his lower back. He’d been shot. Every movement brought a flare of heat and black spots in his vision, but he couldn’t stop, not yet. He limped from room to room until he found what he was looking for.

  Flaherty lay on a table, all manner of torture equipment left behind in haste. But there was no blood and little damage – save for a few needle puncture marks in the crook of his arm. Memory Jordan checked his friend’s pulse but found none. Memory Jordan hugged his friend close.

  Patrick’s dead eyes were looking up at a round white stain on the roof. To desperate eyes it might have resembled a moon. Memory Jordan was about to close his friend’s eyes before thinking better of it.

  Booming foreign shouts echoed from somewhere down the corridor. Memory Jordan headed for the door. Before he got there he heard a faint dragging sound behind him. He turned, shocked to see Patrick getting unsteadily to his feet.

  “Patrick?” Memory Jordan said. “Patrick, are you all right? I thought you were dead!”

  Patrick looked up. His eyes were dark and empty.

  “Patrick?”

  The mountain of terror rose inside Memory Jordan then, blotting out the sky, the land, the moon, everything… everything except those eyes. Dead, but somehow still piercing. Memory Jordan raised his gun and fired.

  158.

  And so it was now, the same fear that drove Memory Jordan to run, his heart thumping in Jordan’s ears.

  More Lurchers ran along the base of the cliff, sprinting toward the house with limping gaits.

  159.

  Anne did her best to keep up with Jordan, but he was so fast!

  160.

  Memory Jordan skidded to a stop. He shouted warnings to Rachel and Mia, but between his fierce gasps for air and the stitch stabbing behind his ribs, he made little sound. He looked over his shoulder. The lurching man was far behind, struggling down the incline.

  From inside the house came the sound of thudding feet and the crash of furniture as the Lurchers tore the house apart.

  Memory Jordan ran into the house. He grabbed a knife from the kitchen and killed the Lurchers with ease. He grabbed Rachel and Mia and they ran away to safety, never to set eyes upon another Lurcher again. At least, that’s what Memory Jordan wished had happened. In reality, he didn’t move a muscle, frozen to the spot by fear.

  “Run into the house!” Jordan shouted. He clenched his fists, willing his memory self to move. “Come on! They’re your family! They’re my family! Fight for them! Please!” But the fear was still there, as immovable as the ocean. “Why won’t you move? Go!”

  Two figures appeared in the semi-circle bay window. Rachel and Mia beat on the glass, expressions full of fear. Mia pressed her hand to the glass, looking down at her father below. Utter terror was painted on her face. “Daddy!”

  “Jordy!” Rachel screamed. “Jordy, don’t go! Jordy!”

  But Jordan could already feel Memory Jordan’s body turning.

  Attracted by the sound of the pummelling, the Lurchers ran up the stairs, screeching. Rachel and Mia disappeared inside the house, Lurchers hot on their heels.

  His own personal Lurcher was almost on him now, he of the missing jaw.

  Memory Jordan ran.

  He ran until his legs ached with acid, his lungs torn to shreds. He never once looked behind himself, always looking forward.

  He came to the edge of a cliff. He didn’t know how long he’d been running. His lips were cracked and his breaths came in deep gulps that shook his body.

  At his feet was a sheer drop of two hundred feet. The blue smashed jagged rocks, blossoming white. He looked back at the house, now a speck in the distance, then to the moon looming large in the night sky, its twin rippling on the deep.

  Tears streamed down his face. Jordan sensed his self-loathing and shock at what he’d done.

  “I’m sorry,” he said to the house, to the moon, to no one. He edged forward. A few tiny pebbles drifted over the edge and plummeted down below. He stood up straight and raised his foot to take the final step he would ever take.

  Jordan was vaguely aware of someone shouting his name, distant and far.

  161.

  “Jordan! No!” Anne screamed as she threw herself at him, knocking him to the side, to safety.

  He slid, almost over the edge.

  The sea slammed into the cliff face far below, roaring in agitation at the loss of an unclaimed soul. Anne had
barely made it to him in time, running as fast as her legs could carry her. Her throat was sore, her voice hoarse.

  “Don’t you dare jump! Don’t you dare! We need you!”

  They were both puffing and panting, gasping for oxygen.

  “I remember,” he said, breaths shallow. “I remember everything.” He had tears in his eyes. “I killed them, Anne. I killed my wife and daughter.”

  “You didn’t kill them, Jordan. I saw you. There were no gunshots, no acts of violence.”

  “I didn’t rescue them. They needed me and I ran.” He buried his head in his hands and cried. “I’m a coward. My wife and child were in a house with Lurchers and I ran. What kind of man does that? You should have let me jump.”

  He moved to get to his feet but found them weak with exhaustion.

  “If you jump, you’ll die. You were lucky to survive the first time.” She took his head in her hands. “Listen to me, Jordan. You’re not the same man you were. You’ve changed. We all have.”

  “I jumped off this cliff, unable to live with what I did, the man I was. And I would do it again. I’m a coward.”

  “You’re not a coward. You’ve saved our lives a dozen times the past week.”

  “They say that in those moments – when it’s life or death, and you have to make a choice between saving those you love, or saving yourself – those are the moments that define the type of person you are. No psychologist could ever tell you what you would do – really do – in that situation. It was the moment when they really needed me – and I let them down. I betrayed the people I should have been most concerned about.” He turned away from her. “You get close to me, you end up dead.”

  Anne wrapped herself around him, their bodies close. She felt him relax in her embrace. “You were scared. People do strange things when they’re scared. The old Jordan died down there,” she said, pointing to the sea.

  “You’re wrong. I’ve done things that would make you take Jessie and leave me.”

  “What things?”

  Jordan took a deep breath. “Do you remember the day Joel died? The day he was found?”

  “Yes.”

  Jordan shut his eyes. “I could have saved him. I could have saved him, but I didn’t. The same night I returned, he came back too. He was injured, dripping blood and limping. He came to the door with a pack of Lurchers on his tail. I could have fought them, attacked the Lurchers. But instead Joel turned and went into the next room, saving us, but sentencing himself to a gruesome death. And I just sat there, doing nothing as they ripped his body apart while he was still alive. Now tell me I’m not a coward.”

  Anne was silent.

  “You see? How can you stay with me?”

  “Jordan…” Anne said. She couldn’t look at him. “I knew.”

  Jordan looked at her. “You knew? What did you know?”

  “There aren’t many Lurchers who use knives, Jordan. I saw the puncture wound in his eye. You gave him a quick death.”

  “But why didn’t you say anything?”

  “Because I believed in you. I believed you did what you thought was best for all of us. Letting someone you love die to save your family is not something a coward would do.”

  “You’re not angry?”

  “You did what any of us should have done – if we were strong enough. If it had been me instead of you, I would have let them in. And we would have died – all of us.”

  Jordan’s shoulders relaxed. “You know the saddest thing about all this? I’m still no closer to knowing what Queenie is really after. I was hoping it would be obvious, but it could be anything. I remember everything now, but I still don’t know what he would want with me. They’ll never stop, you know. Not so long as they can use my blood.”

  Anne pulled him closer. “Then we’ll have to run far away so they’ll never catch us, won’t we?” She leaned forward and kissed him on the lips, soft, gentle, then finding him unresponsive, pulled away. “I’m sorry.”

  Jordan put his hand to her cheek. He leaned forward and kissed her – hard, hungry. Anne’s hands explored his body. His narrow waist, his broad shoulders, and he explored hers. He reached up under her T-shirt, gently brushing her skin with his fingertips. She took off her top, and helped him take off his, never stopping their kissing. Jordan leaned on top of her, pecking her skin, face, neck, shoulders, their bodies illuminated in the silver light of the moon.

  162.

  Jordan woke from a deep dreamless slumber. There had been no sign of the nightmare. He gently removed Anne’s arm from his chest and set it aside. She rolled over onto her other side, away from him. He got to his feet, body numb and unresponsive like it wasn’t his. He gently kissed Anne and Jessie on the forehead and crept out of the room.

  He stepped out onto the porch, careful when closing the door. He looked back at the house for the final time. It stood as a monument to his failure, his cowardice. As he crossed the beach, he heard soft footfalls behind him. A diminutive figure emerged from the darkness.

  “Jess. What are you doing out here?”

  “I could ask you the same question,” she said, chin poking up in the air.

  “Go back inside, Jess. You’ll catch a cold.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “I’m… going to catch something for breakfast. Something hot for a change. Just go back inside and sleep, okay?”

  Jessie’s eyes dropped to the rucksack in Jordan’s hand. He moved to block it from view. “You’re leaving us, aren’t you?”

  “Jess…”

  “But why? Don’t you like us?”

  “No, no, no,” Jordan said, putting down the bag. “I love you. You know that, right?”

  Jess nodded, wiping a tear off her cheek.

  “So long as you’re with me, you’re not safe. One day you will understand.”

  “I don’t want to understand! I want you to come with us. We’re almost back to the boat. We’ll be there today, Anne said. Let’s get to the boat and get away from here together. They’ll never catch us.”

  “They will catch us eventually, Jess. Maybe not at first, but one day. You have to be brave, okay? Take care of Anne for me.”

  Jessie folded her arms and puffed out her cheeks. “No.”

  “Jess, believe me, this is as hard for me as it is for you. You have to let me go.”

  Jessie hugged him tight. He felt his chest grow damp with tears. He lifted her chin with his finger.

  “Keep your chin up. I left directions of how to get to the cat on the kitchen table.”

  Jordan picked up the bag and walked away. He daren’t risk looking over his shoulder. He heard quick footsteps behind him, but before he could turn, Jessie had wrapped herself around his leg like one of Frank’s traps.

  “You can’t go! You can’t leave us! I won’t let you!”

  “Jessie.” He tried to pull her off. He’d have better luck with a limpet. “Let go.”

  “No. If you go, you’ll have to take me with you.”

  “You make a beautiful anklet, Jess, but I can’t take you.”

  “Then you can’t go. Mary, Selena, Stan… They’re all gone. We’re all that’s left. You can’t leave us now – not when we’re so close to the end. Please!”

  “Jess-”

  “In the Old World…” Jessie began. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “In the Old World… I was an orphan. You never knew that about me, did you? It’s true. Do you know what it’s like to have people come look at you and decide they don’t want you? Decide they don’t want you in their family? I do. It happened to me all the time. I never thought I would have a family, but now, in the New World, I do. I have one. Please don’t leave me. Please. Let us stay together. We’re a family.” She burst into tears, weeping into Jordan’s leg. “We’re a family.”

  Jordan stood staring at Jessie for a moment, her words hitting hard. Then he smiled and shook his head. “You certainly have a way with words, Jess. Do you know that?”

  “So you�
��ll come back?”

  “If you’ll have me.”

  Her embrace grew tighter.

  163.

  Anne woke to find herself alone. The blankets beside her had been tossed open like an alien had woken from its cocoon. Jessie’s bed was similarly empty. Panic fluttered in her stomach. She hastily dressed and rushed into the kitchen, where Jessie sat eating cereal with no milk.

  “Have you seen Jordan?” she asked.

  “He’s in the bathroom having a wash.”

  Anne found an empty bowl and poured herself some of the cereal. On the table was a handwritten note in Jordan’s hand.

  “What’s this?” Anne said, picking it up.

  Jessie’s eyes went wide, spoon frozen halfway to her mouth. “It’s nothing,” she said. “Just… a few notes Jordan made in case we forget how to get back to the boat.”

  “Huh. Unusually organised for him.”

  Jordan entered the kitchen, water dripping from his hair. “‘For him’, who?”

  Anne proffered the note. “For you.”

  “Oh, that. You never know, I forgot all this stuff before, maybe I’ll forget it all again.” He winked at Jessie. “Did you sleep well?” he asked Anne, a mischievous sparkle in his eye.

  Anne blushed. “Not bad. I’ve had better.”

  “You have, huh?” Jordan smiled. They held one another’s gaze.

  Jessie looked between them. “You two look at each other like Stan and Mary used to.”

  Jordan and Anne burst out laughing.

  Jessie frowned. “What?”

  Anne rested a hand on Jessie’s shoulder. “I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

  164.

  Jordan laid a bunch of wild flowers at the front door. They stood there a moment in respectful reflection. Then they got on their bikes.