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

by Perrin Briar

  Jessie complained about how sore her bum was from cycling the day before. They rode up the winding path that led to the top of the hill. Jordan stopped and looked down at the house one last time. It sat there, lonely against the sand, against the ocean, against the world. They peddled away.

  165.

  The quays were clogged with the upturned carcasses of a hundred ferries, yachts and cruise liners. The wind rustled the limp flags of a dozen forgotten nations. A single ship shone in the early morning sunlight like a beacon of hope. It was a seventy-foot twin-hulled catamaran. It bobbed on the sea’s surface, the hull making deep thunking noises as it made contact with the quay.

  The sight of the cat swelled Jordan, Anne and Jessie’s hearts. It was more than a boat. It was their ticket to a better, safer life. Less heart-swelling were the Lurchers arrayed on her deck.

  “Maybe they’ll leave,” Anne said.

  “Sure,” Jordan said. “I’ll invite them over for tea and you can explain the situation to them. They’ll be gone in no time.” Jordan looked closer at the Lurchers. They stood in place, feet jittering on the spot, jaws opening and closing like they were chewing cud. “It looks like they’ve been ordered to stay put and keep watch.”

  “How can you tell?” Anne looked out at them again, their arms hanging low at their sides, bodies in a constant state of movement.

  “Look how they’re organised. One at each corner, two in the centre. Then at regular intervals along the quay. They’re not moving any time soon.”

  “Maybe we could distract them away from the cat and then make a break for it? We would only need a minute.”

  “We don’t know if there are any Lurchers on board. Even if we did manage to cast off, we might have to fight them. If they overpowered us…”

  “There might not be any on board,” Anne countered.

  “Do you want to take that risk?”

  Anne shook her head. “No. But it’s there. It’s right there. After everything we’ve been through, we’re just going to give up now?”

  “Of course we’re not going to give up. We just need to be patient.”

  “So what do we do now then?” Jessie said.

  Jordan’s eyes moved to the side. “If we had some help taking them out, we could do it.”

  Jessie frowned. “Where are we going to find help?”

  “One place comes to mind.” Anne smiled. “Burgh Castle compound.”

  “Do you think they’ll help us?”

  “I don’t know,” Jordan said. “But somebody has to.”

  166.

  Jordan, Anne and Jessie negotiated their way through streets festooned with rubble, broken glass and the scattered contents of shops that ran along either side of the street. The road became thick with vehicles, their doors torn open, cargo stolen. Panicked drivers had driven up on the pavements and left their cars at right-angles, blocking the road.

  Anne pulled up next to Jessie. “Do you remember any of this?”

  “Yes,” Jessie said, looking at their surroundings. “This is where the Lurchers chased us. We were with Sergeant Marsh and Corporals Nasser and Baxter. I was aware of everything, but I couldn’t speak or hardly move. I suppose that’s what a Lurcher must feel like.”

  “Yes, but Lurchers don’t feel anything. There’s nothing left of the original people.”

  “Maybe there is but we just don’t know it. Maybe they’re lost in there somewhere looking for a way out like I was.”

  Vehicles were parked bumper to bumper. Tight alleys wound between them like the cuffs on a convict’s wrists. They peered around each vehicle before moving forward.

  “We’re almost there,” Jordan said, nodding toward a series of shop fronts.

  Anne looked up. She could make out the ramparts of the compound behind the stores, like a monster looming over its dominion. Even at their current speed they would be there within the hour. Anne grinned. She could barely sit still.

  Up ahead, Jordan had come to a stop. He sat looking at a wall of vehicles that had smashed together forming one solid mass, almost as if it had been built that way. A piece of modern art. Smashed indicators and glass lay on the ground.

  “Looks like there’s no way through,” Anne said. “We’ll have to climb over.”

  “I’ll take a look,” Jordan said. “Wait here.”

  Jordan cycled up and down the obstruction. On his way back he stopped. “There’s a way through here.”

  Between a Toyota Yaris and a Jaguar X-Type was a narrow gap no more than ninety centimetres wide. A wing mirror jutted into the space making it even less traversable.

  “We’ll never fit through that!” Jessie said.

  “I think we can,” Jordan said, “though it’ll be a bit of a tight squeeze. I’ll go first.”

  He edged his bike forward at a snail’s pace. His head moved left to right, strafing the area. He looked through the vehicle windows to the street on the other side. He saw no movement. There were scratch marks on both car panels. Inside the Toyota were kids toys and camping gear. Jordan’s front wheel poked through to the other side. He ducked his head out, looking left, and then right. He saw nothing. He peddled forward into a wide open space clear of detritus. The traffic jam continued on, parked cars at Jordan’s back as he wheeled around to face Jessie and Anne.

  “He’s through,” Jessie said, breathing a sigh of relief.

  “Who next?” Jordan called.

  “You go, Jess,” Anne said.

  “All right.” Jessie edged toward the gap.

  Anne caught movement in the corner of her eye. She snapped her head up to look for it. “Wait, Jess,” she said.

  Anne looked at the vehicle wall before them with an assessing eye. Then she peered at the vehicles parked up behind Jordan.

  “What is it, Anne?” Jordan said.

  Anne shook her head. “Nothing. Carry on, Jess.”

  Jess edged forward into the narrow gap. Anne couldn’t ignore the snakes writhing in her gut. This felt wrong, very wrong. She looked at the vehicles behind Jordan. They too were parked bumper to bumper, set up in a wall-like barrier. Jordan was sandwiched between the two of them almost as if…

  Her blood turned to ice. “Jessie! Jordan! Get out of there!”

  She saw movement. Bobbing shadows in the back window of a parked car behind Jordan.

  “Jordan!” she shouted. “Jordan! Run! It’s a trap!”

  Something clanged and fell behind Jordan. He turned to look, but the Lurchers were on him before he could react. A dozen rotting hands grabbed for him. Two latched onto his arms, another his backpack. One Lurcher’s arm got caught in Jordan’s front bicycle wheel and was snapped out of its socket as the bike was torn away.

  The Lurchers trussed Jordan up into the air. Jordan struggled, but it was too late. The Lurchers stood, waiting for something.

  Anne hissed at Jessie’s back. “Jessie, come out of there, now!”

  Jessie’s body was shaking. She braced herself on the cars on either side of her and pushed herself backward, her eyes never leaving the Lurchers standing just a few metres away. Anne pulled her free from the narrow alley, to safety. They crouched behind the Jaguar.

  Anne reached into her backpack and extracted a twelve inch knife she’d lifted from the beach house. She stepped toward the narrow alley.

  Jessie seized Anne’s arm. “You can’t go out there by yourself!”

  “I have to rescue Jordan.”

  “There’s too many of them.”

  Half a dozen Lurchers had hold of Jordan’s limbs, another half dozen stood guard.

  “There’s not so many.”

  “Then I’m coming with you,” Jessie said, reaching for a lump of iron on the street that looked like it had once been part of a lorry’s grill.

  Anne shook her head. “You go on to the compound and get help.”

  “No. I’m going with you.” Tears formed in her eyes.

  “Jessie, listen to me. If I can kill a couple of these Lurchers and ge
t Jordan free, we can beat them. They won’t kill Jordan.”

  “What about you?”

  “Jordan will protect me.”

  Jessie grabbed Anne’s arm with both of her own. “No, Anne. I won’t let you.”

  “You have to. Jessie. Let go.”

  Jessie shook her head.

  “Jessie,” Anne said firmly.

  Jessie let go.

  Anne kissed her on the forehead. “Get to the compound and get help.”

  Jessie nodded, wiping her tears on her denim jacket sleeve. Anne placed her feet on the ground with slow deliberate steps, avoiding the glass and snapped plastic. The Lurchers on guard stood staring vacantly into space, feet shuffling on the spot, mouths opening and closing. She was halfway through when she heard the Lurchers holding Jordan cackle with excited tones.

  A tall Lurcher stepped out from behind the vehicles. Anne knew it was him before she could even make out the bright blue eyes set in his burnt face. Queenie had a cruel grin aimed at Jordan.

  Jordan tore his eyes away from Queenie and looked at Anne. “Go!” he shouted. “Get out of here! Go!”

  Queenie followed Jordan’s sightline to Anne and Jessie. He smiled. Drool dribbled down his chin. He grunted and gestured with his two-fingered stump. The half a dozen Lurchers standing guard turned to Anne and limped toward her.

  “Go,” Anne said to Jessie. “Jessie, go!”

  “But Jordan-” Jessie stammered.

  “I said go!” Anne’s knuckles turned white around the knife.

  “Together!” Jessie said, chin jutting out. “I’m not leaving without you!”

  “Get out of here!” Jordan shouted, looking directly at Anne. Then, softer: “Please.”

  Anne shut her eyes, dropped the knife, and ran back to her bike.

  The Lurchers jostled for position as they ran for the narrow opening.

  Anne and Jessie peddled away, the Lurchers cajoling one another as they fought to get free of the narrow alley and out into the open.

  167.

  Queenie was even uglier than Jordan remembered. His hair hung limp over his half-burnt face, his skin was as pale as snow. His eyes burnt bright as blue flames, betraying his obvious intelligence. He leaned in close. A putrid stink clouded Jordan’s senses like a dozen rotten eggs had been shoved up under his nose. Jordan suppressed his need to gag and stared back at him.

  Queenie grinned, showing a mouth full of rotting teeth.

  “You wanted me?” Jordan said. “Here I am. Kill me. Go on. Do it.”

  Queenie placed a gentle hand to Jordan’s face, then gripped it tight.

  “Jordy,” Queenie said with a smile. “Don’t go.”

  He slugged Jordan in the face.

  Darkness.

  168.

  They peddled as fast as their legs could move. Within minutes they were panting, muscles aching. The Lurchers had fallen behind, but she knew they would not be far. The rubble on the ground jittered their bikes, sending shockwaves up and down their arms and legs. Jessie hit a puddle, spraying mud up Anne’s front.

  Anne saw the entrance to a narrow alley. “Turn right!” she shouted.

  Jessie hit her brakes and forced the back wheel round, then began to peddle again, pushing herself into the alley. Anne followed. The light at the end grew brighter, larger. Anne could hear her own frantic breaths as they sailed through the darkness, heightened by the tunnel-like confines. She watched the end, praying to God a silhouette didn’t block the light.

  “Whoa!” Jessie said. She burst out from the end of the alley, hit a kerb and was thrown from her saddle. She sailed through the air.

  Anne squeezed her brakes and hopped over the kerb. Jessie’s bike lay crumpled and broken, the front wheel buckled at a ninety-degree angle, the back wheel still spinning. Anne skidded to a halt and kneeled down beside Jessie, who laid in a heap on the entrance of a sweet shop.

  “Are you all right?” Anne said. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

  Jessie shook her head, blonde hair waving. “Just a bad headache.” She had a cut to her forehead and a bloody knee.

  Anne helped her onto her feet. “Can you walk?”

  Jessie leaned her weight on her feet. She pulled her left foot off the ground like it were burning coals.

  Jessie shook her head. “My foot. I must have twisted it when I came off my bike.”

  “You’re going to ride on the back of my bike. Come on, get up.”

  Anne shifted forward on her seat. Jessie climbed on the back.

  Groans echoed from the alley they’d just come from. They were magnified, sounding like an army was heading their way.

  Anne stood up on her peddles. She grunted as she made the peddles turn, pushing her whole weight into it. She peddled harder, and the bike moved forward. It got easier, and they sailed down the road and into a park. There were overturned trolleys like skeletons made from wire, and discarded shopping bags covered in excrement.

  Jessie looked back and saw the Lurchers emerging from the alley. Their mawing mouths dribbled saliva, and pus oozed from broken wounds. Their limbs flapped like penguins trying to fly. Anne pulled out of the park and onto a backstreet. Ahead, the squat shop fronts gave way to a wide open expanse.

  It looked like a medieval castle with its reinforced solid grey concrete walls that stood unflinching and unlovely against the twilight. Shadowy figures kept watch from concealed turrets that still bore arrow slits. Anything within firing range of the walls had been cleared, leaving a wide open space of thirty metres. Dozens of burnt vehicles were scattered, with more holes than Swiss cheese. Searchlights swung side to side in long slow arcs. There was a single large splintered gate with a small doorway built into it. Thin tendrils of black smoke drifted up from inside the compound, no doubt from cooking fires or a smithy’s forge. The compound’s heavy shadow stretched across the vast empty clearing.

  “Why aren’t they opening the gate?” Jessie said.

  “They haven’t seen us yet.”

  “Hey!” Jessie yelled up at the compound. “Hey! We’re down here! Open the gate! Open the gate!”

  The bike slowed to a stop.

  “What’s wrong?”

  The front wheel had a shard of glass poking out of it.

  “It’s the front wheel,” Anne said. “It’s flat. We’ll have to run.”

  Anne ditched the bike and braced Jessie’s weight. They hobbled into the vast expanse.

  The Lurchers rounded the corner and spied the fleeing pair. They ambled after them, moving fast despite their missing limbs.

  “Open the gate,” Jessie yelled. “Open the bloody gate!”

  There was still no response. The night was quiet save for their heavy breathing.

  Jessie opened her mouth and screamed. Anne flinched. She was surprised the glass shards on the ground didn’t explode.

  A shout ran up from the compound. A searchlight swivelled round, washing over Jessie and Anne, blinding them.

  “They can see us!” Jessie cried. “They can see us!”

  “Stop!” a voice said through a megaphone. “Stop immediately.”

  “Not bloody likely!” Anne said, hastening their pace.

  The slap of their feet bounced back to them off the hard concrete compound walls. They were halfway across the open space now.

  “Stop!” the voice repeated. “Or we will shoot.”

  Anne waved her free arm. “Don’t shoot! We’re alive! Don’t shoot!”

  There was a flash of fire. Bullets ricocheted off the tarmac just a few metres in front of them. It was a shock, but they did not stop – they could not stop.

  “They’re shooting at us!” Jessie screamed. “They’re shooting at us!”

  Slowing their pace just a little, Anne pointed back, toward the Lurchers hot on their heels. “If you’re going to shoot, shoot them!”

  She didn’t know if they heard her or recognised her frantic pointing, but a second searchlight swivelled round. It illuminated the Lurchers, who shrieked at the
bright light. A siren went up, wailing like something from the Blitz.

  OOOOO-ooooo-OOOOO-ooooo.

  There was another flash of fire from the ramparts. Jessie squeezed her eyes shut. Anne stared up at the wall. If they were going to murder her she wanted them to see she met it face-on.

  The bullets struck home, thudding into the tarmac and spraying the Lurchers. More machine gun fire lit up the ramparts.

  A Lurcher fell and didn’t get back up. The others were slowed, but not stopped. They ploughed on. Another Lurcher took one in the head and hit the deck.

  The remaining Lurchers ran for cover behind a bullet-hole riddled BMW. Sparks glinted off the paintwork.

  Anne and Jessie broke away, gaining a lead. They were almost at the front gate.

  The BMW rocked back and forth with aggression. There was the crack of snapping metal. The Lurchers emerged from behind the car, continuing the pursuit once more. A pair of Lurchers held a car door over their heads. Another Lurcher held the driver’s side front panel. The bullets rained down, but ricocheted off their makeshift shields.

  Anne and Jessie got to the front gate. It was shut. They hammered on the small door built into it with their bare fists. “Let us in! Open up! Let us in!”

  The soldiers aimed lower, tearing flesh from the Lurchers’ legs and snapping their bones. Another Lurcher fell. The remaining Lurchers kept coming.

  And then the firing ceased. Looking up, Anne could see why. The angle was too steep for gunfire.

  The three remaining Lurchers tossed aside their makeshift shields and staggered toward Anne and Jessie. The front Lurcher had a red baseball cap on back-to-front with ‘Liverpool FC’ written on it. A grandfather with blood thickly encrusted in his beard came up second. Third was the delicate frame of a Korean woman, half her scalp torn off, leaving the remainder of her hair to hang entangled about her face.

  Exhausted and out of breath, Anne and Jessie backed away from the door. Their backs found a cold unflinching concrete wall.

  “Please!” Jessie cried. “Please, open the door!”