Blood Memory (Season 1): Books 1-5

by Perrin Briar

They watched as Light sank below the surface. The bridge was the last thing to go under, amidst a blanket of bubbles and gurgles. A space of suction pulled Haven over to one side, rocking her gently. A single ripple stretched out across the space, touching Haven, and then on to the farthest edges of the ocean. Nothing was left save stained squares of paper floating on the surface. There was a quiet moment of reflection for the dead.

  The silence was broken by Joel’s heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. He was carrying the old alternator.

  “It works?” Stan said.

  Joel nodded. “As well as a whore during shore leave.”

  Stan frowned with disapproval. “Joel, please.”

  Joel ignored Stan’s protest. He raised the old alternator into the air. “How about we give her a good send-off?”

  They eyed one another, thinking Joel had lost it.

  “No? Okay then. Get out of here you piece of junk!” Joel pulled his arm back and hurled it into the sea.

  Stan took a deep cleansing breath. “We’re safe.”

  “For now,” Anne said. “A stop-gap until our next crisis.”

  “Whatever it is, I’m sure we’ll overcome it. Nothing can stop us.”

  24.

  Thirty yards from Haven’s hull a baked bean tin can bobbed in a reflected field of pastel blue and fluffy white clouds. The ocean was unusually calm, with not so much as a ripple to disturb the smooth surface.

  A bullet whistled through the air and smacked the water beside the can, not more than a few inches away, dousing it. Ripples emanated outwards in concentric circles. A second bullet came even closer.

  Jordan shaved off another curl of wood from the block he was whittling. He held it up and blew the detritus away. He had carved out two front and back legs, the tail and the mane.

  “Breathe,” Jordan said, not taking his eyes off his sculpture.

  Jessie took her time and aimed down the sight with great care. She exhaled and squeezed the trigger. A small column of water rose up beside the can.

  “Shit!” she said.

  “Language,” Jordan said. “You don’t want Mary catching you saying things like that.” Jordan put his wooden whittling block in his pocket and took up the string. “Let’s see how you did.”

  Jessie crowded round. “I swear that last one hit.”

  Jordan checked the can. The smiley face he’d drawn on was without blemish. “Nope. No holes.”

  “Let me have a look,” Jessie said, taking it from him. She ran her slender fingers over it. “Here,” she said. “Here’s a dent.”

  “It’s an imperfection,” Jordan said, reloading the gun. “Not caused by you.”

  “Are you sure? It looks very bullet-like to me.” She fell onto the hard plastic bench that wrapped around Haven’s interior and slammed the tin down. “I can’t do it! Twenty-five yards is okay, but thirty…”

  “Sure you can do it. You just need to quiet your mind and focus.”

  “But how? How do you focus?”

  “I’ve told you how. Empty your mind. Think of nothing and find the void.”

  Jessie shook her head. “Think of nothing? Is that even possible?”

  “Then try focusing on something else.”

  “Like what?”

  “The rules. Do you remember them?”

  Jessie rolled her eyes. “You mean the rules I had to memorize for three months before you’d even let me pick the gun up? Yeah, I think I’ve got them down.”

  “Good. Take position.”

  Jessie stood with her body turned sideways, feet shouldered-width apart, gun pointing out to sea.

  “Let’s wipe the smile off the can’s face, shall we?” He hurled the can out to sea.

  “I wish you wouldn’t litter,” a voice said behind them. Anne wore a cheeky smile and had her arms crossed.

  “You’re right,” Jordan said. “We might end up ruining the planet.”

  Anne snorted. “How’s Jessie coming along?”

  “Not bad.”

  “I’m standing right here,” Jessie said. “I think I’m doing a little better than ‘not bad’.”

  “Prove it.” With a grin toward Anne, Jordan said, “Rule one.”

  “Always have a bullet in your gun.” She squeezed the trigger and missed by a yard.

  “Stay calm and relaxed,” Jordan said. “Try again.”

  “Rule two. Always have someone watch your back.”

  Blam! Only a few inches away this time.

  “Better,” Jordan said. “Take a deep breath.” She did.

  “Rule three. Never give up fighting.”

  Ting! The bullet smacked into the side of the can. It dipped beneath the surface and popped back up.

  Jessie stared at the can wide-eyed and open mouthed. “Oh my God… I did it! I did it, Jordy! I did it!”

  Jessie dropped the gun and reached up to hug Jordan, who put his hands in the crook of her arms. The air pressed against her head as she rose high into the air. He put her feet back down on the deck.

  “Did you see me, Anne?” Jessie asked, voice squealing like a child. “Did you? Did you see?”

  “I saw. You were great! Soon you’ll be as good as Jordan.”

  “Better than me,” Jordan said.

  “You should learn, Anne,” Jessie said. “Jordan says it could be really useful.”

  “I don’t need to learn,” Anne said. “You can shoot for me.”

  “It might save your life one day,” Jordan said.

  “Go on, Anne,” Jessie said. “Jordan’s a brilliant teacher.”

  Jordan stepped forward and took Anne by the hand. Her skin was hard and worn from her daily tasks, but there was a warmth that shone through.

  “All right,” Anne conceded. “But quickly.”

  Jordan picked up the gun and held it in the correct stance. “Keep the butt firmly in your shoulder like this. Breathe out when you fire. Squeeze the trigger, don’t snap it. The gun can kick-back, so you have to be careful.”

  “That’s a lot to remember,” Anne said, taking the gun and holding it as Jordan instructed.

  Jordan raised her right elbow a little and gently pressed her head toward the rifle. “You need to look down the barrel. We’re going to use the sight to aim.”

  “Okay.”

  “Hips,” Jordan said. “They should be shoulder-width apart. Like this.” He turned to Jessie. “Do you think she’s ready to shoot?”

  Jessie frowned. “Doesn’t she have to study the rules for three months too?”

  Anne chuckled. “She’s right. You can’t have favouritism amongst your students.”

  “I don’t,” Jordan said. He winked at Jessie, and mouthed to her, “You’re my favourite.”

  Jessie tried not to giggle.

  “What was that?” Anne asked in a mock angry voice. “Picking on the new girl?”

  Jordan tossed a fresh can out to sea. “Are you ready?”

  “She has to sing a song,” Jessie said, “to help with concentration.”

  “You’re right.”

  “I can’t sing,” Anne said.

  “A nursery rhyme is fine,” Jordan said, enjoying this. He held up his hands defensively. “I can’t have favourites.”

  “Okay.” Anne cleared her throat and tentatively sang, “The itsy bitsy spider climbed up the waterspout.”

  Blam! Two yards wide.

  Jessie laughed.

  “Down came the rain and washed the spider out.” Anne couldn’t stop herself from giggling. A yard wide this time. “Out came the sun and dried up all the rain.”

  Ting! The bullet hit the can.

  Jordan and Jessie exchanged expressions of amazement.

  Anne shrugged as if it had been part of her plan all along and not the pot luck that it was. “What can I say? I’m a natural.”

  “Great shot!” Jessie said as she held up her hand for a high-five. “We can be like cowgirls!”

  “We only have one gun so I don’t know how that’ll work.” Anne hand
ed the gun back to Jordan. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  On the small deck, Anne was close. A breeze brought her scent to him: lilac and lavender. It took him back seven years – to the very fringes of what remained of his memory. The barracks’ canteen. He reached for the memory as he had so many times before. He saw his friend, Flaherty, wave him over. Flaherty was a short unshakeable fellow with a straw-like mop of fringe that hung limply over his eyes. Jordan carried his tray over to him. Flaherty gestured to someone beside him, as if introducing someone. As the person stood, the memory turned to mist in his hands, slipping through his fingers.

  “What’s going on here?” Joel said, leaning against the doorframe. “You were supposed to tell them dinner was ready, not playing Calamity Jane.”

  “I got distracted,” Anne said, cheeks glowing.

  “I can see that.” Joel had an amused look on his face.

  Anne looked at Jordan through her big brown eyes. “Dinner’s ready.”

  25.

  “Surprise!” they all cheered as Jordan descended the stairs into the main cabin. They wore hand-made hats and blew party horns made out of telephone directory pages. The table was full to bursting with every type of food they could rustle up. Amongst the obligatory fish, seaweed and jellyfish were sausage rolls, chicken, pies and cakes. There was also an assortment of drinks; half a bottle of Glenfiddich single malt whisky, four bottles of Bud, an unopened bottle of red wine and some lemonade for the kids.

  Jordan couldn’t hide his amazement. “Where did you get all this stuff?”

  “Didn’t you hear?” Joel said. “Tesco opened a new branch in the North Sea.”

  “From the yacht we boarded last month,” Stan said, ignoring Joel’s remark.

  “I thought there was nothing on board?” Jordan said.

  Stan grinned. “Maybe it wasn’t quite so empty as we said it was.”

  “Are you telling me we could have been eating sausage rolls instead of haddock all this time?”

  Joel slipped a purple paper hat on Jordan’s head. “Happy first birthday. I have to say, you don’t look at all well for your age.”

  “See how you look after waking up to your face every day,” Jordan retorted.

  “Let’s put some music on, shall we?” Stan said, moving to the iPod they’d found in a floater’s pocket. It was connected to a battery Stan had made out of plastic cups, seawater, and strips of aluminium and copper. A poppy tune played.

  Stacey ran to Jordan and held up a card she’d made. On the front was a hand-painted picture of them all.

  “Wow, this is amazing,” Jordan said. He pointed to the smallest figure. “Is this you?”

  Stacey nodded.

  “And this is Uncle Joel? You drew his nose too small…”

  “Hey!” Joel said.

  “And this must be me and Anne…” In the picture they were holding hands. “Thank you so much. Can I hang it on the wall for everyone to see?”

  Stacey nodded. “Can I do it?”

  “Of course you can.” Jordan picked her up so she could hang it on a hook. He kissed her on a chubby cheek before setting her down. He took in the picture. “Better than Da Vinci.”

  An hour later they had formed into three groups. Mary and Anne sat at the dining table, their paper hats at odds with the deep conversation they were having. Stan sat on the floor, playing Buckaroo with Jessie and Stacey. Joel and Jordan leaned back in their chairs, letting the mellow music roll over them.

  “Having a good time?” Joel asked.

  “I’m having a great time.”

  “Good. No one did more to organise all this than Anne and Mary, you know.”

  “I didn’t for a moment think it had been you or Stan. You two couldn’t organise your way out of a paper bag.”

  Joel laughed. “Cruel, but true.” He looked at Jordan. “Listen, we’re getting to be pretty good chums now aren’t we, Jordan?”

  “I’d say so.”

  “Good. Then don’t take this the wrong away, but you’re a complete bloody moron.”

  “Why Joel, I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

  “Believe me, I could say a lot worse.”

  “What’s brought on this sudden show of affection?”

  “Over there is a beautiful woman who likes you. I’m sick of watching you both eye one another up and doing nothing about it.”

  Jordan coloured. “What are we supposed to be doing?”

  Joel raised an eyebrow. “Do I have to paint you a picture? On no, wait. Stacey already did that for you. Look, all joking aside, you should definitely ask her out, or hit her over the head with a club and drag her into your cave, or whatever it is we do in this new golden age of ours.” He took a swig of his Bud.

  “You really think she likes me?”

  “About as much as a Lurcher loves brains. I honestly don’t know what she sees in you. Love is blind, I suppose. And deaf. And has no sense of smell whatsoever. And look, if she says ‘No’ you can always blame it on the alcohol.”

  “Maybe you’re right.” He took a swig of alcohol.

  Joel watched him. “Well?”

  “What?”

  “Go over there!”

  “Now?”

  “No, in ten years. Of course now!”

  Jordan sighed, picked up his glass of whisky and headed toward Anne, who watched him approach, a half-empty bottle of Bud in her hands.

  “Hey,” he said.

  “Hey,” she replied.

  His mouth felt dry. “Thank you for organising all this.”

  “We all did our part.” She smiled up at him.

  His knees felt weak and his nerve left him. He took a swig of his whiskey. It burnt the inside of his mouth. “Anne, I was wondering if-”

  There was a flash of light from the porthole, so quick he almost missed it.

  “You were wondering what?” Anne probed.

  “One second.”

  Jordan drifted toward the porthole. A low grumble of thunder shook Haven. The fixtures, bolts and screws jittered in their fastenings. The cabin tilted slightly, causing some of the sausage rolls, true to their name, to roll off their paper plates onto the floor.

  Jordan looked out the small window. The sky was dark and overcast, the sea dimpled by growing swells, like the scales on a dragon’s back.

  Jordan turned and looked at the others. “It’s a storm.”

  26.

  Jordan ran up the stairs to the deck. A thick black blanket roiled overhead, stretching from horizon to horizon. A shroud of darkness. A strong wind whistled past him and played with Joel’s long locks of blond hair, making it dance like fire. Jordan’s insides turned to water. Another flash of lightning, and this time Jordan counted down the seconds until the thunder boomed overhead. It took approximately-

  “Four seconds, wouldn’t you say?” Joel said as he took Haven’s wheel in the main cabin. “What’s that? Just shy of one mile?”

  “Roughly,” Jordan agreed. “Which way shall we go?”

  Joel turned on the engine and spun the wheel west, following the needle on the dash. “To the mainland. It’s better to get shipwrecked on land than at sea.”

  “Can’t we go around it like the other storms?”

  “Would you like to make a guess which way it’s going to go?”

  The problem with storms was they were so unpredictable. They appeared to head in one direction, and then change course with a lick of wind and head in another.

  “How far are we from the coast?” Jordan asked.

  “About ten miles, give or take.” Joel put a hand on Jordan’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, we’re going to get through this.”

  27.

  Mary, Anne, and the girls hurriedly packed all the food away, putting anything that might break on the floor and strapping it down with cello tape.

  There was another loud bang of nature’s drum in the sky, causing Stacey’s face to scrunch up with tears. Jessie held
her close, calming her.

  “Jessie,” Mary said, “can you take Stacey downstairs, please?”

  “I’m not scared,” Stacey said between sobs. “I can help.”

  Mary kneeled down beside the six-year-old. “You will be helping. We need you to choose all your favourite toys to take with you. Who else can choose them as well as you can?”

  She thought about it for a moment. “No one.”

  “Will you do that for us?”

  “Okay.”

  Jessie led Stacey away.

  Jordan came in. “Where’s Stan?” he asked.

  “In the engine room,” Mary said. “Tell him to be careful.” Her eyes were tight with concern.

  “I will.”

  Jordan smiled at Anne and then made his way down the corridor that leaned aggressively from one side to the other, jostled by the growing swells.

  The engine chugged and rattled. Dirt and rust made up half its constituent parts. It had been patched up so many times there was little of the original machinery left. Several buckets sat under dripping fuselages. No matter what they did they could never seem to block all the holes. Despite its decrepit appearance, the engine had no trouble with the small swells. All the dials and gauges pointed at healthy green zones. Stan was pouring the contents of a bucket back into the engine. Jordan picked up another bucket and handed it to Stan.

  The room lurched. Stan reached out a hand and braced himself on the wall. There was a short snap like a discharged gun and a high-pitched ping sound as something bounced off the wall not two inches from Stan’s head.

  “Jesus!” he said. “What was that?”

  Jordan bent down and picked up the offending object. It was a shorn-off bolt head. Jordan’s nostrils flared at a sharp tangy smell. He got down on all fours and looked at the engine’s underside. Oil gushed onto the floor.

  “Shit!” Jordan said.

  “What? What is it?”

  “Fuel is leaking all over the place.”

  “Grab that rag over there and stuff it in the hole.”

  Jordan picked up the rag and shoved it into the hole. He wrapped it around the pipe several times, tying it off tight.

  “How is it now?” Stan asked.