Blood Memory (Season 1): Books 1-5

by Perrin Briar

  “The same way you do. I found them.”

  “We blocked them all.”

  “If you blocked them all, how am I here?”

  Baxter had no answer.

  “Do the compound a favour, and tell the commander – before it’s too late.”

  An expression of deep thought crossed Baxter’s face. He jabbed Jordan in the chest with his index finger. “You don’t tell me what to do.” He turned to the soldiers. “Take him away.”

  A guard grabbed each of Jordan’s arms.

  “Are you insane?” Jordan struggled, but it was no use. “The compound’s going to be overrun and you’re going to lock me up?”

  “If they’re as smart as you say, how do we know you’re not in league with them?”

  “You’re crazy.”

  “Better safe than sorry.”

  “Sorry? You’ll be sorry all right. Let me go.” Jordan’s body went rigid, trying to dig in his heels. They dragged him, his feet frictionless across the ground. Jordan turned to the Command Centre. “Commander!” he shouted. “Commander! You’re making a big mistake! Commander!”

  “Shut him up!” Baxter said.

  The stern guard slapped a hand over Jordan’s mouth. It tasted of dirt.

  “What the hell’s going on out here?” a deep voice boomed.

  The soldiers froze, standing to attention, but with their hands full were unable to salute.

  The commander took in the scene. He had his hands on his hips like a belligerent mother taking stock of her disruptive children. “No means no, lads.”

  “Sir,” Baxter said, stepping forward. “This man wanted to interrupt you, sir.”

  “And you tried to prevent him from interrupting me?”

  Baxter’s face burned. “Sir-”

  “Don’t blame yourself, Sergeant. Jordan always was a slippery customer. Well, are you going to keep me waiting all day? If you hadn’t noticed, I am rather busy.”

  As if to emphasise this, something somewhere exploded.

  The guards released Jordan, who dusted himself off and made his way up the ramp. Jordan smiled. He saluted.

  “No salute necessary,” the commander said. “I discharged you.”

  They shook hands.

  “Major Harris,” Jordan said. “Small world.”

  “I think you’ll find it’s Commander Harris now. I heard you ran into a spot of bother on your way to the sea.”

  “Yes, sir. And there’s something you need to know.”

  185.

  “What do you mean she’s not here?”

  “Precisely what I said,” Doreen said. She was irritated. She wasn’t in the habit of having to repeat herself, let alone three times. “She’s not here. She never was here. At some point she must have wandered off. I assumed she went off to find you.”

  Anne looked back the way she’d come. In the distance, gunfire cracked like popcorn and giant curling flames licked the sky from a dozen locations of the compound.

  “How am I going to find her in all this?” Anne said to no one in particular.

  Just as her breaths began to deepen in the tell-tale onset of panic, she felt a tap on the shoulder. She turned. The boy’s eyes were small and pinched together, one eye looking inward. His head was disproportionately large in comparison with his body. When he spoke, there was a fuzziness around his words, his lips finding it difficult to pronounce them. “I know where,” he said.

  “You know where Jessie went?”

  The boy nodded. He extended his index finger and thumb and made a shooting noise.

  “Gun?”

  He nodded.

  “Jessie was shot?”

  The boy shook his head, frowning with concentration. He covered his head with his arms.

  “Hiding?” Anne ventured. “Home? House?”

  The boy nodded and pointed back the way Anne had come.

  “Gun. House?” As soon as the words were out of her mouth she realised what she’d said. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”

  Anne extended her hand to shake his. In reply he hugged her, grinning with a smile that stretched ear to ear.

  Anne all but ran down the dirt track. “Gun house,” she said. “Jessie went to the armoury.”

  186.

  The Lurcher turned and looked toward her as if it somehow knew she was there. She looked into those eyes and felt… nothing. She squeezed the trigger. The Lurcher’s forehead exploded like an overstuffed piñata. Bits of brain rained down like confetti. She turned and took out another Lurcher. And another. And another. Each time, a small thrill shot through her, and she felt a small portion of the past week’s stresses and strains leave her. A soldier raised his gun in thanks in Jessie’s rough direction. She smiled.

  There was a creak. From behind the closed door.

  Jessie froze, listening.

  The door didn’t move, and there was no further sound. She turned back to peer through the scope.

  Creak. Louder this time. Closer. Something was there.

  She lifted the rifle off its stand and rolled onto her back, lying in the middle of the floor, gun pointed at the door with both hands. Her arms began to shake. The gun, light as a feather before, was becoming heavy. She waited. Nothing came. She considered relaxing her hold, but each time she did, she worried that something was going to lurch out from the door.

  The doorknob rattled.

  “H…Hello?” Jessie said.

  The doorknob stopped rattling.

  “I’ve got a rifle aimed at the door, and if you can understand what I’m saying, you should get out of here.”

  Another pause.

  “Hello?”

  The door opened.

  His teeth were visible through a torn left cheek, his eyes looked forward, focused not quite on Jessie, but some indeterminate point behind her. The tendons in its right hand were pulled tight, causing his hand to make a fist.

  Jessie pulled the trigger, but there was only the hollow clack of an empty chamber. She pulled the trigger again and again. Clack. Clack. Clack.

  The Lurcher moved forward. And forward… And forward. And fell flat on its face.

  Jessie pulled the gun close in natural reflex, staring between her feet at the inert Lurcher.

  She barely registered the worn shoes standing in the doorway, a knife clutched in a slender white-knuckled hand, blade bloody to the hilt. Anne, as if surprised to find herself still holding the knife, dropped it. It clattered on the floor. She rushed forward and embraced Jessie.

  “What did you think you were doing?” Anne said.

  “I was trying to help. I shot some Lurchers.”

  Anne shook her head. “Well done. You broke every one of Jordan’s rules in one day.”

  187.

  Beyond a few grey hairs at his temples, Major, or rather Commander, Harris had not changed at all. He still spoke the same, moved the same, and pierced the soul with the same glare he’d always had. Suddenly it was no surprise Tim and his horde were having such trouble in breaking the Burgh Castle compound. When Commander Harris was your opponent, you had best prepare for a long siege. And it had been a long siege – it showed in the dark bags under his eyes. But the fire was still there too, the inability to surrender.

  Commander Harris’s office was sparse and clean. Nothing adorned the walls nor decorated the floor. It was a monk’s cell, focused entirely on the task at hand. It had always been Harris’s view that if something did not add to a situation it detracted from it, weakening it.

  “A leader?” Harris said after Jordan had recounted his brush with Tim. “What kind of leader?”

  “A tyrant. His name is Tim.”

  “His name? Since when do we give them names?”

  “We didn’t.”

  Harris almost choked on his whiskey. “He named himself? He could at least have chosen something a little more… formidable. You’re saying it spoke?”

  “Eloquently.”

  Baxter – standing in front of the door – cleared hi
s throat. His expression was like stone, but Jordan could almost see the sneer of derision.

  Commander Harris shook his head. “How is it we haven’t seen him before?”

  “You have. He’s out there. On the face of every one of those Lurchers. He controls them.”

  “Controls them? How?”

  Jordan looked away. “Telepathy, I think.”

  Baxter coughed, covering his laugh with a hand. When Commander Harris turned to look at him, he said, “Excuse me.”

  “I know how it sounds. But do you remember when the dead coming back to life sounded ridiculous? But yet here they are, knocking on our door. It’s a mistake to underestimate them.”

  “I never underestimate an enemy.”

  “A human enemy. These things are something else. They actually share their memories. If one of them knows something, they all do. They have some kind of shared consciousness.”

  “You’re talking about blood memory. We’ve had some trouble with that ourselves in the past. We put measures in place.” He took a yellow pill out of his pocket. “It’s not the most… pleasant way to die. But it guarantees our safety.”

  “I know. I’ve used them.”

  “And no soldier knows the defences of the whole compound, only a part. Neither do any of the officers know the location of all the secret passages. Only I do.”

  “Which means…” Jordan said, “you can never leave the compound.”

  “Which means,” Commander Harris corrected, “everyone here can live in peace.”

  “It’s a prison.”

  “In a way. But it’s a small price to pay for the safety of five thousand souls. There are orders in place that should I so much as take one step outside, I would be shot on sight.”

  Jordan shook his head. “I’m sorry, but you’re wrong. You’re not the only one who knows about the secret passageways. I do. Tim read my blood and found them all.”

  “You think that’s what this whole attack is about?” Harris grinned. “Jordan, we filled in all the secret passageways. They can’t get through.”

  Jordan looked at his hands. “I got in here via an unblocked secret passage.” He let the information sink in. “Sir, how many secret passageways did you find?”

  “Sixteen. And I assure you, all were securely blocked up.” He saw Jordan’s expression. “There are more.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “How many more?”

  “Five.”

  Commander Harris got to his feet and walked to his old trophy cabinet. He took out the single plain campaign medal and pinned it to his own jacket. His voice was calm when he spoke. “You didn’t come here just to tell me about this, did you.”

  Jordan blinked at the sudden change of topic. “I’m looking for someone. Actually, two people.”

  “The young ladies?”

  Jordan’s ears pricked up. “You met them?”

  “I did.”

  “They’re okay?”

  “Fine when I last saw them.”

  “I need to find them, sir,” Jordan said.

  “You know as well as anyone that in the midst of battle, trying to locate a single person-”

  “Two people.”

  “-is nigh-on impossible.”

  “I have to try.”

  Commander Harris beheld Jordan. “They mean that much to you?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Commander Harris pursed his lips and nodded. “Sergeant.”

  Baxter stepped forward. “Yes, sir?”

  “You know what they look like, correct?”

  “The two ladies? Yes, sir.”

  “Good. Find them would you. Pass a description onto the rest of the men.”

  “Yes, sir,” Baxter turned to leave, tossing not a small amount of scorn in Jordan’s direction.

  “Don’t worry about Baxter. He has a character all of his own, but he’s a good soldier. He’ll find these women of yours.”

  “They’re not mine, sir.”

  “Whoever’s they are, then.” He smiled. “Did you know, she convinced me to send a rescue team in after you?”

  “I thought no one man was worth more than the mission?”

  “He’s not, but your woman – sorry, your not-woman – was very persuasive.”

  “She can certainly be that.”

  “You have quite a firecracker there.”

  There was a knock on the door. “Come.”

  A young pimple-faced boy stepped into the Commander Centre, surprised to find someone with the commander. “Uh, sir. I have a message.” He looked at Jordan.

  “Well, what are you waiting for?” the commander barked. “A fanfare? Let’s hear it.”

  The boy flushed. “There’s been another breach on the south side, sir.”

  “Another breach? Are the men in correct formation?”

  “Yes, sir. Somehow they got in behind us.”

  Commander Harris’s eyes flicked toward Jordan, then away again, so fast Jordan barely saw it. He scribbled on a piece of paper and handed it to the messenger. “Send in reserve group two to reinforce the flank.”

  Once the messenger was gone, Commander Harris peered over the maps on the large table in the centre of the room. Without looking up he said, “What is it, Jordan?”

  “That may be a mistake, sir.”

  “Sending reinforcements to a weak position?”

  “Where did the reinforcements come from, sir?”

  “The other walls. I know where you’re going with this, Jordan. You’re afraid in case I leave us too exposed – should this Tim try to draw our forces away from the other walls, and come in via a secret passage. But what choice do I have? If I don’t reinforce now, we’ll be overrun. And until we know with certainty from which direction they’ll come in from, we can’t risk it. And that’s if this Tim is as smart as you say he is.”

  “He is smart, sir. Smarter than any of us.”

  “Then we’d best keep our eyes and ears open for an attack from the rear. Don’t worry, Jordan. I’ve been in hairier situations than this. We’re keeping a skeleton crew on the walls. Any sign of a further Lurcher attack, they’ll send a report, and we’ll react accordingly.” Harris turned the map around to face Jordan. “Now,” he said, “why don’t you show me where these other pesky secret passages are?”

  188.

  Anne and Jessie stepped into the graveyard of forgotten homes. The walls were green with moss, jutting out of the ground like a monster’s ribcage. In the corner, where the east and north walls met, a giant weeping willow sat, twisted and forlorn. Guards stood on the high walls facing out. One soldier urinated over the edge.

  “How did you know I was here?” Jessie asked.

  Anne shrugged. “I know you. You wouldn’t want to shoot blindly. You would prefer to shoot carefully, with accuracy. With a rifle. You would need to be somewhere up high, of course. At first I thought the Command Centre roof, but it was unlikely you could get up there with the guards in the way. And then I remembered the expression on your face when we first came into the compound. You looked straight at these houses on a hill. And I knew. You were scouting for good camping positions. When I got close enough, I heard you firing. Then I just had to follow the sound. I guess that’s what the Lurcher did too. I saw him go into the house, and caught him at the top of the stairs.”

  “I’m that predictable, huh? So, what’ll we do now?”

  “Get out of here and rescue Jordan, then get to the cat.”

  “But the compound… It needs us.”

  “It’s done well this long without us. I don’t think we’ll make that much difference now.”

  There was a roaring sound. Of words and voices, but Anne couldn’t quite make them out. They sounded happy, like cheering. Looking down the hill and into the compound, Anne made out the soldiers pumping victorious fists into the air. Anne recognised the words. She repeated them to Jessie, disbelieving: “We won. It’s over, Jess! We won!”

  “Are you sure?”

  “
Yes. Listen. We won.” Squeals escaped their lips as they hugged one another tight, eyes becoming moist.

  “We won, Anne! We won!”

  Then there was another sound – a loud crack like God was playing marbles.

  Anne looked over at the north wall. Rocks spilled down from the parapet, splashing in brown stagnant puddles pooling at its base. The guards on the wall stumbled, trying to keep their balance. The pools of water shrank, then disappeared altogether as if the earth was quenching its thirst. The earth sank, giving way, and segments of the north wall lurched forward. The larger rocks on top, displaced, fell and hit the ground with a heavy thump. The guards fell amongst the debris, none of them getting back up again.

  “What’s going on?” Jessie said.

  “I don’t know. Let’s get out of here.”

  A grey hand reached out of the hole and pulled the dirt away, digging its way out, as if from a shallow grave. Its fingernails were torn and split, thick night-black blood oozing out from beneath its nails. Then there wasn’t one hand but two, three, then a dozen, two dozen, three, four… all scraping and digging. Terror gripped Anne, and for a moment she couldn’t move.

  Jessie pulled on her hand and said, “Anne! Come on! We have to go!”

  They ran down the hill toward the compound, picking up speed with the decline. Jessie skidded to a stop, almost dislocating Anne’s arm in the process.

  “Jess! What are you doing? We’ve got to go.”

  Jessie pointed with a quivering finger at the remains of a house ahead. Figures emerged from the ground, earth spilling from their shoulders, eyes shining in the moonlight.

  189.

  The map reflected the changing Great Yarmouth landscape. The corners were held down by empty biscuit tins and cracked teapots. Jordan had drawn twenty-one red crosses on it, and described how to find each of the secret entrances. Commander Harris had crossed off each of the entrances they knew about and had blocked. They were left with five.

  “Ignoring the one I came through today,” Jordan said, “only a few Lurchers could get through there. We’d just need one soldier to hold that position. That leaves us with four entrances. One behind the weapons storage facility, along the west wall – that must be how they’re out-flanking us. And the other three…”