Blood Memory (Season 1): Books 1-5

by Perrin Briar

  “All in the north. With a skeleton crew on the walls.” Commander Harris looked up from the map. “I think we know where they’ll be attacking from.”

  “The north corner. When I was with Tim, I saw a map he had on the wall. It was crude and rough, but I remember seeing something square and box-like drawn up here somewhere.” Jordan gestured to the area around the north wall. “I think that’s where Tim will be.”

  “You said he’s telepathic,” the commander’s lips struggled to fit around the word, “so why would he need to be close? He could be anywhere.”

  “He said there were more like him – all in different places. I think they have a limited area they can control Lurchers from. Otherwise, there would only be one Tim.”

  Commander Harris shook his head. “Sounds risky.”

  “With all due respect, sir, not trying to take out Tim would be riskier. His army is too large. We can’t defend against it indefinitely.”

  “Making offense our only option.” Commander Harris breathed out through his teeth.

  “I wish there was a better way, but I’ve met him, sir. It’s the last thing he would expect. He thinks he’s got us beat.”

  “Pride before a fall. Maybe he’s more human than we thought.”

  “If we can take him out,” Jordan said, “the Lurchers will fall apart.”

  Commander Harris nodded. “Yes, that follows. But they’ll still be Lurchers.”

  “Uncoordinated Lurchers. They’ll attack each other as much as us. They’re easily distracted. That’ll be our chance. Who’s stationed on the north corner?”

  “Pearson. He’s a reliable man. He should be making his report in…” He checked the clock, and then frowned.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “He was supposed to check in three minutes ago.”

  “Maybe the messenger just got delayed.”

  “Not if you knew Pearson. He doesn’t eat a Cheerio unless it’s perfectly formed.”

  Commander Harris spoke to someone outside the door, and then shut it. As soon as he did, a loud roar rang out from a thousand hoarse voices; big and deep and clear. Cheering.

  “What the blazes?” Harris opened the door, increasing the volume.

  Baxter came running up the ramp. “Sir, we’ve won. The enemy has been destroyed, sir!”

  Commander Harris and Jordan shared a look. Harris put on his jacket. “Assemble the men, Sergeant. We’re to move on the north corner.”

  “Sir?” Baxter said. “But we’ve won, sir.”

  “We’ve been hoodwinked. But we haven’t been beaten yet.”

  Baxter scowled at Jordan. “Don’t believe his lies, sir. I know him. Whatever he said will be for his own advantage.”

  “Thank you, Sergeant, but I fear Jordan here has little to gain from such an attack. Assemble the men. Take all guards off the south wall and include them in the march north. I will also require a small contingency of soldiers. I will lead them out the gate.”

  “But sir, that will leave us completely exposed! What if they regroup?”

  Commander Harris’s eyes grew hard.

  Baxter looked away. “Yes, sir. Right away, sir.”

  Harris stomped down the ramp in his great black boots, barking orders.

  Baxter turned to Jordan. “Well, you did it. Ten minutes with you and he’s as crazy as you are.”

  Jordan ignored him. “Did you find Anne and Jess?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where?”

  “They were spotted walking through the old accommodation sector.”

  “Where’s that?”

  Baxter smiled. It didn’t have a shred of warmth in it. “Why, the north corner.”

  190.

  Anne and Jessie peered through the window. It was still two inches ajar from Jessie’s former camping position. Within a few minutes the Lurchers had emerged from their earthy prison and arranged themselves into long rows, shoulder to shoulder, chest to back. There had to be thousands of them. And they were completely silent.

  The cheers were still going up at the other end of the compound.

  “Oh my God,” Anne said. “They’ll be overrun.” She turned to Jessie. “How would you like to do something really brave?”

  “Like what?”

  “Do you hear those soldiers cheering down there? They don’t know these Lurchers are here. We have to warn them.”

  “But how? The Lurchers will hear us.”

  “I know.” Anne let the meaning sink in.

  Jessie’s eyes shimmered. “But you said we were leaving.”

  “Maybe we will, but we need to warn them first. Okay?”

  The Lurchers, packed into the area like a train during rush hour, were pushed forward by those still filing in from the back.

  “They want to annihilate us,” Anne said. “Overrun the compound without mercy, to run and not stop, tearing through every man, woman and child they meet. We can’t let them.”

  Jessie nodded, but her fear was tangible. “Okay.”

  Anne kissed her on the forehead. “How many rounds do you have?”

  “Five.”

  “Make them count.”

  Jessie took aim at a Lurcher on the front row, finger caressing the trigger. She breathed deep calming breaths, and her hitching sobs subsided. She began to squeeze the trigger.

  A shot rang out.

  A dozen Lurchers dropped. Anne blinked. “Wow, Jess. That was an amazing shot.”

  “It wasn’t me.”

  The Lurchers looked up. A long line of heads appeared above the hillside, followed by uniforms, rifles, and standard issue boots. As the soldiers crested the hill, their guns burst into life.

  191.

  The Lurchers, as one, turned to see the origin of the shots and, realizing their element of surprise had been shattered, their torn devastated faces curled into matching masks of anger. Tim’s anger. They broke formation and ran at the soldiers, a wall of slashing claws and snapping teeth.

  Beside Jordan, Baxter raised his rifle over his head and, for no other reason than he probably thought he should, bellowed, “For humanity!” He could have said, “For socks!” and the men would have picked up the chant with equal vigour. The two front lines met amid a hail of bullets and blood.

  192.

  Commander Harris led a retinue of ten men on horseback out the front gates. There wasn’t a live Lurcher to be found amongst the heaped carrion. The horses whinnied at the smell of festering death around them. Harris heard the flutter of wings and caw of ravens as they feasted, but they were all but invisible in the night.

  Once they wound a safe path through the battlefield, Harris inhaled a deep lungful of cool fresh air – his first in a year. He led his men around the eastern wall toward where Jordan believed Tim would be stationed. The sound of gunfire, from here like children’s cap guns, popped in the distance.

  Harris expected to see some sign of a carriage, a car, something… but there was nothing.

  Then he saw it.

  A white flatbed truck. The front cab and engine had been replaced with two rows of Lurchers wearing modified horse collars. They were lashed to the truck with thick ropes. Around it stood a defensive ring of Lurchers, looking out in every direction, fingers curled into angry claws, poised for attack.

  A boy sat upright in a throne-like chair on the flatbed, his bone-white forearms and face glowing in the moonlight like an underworld Boudica. His eyes were shut tight.

  “Let’s set up here,” Harris said.

  The men hopped off their horses and lifted down a crate. One man took out a long tube and rested it on his shoulder. He got down on one knee and took aim.

  “Prepare to fire on that flatbed truck,” the commander said.

  The soldiers exchanged nervous glances. One brave soul said, “But sir… It’s just a kid.”

  The commander backhanded the soldier, causing him to stagger. “Since when has age been a prerequisite to becoming a Lurcher? It hasn’t. They’re at their most da
ngerous when they look like that. They prey on our weakness as human beings – our compassion. Mark my words: he would tear out your throat as soon as look at you.

  “That child is not human. That kid is a monster. We’ve all lost friends and family to this scourge, and that kid in the root of it all. With him dead we might have a chance of beating them. Am I understood?”

  The soldier with the split lip nodded, his respect for the commander undiminished. He loaded a rocket into the bazooka.

  “Prepare to fire.”

  “Ready,” the split-lipped soldier said, tapping the soldier with the bazooka on the helmet.

  “Fire!” Harris said.

  There was a deep low thud. Smoke burst out the front and back ends of the tube simultaneously. The rocket flew.

  The Lurchers heard the loud hissing a fraction of a second before the rocket slammed into them, sending body-parts flying into the air. The truck rocked over, almost onto its side, but returned to its wheels.

  The boy sat up in his throne, eyes still closed, and turned to look at the soldiers. His hands flew out like he were casting a spell. The Lurchers flew from the smoke at full sprint.

  “Reload!” Harris bellowed, taking out his gun. “Prepare to fight, lads.”

  The soldiers moved in front of the rocket launcher, at the base of the small hill. They aimed their rifles.

  The rocket clicked into place. “Ready, sir.”

  “Wait for the smoke to clear, then fire again,” Harris said.

  The Lurchers descended on the men at the foot of the hill. Harris pulled the trigger of his own gun. This time he didn’t hear the crack of the bazooka, but he saw the smoke as it was picked up by the wind. Harris roared as he ran down the hill, firing his rifle in short bursts and prayed to God the rocket hit the target.

  193.

  Looking down at the ensuing battle, it became obvious there was no way the soldiers could hold against such an onslaught. The Lurchers outnumbered them at least three to one, and more were emerging from the underground pits every minute. Injured soldiers were left to die and become Lurchers themselves, swelling their ranks. The Lurchers pushed their advantage, breaking the left and right flanks. The soldiers fought tooth and nail, but gave yard after yard to their relentless attackers.

  Jessie tossed her blonde hair over her shoulder and took aim. She scrubbed the battlefield below. A soldier was on his knees, a Lurcher taking a bite out of his shoulder and tearing it away. Jessie moved to another soldier battling three Lurchers. He sprayed them with bullets, their heads exploding like dropped watermelons. An unseen Lurcher ran at him from behind. Jessie took aim and took the Lurcher in mid-stride. The body hit the ground at the soldier’s feet. The soldier looked up at the surrounding houses, pinpointing the location of the shot that had saved him. He smiled and nodded at Jessie, then raised his rifle and continued with the battle. Jessie turned and fired again, each time saving a soldier in peril.

  She aimed at a Lurcher that had been badly wounded, but was still able to crawl along the floor toward an unsuspecting soldier. Jessie aimed her rifle and pulled the trigger. Clack! Empty.

  The Lurcher below opened its jaws wide and clamped itself around the soldier’s heel. The soldier screamed, aiming his rifle at the head and blowing it to smithereens.

  “You did well,” Anne said.

  “I didn’t do enough.”

  “You did what you could.”

  Just then Anne looked down and saw Jordan. He fired his gun with one hand and punched with the other.

  “Jordan!” Anne shouted through the gap in the window. “Jordan!”

  “Where?” Jessie said, searching. Anne pointed him out, and together they shouted and pounded on the glass, but to no avail. It was just too noisy out there.

  BOOM!

  A cloud of black smoke and fiery flames erupted somewhere outside the compound. For a moment everyone stopped to look. Anne took the opportunity and beat on the window.

  Jordan looked up. Their eyes locked.

  Powerful emotions welled up inside Anne. Relief, joy, excitement. Her eyes overflowed.

  Then his expression changed. Anne’s smile faded as she watched him turn and run away.

  “No…” she said. She pressed her hand against the window. “Don’t go. No!”

  “Where’s he going?” Jessie said, a quiver in her voice. “I don’t understand. Anne? Where’s he going?”

  “I… don’t know.”

  The emotions bled out of her, and she felt cold. There was a terror in his eyes before he ran that she recognised from the beach house.

  Heavy footsteps thumped up the stairs outside the door. Anne got to her feet. “Get up, Jess.”

  “That’s them, isn’t it? They’re coming.”

  “Yes. And we’re going to fight them until we have no more fight left.”

  Anne removed her belt and wrapped it around her hand, letting half of it hang loose like a whip.

  “We don’t know how many there are,” Jessie said.

  “That doesn’t matter. We have to try.”

  Jessie held the gun butt-first, like a club. “Okay.”

  The footfalls reached the top of the stairs. The door squeaked open on rusty hinges. The figure – a burly skin-headed Lurcher with a hideous scar stretching from ear to nose – grinned at them.

  Jessie ran forward and shoved the Lurcher. He fell back, into the Lurchers behind him on the stairs. Taking Jessie’s cue, Anne crowded the top of the stairs, kicking, punching, jabbing, spitting and screaming, half the time not even looking at what they were pulverising.

  They fought till their legs and arms burnt and their blows were weak. Something grabbed Anne’s hand and pulled the belt away. The figure did the same with Jessie’s gun. But they didn’t stop hitting out with their fists and feet, screaming bloody murder. But it did no good – they were exhausted, and fell back against the floor, gasping for air.

  Anne cradled Jessie close. “I’m sorry, Jess.”

  “At least we’re together.”

  The figure was covered head to foot in blood. Anne glared up at it defiantly.

  The figure knelt down.

  Anne flinched.

  “What was my third rule?”

  Anne searched the face through the blood. Out of breath she said, “Always have someone… guard your back.” Tears spilled down her cheeks. “I thought… I thought…”

  Jordan took her in his arms. “Never.”

  Jessie grinned, her breath coming back to her. “I knew you’d come back.”

  “Why did you run?” Anne asked.

  “I saw the Lurchers run into the house, and there was no way I could get in through the front door-”

  “So you came in the back.”

  He smiled. “I did used to live in one of these houses, remember.”

  “But there are still Lurchers. How did you get past them?”

  Jordan moved to the window. “Come take a look.”

  The front Lurcher ranks were still attacking the soldiers, who were taking a much more defensive stance, but the rest of the Lurchers – packed in like sardines – tore each other to pieces.

  “Their leader is dead,” Jordan said. “They’re normal Lurchers now. They’re mindless animals, attacking anything that moves.”

  “How?”

  “Commander Harris. He killed Tim, their leader.”

  Anne looked up at him with tears in her eyes. “It’s over?” Her voice shook. “It’s really over?”

  “Yes. It’s over.”

  Jordan and Anne embraced and kissed.

  “You guys…” Jessie said, blushing and turning away. “I thought you said it was safe.”

  194.

  Jordan let the cool salty breeze wash over him, dislodging the events of the past two weeks as he dabbed the finishing touches to the cat’s stern. Little damage had been done to it while it was in the Lurchers’ charge – a few scratches and mysterious pools of blood here and there. Nothing a mop and a fresh can of paint
couldn’t fix.

  The sun’s reflection had tiny dimples that drifted across the sea’s calm surface. It was silent, peaceful, and not even seagulls had come out to blot the scene.

  Jordan contemplated the large empty space where the boat’s name should be. The wanted to incorporate Selena’s ‘Hope’ suggestion, but all three of them had been scratching their heads over something good.

  Footsteps on the quay.

  Jordan swung round, tin raised. Commander Harris had his hands raised in a gesture of mock surrender. Baxter stood beside him, not reacting.

  Jordan put the tin down. “You know, it’s not uncommon to make your presence known before you scare the crap out of someone.”

  “All ready for the trip?” the commander asked.

  “Almost. Anne and Jessie are bringing the last of the supplies now.”

  “I envy you. Leaving for greener pastures. Or should that be bluer pastures?”

  “You can come with us, if you want.”

  Commander Harris leaned on the railing. “My place is here.”

  “How’s the rebuilding going?”

  “We cleared away the bodies and turned over the soil. Nothing will ever grow there again. We’re filling in the remaining secret entrances now.”

  “Good.”

  “We searched amongst the bodies. There were seven to eight thousand of them in all, leaving two or three thousand still at large. We never did find a body like the one you described – this ‘Tim’.”

  “It was a big explosion. His body might have got blown to pieces.”

  “It might. At least if he – or someone like him – comes back, we’ll know what to do.” Harris looked out at the ocean. “Everywhere will be the same, you know. Maybe worse. Out there it’s the unknown. At least here you know the land, these waters. Here, you have the compound. Friends. You can make a life here.”

  Jordan shook his head. “We belong at sea.”

  “I thought you’d say that.” Harris extended his hand. Jordan shook it. “Any time you change you mind, the offer’s still there.”