by Perrin Briar
“No, don’t wave,” Jenny said. “Just keep moving. The real Captain Shih wouldn’t wait for them to lower the ladder. The longer they take to get the ladder down, the angrier the captain would be.”
They slid across the water, the sky already beginning to bathe the sky with light. They pulled alongside the ship. Liz took hold of the rope ladder and began to pull herself up.
“Here goes nothing,” Liz said.
She ascended one rung at a time. She got to the top. A pirate reached over the side to help her up, but Liz retained her character and pulled her arm away. The pirate backed off.
Liz kept her head down so her wide brimmed hat hid her face. She climbed over the side. Out the periphery of her vision, on the deck, she could make out a dozen feet standing to attention.
The others climbed the taffrail and joined Liz on the deck. A nervous man stepped up to Liz. She could see his features under her hat rim.
“We kept your ship in tiptop shape, Captain,” the man said, wringing his hands. “She’s ready for anything.”
Liz raised her head.
Gasps. Intakes of breath. Slack jaws.
The crew couldn’t believe what they were seeing.
“Is… Is she…?” the hand wringing pirate said.
He was a scrawny old man with long white mustaches over a long wrinkled face.
“Dead?” Liz said. “Yes. And the rest of the pirates.”
Dead silence. Perhaps they thought this might be some cruel joke? A test? They said not a word. Until suddenly…
Laughter.
Mad, crazed, euphoric laughter. It was the old man. He threw his hands up in the air, rushed forward, and despite Bill raising his weapon, took Liz by the shoulders and kissed her on each cheek. He hugged her tight, and then pulled back, said something in Italian, and then danced a merry jig.
The others were less enthusiastic in their celebrations, reserved, still fearful this might be a test of their allegiance. They looked at one another and began to smile, laughed, and then began to dance.
So much for the possibility of them kicking off and proving a handful, Liz thought. She hadn’t seen anyone this happy and excited in… well, ever. A party kicked off. Everyone seemed to be in high spirits, but the family were still wary, none more so than Jenny, who kept a very close eye on the crew, never once dropping her guard.
The family were exhausted and went to the captain’s cabin. There was no argument from the crew, who seemed happy to let them have it for finally ridding them, and the world, of this evil dictator.
No one could wait to be away from the island. The anchor was pulled up onto the deck and they let the ship drift for the night.
Chapter Thirty-Five
THE NEXT DAY, the island was still just about in view, which was fortunate as they needed to know which direction they next needed to head in. The crew were still recovering from the previous night’s antics, but were in high spirits upon realizing it hadn’t just been a dream. The captain was dead and they were free.
The first thing they did was to cut down the three undead bodies that hung from the main sail by their necks and dump them over the side. They hardly needed reminding the world had gone to pot.
Jenny told the crew their plan to sail to Chucherne. From there, they could either come with them and join the town, or they could take The Red Flag and go wherever they wanted. It was a challenge that was eagerly taken up by the crew, especially since they were given the choice. They felt they had some control over their destiny.
The crew were on their very best behavior and did not put a foot out of line. They risked facing not only Manuel, but Jenny too. She was every bit as harsh as Ching Shih had been, but with a streak of fairness that could not be understated.
The boat trip was long but not unpleasant. It even came with quality healthcare. Many of the crew had serious injuries. The crew were very respectful. Many of them didn’t get such good care in the old world, nevermind the new.
As they sailed, they passed what remained of the old world, most of it Bill didn’t even have a name for. Soon, they would pass, forgotten. Much of it was destroyed and broken, probably never to be seen again. And here they were, a chip of life floating through it.
Weather was good and there was no end in sight to the near constant sun they experienced. There was occasional rain, and the waves grew big and scary, but the sailors were at ease with it, and continued on their voyage without stopping. As they had a skeleton crew, not needing superior numbers for fighting, it was easier to feed them with what they caught at sea. No need to stop, no need to pillage.
According to Jenny, the atmosphere was a lot friendlier than when Captain Shih was at the helm. The crew talked to each other now, and though there were disagreements and arguments, they never descended into violence. Bill even got to know some of the crew, their background and where they came from, their past, their history. Before, they had just been another slave for Shih’s seabound army. Now, they were free.
They saw the smoking remains of a hundred cities as they made their way around the coastline of Indonesia, India, and Africa. It took months. The family developed bronze tanned skin and had grown closer to every member of the crew. Even Jenny had learned to relax, warming to them. And they weren’t the only things she had warmed to.
It never escaped a parent’s attention when someone was interested in their children. It was clear to them something was going on between Fritz, Jenny and Ernest. Two men, one woman. Things wouldn’t end well. But things took a turn for the best as they rounded the Cape of Good Hope.
It had been at Ernest’s intervention.
Chapter Thirty-Six
“JENNY, can I have a word, please?” Ernest said.
“Sure,” Jenny said, putting down her fishing rod. “What’s up?”
“I wanted to talk to you about Fritz,” Ernest said.
“What about him?” Jenny said.
“He likes you,” Ernest said.
Jenny blinked. Obviously she knew that already—women always did—but she didn’t expect someone to blurt it out so directly. Especially not Ernest. She suspected he liked her too, which was the reason for her not succumbing to Fritz’s attentions in the first place. She didn’t want to come between anyone, especially not two brothers.
“It’s okay,” Ernest said.
“What’s okay?” Jenny said, not wanting for there to be any misunderstanding between them.
“If you and Fritz date,” Ernest said.
“Are you sure you’re not upset?” Jenny said. “If it bothers you that much I won’t go out with Fritz.”
But she sorely wanted to.
“No,” Ernest said. “It’s fine. Really.”
The truly surprising thing was that he was serious. It really didn’t bother him in the slightest. He even smiled. It wasn’t tinged with the slightest sadness.
“You’re really not bothered or upset?” Jenny said. “If I thought you were, I can live by myself.”
“If you didn’t date Fritz, who would you date?” Ernest said. “You’d have to wait a while for when Jack is of agreeable age. Even longer for Francis.”
Jenny barked a laugh.
“Yes,” she said. “Maybe I could try out all the Flower men until I find one I like.”
“Oh God,” Ernest said. “I just realized something.”
“What?” Jenny said.
“If you and Fritz get married that’ll make us in-laws,” Ernest said.
“Woah!” Jenny said. “Slow down! Marriage is a little way off, don’t you think?”
“Who knows,” Ernest said. “First dating, then marriage and kids. Maybe the other way round if you can’t find a decent supply of contraception-”
“Woah!” Jenny said. “That’s quite enough of that discussion, thank you very much.”
“Just saying,” Ernest said with a shrug. “I suppose you can find lots of banana leaves.”
“Stop,” Jenny said, her shoulders moving up and down with
laughter.
“Though I suppose they’ll be very baggy and loose…” Ernest said.
Jenny clutched her sides.
“Stop!” she said. “Just stop!”
Ernest realized then that he had never really thought of Jenny the same way Fritz did. He was worried about losing her as a friend. Fritz wanted to date her. Ernest supposed he wouldn’t have to worry for long. After all, how long could anyone bear to date Fritz and stay sane?
Ernest chuckled to himself. Jenny gave him a sideways look.
“What?” Jenny said.
“Nothing,” Ernest said. “Something funny just occurred to me, that’s all.”
“Care to share?” Jenny said.
“You’ll have the same thought soon enough,” Ernest said.
That left Jenny to frown, wondering what it could possibly be. She shrugged. She supposed it didn’t really matter.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
CHUCERNE was nestled in a valley with mountains on every side. From this vantage, with a thick mist lapping at the sheer snow-capped cliff faces, it could have almost passed for an island, dislocated from everywhere else. Birds flitted through the air, chasing one another. The dry crisp leaves of winter gave way to the green sprigs of spring and hope.
Jack smiled at Nips. Fritz interlocked his fingers through Jenny’s. Manuel held Francis’s tiny hand like a caring parent. Really, Francis was the parent in their relationship, and though Manuel didn’t speak, Bill thought he caught the hint of a smile on his face.
In truth, the town of Chucerne was an island. It was an island of safety in a world gone to hell Everything they had done and learnt on the speck of land so many thousands of miles away were precisely the same skills they would need to survive here, in the heart of Europe. Sure, it was on a bigger scale, and there would be vastly different obstacles, but the theory was the same.
On their way here, they had cut through the Mediterranean and experienced calm seas. They disembarked at the port of Marseille in the south of France. It seemed strange to Bill to be in a place he had been to often in the past. It was like revisiting a dream, only this time it had overtones of darkness to it.
They had left The Red Flag in the hands of the rest of the crew, who sailed off into the sunset. They would head to western Europe and then cut across to America. They too were heading home. They still had a long journey ahead of them, just as the Flowers did.
As darkness descended on the mountaintop, they were treated to a pleasing sight. Lights came on in the small town. From this distance they couldn’t tell if it was fire or electricity, but hope took all forms.
All the family had to do was get down there, the end of their journey, back to the town they had left to go find themselves. And they had found themselves. Now they were returning as new people, with a lot more to offer and a great deal of experience to share.
In the distance, howling like a harsh wind over challenging terrain, was the unmistakable groan of the undead, distant and yet forever within reach, tugging on their fear. They were home, but it would never be as they had remembered it.
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Blood Memory
Book One
1.
Anne recognized the sound. She’d heard it dozens of times over the past week. She peered over the boat’s edge. The fog was so thick she couldn’t see more than a few feet beyond the prow.
At thirty-two, with a thin wiry body and dirty blonde hair that barely reached the nape of her neck, climbing over the thirty-eight foot Viking yacht was easy for Anne, though her legs and arms still bore the scratches and bruises from the first few turbulent days on board. She held onto the railing that wrapped around the cabin’s roof and edged along the narrow rim to the stern.
A body floated in the water. Only the torso was visible, the legs lost to the fog. The man’s head patted the boat with a hollow thud, the cause of the sound she’d heard. The man would have been handsome if it wasn’t for the puckered purple cut across his left cheek, his pallid skin, and nose bent at a broken angle.
“Joel?” Anne’s words were muffled by the fog. “Come up here!”
She listened but there was no reply. She stomped her foot on the deck like a buck calling a female.
“What?” a voice called out.
“Come up here a minute.”
Joel grumbled as he ascended the stairs. He was a thirty-year-old walnut-haired broad-chested Australian more accustomed to the Outback than the ocean. Upon seeing the body he said, “Bloody hell, not another floater. Can’t we just toss it back?”
“You know we can’t.”
Joel cupped his hands around his mouth and called down the stairs. “Yo! Stan! Come up here!”
Pigeon-chested Stan McIntyre was two inches shy of Joel’s six feet two, but he had a bearing his past life as a school teacher had imbued him with that made him seem taller.
“Where are the girls?” Anne asked.
“Inside with Mary,” Stan said.
“Do we have to do this one?” Joel whined. “Can’t we just let him be? Respect the dead, and all that.”
“Not when he might have something in his pocket that could aid us,” Stan said.
Joel blew out an exasperated puff of air. “All right then. Let’s get this over with.”
Joel and Stan took an arm each and pulled the body on board. Water splashed and pooled over the deck.
“Whose turn is it to turn out pockets?” Stan asked.
“I did it last night,” Joel said.
“And I did it this morning.”
“Me too,” Anne said.
Joel rolled his eyes. “Great.” He rooted through the man’s pockets. He screwed up his face. “Nothing. I knew there wouldn’t be. Let’s toss him back.” Joel hooked his hands into the crook of the body’s arms and lifted him up until he was almost standing. He was about to push it over the side when the body wheezed a gasping breath. Joel’s eyes went wide and he dropped the body.
“Jesus Christ! The bugger’s still alive!”
“Is he one of them, do you reckon?” Stan said, picking up a length of iron kept for such occasions.
Anne reached over slowly, keeping a close eye on the man, and put her fingers to his wrist. “He has a pulse. It’s faint, but it’s there.”
“He can’t be alive, can he?” Joel said, hand on his chest like he was going to suffer a heart attack. “He must be one of them. None of the others were alive.”
“That doesn’t mean this one can’t be.”
“He can’t be alive. He’s been floating around for a week.”
“We don’t know that. He might have only fallen in a few hours ago.”
“His beard,” Stan said, gesturing to the man’s five o’clock shadow. “If he’d been at sea a long time it’d be longer than it is now.”
“There’s only one way of knowing for sure,” Anne said. “We have to check him for bite marks.”
Joel shook his head. “No. No way I’m going near him. You know how fast those things can move.”
Anne reached into her pocket, extricating a switchblade. “I’ll do it.” She kneeled down at the foot of the body and began cutting off a saturated sock.
“Fine,” Joel said, getting down on his knees and cutting at the other sock with his own knife. “But if anything happens I blame you. Stan, you stand over him with your pole ready. I swear, if his eyelids so much as flutter, give it to him.”
Stan took position over the body, pole poised.
Joel shook his head. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
They cut away the man’s pants. His dark wire-like hai
r lay plastered to his pale legs. They cut away the man’s light blue shirt with fancy cufflinks.
The man mumbled under his breath.
Everyone froze. Stan tensed, pole held over his shoulder like a batter stepping up to the plate. The man quietened down and they continued. They pulled off the man’s shirt, exposing his arms. They were not large and muscular, but toned and hard. They tore through the man’s undershirt. Anne gasped. Crisscrossing his body were a series of pale white scars and strange flower-like burns, long-since healed. One nipple had been shorn off entirely. Around the remaining nipple were a series of small circles Anne suspected were cigarette burns.
“Jesus,” Joel said.
They rolled the man over. His back sported long diagonal slash marks that crisscrossed his spine.
“No bite marks at least,” Stan said, lowering the iron rod.
Anne fingered the scars. “By the look of it, some other monster must have gotten to him.”
The man’s bloodshot eyes flickered open. He grabbed Anne by the arm in a vice-like grip.
“Rachel!” he shouted in her face. “Rachel! No! Rachel!”
Stan moved to swing.
“No! Don’t!” shouted Anne, holding up her free arm to stop the blow.
The man’s grip weakened slightly. His hazel eyes looked deep into Anne’s chestnut brown. He reached towards Anne’s face with his fingertips. Joel and Stan took a protective step forward. The man gently stroked Anne’s face, following the smooth contours of her nose and chin. His hand let go of hers, his eyes rolled back into his head, he fell back, shivering.
Stan put a hand to the man’s forehead. “He’s burning up.”
Joel removed his own pants and covered the man up. “We’d best get him inside.”
Anne spotted something that glittered in the man’s manubrium – the gap where the collarbones met. He wore a ball chain necklace with two metal circles attached.