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

by Perrin Briar

“The bridges,” Jordan said.

  “Yes. We destroyed them. And dug trenches wherever the river or marsh thinned. Nature protects us on every side. The river to the south and east, the marshes to the north and west. We are safe here.”

  “Aren’t you worried the fire will attract the Biters?”

  “Let them come,” Roland said, swilling a large mouthful of a clear liquid Jordan suspected was alcohol. “They cannot breach nature’s defences. They may have driven us back at the beginning, but now we hold the cards. We can reproduce. They cannot. They cannot last long without more bodies to infect. And here, we are protected.”

  “What if the Lurchers in the Marsh get free?” Jordan said. “What if they get into the camp?”

  Roland smiled, more of a scowl. “They won’t.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because they never have before.”

  “There’s a first time for everything.”

  Roland spat.

  Lindsay reached over and placed a hand on Jordan’s hand. Roland glared at it like it was a snake. “Which is why we maintain vigilance at all times. Nothing is more precious to us than the safety of our children.”

  “You have a great deal of faith,” Jordan said.

  “When times were lean – and believe me, at the beginning they were lean – faith was all we had.”

  Jordan looked around at the inhabitants. Some were stuffing their faces, others red-faced from alcohol. They were a community, he realised, a family who clubbed together.

  “Everyone here has a story to tell.” Lindsay pointed to a large woman heavily pregnant talking animatedly with Anne. “Clarissa’s husband complained of having the flu. When she went to check on him she found she had to make swift use of the samurai sword he kept above the fireplace. She still has it. It still has her husband’s blood on it.”

  Beside Anne, Jessie sat surrounded by children. One girl was platting her hair while another filed her nails. They were gibbering like a family of squirrels and seemed to take no notice of Jessie’s lack of reaction.

  Lindsay followed Jordan’s line of sight. “You care for her, don’t you?”

  Jordan didn’t reply.

  “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. But you can share the love you feel for her amongst many people.”

  “Is that what you do? Is that what Roland does?”

  Lindsay nodded. “Roland is an excellent protector.”

  “Protector?”

  “We don’t like to use the title of ‘father’. We find that the children might get confused or jealous if they identify with one father figure over another. In truth, we do not know who the protector of our children is.”

  Jordan frowned. “You don’t know?”

  “Impregnation is the purpose of our intercourse. It matters not who impregnated us. Though we may hope it is one particular protector, we do not choose. We leave it up to God to decide.”

  “That’s nice of you.”

  “This way the children have several protectors instead of one. Much less chance of being disappointed, wouldn’t you say?”

  Jordan moved the vegetables around his plate with his fork. “You said Roland was once your husband. You don’t mind him sleeping with other women?”

  “Why should I? He’s doing God’s work.” Jordan picked up no hint of irony or anger, but rather a sense of pride. “Sex is only a physical act to allow us to have children. I am proud that he can do his service for the good of mankind.”

  “I’m sure he’s proud too.”

  Roland glared at Jordan. His hand had made a fist. He opened his mouth.

  “But alas,” Lindsay interjected. “He is out of his prime. His seed is not what it used to be. Which is why we must always have new blood.”

  “Does he mind you sleeping with other men?” Jordan asked.

  The muscles in Roland’s jaw tightened.

  Lindsay hesitated only a moment. “He knows I do God’s work.”

  “You have strong appetites,” Lindsay said, looking at them over her glass. “That’s good.”

  “We haven’t eaten well in a long time,” Jordan said. “We ought to make the most of it while we can.”

  As Jordan spoke he noticed Lindsay’s eyes drifting down to his lips, and when she looked up into his eyes he thought he saw a hunger there. A burning desire. The look tugged on a memory, something from his past he’d long since forgotten. It was on the tip of his prefrontal cortex, but he couldn’t recall it, and as quickly as it had come, it was gone.

  “You’re more than welcome to stay as long as you wish.”

  “Thank you, but we have a boat to catch.”

  Lindsay said nothing, and nibbled on a horseradish. “Did you know swamps and marshes have played quite a role in English history? During the Middle Ages Ely was an island. It’s true.”

  “That’s right,” Stan said, looking up from his salad for the first time. “It’s only been the past three hundred years or so since it hasn’t been marshland.”

  “You know your history,” Lindsay said with a smile.

  “I used to be a history teacher. But alas, my knowledge of the Isle of Ely is a little spare.”

  “Perhaps I can enlighten you. It was surrounded by heavy marshland, not all dissimilar from us here. Over the centuries the land dried out and joined with the rest of the country.”

  Jordan wasn’t listening. He’d spotted a girl hiding behind a tent. She was watching him.

  “Who is that girl?” Jordan asked, pointing her out.

  The girl moved back behind the tent, but not fast enough as Lindsay caught a glimpse of her face.

  “She peeked into our tent while we were washing,” Jordan said.

  “That’s Lizzie.” Lindsay held out a hand. “Lizzie, come here, love. Don’t be shy.”

  Lizzie hesitated a moment, her eyes affixed firmly on Jordan. She stepped out from behind the tent like a frightened deer.

  “Lizzie,” Lindsay said, “is a rather special girl, aren’t you?” Her frizzy brown hair hung down to her shoulders. Her eyes were so big you could fall into them.

  “This is Jordan,” Lindsay said. “He’s a friend. Is it okay if he sees?”

  Lizzie looked at Jordan, seemed to weigh him up, and then nodded. She lifted up the bottom of her robe to reveal a large half-moon shaped scar on her calf. Jordan recognised it immediately.

  Lindsay smiled. “Thank you, Lizzie. You may go play now.”

  Jordan’s voice was a croak. “She was bitten?”

  “She was playing too close to a Biter. Sometimes the children shoot at them with paintball guns. She had the fever and was Turning. We prayed for her for days. Finally, after a week, she opened her eyes. She was still alive. We celebrated for one night and one day, thanking God for bestowing his gift to us. Miracles are everywhere if we care but to look.”

  “But why was she watching us while we were washing?”

  “Oh. She wasn’t watching you all. She was just watching you. Lizzie is very excited about her responsibilities. She was curious to see who would be her first, I suspect.”

  “Her first?”

  “It’s a special moment in any woman’s life – the day she loses her virginity.”

  Jordan blinked. “Excuse me?”

  Lindsay smiled. “Come now. You must have noticed how few men there are here at Eden.”

  Jordan’s insides turned to water. “Yes… but… What? I don’t understand.”

  “Isn’t it obvious? We cast out those who cease to be of further use to us. Once a man or woman can no longer become pregnant, or impregnate, they are sent away. They become a drain on our resources and are released into the wild.”

  Jordan pushed away his plate, having lost his appetite.

  “Have you finished?” Lindsay asked.

  “I couldn’t eat another bite.” Jordan forced a yawn and stretched his arms. “We’d best hit the hay.”

  “But the evening’s just started.” Lindsay clapped her hands. Young girls
ran into the space and took the tables away. “You will have a most unforgettable evening. Of that, I promise you.”

  She moved away, and a dozen women filed into the centre of the camp like a choreographed dance. They wore pristine white robes and spun in circles around the fire. By the way their bodies moved, it was clear they did not wear underwear. One woman kept her eyes fastened on the fifteen-year-old boy the whole time, and he on hers. Jordan didn’t know where to look.

  The women sat on the outer bench clapped their hands in a regular pulsing heartbeat-like rhythm. The women who danced were not uniform in age. They varied from their early teens to their late thirties. Within minutes they were sweating from their provocative thrusting hip movements and heat from the fire.

  The regular men watched with undisguised pleasure, their eyes moving from one writhing figure to another. Jordan and Stan exchanged a look and squirmed in their seats.

  Through the heat haze Jordan could make out Anne clapping along with the crowd. When the women finally stopped they had spread out before the men. Three stood before Roland, three before the fifteen-year-old, two before the seventy-year-old, one before Stan, and three before Jordan, one of which was Lizzie.

  Lindsay smiled. “I told you you would be very popular, Jordan.”

  The women had their hands behind their backs, thrusting out their heaving chests.

  Roland made a selection from his line-up – a buxom raven-haired thirty-year old. The pensioner and fifteen-year-old did likewise. Stan didn’t need to make a choice as he only had one woman on offer. He turned pale.

  Jordan caught sight of Anne through the flickering flames, her hands frozen in mid-clap. The heat haze distorted her expression, but she did not look pleased.

  “What’s going on?” Jordan said.

  “They have chosen you,” Lindsay said. She stood with the other women in Jordan’s line. “As have I.”

  Jordan gulped. “Chosen me for what?”

  Lindsay’s eyes shone, reflecting the flickering flames. “For intercourse. Now you must choose one of us. Who will you bed tonight?”

  Jordan stood up. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. I think there’s been a misunderstanding here. We just stumbled onto you.”

  “There is no such thing as ‘stumbling onto’ something. You were brought to us for a purpose. This is that purpose.”

  “Thank you,” Jordan said, backing away. “Really. I’m flattered. But we really need to get some sleep for tomorrow. We’ve got a long day ahead of us.”

  “You’ve only just arrived.”

  “All the same, we’d best get going. Thank you for the food, clothes and kind, ah, hospitality.”

  The women before Jordan exchanged confused expressions. Lizzie turned to Lindsay. “He must pick one of us. It’s our turn.”

  Lindsay glared at Jordan, who sensed a deep writhing anger beneath her calm surface. Then Lindsay smiled, but the fire was still there. “He doesn’t need to choose tonight. He must be tired. Tomorrow, then.” She turned to Erica. “Take them to their quarters. They must be exhausted after their long journey.”

  “What?” Lizzie said, stamping her foot. The shy demure girl was gone. “He has to choose one of us. This isn’t fair! It’s my turn!”

  “You will have your turn tomorrow,” Lindsay said firmly.

  Lizzie glared, her lips turning white.

  As they returned to their accommodation, Anne looked back and saw everyone stood around the campfire watching them in silence. The atmosphere was cold despite the blazing fire.

  “Is there anything I can get for you?” Erica asked as they ducked into the Visitor Centre.

  “No, thank you,” Jordan said, ushering her outside. “Thank you. Good night!”

  The moment Erica left they converged.

  “We’ve got to get out of here,” Jordan said.

  “Why?” Anne said, crossing her arms. “You seemed to be enjoying yourself earlier.”

  “Most of them were less than fifteen years old!”

  “That didn’t stop them.”

  “It would stop me.”

  “I’d have thought this kind of place would be what every man fantasizes about.”

  “Being put out to stud isn’t my fantasy. Not when they want to repopulate the world with baby Jordans.”

  “Yes,” Anne said, “the world’s bad enough with one.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Then we’d best get out of here,” Anne said. She raised an eyebrow at Jordan. “Unless you want more dessert?”

  Jordan moved to the tent flap. People were milling about, returning to their tents or having conversations. “We can’t go now. They’ll see us.”

  “In a few hours, then.”

  “Yes,” Jordan said, wiping the sweat from his upper lip. “The sooner the better.”

  122.

  Jordan was exhausted to his bones but still unable to sleep. The others didn’t have that problem as they were snoring within seconds of their heads hitting their pillows. Muffled conversations passed by outside as the final few stragglers returned to their tents. The lights were doused. The camp became quiet and still save for the soft saw of snoring in neighbouring tents.

  Once Jordan was certain the camp was asleep he roused the others. They put on their shoes and backpacks, fumbling with sleep-swollen eyes.

  “We’ll make our way out of the camp and cross back over the marsh,” Jordan said. “Is everyone ready?”

  They nodded.

  Jordan bent down to unzip the tent tooth by tooth. He listened to the camp and heard nothing but the gentle croaks of frogs and chirrup of grasshoppers in the distance. He stepped outside.

  A light flicked on. Jordan raised a hand against the glare.

  A voice said, “It’s all right. The rest of you can come out.”

  The others emerged from the tent.

  Lindsay turned off her flashlight. Black spots danced in Jordan’s vision. The moonlight picked out the expressionless faces of the camp’s inhabitants standing around them in an arc. Only Lizzie’s betrayed the anger they felt.

  “Would you mind telling us where you’re going?” Lindsay said.

  “We need to continue with our journey,” Jordan said.

  “Your journey is here, with us.” Lindsay shook her head. “This is most disappointing. No man has ever been so averse to tending to us before. Do we detest you so?”

  “It has nothing to do with your appearance. We just don’t belong here.”

  “But you do. Earlier I told you Ely was once an island. But there is a story attached to it. When William the Conqueror came to England he had an extremely hard time overcoming Ely. He could not march his men over the marshland nor sail them across in it. His men and horses were trapped by the swamp. The Ely archers shot them from the safety of their little island. Every attempt he made resulted in failure.

  “Then one day a monk came to his camp. The monk said he could lead the army through the marsh, claiming there was a secret path through it known only to the inhabitants of Ely. The Conqueror paid the monk’s price and as agreed, he led the army through the marsh. The Conqueror took Ely. The land was irrigated and the Isle of Ely was no more.”

  “We don’t know this secret way through the marsh,” Jordan said. “If there even is one. How could we tell someone something we don’t know?”

  “You could discover it.”

  “Then why would we lead someone through to your camp? What would we have to gain?”

  Lindsay shrugged. “You might have your reasons.”

  “What reasons?”

  “To destroy us, to take our resources, to take that which you would not have to create yourself. There are many motivations.”

  “We have none of those. We want to get back to the ocean, to our boat, and sail away.”

  Lindsay cocked her head to one side. “Are we so different to the ocean? We’re cut off from the world as you would be, but without the threat of shipwrecks. We have food, shelter, safety… and you want to leave?
”

  “You don’t understand. There are… people after us. Dangerous people. If you don’t let us go they’ll come here and they will kill you all.”

  “That’s easy for you to say when I can’t check the truth.”

  “It is the truth.”

  Lindsay looked him up and down with her cool green eyes. “You’re lying.”

  “I’m not lying. Something is happening to the Lurchers. They’re changing. They’ve become-”

  Lindsay held up a hand. “Stop. We don’t want to know more. We don’t need to know more.”

  “Fine. But know they are hunting us and will not stop until they have us.”

  “The marshland-”

  “The marsh will slow them. It will not stop them.”

  Lindsay was a lost cause. Jordan turned to the camp residents. “Please, let us go. We are no danger to you – any of you. We will leave and you will never see us again, I swear.”

  Some shuffled their feet, and looked to Lindsay, who didn’t take her eyes from Jordan.

  “We can’t let you go,” she said. “You’ll tell everyone we’re here, that we’re safe. They’ll flood us and draw the Biters.”

  “We won’t tell anyone.”

  “Trust is no longer a currency we accept.”

  “You’re going to have to trust us,” Jordan said. He took a step forward. “We are leaving this place.”

  Lindsay shook her head. “We need fresh blood. We need to keep breeding to increase our population. It’s the only way our species can survive in the New World. You will usher in a whole new generation. We want what’s in your blood, your genes. You’re a fine strong man, Jordan. You will father many children.”

  Lindsay turned her head to the side. The camp’s four men approached, along with ten large women.

  “Wait,” Jordan said. “Let the others go.”

  “Let them go?” Lindsay chuckled. “You aren’t prisoners, Jordan. You’re guests. Guests with a very unique purpose.”

  “Let them go and I’ll stay and do whatever you want.”

  “Jordan, no!” Anne said.

  “Oh Jordan,” Lindsay said. “You’re going to do whatever we want anyway. As will they. Anne and Jessie will birth strong sons and daughters. As will you. It won’t be so bad. You will have women all day, every day to repopulate a devastated earth. There can be no higher accolade than this. You are blessed. You will grow old seeing a whole generation – your generation – retake what once was ours. Don’t you see? We’re doing God’s work. It is a great honour we’re bestowing upon you. You must see that.” She sighed. “Sometimes it takes newcomers a little time to realize their new place in the world.” She turned to the men and large women. “Take them.”