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

by Perrin Briar

  Inside she found the largest cache of weapons she’d ever seen. Row upon row of pistols, UZIs, grenades, machine guns, and a plethora of others she had no name for. She walked down the aisles until she found what she was looking for.

  She ran a hand over the long, graceful lines, the large sight loaded on the barrel, and the detachable stand for camping positions. It was larger than the one Jordan had taught her to shoot with, but there was no mistaking it. She picked it up and, to her surprise, found it lighter than she expected. She slung it over her shoulder and grabbed a large box of ammo. And a second, just in case.

  She turned and, startled, dropped one of the boxes. It popped open and shells rolled all over the floor, bumping into a heavy regulation boot. The guard from outside stared down at her. She felt self-conscious. Then she remembered Jordan’s behaviour with Sergeant Marsh and the other soldiers. The stern expression, the short, sharp replies. The aggression. The attitude. She made herself look this man – no, not a man, but a boy – a baby boy square in the eye.

  “Can I help you?” she said.

  The man blinked. “I was just going to ask you the same thing.”

  “I’m baking a cake. What does it look like I’m doing?”

  “You’re trying to take a weapon from the armoury, is what it looks like.”

  “Give that man ten points. It’s for Sergeant Marsh, if you must know.”

  “Marsh?” the boy said, a little uncertain. “Where’s he stationed?”

  “On the south wall,” Jessie said without hesitation.

  The soldier peered at her, suspicious. “I didn’t know they let girls into the army.”

  “Then how did you get in?”

  “Now see here-”

  “I’m not a girl. I’m a woman.” She stood up straight, puffing out her chest, legs shoulder width apart. A strange expression came over the boy’s face then, as he looked her up and down. Jessie felt naked, but she did not cower. “I’m going now, unless you want to explain to Sergeant Marsh why he was kept waiting?”

  “Uh… no. Of course not. Go.”

  Jessie marched for the door, barely able to keep the excitement off her face.

  “Wait.”

  Jessie paused, considering whether or not to run. She was close enough to make it to the door. But laden as she was, she wouldn’t get very far. She turned.

  He handed her the second ammo box she’d dropped. “Take these. Looks like it might get a bit hairy out there. My name’s Paul, by the way.”

  Jessie ignored his proffered hand. If she took it, he would notice she was shaking.

  “Maybe when this is all over we could get a drink or something.”

  She gave him a cold glare, and didn’t breathe until she was out of sight. She turned north and headed toward the building she had already pegged as her nest. She couldn’t stop smiling to herself. Now she understood what Anne had meant.

  179.

  Once the firing commenced, it wasn’t long before the wounded started pouring in. At first it was in drips and drabs, mostly cuts and grazes from thrown objects. The Lurchers hadn’t managed to get close enough to inflict any serious injuries yet.

  Gary entered, blood flowing freely from a gash above his eye. “Miss me?”

  “No. And apparently a Lurcher didn’t either.”

  “Ho ho! I almost laughed then. But I’m a serious person.”

  “Of course you are.” Anne cleaned the wound.

  Gary nodded to a few occupied beds. “I see you have a few more patients to take care of. Must have been my recommendation.”

  “You think it’s because you came here? Wow. Mr Ego.”

  “Where a legend steps, others follow.”

  “This is one Holy Land I’m sure they’d prefer not to tread.”

  “A man chooses not his destiny.”

  “Are you Yoda now?”

  “If I make it back again, I think I deserve a kiss. They say the third time’s the challenge.”

  “You’re going back?” Anne threaded the fibre and began to sew.

  “We’re not going to beat them if every soldier with a graze takes to the warm-up bench now, are we?”

  “It’s a little more than a graze, Gary…”

  “But less than debilitating.”

  “You should rest.”

  “So should you.” He smiled. “I’m glad you’re here. Having someone pretty to take care of you makes it easier to remember why you’re here.”

  “Well, try to keep your mind on the fighting. And don’t forget, you don’t need to get injured every time you remember why you’re fighting.” She tied off the thread.

  “Why, Anne. I’m touched. I do believe you’re flirting with me.”

  “Get out of here!”

  “Kiss. Next time. Promise.”

  Anne wrinkled her nose.

  “It’s a date.” He headed outside.

  180.

  At the clearing, he heard the gunshots. The muzzle flashes in the distance exploded like tiny stars. The Lurchers meandered toward the compound in a limping gait, stumbling over fallen comrades as the bullets smashed home. But the Lurchers did not stop, only meandered on. They crawled on top of one another, their groans dull and heavy and mournful.

  By the intermittent muzzle flashes Jordan did a rough headcount. There certainly weren’t ten thousand of them. There was barely even a fraction of that number, but still they ploughed onward, into the field of fire. The area was a mass of shapes and bare white bodies glowing in the spotlights.

  Jordan ran in a crouched position parallel to the wall, keeping out of sight. He came to a stop beside a burnt-out car. Two large circles of light made elliptic by the angle and distance of wall parapets drifted lazily over the expanse stretched out before him, moving left to right, exposing the darkness and, if he didn’t step carefully, him too. The beams moved predictably. Jordan waited for the right moment, and then ran. He made it to the wall.

  He skirted along it, feeling it with his hands.

  “Please still be here, please still be here,” he said to himself.

  His fingers came to a thin crack. He followed it down where it disappeared behind a fern. Jordan dug the dirt away with his hands. He got down and looked through the narrow tunnel. A prick of light winked at him at the end. Jordan got down on all fours and began to crawl through.

  181.

  Jessie took her position in the roof of a derelict house at the north end of the compound. She shifted the window open by two inches, giving her plenty of room to manoeuver, but without making it obvious which window she was shooting from. The gunfire on the opposite side of the compound were muffled with distance.

  Through the scope she spied a boy ferrying weapons toward the south wall, and a small group of men carrying injured soldiers to the med tent.

  She got up, leaned the gun against a wall and bent down to pick up the stand. A voice, faint and barely audible, drifted up from the south side. She couldn’t quite make it out, and took it to be children playing. Then she listened more closely.

  She still couldn’t hear the words, but there was something about the voice. She replaced the stand and put the sniper rifle onto it, pivoting toward the sound. She looked, but couldn’t find the speaker.

  She saw the weapons lying cast aside, haphazard, the boxes of unspent ammo lying in disarray like discarded Lego bricks. Her breath caught. A small body laid prone, neck at an eccentric angle, white bone jutting. She moved the scope side-to-side, scrubbing the compound.

  A head darted amongst the unarmed, causing panic. Jessie heard a screech, and a chill ran up her spine. As the Lurcher clawed and bit at the unarmed men, women and children, Jessie lined up her first live target of the day, in fact, her first live target of her life. She followed the Lurcher’s movement, saw where he was going to be, not where he was, and gently squeezed the trigger. For a split second she thought she’d missed.

  The back of the Lurcher’s head exploded. It slumped to the ground. The men and women s
houted what Jessie now realised the boy must have been yelling earlier: “Breach! Breach!”

  182.

  He edged and wriggled, arms by his side. The jagged rock pinched and pulled and cut at his bare skin. He felt the soft scabs that had just begun to heal from Tim’s interrogation tear off, the gashes bleeding anew. His breath echoed hollowly in the empty space. The prick of light at the end of the tunnel had enlarged and filled Jordan’s vision.

  He came to a particularly narrow segment of tunnel. He kept squirming, but the light stopped growing, and try as he might, he could not move. I’m stuck!

  As he wriggled, he felt jagged rocks jab into him, his movement acting as a kind of saw, biting and tearing deeper. Something pulled at his arm. He looked down. His watch had gotten snagged on one of the rocks. He angled and twisted his arm, eventually finding the clasp and releasing it. As he continued to squirm through the tunnel he felt the watch pull from his wrist, trail down his leg and thud to the hard ground behind him.

  The light flashed and flared in his vision as something passed in front of the opening. Silhouettes danced. He heard yells and grunts and screeches. He couldn’t tell if they were human or Lurcher, or both. An ungainly shoe kicked up a puff of dust. It drifted into the tunnel and itched Jordan’s nose. He buried his face into his soiled shirt, stifling the sneeze.

  The exit was so close. He was almost there.

  There was a thud, and the tunnel became dark. It was like someone had just hit the light switch. Jordan panicked. He pressed his head up against the fallen object and found it soft. His cheek was wet and sticky with a thick substance. It smelled faintly metallic. Blood! Jordan spat, hoping he hadn’t got any of it in his mouth.

  He nudged at the body as hard as he could with the top of his head. Progress was slow. He nudged harder. He swung his head back – smacking the top of the tunnel in the process – then butted the body as hard as he could. He did it over and over. The air grew hot, heavy and thick. Pink sweat ran down his face. Finally there was a crack of moonlight. And, little-by-little, Jordan pushed the body aside.

  Jordan looked out at the area. It appeared to be clear. He squirmed his way out. His head was first to emerge, then his shoulders, elbows, wrists… arms! He put his hands against the wall and pushed the rest of his body out. He rolled onto his back and looked up at the starry sky, breathed in the fresh air and celebrated being alive. He couldn’t keep himself from laughing.

  He got to his feet, shoulders screaming in pain. He turned and looked about him. Recently dead and long-dead bodies alike dotted the area. The body that had blocked the hole had a missing eye and nose. His head had been smashed in. It was indeed a Lurcher. Jordan felt weak and lightheaded. He reached for a fallen soldier’s water canister, rinsed his hair, gargled, and spat.

  A fire burned somewhere in the near-distance. Gunfire and screeches spoke and answered one another like long-lost languages. He picked up a soldier’s gun and spare ammo and headed deeper into the compound.

  183.

  Rumours of a breach circulated, fanning the flames of panic. The trickle of wounded had become a flood, and as hard as Anne washed, stitched, bandaged and swabbed, she couldn’t keep up with the influx of new patients. After a while Anne dared not even look up from the wounds, fearing the patients’ faces would not return – save for in her dreams. She had cramp in her fingers and her eyes felt dry, grainy and tired.

  Five minutes earlier a man who’d been bitten came in. Anne drew the short straw and had to hold an arm rigid while the doctor took a saw to it. They had given the man two paracetamol for the pain. He’d passed out halfway through the procedure.

  Anne stood outside, taking a short break – doctor’s orders. She watched some of the other nurses smoking. Anne had never felt the need to smoke before, but right then it was all she could think about.

  A familiar figure stumbled toward the med tent. Anne beamed.

  “Gary. Back again, huh? Someone might think you’re getting injured on purpose.”

  “You flatter yourself,” Gary said. He smiled, but there was a pained edge to it.

  “What’s wrong?”

  He looked away. “Nothing.”

  Anne took the hint. “How’s it going out there?”

  Gary nodded to the dead and dying inhabitants inside the tent. “I think you have a better idea of that than I do.”

  They stepped aside as another cart of bloodied injured men was pulled into the tent. The mud, saturated by blood, sucked at their boots. Anne could tell with a glance that the men inside were as good as dead. Most still wore masks over their faces.

  “Why do they wear masks?” Anne asked.

  “In case a man Changes and it’s someone the lads know. It’s… harder if you can see their faces.”

  Anne gestured to his injured arm. “Do you need attention?”

  “Maybe later.” They listened to the gunfire, the screeches and screams in the night.

  “I need to get back to work,” Anne said.

  “Wait. Just a minute.” His voice sounded weak, like it would break.

  “I have to help the others.”

  “Help me.”

  “Come into the tent and I’ll patch you up.”

  Gary took a step back. “I can’t go in there.”

  “My equipment’s inside-”

  “I can’t. Leave it there. I just need you.” His eyes were dark and haunted.

  “Something happened out there, didn’t it?”

  Gary nodded, eyes closed.

  “What?”

  He took a moment to find his voice. “Bill.”

  Anne waited for more. None was forthcoming. “Who’s Bill?”

  “My friend – my best friend. My brother. We were defending the south wall, and doing well. Wave-after-wave hit us, but only met our rifle fire. The officers had said they were smarter than we thought, but right then, slipping over their own innards, they didn’t look too bright.

  “Then they breached. They took us from behind. Bill – my friend – he… he jumped in the way, knocking me aside. There were too many of them and they over-powered him. We couldn’t kill them fast enough. They bit him. He screamed. I’d never heard him make that kind of sound before. It was so… empty. Beaten. Hopeless. He managed to fight them off, but it was too late. Then he stepped toward me. I raised my gun, aimed at him.”

  “Oh, Gary,” Anne said.

  “I didn’t do it. Not then. ‘Wait!’ Bill said. ‘Wait.’

  “I told him I was sorry, that I had to do it. I had no choice. Then he reached up and took his mask off. I knew then I couldn’t shoot him. We’d been through everything together, grew up together. As kids we used to finish each other’s sentences. People thought we were twins. I couldn’t end him.

  “He said, ‘I figure I’ve got twenty minutes before I Turn.’ He took out a small explosive device, input twenty minutes, and clipped it to the back of his head. ‘The least I can do is pay these bastards back in kind. Just keep your distance.’

  “‘With the way you shoot,’ I said, ‘I always do.’

  “We went on a killing rampage. We were normally pretty good together, but then, we were amazing. Nothing could get in our way. Our movements were smooth, perfect, like we were dancing – the dance of death. Bill didn’t stop fighting – even when he threw up – he projectile vomited over approaching Lurchers. But he Changed faster than we expected. It wasn’t fifteen minutes before he dropped his weapon and turned to face me.

  “He said, ‘Pretty fly for a white guy’. It’s something stupid we used to say as kids. ‘Pretty fly.’ And even though it was his voice and his face… it wasn’t really Bill. But I convinced myself it was him. His eyes were dead. My eyes stung and I couldn’t see. You always hear of people doing stupid things when their loved ones Change. Let them get too close, let themselves get bitten. And you say, ‘I’ll never do anything like that,’ but when the time comes, you do exactly the same thing. It’s human nature, I suppose.” He thumbed away a te
ar.

  “Did you do it?” Anne said in a soft voice.

  “Yes. But not before I got too close.” Gary pulled back his sleeve, revealing a bloody, pus-filled chunk in his forearm.

  “Oh, Gary…”

  Gary smiled. “Who’s the fool now?”

  “You should get an amputation. It might not be too late.”

  “It is too late. It’s already in my system. Don’t worry, I’ll do what needs to be done. When the time comes.”

  “So why did you come back?”

  “For my kiss.”

  Anne smiled. She pecked him on the cheek. “Thank you for coming back.”

  “I told you the third time was the tricky one.”

  “Breach!” a voice screamed from inside the med tent. “Everyone get out! Get out! Everyone! Go!” Then came the screams of the injured.

  Gary grabbed Anne by the shoulders. “Anne, run.”

  “I can’t. The people. I have to help them.”

  “I’ll help them. Run, Anne. Go. Go!”

  Anne did, but not without hesitation. Gary attached a small black device to the back of his head, and then ran into the tent.

  184.

  “I need to speak with the commander,” Jordan said.

  “Is he expecting you?” the stern soldier asked.

  “I didn’t make a reservation, if that’s what you mean. He needs to hear what I’ve got to say.”

  “And what have you got to say? If you hadn’t noticed, we’re a little busy around here.”

  “That’s exactly what I’m here to talk about, you see-”

  “Wait,” a voice called.

  A familiar face strutted up to Jordan, two soldiers in tow.

  “Baxter!” Jordan said. “How on earth did you manage to get away from the Lurchers on the dock?”

  “With a fistful of grenades and a coward’s fleeing back.”

  “I was hardly fleeing – they were carrying me away. In any case, I’m glad to see you.”