Blood Memory (Season 1): Books 1-5

by Perrin Briar

  “There’s nothing here,” Jordan pressed, stepping forward.

  Marsh’s arm shot out, lightning-fast. “Wait.”

  Clang.

  Everyone – besides Marsh, who remained transfixed on something ahead – jerked in the sound’s direction, but met only the shroud of mist.

  “It’s them,” Marsh said, not taking his eyes away from the distant spot he was focused on. “They’re planning an attack.”

  “Planning?” Jordan repeated. “The things that emerged from the outbreak weren’t capable of planning.”

  “I hope you haven’t forgotten how to use this,” Marsh said, handing Jordan a handgun. Having seen the exchange, the Corporals did likewise to Anne, Selena and Stan.

  “Won’t the noise attract more of them?”

  “My boy, they’re all already here.”

  Jordan peered around at the mist with fretful eyes. “Just how smart are they?” He was surprised at the evenness of his voice.

  “They’re cunning, all right. I don’t rightly know what IQ, though I’d wager they couldn’t qualify for Mensa anytime soon. But when it comes to killing, they’re as cunning as any enemy I’ve come across. You can thank Queenie for that.” Marsh waved to the Corporals. “Get away from the buildings.”

  Jordan looked up at his surroundings. The buildings had overhangs like the peaks of top hats, and though a man could never make the jump from one roof to another across the street, the buildings were short and squat and a man could fall on them from above without seriously hurting himself.

  Jordan pushed his pram to the side of the road and turned to the others. “Get rid of the prams.”

  “But Jordan, the food-” Stan said.

  “No arguments. We’ll find more later.”

  Clang. From the other side of the street this time.

  Everyone jumped. Anne let out a little scream.

  The group walked forward, guns aimed and moving randomly, through the mist, looking for something – anything – that might emerge.

  Then there came another noise. Like shards of glass on corrugated iron. Jordan’s skin crawled. Laughter.

  Shapes emerged in the rapidly dissipating mist. A bare torso. An arm through a window. A crooked grin in an alleyway. A bloody leg behind a wheelie bin. They appeared for just a moment, and then were gone like smoke on a stray wind. Taunting. Now you see me, now you don’t.

  Grunts and groans from in front, then from behind.

  “They’re surrounding us,” Marsh whispered.

  The mist grew bright as the sun emerged from behind a cloud and zapped each and every vapour particle. The mist was swept aside like a curtain, and the world – unfortunately – became clear. The group was exposed.

  What had been a quiet cobbled street leading to the seafront now crawled with the un-dead. Bloody blistered feet dragged across the cobble streets. Protruding eyeballs spun around at awkward angles. Exposed ribcages showed the hissing of a punctured lung dribbling yellow pus. A granny turned, a long strip of skin from her scalp to the back of her legs torn off and dragging behind her. A teenage boy had his arm missing above the elbow. A trucker’s bowels hung out over his dungarees.

  There was the briefest moment of blissful silence before Marsh bellowed, “Fire!”

  84.

  The group opened fire, tearing into the front ranks. The air blazed with a red mist as body parts pirouetted in the air, performing a sick dance as they tumbled to the ground. Bellies spilled their contents – mostly swallowed fingers, toes and undigested jewellery. Anne swore she even saw a fox’s tail. Stomach acid scorched cobblestones and dissolved bare flesh. Eyeballs popped wetly underfoot. The Lurchers continued pressing them, loss of limb nought but a minor inconvenience. Stan reached back, making certain Jessie was safe at the centre of their circle of death firing in all directions.

  “Aim for their legs!” Marsh shouted.

  Gun barrels dropped instantly.

  As the bodies fell on top of one another, a wall emerged quickly. They were shot, trampled – or both – and all the while they helped to make the wall grow higher. Lurchers slipped on their own innards as they steamed relentlessly forward.

  Only Jessie didn’t bear the frantic expressions of the others. Her face was calm and peaceful, her fingers weaving themselves through the necklace at her wrist, pulling taut.

  A Lurcher with a breast missing stepped toward Stan and Anne, threatening to breach their circle. Stan turned, shooting the Lurcher through the eye, the back of her head exploding in a chunky red mist.

  The rate of firing slowed as the flood trickled to a stop. A few more shots echoed through the streets and once again the world was silent and peaceful, save for the odd grunt and groan from a fallen – but not dead – Lurcher. All around them, in a rough oval, were the bloody entrails of hundreds of Lurchers. The remains writhed and twitched. Some still made the effort to crawl toward them.

  “Is everyone all right?” Jordan asked, turning. “Is everyone okay?”

  “We’re fine,” Anne said. “How are there so many of them? Where’d they even come from?”

  “Don’t ask me,” Baxter said. “I only work here.”

  Selena stepped up to a Lurcher – his dead black eyes locked on her, reaching up, stretching his three remaining fingers toward her. Selena shot the Lurcher in the head. She aimed at another and fired. She moved to another and pulled the trigger. Click. The gun was empty. Click. Click. Click. Selena kept pulling the trigger, seemingly unaware it did nothing.

  Nasser touched her on the arm and spoke. “Conserve your ammo. They’re no risk to us now.”

  Corporal Nasser tried to take Selena’s gun, but she pulled away, clutching it to her chest, like a child with its comfort blanket. Nasser wrapped an arm around her. His other arm hung in a painful half-cocked posture.

  “Nasser…” Baxter said, barely a whisper. “Your arm…”

  Nasser lifted it, revealing a large chunk missing from his forearm. “Sorry, Sarge. The bitch came out of nowhere. I barely had time to turn before she sunk her teeth into me.”

  Marsh pressed the back of his fingers to the soldier’s forehead. “How do you feel? You’re still warm.”

  “Don’t worry about me, Sarge. I’ll do what needs to be done. Just let me fight a little longer. But if something happens…”

  Marsh laid a reassuring hand on Nasser’s shoulder. “You’ll do it.”

  There was warmth in Marsh’s smile that took Anne aback. How used to butchering did a man have to be to go through what they had and still manage to smile warmly like that?

  Baxter glared at Jordan. Three guesses who he blamed for Nasser’s misfortune.

  “Let’s move,” Marsh said, “before the second round begins.”

  “Second round?” Stan said, wide eyed.

  Marsh smiled. “You didn’t honestly think that was all? That was just a taster, an aperitif.” Marsh slapped a hand on Stan’s shoulder. “My friend, here on the land there are always more Lurchers. Let’s just hope today’s bout isn’t quite so demanding as the Thrilla in Manila, huh?”

  85.

  “How far is your boat?” Marsh asked Jordan, brow furrowed with deep frown lines.

  “Close. It’s moored up on jetty twelve.”

  Marsh nodded. “Listen, the compound might be a little far for us to get to after all this fighting. Can we stay on your boat till we can get back to the compound? If you’re willing to wait, I’m sure we can find enough food to replace what you lost.”

  “What happened to watching us sail off into the sunset?” Jordan said with a smile.

  “Plans change.”

  Jordan nodded. “I have to warn you: there are some… undesirables after us.”

  “You have been busy. I take it your culpability is unfounded?”

  “Mostly.”

  Marsh laid a hand on Jordan’s shoulder. “Should the time come, we’ll help you fight.”

  “There could be a lot of them.”

  A devilis
h grin formed on Marsh’s face. “I’d be disappointed if there weren’t.”

  “I hope you like fish.”

  They marched toward the seafront as fast as they dared, always mindful of an attack that could come at any moment. The salty sea air was stronger now, but to Jordan’s senses it smelled sweet.

  Nasser stumbled. Selena caught him, and braced his weight. Stan hooked his head under Nasser’s other shoulder. Nasser smiled gratefully as they carried him onward.

  The avenue they ran down passed under a familiar entryway. Above it was written:

  WELCOME TO GREAT YARMOUTH PLEASURE BEACH – MORE FUN FOR EVERYONE!

  Still nailed to the haunted house was the first Lurcher Jordan had seen on land. The flesh up to the Lurcher’s hips had been stripped bare, the white of his bones shining through.

  The group covered one hundred yards before Marsh pumped the air with his fist. They came to a halt just as another wave of Lurchers descended upon them.

  86.

  “Clip!” Jordan shouted.

  Marsh tossed up a fresh one, which Jordan caught and reloaded with the smooth efficiency of thousands of hours of practice.

  They were sandwiched between the teacup ride on their left and a large shooting gallery on their right. The park was silent, the multi-coloured light bulbs dim. A sound like the low growl of a tiger built in volume.

  The group formed into its circle of death.

  Amongst the bright colours and childish games of the fairground, the Lurcher attack took on a more sinister edge.

  Lurchers stumbled over the teacup ride, accidentally grabbing the centre railing, causing the cups to spin. Stan took aim and fired at them as they squeezed between the giant vessels. They fell there, clogging up the spaces, reducing the number of Lurchers who could pass through.

  A Lurcher screamed and swung a clawed hand at Jordan, who ducked, avoiding the swipe. He spun, and put the gun to the Lurcher’s forehead and blew it away. Grey matter splattered over the teddy bears and toys heaped up on the prize cabinet. The Lurcher fell to the floor of the shooting gallery. Cute yellow ducklings sat frozen on their way across a perilous journey of oil tankers, icebergs, buoys and pirate ships.

  A Lurcher with half her face missing popped up beside an iceberg. Jordan shot her.

  Another Lurcher’s head rose, and Jordan fired, but the Lurcher bobbed back down, avoiding the shot. Jordan tracked his sight along the firing range, waiting. He began to wonder if it hadn’t gone somewhere else when the Lurcher appeared – closer, beside a pirate ship. Jordan got him this time.

  Against the continuous Lurcher onslaught, Nasser grew slow and powerless. The kickbacks rocked him like slugs to the face.

  There was a momentary lull in the Lurcher barrage.

  Marsh turned to Selena. “Girl. You take him – take Nasser – away from here.

  Nasser shook his head – a laboured effort. “No sir, I can fight.”

  Marsh gripped Nasser’s shoulder and squeezed gently.

  “You’ve done enough, soldier. The least you deserve is somewhere peaceful at the end.”

  With the last of his strength, eyes shimmering, Nasser saluted. “It’s been an honour, sir.”

  Marsh returned the salute. “The honour was mine.”

  Nasser fell on Selena, using her as a crutch. She hobbled away with him.

  The remaining members in the circle tightened, becoming smaller to compensate for the loss of two guns. Jessie was jammed in their centre: the pearl at their heart.

  “Incoming!” Anne said.

  A knot of Lurchers surged forward like a freight train discharging its weary burden.

  The group fired as one, blowing away the front line, who dropped, revealing the next row. They pushed forward faster than they could be shot.

  In the blink of an eye, they had breached the circle.

  87.

  The moment the Lurchers pushed forward, Anne knew they were in trouble. She stepped back, knocking into Jessie. “Jessie! Get back! Get back!”

  The circle turned inward, and fired at the Lurchers who had pierced their defences.

  Anne felt a hand grip her upper arm. She spun, gun aimed…

  It was Jordan. “Run!” he said, voice distant. “Take Stan and Jessie and run to the boat! Go!”

  Anne hesitated only a moment. She took Jessie by the hand and pulled her away. Once Anne got her moving, Jessie kept running. Stan took Jessie’s other hand and they ran deeper into the fairground.

  88.

  Lurchers packed the teacups, making the ride barely visible. Bodies piled over it three deep. As the Lurchers pushed from behind, they caused an avalanche of bodies that slid down the incline.

  “There’s too many of them!” Marsh said, blowing a Lurcher away at point-blank range.

  “What’ll we do?” Jordan asked.

  “I don’t know. We need to distract them somehow.”

  “The rides!” Baxter said, a spark in his eye. “Lurchers are attracted to noise.”

  “If you hadn’t noticed,” Marsh said, “the rides aren’t too noisy right now.”

  “So, turn the power on. The rides’ll distract ‘em!”

  “What power?” Jordan said. “The stations went down when the Incident happened!”

  “These fairs move from place-to-place all the time. They run on generators.” Baxter peered at the area around them. He gestured to a series of tall green shapes about the size of telephone boxes lined up like monoliths beside the seafront. “There! They’re the generators. With any luck they’ll still have some juice left.”

  “But it’ll attract every other Lurcher to us as well,” Jordan said.

  Baxter kicked a fallen Lurcher in the face, and then fell onto it with the butt of his rifle. “I think it’s safe to assume they’re already on their way.”

  “How do we turn them on?”

  “It should be fairly easy – if there’s any juice left.”

  Marsh stabbed the bayonet of his gun into a hole at the base of a Lurcher’s neck, and then roared as he hefted the Lurcher up forcefully, twisted the gun, and wrenched the Lurcher’s head and spine from its rotting body, like a winkle from its shell. “Baxter, you go with him.”

  “But sir, you can’t hold this position by yourself-”

  “Get out of here!”

  “Baxter’s right,” Jordan said. “We can’t leave you.”

  Marsh grabbed Jordan by the shirt with a giant calloused hand and pushed him hard. “I said, go!”

  Jordan gritted his teeth and shared a look with Baxter. He didn’t want Marsh as an enemy either.

  Baxter nodded. “Let’s go.”

  89.

  Nasser grew heavier with each step they took. From this distance the gunfire was a soft rattle.

  Dripping with sweat, Selena approached a large square building with no walls. The ceiling was supported by four pillars. Inside were a number of dark shapes about the length of a coffin. Selena deposited Nasser onto the hard plastic seat of one of them.

  “Thank you,” Nasser said. “I just need to… to rest… for a while…”

  Selena couldn’t let him sleep, not without risking the possibility he might wake up as one of the nzambi. “Nasser,” she said. “Nasser, wake up.”

  His eyes blinked, and started to close again. They had already lost their energetic youthful shine. They were red with burst blood vessels, and a thick yellowish skin covered his irises. A purple spider web of ruptured veins flared around his nose and mouth.

  “I wish… I wish…” Nasser began.

  Selena shushed him. “Rest.”

  “I wish… I could have spent… more time with you.”

  “Me too.” Afraid of the silence, Selena took Nasser by the hand. “We could have our first few dates now, if you like.” She pecked him on the cheek. “First date.” She took a deep breath and shut her eyes, afraid of what she was about to do next. She put his hand on her breast. He squeezed weakly. “Second date.”

  “Th… Thi
rd?” Nasser said hopefully.

  Selena smiled. “I’ll let you dream about that one.”

  As if to do just that, Nasser closed his eyes. A moment later, his body shook with frightening convulsions. Nasser’s grip tightened on her forearm, unbearably strong. Selena peeled at his fingers, but they wouldn’t yield. She slammed his hand against the cheap synthetic steering wheel, but he still wouldn’t let go. His grip got tighter. She slammed his hand again, this time hearing a sharp crack. Nasser’s hand lost its grip. Selena shook her arm free and worked the blood back into her fingers.

  Nasser’s eyes bolted open wide. “What… What happened?”

  “Nothing,” Selena lied. “You fell asleep.”

  The convulsions lessened. Nasser’s body relaxed.

  “Nasser!” Selena hissed.

  He snapped to attention.

  “You said to Marsh you had to do something before you died…”

  Nasser nodded, and a sense of purpose came into his jaundiced eyes. He ripped a hidden pocket on a shoulder of his uniform and came out with half a dozen small yellow pills.

  “What’s that?” Selena asked.

  “Sleep medicine.”

  There were low groans in the darkness, the shuffling of feet nearby.

  Selena tucked her legs onto the seat and prayed they hadn’t been seen.

  90.

  They fell heavily on the fence, links digging into their backs.

  The Lurchers pressed Stan, Jessie and Anne on two sides. They daren’t turn their backs to the Lurchers and climb or else risk leaving Jessie to the Lurchers. They were in an open stretch of field, the grass was tall having grown wild. The Lurchers waded toward them. The reek of festering bodies was overpowering as the Lurchers ambled closer.

  “We have to keep fighting,” Stan said.

  “We’ll never kill them all,” Anne said.

  “Then it looks like this is our last stand.” A thousand similar situations in history flashed through Stan’s mind. Not one ended well for the defenders.