Blood Memory: The Complete Season One (Books 1-5) (2 page)

“Here,” Anne said, filling a spoon with soup and raising it to his mouth.

“That’s okay. I can do it.”

“Are you sure?”

“I think so.”

She sat the tray on his lap. He picked up the spoon
. It shook in his fingers with the effort, and dropped, clattering on the tray, scattering soup droplets over the bedspread.

“Sorry,” he said. “
I’ll clean it up.”

“
The same way you fed yourself?” Anne said with a smile. “No thanks.”

“
I must be weaker than I thought.”

Anne picked up the spoon, dipped it into the bowl, brushed it against the lip so it wouldn’t dri
p, and brought it to his mouth.

“You’ve had a lot of practice at this,” he said, swallowing it with
visible effort.

“Three days’ worth.”

“How far are we from port?”

“Not far. Why?”

“I need to get back to my barracks.”

“Barracks? You were in the army? Stan will be happy.”

“Who’s Stan?”

“One of the guys who lives on the boat. We’ve had a pool going
, about which armed services you came from, navy, army or air. Stan gets an extra helping of soup tonight.”

“At least someone has benefitted from me being here.” He saw something on Anne’s wrist. “What’s that?”

“It’s nothing,” Anne said, hastily pulling her sleeve down.

“Let me see.”

Anne looked away.

“Please.”

After a pause she pulled up her sleeve revealing purple and yellow discolourations. Jordan laid his hand gently on her forearm, his fingers lining up with the bruises.

“I d
id this?” He sounded horrified.

“By accident.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have got so close.” She refilled the spoon and raised it to his lips, but he turned away from her hand. “
You need to eat.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You said you were starving.”

He still wouldn’
t look at her.

“You don’t have to eat if you don’t want to. And don’t worry about the bruises. Haven gives me plenty.”

He smiled weakly.

“Can I ask, do you remembe
r how you ended up in the sea?”

He thought for a moment then shook his head. “No.
”

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

He frowned. “I remember walking into my barracks’ canteen. Someone waved me over to their table and… that’s about it. But up to then I remember everything. My dad was in the army, and was stationed all over the world.”

“Where is your barracks?”

“I was being trained at Sandhurst. Actually, I need to get back soon, or at least notify them I’m not dead. Don’t want them thinking I’ve gone AWOL.”

“Are you sure that’s the last thing you remember?” Anne asked. “Being in the canteen?”

“Yes. Why?”

She gauged his expression, considered a moment, and came to a decision.
“Because we’re off the Norfolk coast.”

Jordan opened his mouth
to speak, but nothing came out.

Anne spoke for him.
“Sandhurst must be two hundred miles away. How on Earth did you manage to cover that kind of distance without remembering it?”

“I don’t know.”

“It might be possible you suffered some kind of concussion when you fell into the sea, or something. Possibly retrograde amnesia, or with your armed services background some kind of post-traumatic amnesia.”

“
Are you a therapist?”

“
In my past life.”

Jordan smiled.
“At least I’m in the right hands.”

“
There’s one more thing. When we found you, you said a name. Rachel. Does it mean anything to you?”

“Rachel?” He shook his head. “I don’t know any Rachel.”

“Maybe I misheard,” Anne said.

Jordan yawned. His eyes looked heavy. “Do you mind if I sleep? I suddenly feel very tired.”

“Not at all. Sleep.” She picked up the tray and headed toward the door. She frowned, something on her mind. At the door she stopped. “Just one last question: what year is it, Jordan?”

“Now?” He smiled. “2008 of course.”

“Well? How is he?
” Joel said. “I could hear voices through the door.”

“He’s fine,” Anne said, “but he’s got a lot of healing to do.”

“Is he safe?”

“He used to be in the army, so I guess so.”

“Army? Shit.”

“I know. Stan’ll be laughing.”

Joel studied Anne’s expression. “There’s something else, isn’t there? Something you’re not telling me.”

“It’s… nothing.”

“It’s obviously something. What is it?”

Anne took a deep breath. “The last memory he has is from when he was training in Sandhurst. In 2008.”

Joel blinked. “2008? Are you sure?”

“He seems adamant.”

“But it’s 2014.”

“I know.”

Joel ran a hand through his hair. “So where has he been for the past six years?”

Anne shook her head. “I don’t know. I don’t think he
does either.” She frowned. “Do you know what the scariest thing is?”

“I don’t know, do I want to know?”

“I don’t think he knows what’s happened.”

“What do you mean? Didn’t you tell him we found him at sea?”

“Not that. I mean about the Incident. He’s convinced he has to get back to his barracks at Sandhurst.”

Joel let a stream of air out through his teeth.
“I was right: I didn’t want to know. How can he not know?”

“He might have suffered a concussion. Or it might be something deeper.”

Joel looked at Anne. “If that’s true somebody’s going to have to tell him.”

A knot formed in Anne’s stomach. “I know.”

“Three weeks ago there were reports of people attacking one another. A lost generation at war with itself. Biting, fighting, aggression. No one took any notice. It was the kind of thing you saw on the news all the time. There were even jokes on entertainment programmes about people imitating zombies – a fad that had swept the world at the time. Films, TV shows, art, literature… It had somehow infiltra
ted every facet of modern life.

“But within days these acts of aggression had spread all over the country. No one went to work. The economy faltered and the problem only got worse. We talk about the Incident as if it was a specific moment, as if we could identify a single event that triggered the proliferation of the virus, but we can’t. There are millions of Incidents – one for each of us – the moment when we saw our first Lurcher and knew life
would never be the same again.”

Anne looked at Jordan. He stared at the corner of the room.
Stan and Joel stood behind Anne, Mary on the chair beside her.

“It spread faster than anyone expected. People evacuated their homes and drove to Land’s End and the Scottish
Highlands, hopped on ferries to Ireland and mainland Europe, but wherever they went the virus followed them. The government were said to be developing a cure, but they were already too late.

“We managed to escape on Haven, to the sea. There were many others, but they’ve all since gone to different places. We thought maybe the virus hadn’t crossed the Channel, so we sailed to the coast of France and discovered more Lurchers there. It has spread – so far as we can tell – to all parts of the world. That’s why we’re at sea, why we’re living on this boat. Nowhere else is safe.”

Anne paused. Jordan hadn’t said a word since she’d begun.

“I know this is difficult to accept,” Anne said, “but we have evidence.” She
laid a piece of paper on the bed cover. It was worn and smudged, barely legible save for the headline writ large:

THE END IS NIGH

“This is an article from
The Times
newspaper, dated March twenty-third 2014. It was the last publication in its two hundred and thirty year history.”

“2014?
But it’s 2008.” Jordan met her eyes. “Isn’t it?”

Anne shook her head. “It’s 2014. I don’t know what
happened to you – why you lost all those years, but one day I promise we’ll find them.”

Anne shared a look with Joel as Jordan read the article. Stan rested a hand on her shoulder and gave it a light squeeze.

After reading it, Jordan looked dazed. “But my barracks-”

“It’s gone.”

“My friends and family…”

“They could still be alive,” Anne
said, “but you’ll probably never see them again. They’ll be on the run, like us. Looking for somewhere safe.”

Jordan’s eyes swam with tears, not of distress, but anger. “Why are you saying this?”

“It’s the truth,” Mary said.

“I was with my friends in the canteen just a few days ago…”

“That memory happened six years ago,” Anne said.

Jordan shook his head. “No.”

“For some reason you can’t remember the Incident. Maybe your mind is trying to protect you from it, I don’t know.” Anne nodded to the porthole. “Look outside and you will see we’re currently moored off the coast of Felixstowe. You’ll be able to see what I’m telling you is the truth.”

Jordan looked from Anne to Joel to Stan, then Mary, who
all sat before him, crowded in the tiny cabin. He searched their faces for some sign of a cruel joke. None of them looked away. He pushed himself up, leaned forward on the bed, and was about to peer out of the porthole when he stopped. He shut his eyes and a cold sweat broke out on his forehead.

Mary stepped forward to help him
. Anne held out a hand, stopping her.

Jordan fell back into bed.

Anne turned her head and nodded, the signal for them all to silently filter out. Soon it was just Anne and Jordan in the room.

“You’re welcome to stay with us for as long as you want, Jordan. Or leave. It’s up to you. But there are things on the land. Creatures. People you might recognise but aren’t human anymore. The world
has become a more dangerous place than you remember.”

Anne rose and walked to the door
.

“Anne,” Jordan said, voice threatening to break any moment. “Thank you.”

Anne closed the door behind herself. After a moment she heard soft crying.

“Good shot!”
Joel said.

“I still missed,”
Jessie pouted.

“But you’re getting closer. Try again.”

Jessie raised the rifle up to her cheek and lined up for another shot. She fired. There was the sound of a metallic
tink
as the bullet hit a tin can bobbing five yards out at sea.

“I did it!” Jessie shouted, fist pumping the air.
“I did it! Mary, did you see?”

“Yes baby, I saw,” Mary said, lifting her eyes from her half-knitted woollen hat
and smiling. Stacey lay asleep in her lap.

“Stan!” Jessie said. “Did you see me?”

Stan sat crouched, etching a tally mark in the stern with a pocketknife. The tallies stretched from one end of the boat to the other in one continuous unbroken line. “What was that, dear?” he said, not looking up.

Jessie’s shoulders slouched.

“Well done, Jess,” Joel said, “you did a great job. But this time-”

The cabin door creaked open as Jordan made his way up the final few stairs. His face was drawn and pale, a scraggly
beard caking his face. He was still very weak and walked with one hand on the wall to brace himself at all times. Anne put the book she was reading down and moved to aid him, but he waved her off.

“I’m all right. Do you mind if I join you?”

“Of course not,” Anne said. “Sit down.”

He sat on the hard plastic bench that ran around the
deck. A tarpaulin was stretched above them, acting as shelter from the sun. It ran down at a sharp angle to a series of buckets and containers. Everyone pretended to focus on what they were doing, but Anne sensed they were all conscious of him. Stacey, awake, stared at him openly, but Mary was quick to divert her attention.

“Look down the rifle,” Joel said to Jessie, “down the sight. Try to line it up with the can over there. Good. Now gently pull the trigger.” This time she missed.

“So close! Never mind. Once out of five isn’t so bad.”

Joel picked up a piece of string that was wrapped around one of the cleats and hauled in the attached can. He leaned over the side and reached for it. Water dribbled from a hole near the base. A crude smiley face had been drawn on
it with a permanent marker pen.