Blood Memory: The Complete Season One (Books 1-5) (57 page)

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.

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 toge
ther. 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 tear.

“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.

“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.”

Baxter looked at him
. The feeling wasn’t mutual. “I see you got away again. Amazing what you can survive when others make all the sacrifices for you, isn’t it?”

“Look, I know we have our differences but I need to speak with the commander.”

“The commander’s busy,” Baxter said.

“I’m sorry about what happened to Marsh, I really am.
He was a good man. He would want the commander to operate with full knowledge of what was about to happen.”

“And what’s about to happen?”

Jordan hesitated. “It’ll just take five minutes for me to explain it to him.”

“What’s the message?” Baxter said
with the air of someone not remotely interested.

Jordan was aware of the soldiers shifting onto the balls of their feet. “I’m not your enemy, Baxter.”

“Then tell me. And I’ll pass on the message.”

“Okay… This whole attack on the south wall is a distraction. The real attack is going to come from another direction.”

“A distraction,” Baxter said in a flat voice, looking at the others.

“Yes.”

“From which direction? The moon?”

The soldiers chuckled.

“No, not the moon,” Jordan said, keeping his voice steady. “I’m not sure where from. But they’ll come in via secret passageways.”

Baxter stopped smiling. “How do you know about those?”

“The same way you do. I found them.”

“We blocked them all.”

“If you blocked them all, how am I here?”

Baxter had no answer.

“Do the compound a favour, and tell the commander – before it’s too late.”

An expression of deep thought crossed Baxter’s face. He jabbed Jordan in the chest with his
index finger. “You don’t tell me what to do.” He turned to the soldiers. “Take him away.”

A guard grabbed each of Jordan’s arms.

“Are you insane?” Jordan struggled, but it was no use. “The compound’s going to be overrun and you’re going to lock me up?”

“If they’re as smart as you say, how do we know you’re not in league with them?”

“You’re crazy.”

“Better safe than sorry.”

“Sorry? You’ll be sorry all right. Let me go.” Jordan’s body went rigid, trying to dig in his heels. They dragged him, his feet frictionless across the ground. Jordan turned to the Command Centre. “Commander!” he shouted. “Commander! You’re making a big mistake! Commander!”

“Shut him up!” Baxter said.

The stern guard slapped a hand over Jordan’s mouth. It tasted of dirt.

“What the hell’s going on
out here?” a deep voice boomed.

The soldiers froze, standing to attention,
but with their hands full were unable to salute.

The
commander took in the scene. He had his hands on his hips like a belligerent mother taking stock of her disruptive children. “No means no, lads.”

“Sir,” Baxter said, stepping forward. “This man wanted to interrupt you, sir.”

“And you tried to
prevent
him from interrupting me?”

Baxter’s face burned. “Sir-”

“Don’t blame yourself, Sergeant. Jordan always was a slippery customer. Well, are you going to keep me waiting all day? If you hadn’t noticed, I am rather busy.”

As if to emphasise this, something somewhere exploded.

The guards released Jordan, who dusted himself off and made his way up the ramp. Jordan smiled. He saluted.

“No salute
necessary,” the commander said. “I discharged you.”

They shook hands.

“Major Harris,” Jordan said. “Small world.”

“I think you’ll find it’s Commander Harris now.
I heard you ran into a spot of bother on your way to the sea.”

“
Yes, sir. And there’s something you need to know.”