Blood Memory: The Complete Season One (Books 1-5) (32 page)

The Lurchers found Marsh’s remains. They didn’t all jump into the meal and eat, as Jordan expected, b
ut rather stood there, waiting.

Ugly approached the pool of liquid, bent down on all fours, licked the blood up wit
h a single slurp of his tongue and closed his eyes. His head twisted this way and that, savouring the flavour. His eyes burst open, and, not being to his liking, spat it out. He grunted. The other Lurchers fanned out.

Jordan slithered back, keeping his head low, and ran.

L
ungs burning and legs like concrete, Jordan stopped. He’d taken corner after corner, not making any effort to keep track of where he was heading.

Legs shaking, Jordan
slid down the wall and sat with his elbows resting on his knees. He looked down the alleyway in one direction, then the other. He was well and truly lost. The alley was narrow and long, a capillary amongst the city’s nervous system of avenues and highways. There was a strong smell of urine – not surprising considering the high number of bars in the area. The alley was lined with stacks of brown bottles in plastic crates.

There was the sound of running.

Jordan shrunk further into the shadows. The sound grew louder. A figure burst past the mouth of the alleyway, a blur running hell for leather. There was another flash, and another. Then there was the sound of a stampede, as a large mass chased the first group.

Jordan steeled himself and ran to the mouth of the alley. It led out into the high street. He saw the graceless retreating figures of what could only be Lurchers. He daren’t chase them. They would spot him and chase him too. Instead, he would try
to cut the pursued off and meet them somewhere ahead.

Jordan ran to the opposite end of the alley
, the sound of his footsteps echoing off the walls and bouncing back to him. The road ran parallel to the high street. He turned right and ran as fast as his legs would carry him. He passed the Night & Day nightclub, the Queen’s Arms pub, and a wine bar called Through the Grapevine. He peered down the alleyways that ran between each building, but saw no sign of the pursuers nor the pursued.

Maybe they turned
down another road, he thought, heading in a completely different direction.

Just then, u
p ahead, the pursued pulled out into the street he was running on. He saw them clearly now – Anne, Stan, Jessie and Selena. They were alive, but why hadn’t they gone directly to the boat? Never mind. He would find out soon enough. He puffed out his chest, swung his arms in big arcs and threw his legs to take as large strides as they could, ignoring the pain burning in his muscles and below his ribcage.

A large pack of Lurchers burst ou
t into the street ahead of him, in pursuit of the others. They were no more than ten feet ahead. Thankfully they hadn’t seen him.

Jordan could never
hope to catch up to the others now. He slowed to a stop and bent double to repay his oxygen debt. The air rasped into his throat and lungs. He wanted to shout out, get their attention, but it was no good with the Lurchers so close.

How in God’s name am I going to get their attention?

Jordan put his hands on his head to expand his lung capacity and looked up at the tall majestic building standing before him. He smiled.

Selena closed the rickety old door. Moonlight spilled across the floor in fuzzy lines, which blinked as
malformed shadows limped past.

Black spots flashed in Anne’s vision
. Her muscles burnt. She had no idea how Stan and Jessie had managed to keep up. Their faces were contorted with pain. Selena watched the front door, and was the only one who seemed none the worse for wear.

Anne looked around at their surroundings. They were in some kind of old warehouse loaded with drill bits and DIY paraphernalia.
Used tools hung from hooks on the walls. Everything was carefully labelled and stored in its correct place. Their shoes crunched on the nails and screws that lay all over the floor in small piles. Half-finished projects lay on the tables. A large unfinished bird house, and some kind of dispensing machine.

“What are we going to do now?” Selena asked.

“The boat,” Anne said. “If we can get to the boat, we’ll be safe.”

Stan shook his head. “They’ll be expecting us to go there.”

“What do you mean ‘expecting
us’?” Selena said. “They are nzambi. Nzambi are not smart.”

“You saw what they did back there,” Stan said. “They penned us in and trapped us. Never mind that whole tasting thing – whatever that was.”

“No,” Selena said. “That’s just what it
looked like
. They are animals. They cannot think.”

“But they can think now,” Anne said. “At least, one of them can. For all we know, right now they’re coming up with a plan to ambush us in here.”

Selena moved closer to the door.

“We could hide
up in here,” Stan said. “In the morning we’ll be able to see where we stand and make a plan.”

Anne nodded. “That’s not a bad idea – so long as they don’t find us in the meantime.”

Selena looked between Anne and Stan. “There is one other place we can go. The compound.”

Stan shook his head. “We don’t know where it is.”

“I do,” Selena said. “Corporal Nasser told me.”

Anne’s legs shook with the effort of standing. “How far is it?”

“Twenty minutes north – if we walk quick.”

“
I think it’s safe to say we have no intention of walking slowly.”

There was a pause, and then Stan said, “That sounds our best bet. But w
hat about Jordan?”

“He’ll be fine,” Anne said. “Knowing him, he’s pro
bably already at the compound.”

There was an u
ncomfortable pause as everyone considered the alternative.

Somewhere in the distance a bell rang with the
low, dull thud of giant bells.

“What ever’s that?” Anne said, moving over to peek through one of the door’
s many peepholes.

Stan joined her with a big smile on his face. “I’ll tell you what it is,” he said. “Church bells. From the biggest parish church in England.”

At first there was nothing but the vaguest clink from the darkness above. Sunlight spat through gaps in the ancient brickwork around the base of the tower, but went up so high the roof was lost in shadow. Three ropes hung suspended from the darkness. From one of them a skeleton dangled by the neck, swaying to the rhythm of the bell
s as Jordan pulled on the rope.

Jordan grabbed the rope as it came back down through its cycle and pulled harder. Bell ringing was harder than it looked. On the third attempt the bell really clanged, and Jordan regretted not having something to stuff in his ears. The sound was deafening, and though it was by no means beautiful, it
would echo over the whole city.

The rope pulled up unexpectedly high and lifted Jordan off the ground, wrenching his shoulder. A hot pain rose up his neck and down his arm. A cold sweat beaded his brow. As the rope came back down, Jordan pulled on it harder, and the rope jerked
not just up and down, but side-to-side. Jordan let go, or risk losing the skin on his palms.

Jordan headed for the
arched stone doorway, letting the bell continue its merry singing.

Jordan
paused every few steps down the spiral staircase, certain he heard something, before shaking his head and continuing on. He peered around the blind curved corner.

There was no chance of moving silently
, nothing to dull the sound of his footsteps reverberating off the cold stonewalls. He came out behind the altar and looked out at the dark open space before him. It appeared empty. He walked past the religious effigies, statues and iconography of a dead religion. His eyes were drawn to the Jesus on the cross. He found himself praying under his breath. It would always have a certain magnetic power. You couldn’t just ignore the influence of religion after thirty years of lectures, study and idolization.

He heard the screams over the chiming bell well
before he got outside.

“It could be a trap,” Stan said, crouching in the shadow of a
headstone in the church’s graveyard.

Anne nodded. “Could be.”

“What do you suppose we should do?”

“We wait.”

The bells fell silent.

Selena shook her head and said, “We don’t kno
w it was him who rung the bell.”

“We don’t know it wasn’t either,” Anne said.

“We’re exposed.”

“Just a little longer.”

Anne fingered the lettering on the gravestone before her. It was dotted with soft moss and the brown stains of time.

IN LOVING MEMORY OF MARG
ARET BLOTT

6
TH
JUNE 1889 – 28
TH
AUGUST 1945

WHO KNEW THAT ANGELS LIVED AMONGST US? LET ALONE IN OUR HOMES?

The minutes rolled by. A Lurcher stumbled past, no more than five feet away. It tripped on a gravestone and crawled up the stairs leading to the church.

“We should go,” Selena said.

“She’s right,” Stan said. “We can’t stay here all night.”

A voice whispered in the darkness
behind them. “Guys! Guys! Over here!”

They turned to find Jordan crouched low in a tuft o
f thick reeds on the riverbank.

Anne’s heart fluttered
. The pain in her legs faded. She ran out heedlessly from her cover. He was blurry as tears shimmered in Anne’s eyes. She hugged him close.

“We thought… We thought…” she said.

“Me too,” he said.

“But you’re…”

“And kicking.”

“Sorry to break up this beautiful moment,” Selena said, “but any minute the nzambi will come.”

Jordan stepped aside, revealing a mini powerboat. It was eight feet long, four feet wide. The white paint on its underside was faint and faded with age. They sat on splintered boards acting as seats. It was small, cramped, and had a small leak, but by God it felt good to be on water again.

“I
found this in the reeds,” Jordan said as he pushed off from the riverbank.

Lurchers skidded to a halt, staring with undisguised fear
at the flowing water before them. As they grouped together, the ones at the front were jostled forward. A Lurcher’s foot grazed the surface. The Lurcher jolted back as if he’d suffered an electric shock, turned and attacked the Lurcher behind him. The buffalo herd-at-the-watering-hole mentality.

“Come on in,” Stan yelled, enjoying himself. “The water’s fine.”

The Lurchers, as if aware they were being taunted, screamed and hissed at him.

Stan chuckled. Nervous smiles all round.

A large-breasted Lurcher was pushed forward, her foot drenched up to the ankle. She bit at those behind her.

A familiar tall figure stepped forward. Ugly barked and th
e fighting stopped immediately.

A grimace flashed a
cross the large breasted Lurcher’s face before she stepped forward and threw herself into the river. The other Lurchers watched her as she flailed doggy-paddle style. She was clumsy and slow, but she was making headway. She half-walked, half-paddled toward their boat. Buoyed by her courage, the remaining Lurchers hesitantly took to the water.

Jordan pulled at the engine cord
. It chugged over. It was a small engine with all the ferocity of a hairdryer, but was enough to push them through the water. It tossed up spray, dousing the large breasted Lurcher, who stretched toward the boat, her fingertips only brushing the hull.

Jordan turned the
powerboat downriver to head toward the dock. The powerboat gave a slight tug as the river’s current caught it. “Why aren’t you guys on board the cat? I thought I told you to-” The words died on his lips as he looked downriver. Jordan killed the engine. It guttered to a stop.

Lining the riverbank on either side was a thick line of living dead, giant snakes winding half a mile before disappearing round a corner. They entered the water, clogging it up, acting as a
n undead dam. No way they were getting through.

“
That’s why,” Anne said.

Jordan fired up the engine again and turned the powerboat around, coming within inches of the outstretched claws.

The large breasted woman’s head bobbed at the surface. Jordan opened up the throttle. Her head clunked on the hull, and disappeared underneath.

“We’re heading inland
?” Anne said. “We’ll never get back to the cat this way.”

Jordan
kept his eyes on the river. “At least we’ll be alive. We’ll have to find another way.”

Anne looked back at the
long Lurcher chain falling into the distance. Ugly grunted, and the Lurchers stopped hobbling, returning to their slower limping gait. The moonlight caught his eyes, making them shine like a predator at night.