Blood Memory: The Complete Season One (Books 1-5) (12 page)

Stacey nodded. “Can I do it?”

“Of course you can.” Jordan picked her up so she could hang it on a hook. He kissed her on a chubby cheek before setting her down. He took in the picture. “Better than Da Vinci.”

An hour later they had formed into three groups. Mary and Anne sat at the dining table, their paper hats at odds with the deep conversation they were having. Stan sat on the floor, playing Buckaroo with Jessie and Stacey. Joel and Jordan leaned back in their chairs, letting the mellow music roll over them.

“Having a good time?”
Joel asked.

“I’m having a great time.”

“Good. No one did more to organise all this than Anne and Mary, you know.”

“I didn’t for a moment think it had been you or Stan. You two couldn’t organise your way out of a paper bag.”

Joel laughed. “Cruel, but true.” He looked at Jordan. “Listen, we’re getting to be pretty good chums now aren’t we, Jordan?”

“I’d say so.”

“Good. Then don’t take this the wrong away, but you’re a complete bloody moron.”

“Why Joel, I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Believe me, I could say a lot worse.”

“What’s brought on this sudden show of affection?”

“Over there is a beautiful woman who likes you. I’m sick of watching you both eye one another up and doing nothing about it.”

Jordan coloured.
“What are we supposed to be doing?”

Joel raised an eyebrow. “Do I have to paint you a picture? On no, wait. Stacey already did that for you. Look, all joking aside, you should definitely ask her out, or hit her over the head with a club and drag her into your cave, or whatever it is we do in this new golden age of ou
rs.” He took a swig of his Bud.

“You really think she likes me?”

“About as much as a Lurcher loves brains. I honestly don’t know what she sees in you. Love is blind, I suppose. And deaf. And has no sense of smell whatsoever. And look, if she says ‘No’ you can always blame it on the alcohol.”

“Maybe you’re right.”
He took a swig of alcohol.

Joel watched him.
“Well?”

“
What?”

“
Go over there!”

“
Now?”

“
No, in ten years. Of course now!”

Jordan sighed, picked up his glass of whisky and
headed toward Anne, who watched him approach, a half-empty bottle of Bud in her hands.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” she replied.

His mouth felt dry. “Thank you for organising all this.”

“We all did our part.” She smiled up at him.

His knees felt weak and his nerve left him. He took a swig of his whiskey. It burnt the inside of his mouth. “Anne, I was wondering if-”

There was a flash of light from the porthole, so quick he almost missed it.

“You were wondering what?”
Anne probed.

“One second.”

Jordan drifted toward the porthole. A low grumble of thunder shook Haven. The fixtures, bolts and screws jittered in their fastenings. The cabin tilted slightly, causing some of the sausage rolls, true to their name, to roll off their paper plates onto the floor.

Jordan looked out the small window. The
sky was dark and overcast, the sea dimpled by growing swells, like the scales on a dragon’s back.

Jordan turned and looked at the others. “It’s a storm.”

Jordan ran up the stairs to the deck.
A thick black blanket roiled overhead, stretching from horizon to horizon. A shroud of darkness. A strong wind whistled past him and played with Joel’s long locks of blond hair, making it dance like fire. Jordan’s insides turned to water. Another flash of lightning, and this time Jordan counted down the seconds until the thunder boomed overhead. It took approximately-

“Four seconds, wouldn’t you say?” Joel said as he took Haven’s wheel in the main cabin. “What’s that? Just shy of one mile?”

“Roughly,” Jordan agreed. “Which way shall we go?”

Joel turned on the engine and spun the wheel west, following the needle on the dash. “To the mainland. It’s better to get shipwrecked on land than at sea.”

“Can’t we go around it like the other storms?”

“Would you like to make a guess which way it’s going to go?”

The problem with storms was they were so unpredictable. They appeared to head in one direction, and then change course with a lick of wind and head in another.

“How far are we from the coast?” Jordan asked.

“About ten miles, give or take.” Joel put a hand on Jordan’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, we’re going to get through this.”

Mary, Anne, and the girls hurriedly packed all the food away, putting anything that might break on the floor and strapping it down with cello tape
.

There was another loud bang of nature’s drum in the sky, causing Stacey’s face to scrunch up with tears. Jess
ie held her close, calming her.

“Jessie,”
Mary said, “can you take Stacey downstairs, please?”

“I’m not scared,” Stacey said between sobs. “I can help.”

Mary kneeled down beside the six-year-old. “You will be helping. We need you to choose all your favourite toys to take with you. Who else can choose them as well as you can?”

She thought about it for a moment. “No one.”

“Will you do that for us?”

“Okay.”

Jessie led Stacey away.

Jordan came in.
“Where’s Stan?” he asked.

“In the engine room,” Mary said. “Tell him to be careful.”
Her eyes were tight with concern.

“I will.”

Jordan smiled at Anne and then made his way down the corridor that leaned aggressively from one side to the other, jostled by the growing swells.

The engine chugged and rattled. Dirt and rust made up half its constituent parts. It had been patched up so many times there was little of the original machinery left. Several buckets sat under dripping fuselages. No matter what they did they could never seem to block all the holes. Despite its decrepit appearance
, the engine had no trouble with the small swells. All the dials and gauges pointed at healthy green zones. Stan was pouring the contents of a bucket back into the engine. Jordan picked up another bucket and handed it to Stan.

The room lurched. Stan reached out a hand and braced himself on the wall. There was a short snap like a discharged gun and a high-pitched ping sound as something bounced off the wall not two inches from Stan’s
head.

“Jesus!” he said. “What was that?”

Jordan bent down and picked up the offending object. It was a shorn-off bolt head. Jordan’s nostrils flared at a sharp tangy smell. He got down on all fours and looked at the engine’s underside. Oil gushed onto the floor.

“Shit!” Jordan said.

“What? What is it?”

“Fuel is leaking all over the place.”

“Grab that rag over there and stuff it in the hole.”

Jordan picked up the rag
and shoved it into the hole. He wrapped it around the pipe several times, tying it off tight.

“How is it now?” Stan asked.

“Better.” Jordan looked at the fuel gauge. “But we’re low on fuel.”

Stan hopped down off the engine. “How much do we have left?”

“Not enough. What’ll we do?”

Stan looked Jordan in the eye and said, “We have to go shopping.”

“Right.” Jordan blinked. “Wait. What?”

After Anne and Mary finished tying everything down they headed into the cabins. They were surprised to
discover a thin stream of water dribbling down the stairs. They found the girls busy packing their things into a large suitcase. If Haven did sink, this was the only room that wouldn’t have been altered. Drawings had been scribbled over the walls like ancient cave paintings. Toys were strewn like confetti.

“Are you girls done?” Mary asked.

“Almost,” Jessie said.

Anne
looked down to find water coming in from under the door. She sidled up to Mary. “A lot of water is getting in,” she said. “Maybe we should prepare the emergency raft – just in case.”

“I think you’re right.”

Jessie zipped up the suitcase. “Done.”

“Are you ready?” Mary asked, clapping her hands
and forming a big smile on her face. “We’re going to go on a little adventure.”

“What kind of adventure?”

“We’re going to the storage room. Come on.”

“But our toys…” Stacey whined.

“We’ll get them later,” Anne said.

Stacey hopped down from the bed. The water came up to her ankles. She screamed from the shock and started crying.

Jessie hugged her close. “Sh-sh-sh. I’m scared too, but it’s only a little water. It can’t hurt us.”

Anne thought quickly. “Jessie, what are those rules you say when you’re shooting with Jordan?”

“What rules?”

“There are three of them,” Anne prompted. “They help you to be calm and relaxed.”

“I… I don’t remember.”

Anne took Jessie’s hands in her own. “Stacey’s very scared, but if you speak, I think she’ll be less scared. Can you do that?”

Jessie nodded. She closed her eyes in concentration. “Rule one. Always have a… a bullet in the gun.”

The boat lurched to one side, caus
ing the door to drift open, cutting a swath through the deepening water. A jack-in-the-box on wheels played an upbeat tune as it rolled out into the corridor. Other toys slid along the floor and hit walls with dings, rings and clonks.

“Hold my hand,” Mary said, gripping Jessie’s hand tight. “You take Stacey’s hand, honey.”

They trudged through the corridor linked like a chain.

“Keep going, Jess,” Anne said.

“Rule two… Always have someone watch your back.”

Lights flicker
ed, revealing the wall panels had sagged and fallen across the floor. Wires protruded and sparked.

“Follow me,” Mary said. She stepped on the wall panelling. It gave way under her weight. “Be careful.”

“Rule three?” Anne asked Jess.

“Rule three… Never give up fighting.”

They came to a door that looked exactly like the others. Mary pulled it open and the contents spilled out at Mary’s feet. Rolls of cello tape, blue tack, press pins, paper, card, wrenches, bags, duffel coats, blankets… Everything you would ever need to start a new life at sea. Mary and Anne searched amongst the fallen items.

“What are you looking for?” Jessie asked.

“The life raft,” Mary said.

“Isn’t that it?” Jessie said, pointing at something at the back of the room sticking out from the water. It was
bright yellow and cigar-shaped.

“Looks like it,” Anne said. “Girls, come into the room. I don’t want you to get swept away.”

Mary took the yellow plastic material in both hands and pulled. It came out of the water about three inches, but appeared to be snagged on something. She pulled harder, and a wall unit that was bolted to the wall shook. Anne helped Mary pull at the life raft.

Jessie eyed the rocking wall unit with concern. “Uh, Anne…”

“One second, honey,” Anne said. “It looks like the raft is trapped under here.” They gave the life raft one big pull. It came free from the water like a salmon from a river. Anne caught it. “Got it!”

There were
snaps like broken fingers and metal groaned loudly as the wall unit tilted forward.

“Stacey!” Anne screamed. “Stacey! Look out!”

Stacey stepped back, but not enough as the wall unit landed with a heavy crash on top of her.

Stan and Jordan carried the bulging sacks down the corridor. Jordan’s arms shook with the effort. The water, now up to the middle of his shins, didn’t help. T
hey made it to the engine room.

Jordan tore open the bags and took out the first bottle of spirits. He handed it to Stan
, who sat perched on the engine, pouring the spirits into the fuel tank. It came to the last bottle. A 1982 Chateau Lafleur Pomerol. Stan uncorked it and passed it under his nose. His nostrils flared with desire. It was a wonderful year.

“Sorry, Stan,” Jordan said. “We need every last drop.”

With a sigh, Stan upended the bottle. Once it was empty, he allowed himself to run a finger over the bottle lip and taste it. His eyes rolled back. “What a waste,” he said. “How’s the reading?”

Jordan looked over at the fuel gauge needle, now nosing the green safety level. “Better.”

A shrill buzzing sound startled them. Jordan opened an oil-smeared box affixed to the wall. The intercom phone was ringing. He answered it.