Grant Us Mercy (Book 5): Grant Us Mercy

by Little, D. C.

  GRANT

  US

  MERCY

  A Post-Apocalyptic Serial Novel:

  I n s t a l l m e n t F I V E

  D. C. L I T T L E

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imaginations or are used fictitiously.

  Copyright © 2019 DC Little, Carson River Publishing

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  DEDICATION

  To my Mountain MacGyver who inspires me every day and my special boy who sees things others only wish they could, and those unexpected miracles.

  Contents

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  ~1~

  ~2~

  ~3~

  ~4~

  ~5~

  ~6~

  ~7~

  ~8~

  ~9~

  Free Book!

  Next in Grant Us Mercy

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Wow! What a journey this has been! I have to say my first thank you to the wonderful lady, talented author, fierce mama, and supportive friend, Heather Yates, for encouraging me to go forth with my dream of writing Post-Apocalyptic even though it is so different from the genre I found my success in.

  Of course, I need to thank my writer’s group, Women Writers of the Well. Without all of your support and encouragement I still would be writing stories for my eyes only. It’s been fun sharing this series with you every step along the way!

  A heart-felt thank you to my fantastic editors, Dianne McCleery and Joan Simpson. Without your guidance and keen eye, my books wouldn’t be near as clean and consistent! And I can’t forget my ARC readers whose encouragement feeds me during those dry spells.

  Thanks to my mom for her unwavering support and encouragement. And a special thanks for my Sis, whose namesake will be making a special star appearance.

  And of course, where would I be without the two main men in my life! Thank you, My Love, for helping me with all the nuances of natural disasters and survival thinking. Your support in this project keeps me going strong. Thank you, My Little Love, and inspiration, for understanding how important Mommy’s writing time is and being excited whenever I receive one of my books in the mail.

  ~1~

  DATE: December 2 09:12

  What in the world?

  An arrow landed two feet in front of Blake. He heard its whistling warning in time to duck behind a tree. Where had that come from? The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. Doing his morning patrol to check on the guards at the perimeter had never been this eventful.

  He didn’t think the arrow had come from one of the city marauders since they used guns. Besides, it came from the direction of camp. After ensuring no more arrows were careening toward him, Blake stepped out and plucked the arrow that had pierced deep into the ground. Near the feathers were two red stripes with a black dot in the middle.

  Tucker.

  He peered into the direction where the arrow had flown from. The brush moved a hundred yards down the hill before two boys came pushing their way through it.

  “I told you I could shoot far,” Tucker’s voice traveled to him.

  “No way your arrow made it this far. We must have passed it already.” An older boy about ten stomped past Tucker, a scowl on his face.

  “No, it came this way.”

  The other boy stopped in front of Tucker and shoved his hands on his hips. “You think just because you’re the son of The Survivalist you’re better than us.”

  “No, I don’t. I just shoot better than you because I’ve practiced more.” Tucker didn’t back down from the boy who towered over him.

  Blake watched, breathing down his desire to end the altercation at once by putting the older boy in his place. He didn’t want Tucker to be bullied, but he also knew boys, and if he stepped in, it would be difficult for Tucker to live down his dad rescuing him.

  So, Blake planted his feet and watched, wondering when he would be seen. He thought he saw Tucker glance in his direction, but the boy acted as if he didn’t see him.

  “Whatever, pipsqueak, you aren’t better than me. You’re just a baby with a tiny bow.”

  “Then why did we find your arrow way back there, and we still haven’t found mine?” Tucker stuck his chest out. “Come on, I saw it go this way.”

  Tucker stayed to the side of the other boy, just like Blake had taught him to do. Never turn your back on someone was a rule he had the boy repeat many times. When Blake saw the other boy throw a punch, he sucked in a breath, ready to shout, but Tucker ducked as if he expected the attack and rolled, kicking out the other boy’s feet.

  The boy landed roughly. Tucker stood over him, but not close enough to be touched. Once he saw the boy wasn’t coming at him anymore, he looked up and connected eyes with Blake. His son’s lower lip trembled, but his eyes held determination as he looked back down at the other boy.

  “I don’t want to fight with you, Darius. Let’s just go get my arrow.” Tucker reached out a hand to help the boy up, but Blake saw that Tucker’s stance was ready if Darius decided to do something tricky.

  Darius rolled and pushed up on his own. He wiped at his eyes and glared at Tucker. “Wait until I tell my dad what you did. You are going to be in trouble. No one will believe you shot past me anyway. You can’t even find your arrow.”

  Blake couldn’t hold his tongue any longer. “You mean this one?” He held up Tucker’s arrow. “It almost hit me. We will have to discuss safety precautions when having contests, boys.”

  Darius’s mouth hung open before he openly glared at him and ran down the hill.

  Tucker hung his head and walked slowly up to his dad. “I’m sorry I almost hit you, Dad. I shouldn’t have done the distance contest.”

  “No one got hurt. We can figure out a safe way to have a shooting contest.” He handed the arrow to the boy and ruffled his hair.

  “Well, I shouldn’t have done it for two reasons. One because I almost hurt you. Two because now Darius really won’t want to be my friend. You always told me not to showcase my skills. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s a rite of passage for boys. It’s hard to be humble when they goad you into things.” He wrapped an arm around Tucker and continued to walk his route. “You’ll learn.”

  “I will, Dad. I promise.”

  Blake stopped and looked seriously at his son. “I am proud of you, Tucker. You handled yourself well, with restraint and courage.”

  Tucker’s glum expression dissolved as a small smile broke free.

  “Come on. You can help me finish up the perimeter check.”

  Blake felt at ease with his son by his side. He didn’t like the fact that Darius tried to bully him around, but Tucker had handled it with maturity far beyond his years. The boy would be fine. It may be hard on him at times, but he would hold his own.

  The last month had been a challenge for Blake and his family. Being in a group situation after surviving on their own for so long, and under such imminent stress, had taken its toll. More than once Blake had threatened to take them and disappear in the night. Each time, Kris talked him down.

  Right now, this was the safest option for them, and Arland needed his help. Every day he trained with the men and women, and even some of the children, teaching them how to shoot bows and use knives as well as defense strategies should things go wrong.

  They learned things, too. Kris glean
ed all the information she could on how to forage and use plants from Laurie. Tucker learned the art of getting along with other children, as well as the tips Hannah shared on the daily hike she took the children on. And him, well, he learned how to get along in a group setting, with people who have vastly different outlooks.

  The storm that had dumped snow on them as they left their home for good had been the start of a series of cold storms. Finally, the snow had begun to melt away. Only patches here and there were left in shady areas. Blake knew it would only be a matter of time until the next cold storm hit. He wanted to have their shelter more insulated by then. Those first few days had been rough. Especially on Kris and the kids.

  This was definitely a different way of doing things, but he would find a way to help them thrive, even if it took him years to do it.

  ~*~

  Kris bit her cheek to keep the words from pouring out her mouth. She kept glancing up where the boy, Darius, said Tucker had attacked him. Attacked him? The boy had to be at least three years older, almost twice his weight, and a foot taller. Tucker was not one to attack, either.

  She controlled the urge to call the boy a liar and demand he take her to Tucker right now. It worried her that he still had not returned.

  “Whatever, Darius,” Scott said. Kris recognized the older boy from their first visit when he met them on the forest path to warn them about Jake. “Why don’t you tell your parents the truth?”

  “What is the truth?” His dad stared down at him.

  Darius glared at Scott and crossed his arms.

  When he didn’t say anything further and the parents didn’t push it, Kris walked over to Scott. “Can you please tell me what really happened? I’m worried about Tuck.”

  “Well, I didn’t see what happened up the hill, but I know Darius was mad because the survival kid beat his best shot.”

  “They were having a contest?” Kris asked, sensing the parents paying closer attention than they let on.

  “Yeah, I told Darius he should know better than to think he could beat The Survivalist’s kid, even if he is younger. But that guy never listens.” Scott shook his head.

  “He didn’t beat me.” Darius pouted. “His dad rigged it. He held up a different arrow at the top.”

  “Blake was there?” Kris asked.

  “Yeah, after he watched his son beat me up, he taunted me with that fake arrow.” Darius glared.

  “Hmm...that doesn’t sound like Blake.” Kris wanted to say more, but she swallowed her words. Knowing that Tucker was with Blake eased her anxiety, giving her the energy to mind her manners.

  “Nor does it sound like something an adult would do, especially The Survivalist,” Darius’s mom said.

  “We’ll get to the bottom of this when they return. Younger or not, that boy has grown up knowing how to fight. I won’t have him picking on my son.” As Darius’s dad spoke, Kris’s mouth hung open. Guess she knew where the kid got his combative attitude from.

  “Did you really just say that?” Kris couldn’t stop her mouth. This guy really thought that her little, barely seven year old had beat up his oversized bully of a kid.

  “What’s going on here?” Arland stepped in right as Kris thought she might lose her cool, and Darius’s dad looked ready to get physical.

  No one said anything.

  “Kris?” Arland asked.

  “This kid and his dad are accusing Tucker of beating him up.” Kris spat the words out. She did not like confrontation, but her mama bear instincts were on high alert. She patted Mercy’s back as she stirred in her wrap.

  “Was anyone else there to witness this?” Arland asked Darius.

  “The Survivalist was there at the end,” Darius pouted.

  “And you’re saying that he just stood there and watched Tucker beat you up?” Arland looked him over.

  Kris did as well. The kid had some pine needles on his back, but nothing else. No bumps, bruises, scrapes, nothing to show he had been hurt.

  “You don’t look like you were beat up.” Arland stood staring intently at the boy.

  “He knocked me down.” Darius’s lip quivered.

  “Oh, I wonder why he would have done that.” Aland scratched at his cropped beard.

  “I wasn’t really going to punch him...” Darius started and then covered his mouth.

  “Ahh, I see. Tucker was defending himself. Why would you even pretend to punch him?” Arland kept his voice calm and unassuming.

  “He said he could shoot his arrow farther than me,” Darius pouted.

  “He can,” Scott said simply.

  Arland squatted down in front of the boy. “You know, Darius. We all have our own skills that we bring to this community. Scott, here, is a great leader. Tucker is a wonderful archer. I hear you are really skilled with the snare.”

  “Yeah, I’ve caught more animals than any of the other kids.” Darius stood taller.

  “You see. You have your own special skill to contribute. No need to compare yourself to anyone else.” Arland stood, looked at all the adults and then to Darius. “So, are we all good here now?”

  Everyone nodded.

  Kris felt aptly put in her place. She was a teacher. She should have been able to negotiate that as well as Arland. If it had been two other kids, she would have. With her own son being mistreated, something unruly loosened in her.

  “Kris, could you come with me? I was looking for you before I came upon this non-situation.” Arland nodded toward the fire.

  “Of course,” she said as she followed him. The warmth of the fire eased the chill creeping up her. “I’m sorry about that.”

  “No need. Boys will be boys. Tucker is trying to find his place, and Darius, well, he is known for pushing boundaries and being physical. He’ll adapt, as will we all.” Arland smiled knowingly.

  “Well said. So, what can I help you with?”

  “Well,” he said and chuckled. “I need the advice of a woman.”

  “Why don’t you ask Laurie? I know she.... Oh, it’s about her.” Kris’s heart warmed. “Ask away.”

  “Do you know she and I both lost our spouses?”

  “I do. I’m sorry.”

  Arland nodded. “It’s hard to let go.”

  “That’s exactly what she said.” Kris’s eyes went wide. She wanted to stick her foot in her mouth. She always talked too much, which is why she tried not to talk at all.

  “She did?” Arland asked and then nodded. “I had been fine with the idea of spending the rest of my life without another wife, but now....”

  “It’s different,” Kris said.

  “It is.”

  “Have you two talked about it?” Kris asked.

  Arland shrugged. “Not directly.”

  “It might be time.” Kris heard a commotion, but tried to keep her attention on Arland.

  “What would I say?” he asked. A shimmer of his old insecurity she remembered from that night so long ago now surfaced.

  “Listen to your heart. Tell her exactly how you feel without tippy-toeing around the tough stuff.”

  “That’s the hard part, huh?” Arland said as the commotion grew louder and closer.

  Kris looked up just as Blake and Tucker ran around the end dwelling. They looked out of breath, and Tucker’s eyes were wide as he ran to her. She stood at the same time Arland did and moved toward them. Tucker ran into her arms, hugging both her and his sister.

  “They’re here,” Blake breathed out.

  Kris took a step back, keeping her arm around her son and wrapping the other around Mercy. How could they leave now? It was full-on winter. Traveling with an infant in the dead of winter with the old and sick of the community would be fool-hardy at best, life-taking at worst. Did they even have a chance of outrunning an organized, driven group of armed men?

  ~2~

  Blake’s skin prickled in urgency and the need to act. They had almost fifty people that needed to be moved. Every part of him wanted to grab his family and leave the rest to thei
r own devices. The guilt of even that thought burned him as he sought out his wife’s eyes.

  So much trust lived there. She depended on him, and he needed to be the leader she thought he was. He blew out a breath. Kissing her temple, he told her to go pack up.

  With one last long look, she took Tucker by the hand to hastily pack their belongings for the second time. Blake watched his family walking urgently to their shelter. He hoped this would be their last move, and the last of marauders they had to deal with. He prayed it would be, but something told him he better keep them primed.

  “We aren’t prepared,” Arland whispered in disbelief.

  “That doesn’t matter.” Blake looked up at the sky. Dark, billowing clouds piled low on top of them. The air crystalized on their breath.

  “How much time do we have?” Arland asked, his eyes scanning the camp he had worked so hard to create.

  “Scouts said they were at the edge of town, discussing the trail marks they just found.”

  “Maybe they won’t follow? They won’t want to come out into the forest.” Arland almost pleaded.

  “They will come, my friend. It could be a week or it could be an hour.” Blake knew Arland would have a hard time leaving all that he built. It brought back the feeling of leaving his own home a month ago.

  “We should have the scouts go check again and report back,” Arland said.

  “I called all but three of the guards to return to camp and help with packing up. The last three are to watch that perimeter, though Declan said he was going to scout a little.” He dropped a hand to Arland’s shoulder. “We don’t have time to discuss this, Arland. You tell them or I will. Now.”

  Blake took a few step over and rang the bell hanging next to the fire. People ran toward them. The nervous energy pouring off them fueled his own.

  “The time we had hoped would wait until after winter has arrived. We need to pack everything that can be carried and leave now,” Arland said calmly.

  His calm grated on Blake’s nerves. He would rather create mayhem if it meant action. People just stood there and stared.