Mercy dismounted and handed the reins to Sledge. He collected the horses from the others and watched as they unhitched their packs. Mercy glanced up at the sky, the light was fading. Sledge waved and headed back the way they had come, he rounded a corner and disappeared. Mercy looked at the others around her.
Flynn, Tawny, Rose, Annalise and me. Five of us with this “gift”—
“Are you OK Mercy?” Tawny asked.
I’m surrounded by these people, these friends, so how come I feel so alone—? Snap out of it. Get real, focus—
Mercy nodded, “Yeah Tawny, I’m peachy. Let’s get into the city centre while we’ve still got light left. We’ll find some place to lie low… remember, keep it quiet and watch out for alphas—”
Mercy led the way, her silenced Glock 17 drawn, her eyes roving the streets ahead. They continued along Preston Avenue, then High Street, and 7th Street Northeast. They passed through old road blocks and negotiated old battlegrounds. Bullet-ridden cars and vans littered the way. They came across a downed aeroplane, embedded in the side of a building, an upside down fire truck, and a row of rusting artillery pieces.
Same old shit repeated across every city and town across the land. All the fire power in the world couldn’t stop the advance of this invisible virus. David and Goliath, shit never changes, there’s nothing new under the sun—
The last rays of sunlight bounced off the windows of the City Hall. Mercy stopped in her tracks.
Sledge was right, follow the stench. Well, here’s pretty goddamn awful. What better place to hunker down than the City Hall? The fire escape to the roof and a night under the stars sounds like a reasonable plan—
Mercy pointed the City Hall out to the others and they fell into step behind her. Twenty minutes later they were on its roof, looking out over the dead city. Rose, Flynn and Annalise did a sweep, checking the dark corners. Tawny and Mercy looked for escape routes, they found a ladder to a lower level overlooking a side street.
“There’s a fire escape there too, we can get down to the street. Not bad,” Tawny said. “As good as it gets—”
“It’ll do us. A one night stand on the roof of City Hall in Charlottesville. Who would’ve thought—?” Mercy said.
Tawny smiled, “Who would’ve thought indeed—”
“Sounds like a title for a country and western song,” Rose commented, sitting down.
“Yeah, in another time, another place,” Flynn said.
“So, is this where we get to tell ghost stories and toast marshmallows?” Rose said.
“I wish,” Mercy replied.
Annalise pulled out a six pack of beer from her back pack. “No marshmallows, but I thought I’d smuggle this into dead central for a bit of light relief. Seeing as I had a horse to carry it, it seemed like a good idea until we started walking, then I regretted it a bit—”
“Oh, you beauty,” Rose’s eyes lit up. “Here, throw me one of those bad boys—”
Nice one Annalise, it’s difficult to get to know a new crew. You just earned a major stripe… at least in Rose’s books—
“Outstanding,” Flynn said, taking a beer from Annalise.
Mercy opened her can and sipped the foam from the top. She held it in the air, “Let’s toast Barnes and his team: to their efforts tomorrow morning. Everything hinges on that… outstanding, hairy arsed, badass reformed junkie Navy SEAL—”
Rose smiled and raised her can, “To our very own outstanding, hairy arsed, badass reformed junkie Navy SEAL—”
“To Barnes,” Flynn said.
“To Barnes,” Tawny and Annalise echoed.
They drank the rest of their beer in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. The sun sank below the horizon and the temperature plummeted. They had a hasty meal of MREs and bottled water, then huddled together under their blankets.
After some desultory conversation Rose stood up, “I’ll take first watch, then Flynn, then Tawny then Annalise. Two hours each. Mercy, you get to sleep the whole night through because it’s your job to keep us right tomorrow. No… don’t object, we’ve discussed it and it’s non-negotiable—”
Mercy pulled a face then relented, “OK, thanks guys… I think.”
So, no pressure then. I’m guaranteed not to sleep a wink now—
“Wake up Mercy, it’s time to shake a leg,” Annalise’s voice penetrated Mercy’s dreamless sleep.
Mercy blinked and rubbed her eyes, “Yeah, yeah, OK… just give me a minute. What time is it?”
“7:30 am. Do you want the good news or the good news?” Tawny said, waving the hand-held radio in the air.
Mercy stared at Tawny, “Barnes? He’s done it? The hairy arsed bastard has done it?”
Tawny nodded, “He’s done it. The airport is ours. He’s got the plane and the bombs, it’s game on. It’s going to take them an hour or so to get everything ready, so we’ve gotta forget the coffee and waffles for now—”
Barnes, you beauty—
Mercy stood up, “OK guys, check weapons and ammo, only bring what’s needed. Are you ready to raise the dead and kick some NSA militia ass?”
“Hell yeah,” Rose said, racking the slide on her pistol.
“Bring out your dead, bring out your dead,” Flynn mimed ringing a bell.
“Bring it on,” Tawny growled, “I’ve got enough payback for a lifetime to give those NSA militia bastards—”
“OK then,” Mercy said, slinging her M4 carbine over her shoulder, “Let’s go and share the love. Annalise have you got the music ready?”
Annalise looked up from the ghetto blaster at her feet. “Actually, you’re going to love me,” she waved a cassette tape in the air then loaded it into the cassette player.
Mercy frowned. “Wait, what?” She caught sight of the cassette case, “No way—”
Annalise smiled, “Hey, I can’t deny a fellow rock chick her true music. Shall I—?”
Mercy strode over to the edge of the roof, “Come on, bring it over here. I picked this place for the acoustics, let’s see what this city has to offer—”
Annalise placed the ghetto blaster on the roof ledge, turned the volume up to maximum and pressed play. A wall of sound blasted across the city streets echoing from building to building. A few minutes later the first few lurching figures emerged from the dark recesses of the city.
A grim smile spread across Mercy’s face, “This music has literally woken the dead.”
They watched as the trickle of undead grew into a group of about fifty or sixty, then a crowd of two hundred or so.
“OK, I think we should drop down to the street and do that Pied Piper shit. We’ll attract others along the way, look… they’re still coming,” Rose said.
Mercy checked her watch; 8:05 am.
“Yeah, that works. Turn the music off, we’ll get down the fire escape and flank them,” Mercy said, checking the map. “We’ll follow Ridge Street to 5th Street Southwest, that’ll take us to Interstate 64, then it’s less than a kilometre to the prison.”
Annalise switched off the music and they descended the fire escape to East Market Street at the rear of the City Hall. They made their way around the Postal Services building to East Main Street.
Mercy looked back towards the City Hall, “Jesus, we’ve only been off the roof for about ten minutes, now there’s loads more of them, looks like about five or six hundred now. They’re making their own noise, attracting each other.”
Rose spat on the ground, “Yeah, fuckers like a party. They’ve probably not heard any decent music for ages, who can blame them for reliving their mosh pit years?”
“Thanks for that thought Rose, that’s deep… real deep,” Mercy said, checking her map. “Right, I’ve got this; East Main Street, West Main Street, West Water Street then Ridge Street… then it’s the main drag all the way to the Interstate. Come on Annalise, let’s crank out the tunes again—”
Annalise took off her pack and turned on the ghetto blaster. A shredding guitar solo blasted out across the
street followed by a chorus of snarling vocals accompanied by thumping drum and base. She shouldered the pack again and they watched as the crowd of tropes turned as one and staggered towards them.
This is working… almost too well—
“This is surreal,” Tawny said, “normally we’re trying to avoid these things, now we’re like… socialising with the fuckers—”
“Who said the dead can’t boogie? Just watch this shit,” Flynn said.
“Music adds a different dimension, this feels like… being in a movie. Ever notice when you turn the sound down on a horror movie? It loses the fear factor. Well, this is the reverse, the music makes it seem… safer—” Rose said.
“OK, let’s stop the philosophy, they’re getting closer. Everyone on me, I want your eyes everywhere and weapons on silent. Remember, they’re following the music, not us… we’ve got the biotech to thank for that, but one slip and that’ll change, then we’ll have blown the whole thing. Pep talk over. Annalise, crank that thing up to eleven—”
Mercy adjusted the hand held radio on her webbing and inserted the tactical earpiece into her left ear.
Come on Barnes, let’s do this—
Annalise reached back to her rucksack and turned up the volume on the ghetto blaster. The music reverberated off the buildings. They kept to their route, maintaining fifty yards between them and the lurching dead. Fresh tropes emerged from alleys and buildings as they moved along. After half an hour the crowd stretched back as far as they could see.
Most look pretty wasted, probably original Fall vintage, but that works, that’s all we need to bust into the prison—
Mercy saw a sign for a supermarket. She checked her map, then her watch; 8:27 am.
5th Street Southwest still. It seems to go on forever. No… we’re OK, we’ll be at the Interstate soon—
The radio crackled in her earpiece, its red LED light flashing. Barnes’s voice came through loud and clear, “This is B-man calling M for Mandy, come in Mandy—”
Oh, for fuck’s sake, we never agreed on call signs. Well, I guess I’m M for Mandy… it’s just as well the others can’t hear, they’d have hysterics—
Mercy spoke into her mouthpiece, “Acknowledged B-man, receiving you. What’s your status? Over—”
Crackling, static, then, “Yeah, all good. Packages on board, ready to go, should be in position over delivery area in two zero mikes. Over—”
Twenty minutes… Jesus Barnes, less of the military speak—
Mercy checked her watch and glanced at the map again to make sure. “Negative B-man, make that three zero min— I mean three zero mikes. Over—”
More static then, “Copy that. Understood. Three zero mikes. Hurry up and wait. Over—”
Hurry up and wait—?
“Acknowledged B-man. Out—” Mercy replied, her mind racing. She set the timer on her watch, counting down thirty minutes.
Rose sidled up to Mercy, “All good?”
Mercy nodded, “Yeah, sounds as if Barnes has his end ready. It kicks off in half an hour. We’re doing OK, let’s deliver this lot on time—”
Mercy looked back at the seething mass of undead that had gathered behind them.
“That sure is one hell of a horde of misery—” Mercy said.
“Yeah, the NSA militia are just gonna have to embrace the suck,” Rose answered.
Mercy sighed.
Not you too Rose, dealing with Barnes’s military-speak is hard enough. Embrace the suck… actually, that’s not bad—
“Yeah Rose, let’s hope—” Mercy said, quickening her pace.
Chapter 30
Silver Flame
OK Barnes, your thirty minutes is up, where are you?
Mercy hid in the trees across the road from Albemarle-Charlottesville Regional Jail. She scanned the sky, her whole body tense.
Horde, check. Interstate, check. Prison, check. Biplane, no show—
Annalise had turned the ghetto blaster off. They were sheltering in the trees, surrounded by thousands of shuffling tropes. Some had spilled out of the trees onto the interstate and were wandering aimlessly along the outer prison fence. Mercy could see the scores of tropes the NSA militia had chained to the perimeter fence as a deterrent to intruders.
The outer and inner prison gates were clearly visible from Mercy’s vantage point. The sky was an azure blue with a scattering of high clouds in the west. Mercy gripped her silenced Glock 17, conscious of the sweat trickling down her back. She rubbed her neck and checked her watch.
He’s ten minutes la—
The growl of an engine interrupted Mercy’s train of thought, she searched the sky. A yellow speck appeared from the north, she brought the binoculars to her eyes and adjusted the focus. Relief washed over her.
“It’s him,” Mercy whispered to Rose. “Get ready, pass it on—”
The biplane grew bigger, its NSA markings clearly visible on the fuselage and wings.
Will he do a fly-by to get his bearings or will he attack straight away?
The biplane swooped low and fast over the trees and the interstate. Barnes was leaning out of the co-pilot’s cockpit, a finned bomb in each hand. Mercy waved the others forwards and yelled at the milling tropes, the others joined in but their voices were obliterated by two explosions.
Go, go, go—
The horde, enlivened by the sound and activity, surged through the trees onto the interstate. They spilled out over the slip road and down the approach road to the prison. A dust cloud hung over the site of the first explosion. Mercy strained to see beyond the rows of tropes that had lurched ahead of her.
Did Barnes hit the outer gates—?
Confusion. Shouts from the prison roof. A doleful siren rising in the air. The dust cloud thinning.
Sweet Jesus, yes, he’s blasted the outer gates—
The trope horde pushed and lurched its way towards the shrieking prison siren. The militia men on the jail roof were pointing at the sky. Mercy looked past the fallen outer gates, the dust had settled. Her shoulders slumped.
Shit, the inner gates are still standing—
Mercy struggled to stay upright against the tide of undead bodies pressing in from all sides. Rose and Tawny were on her right.
Shit, where’s Flynn and Annalise?
“Over here. On me. Stick close, don’t get separated,” Mercy yelled.
A hand tugged at Mercy’s elbow, she turned to see Annalise with Flynn not far behind.
Thank Christ—
The biplane flashed overhead, its engine roaring. Automatic gunfire erupted from the prison roof and the guard tower behind the inner gates. The plane’s engine stuttered and a plume of thick smoke erupted from the cockpit. The plane dipped then recovered, just clearing the inner gates.
Oh—
Two bombs dropped from the biplane, landing behind the inner gates. The guard tower windows shattered outwards, spraying the courtyard. Shrapnel sliced through the first few ranks of the horde, shredding flesh and bone. Some tropes fell to the ground, most staggered forwards, towards the smoke and flames. The horde continued its inexorable advance into the prison grounds. Mercy looked right and left trying to spot the others.
One, two, three… four. Thank goodness we were shielded by the front ranks. Where’s the plane? Did they make it?—
Mercy looked up at the sky.
I don’t see them—
She turned her attention to the inner gates.
The gates are damaged but they’re not down, goddammit—
Two militia men appeared in the guard tower and levelled an M249 light machine gun at the horde.
Jesus, they’re going to—
The machine gun opened up on the horde’s front rows. Men appeared at the lower section of the guard tower and began pulling a dumpster towards the listing gates.
They’re trying to shore it up—
Bullets ripped through the heaving mass of undead tropes, scoring dozens of headshots. The first two ranks fell to the ground but w
ere replaced almost immediately by those behind.
Shit, we’re getting closer to the machine gun—
The militia men pushed the dumpster up against the sagging gates, stabilising them. They turned towards a second dumpster. Another machine gun appeared at the guard tower window and started firing hundreds of rounds at the horde.
Christ—
Mercy pushed back against the tropes behind her. Rounds slammed into tropes five feet from her, their skulls bursting like ripe fruit under the steel rain. The horde pressed towards the gates, drawn by the noise.
A roar. The loud chatter of twin .30 caliber M2 Browning machine guns overhead. A flash of yellow and a trail of smoke.
The biplane’s hail of bullets tore through the guard tower, shredding the two militia machine gunners, their weapons fell silent. The biplane disappeared from view over the prison roof trailing smoke, its engine coughing and stuttering. Automatic weapons fire continued to sound from the top of the building.
That’s it, they’ve got Barnes and Dimitri. Shit—
The horde seemed to find new strength with the sound of the frenzied gun battle. It pushed forwards, surging against the bomb damaged gates. The first row of tropes were crushed against the metal bars, their shattered bodies falling to the ground to be trampled by those behind. The dumpster was shoved back and the gates sagged further, under the weight of the horde. Seconds later the gates burst open with a rending sound. The horde spilled forwards like pus bursting from a ripe abscess.
Jesus, they’ve done it. Keep upright, keep upright—
Mercy rode the wave of chaos, allowing herself to be swept through the inner gates. The horde filled the open space behind the entrance. Mercy glanced up at the prison roof.
Are they going to shoot us from above? They’ll just waste their ammo—
She cast around, looking for the others.
There’s the exercise yard enclosure ahead. Get over there like we planned, the others will be there—
Mercy pushed and wormed her way through the seething horde. The prison’s siren continued, its wail echoing throughout the entire complex.
The Survival Chronicles (Book 7): Hard Mercy Page 17
