Seth grabbed Mercy by the shoulder. “Wait, it’ll take a few minutes for the horde to move, here… help me out,” he pointed at rows of keys hanging on the wall. “You fried the control desk with the frag so the automated door release system is useless but we’ve got the cell keys. If we release some of the prisoners they can go on to release others. We’ve got to try. My family are in here somewhere—”
Seth grabbed a handful of keys from the wall and shoved them into Mercy’s hand. He took the rest. Mercy stared after him as he left the office, he ran down the corridor towards the cells.
He’s right, he’s right, he’s right—
Mercy gripped the keys and ran after him.
Chapter 32
Freedom
Mercy fumbled with the first set of keys.
Come on, come on, come on—
The cell door opened on the fifth try. Four frightened faces peered out at her.
Two women, two kids—
“I’m here to help you, this is a breakout. Don’t be afraid. Here, take these keys and free the others, release as many as you can—” Mercy said, pressing a set of keys into the nearest women’s hands. Their eyes were sunken, their bodies thin.
Looks like they’ve been through hell—
Mercy moved on to the next cell and repeated the process. She stopped after liberating the prisoners in the third cell. She handed over the remaining keys to the freed prisoners. Seth shouted at her from across the hall, “Go… go help your people. I’ve got this—”
Mercy waved, “Good luck.” She turned and ran down the corridor towards daylight.
A thick pall of smoke rose in the sky outside the prison. The air was tainted with the smell of burning gasoline. Mercy brought her hand to her mouth and coughed.
That’s coming from the north side of the perimeter. That ties in with the fuel truck I saw on the monitor. Here’s hoping—
Mercy ran back to the canteen and through the rows of tables towards the entrance area. She reached the double doors, pushed them open and stared out into the square.
It’s working, the horde is thinning. We can bust open the exercise yard gates. I can’t see the others—
Mercy eased her way out of the canteen into the milling trope horde. She tried to squeeze through their ranks. Despite her best efforts she felt herself being dragged away from the exercise yard by the sheer number of undead.
Go along by the wall, get around them, there’s less of them on the side—
She fought her way back to the canteen wall then worked her way along the edge of the horde, flanking it. She paused, scanning the exercise yard gates.
There they are—
Mercy continued around the horde towards the exercise yard gates.
There’s Annalise and Rose and… Flynn—
The crack of a high velocity round tore through the air. Annalise’s head disappeared from view.
Goddammit, the sniper’s still up there. Annalise… shit—
Mercy swung around and raised her assault rifle, her finger on the trigger.
The tropes might get the wrong idea if I shoot… but there’s no choice. Where is he—?
A crouching figure emerged from behind an air vent, his sniper rifle aimed at the exercise yard gates. Mercy’s finger tensed on her trigger.
The sniper clutched something at his chest and dropped his rifle.
What the—?
He fell forwards, off the canteen roof and into the milling trope crowd below. A feeding frenzy ensued seconds later. Mercy took her finger off the trigger and turned around. Annalise was at the gates, the crossbow in her hands. Mercy shook her head in disbelief.
Boy, can she shoot that thing—
The horde in the square was thinning, as more and more tropes squeezed back through the main prison gates to the burning inferno outside. Mercy pushed her way past the remaining tropes, towards the exercise yard. Seconds later she reached the others. Tawny had the crowbar at the lock again and was pulling it with all her strength.
Rose slapped Annalise on the back, “We have a crack shot here. Ace in one. We couldn’t bust open the gate, that sniper was on our case the whole time. We hid from him, we acted like we were tropes, but once they started to thin out he saw us. I was going to try the shotgun on him but Annalise here beat me to it, a silent kill too. Nice one girl—”
Automatic weapons fire erupted from outside the prison. Mercy looked up at the jail roof. “Come on guys, if the crowbar isn’t working use some slug rounds on the lock. We’ve got to get these people out—”
Flynn stepped in to help Tawny, they repositioned the crowbar and pulled together. A metallic snap followed as the gate lock broke. The prisoners pushed the gate open and emerged into the square. Rose started giving out the spare handguns they had brought with them. A few prisoners emerged from the canteen and rushed towards the exercise yard, recognising familiar faces.
Mercy shook her head and looked at Tawny and Rose, “There’s no time for reunions… we’ve got to get these people out of here before the roof guards start noticing. Brody has bought us some time with that diversion but our luck could change at any moment. I’ll go ahead and draw more tropes away from you lot. You guys rally the prisoners, there’ll be more coming out of the main blocks, Seth’s in there, freeing them—”
Flynn shook his head, “No, Mercy stay with us, we stand a better chance together—”
Mercy was already walking away, her mind on the massed tropes ahead. She moved along the side of the horde and reached the inner fence gates. She squeezed her way into the crowd and allowed herself to be swept up in the maelstrom.
Breathe, just breathe and keep upright. If you fall you’re dead—
Mercy passed through the inner gates. A minute later she was through the outer gates. The pressure lessened once she was outside. She leaned against the fence and glanced back, into the prison square. More prisoners had emerged from the exercise yard and the canteen.
So far, so good. No shooting from the prison roof—
Mercy watched the mass of tropes stagger towards the burning fuel tanker, a hundred yards away.
Get to the head of the horde and lead them on. I wish I had the ghetto blaster and the music. I’ll have to improvise—
Mercy kept to the road edge and ran along the side of the horde until she reached the burning tanker. The smoke stung her eyes. She saw a group of horsemen further down the road, keeping their distance.
Looks like Brody’s men. What are they doing way out there?
Mercy reached up to her ear for the radio’s earpiece.
Dammit, it’s gone—
She reached down for the radio on her belt. It was missing.
Shit, must have lost it in the horde—
The growl of a diesel engine came from the trees along the roadside twenty yards away.
What the hell—?
A Lenco BearCat armored vehicle pulled out of the trees and swung onto the road to face the horsemen. It stopped, its engine idling.
Sonofabitch. It’s going to attack Brody’s people—
Mercy ran towards the rear of the vehicle. The horsemen held their ground, jeering at the vehicle. Its engine coughed, black smoke belched from the exhaust.
It’s burning oil, there’s something wrong with it, maybe it’s been damaged. If I can reach it I might be able to do something—
Mercy ran to the rear of the vehicle and jumped onto the running board. She placed her foot on the door handle and pulled herself up using the roof rail. A metallic clank came from the top of the vehicle.
Hatch opening—
Mercy hauled herself onto the roof. The hatch was open, a militia man had his back to her. He was bringing an M72 LAW anti-armor weapon to his shoulder, aiming at Brody’s riders in the distance.
For fuck’s sake. No, you don’t get to do that shit—
Mercy pulled out her silenced Glock 17 and shot four rounds at the militia man. Three of her rounds missed, her last round clipped the r
im of the hatch deflecting upwards and into the base of the man’s skull. His body fell through the hatch together with the unused LAW. The BearCat shuddered, its engine roaring, it moved forwards, gathering speed. Mercy jerked backwards, almost falling from the roof. She grabbed the roof rail with both hands letting her Glock 17 fall to the road below.
Goddammit—
A hand reached up from inside the BearCat and slammed the hatch shut. Mercy regained her balance, her mind spinning. She clambered forwards across the BearCat’s roof.
The bastard’s going to ram Brody’s men. He’s gonna deny them the road, he’ll block our way and wait for reinforcements. Wait, he’s going slow. Engine trouble? A frag rolled down the bonnet might work—
Mercy’s hand went to her webbing.
Shit, no frags, dammit—
Her fingers brushed against a road flare.
Flare, that might work—
Mercy crawled to the front of the roof and peered down onto the windscreen.
Jam it under the riot shield, it might blind the driver—
Mercy lit the road flare and pushed it under the driver’s side of the metal windscreen guard. The BearCat slowed. She lit a second road flare and shoved it under the same section. The BearCat veered to the left.
He can’t see, he’s losing control—
The BearCat tyres left the road and caught the lip of a culvert.
He’s going over—
Mercy jumped off the moving vehicle. The BearCat rolled over the embankment. Mercy’s feet struck tarmac, she rolled with the fall, shielding her head. She came to a stop on the other side of the road, her eyes closed.
Any moment now—
She gritted her teeth in anticipation of the searing pain from broken bones.
Nothing. Am I good—?
Mercy blinked, opened her eyes and stared at the long grass, inches from her face. Gunfire erupted nearby followed by an explosion. She curled into a ball and waited.
No more. Christ, no more—
Crunching gravel. Men’s boots. A hand reached down to her. Mercy blinked and looked up.
“You kicked ass back there, nice moves Dawes,” Brody’s lined face grinned down at her. “Come on, let’s get out of here. That truck’s finished, the rest of my men are helping the prisoners. We’re going to the rendezvous point. We’ve got a horse here for you… if you feel up to it—”
If you feel up to it—
Mercy latched onto Brody’s words. Her body ached. She moved her arms then her legs and sat up.
Nothing new… nothing broken. Nothing I can’t handle—
“Let’s go—” Mercy replied, she took Brody’s hand and pulled herself up.
Mercy staggered over to Brody’s horse, she nodded at the riders grouped around her. A horse was brought to her and she was helped up by one of Brody’s men. The man handed her a silenced Glock 17.
“Found this on the road, figured you’d like it back,” the man handed her the gun and returned to his own horse.
Mercy glanced back at the burning oil tanker and the prison. “That was some diversion you managed to find, Brody. The tropes sure took the bait, it drew them away real good—”
Brody nodded, “Piece of luck is all, one of my men spotted it coming up the road with that armored car. We waited as long as we could, until it was close enough to the prison, then we hit it—”
“Yeah, sweet—” Mercy said.
“The militia have other strongholds throughout Charlottesville, they’ll send reinforcements. Let’s make ourselves scarce—”
Mercy nodded, “Yeah, sounds good. My people… have you heard? Are they OK?”
Brody took his reins, “Yes, they made it out of the prison. Annalise radioed in… your buddies are OK—”
Mercy closed her eyes and settled herself in the saddle. She breathed out, “That’s good news—”
But what about—?
The radio on Brody’s waist crackled to life, “Mayday, mayday… Barnes to Brody. Barnes to Brody. We’ve crash landed near a river, there’s a lake, we’re somewhere east of the prison. Mayday… they’re coming for us. Militia forces on horseback. Help—”
Mercy’s eyes met Brody’s. “They’re alive, he said we… Dimitri’s alive too. We need to get to them before the militia does—”
Brody turned to his men, “Forget the rendezvous, we’ve got a downed plane to find. Our people are alive—”
Hang in there Barnes—
Chapter 33
Crash Site
The ground in the dense forest was damp and yielding. Brody had split his riders into three groups to cover more ground. Mercy stuck close to Brody’s horse, she cursed at the tree branches which scratched her face as she passed.
These trees are too close together, I can’t see a bloody thing—
Brody seemed immune to the branches and pushed on through the mire.
No further contact from Barnes, that could be good, they could be lying low. It could be bad—
Distant gunfire echoed through the forest. Mercy sat bolt upright in her saddle.
Shit, shit, shit. That’s not good—
Brody stopped and looked towards the sound of the shots. The radio on his belt crackled.
“Cousins to Brody, come in, over—” a raspy voice came from the tinny speaker.
Brody spoke into the radio, “Brody here, over—”
“We’ve found the plane near the Rivanna River, Island Creek direction. One of my scouts saw a militia patrol heading south east, he scoped two prisoners… likely our guys. My guess is they’re being taken to Lake Monticello, over—”
Brody shook his head, “The island? Christ.” He looked at Mercy then brought the radio to his mouth, “Copy that. We heard gunfire Cousins. Was that you? Over—”
A pause then, “Negative boss, the militia are spooked, probably by the raid on the prison, they’re shooting at ghosts. My scouts are under orders not to engage, over—”
Brody nodded and spoke into the radio, “Good, keep it that way. Tell your scouts to keep eyes on the prisoners until we reach your position.” He looked at his watch, “Our ETA Boston Creek… an hour and fifteen, meet you there. Out—”
“Roger that boss. Cousins out—” the radio went dead.
Brody looked at Mercy, “You got all that?”
Mercy nodded, “Sounds like they’re both alive. So what’s the deal with this Lake Monticello anyway and aren’t you worried the militia will intercept your radio signals?”
Brody returned the radio to his belt, “It’s possible yes… but unlikely. They’re not as flush with gear as the NSA, besides we don’t have much choice… look around you, there’s a lot of country to cover—”
Mercy nodded, “And the lake? You mentioned an island—?”
Brody frowned, “Yeah, the militia have a number of slave farms out that direction. They work the slaves on the land by day and return to the island in the evening. They’ve got a compound there. There’s only one way onto the island; a narrow footbridge and it’s heavily defended—”
Mercy’s shoulders sagged, “Of course it is. We need to get there, get eyes on… there’s always a way. There always is, there has to be. Let’s go—”
Brody looked sceptical but he nodded, grunting, “There’d better be.” He kicked his horse and moved on through the trees.
Two hours later they met up with the rest of Brody’s riders at Boston Creek. Brody dismounted and spoke to Cousins and his scouts. After a few minutes Brody gathered everyone around. He knelt down and spread a map out on the ground.
“OK, so the six man militia patrol found the downed plane here. They’ve taken Barnes and Dimitri prisoner and have headed east to their island here, near Van Buren Cove on Lake Monticello,” Brody stopped to let his words sink in.
A ruddy faced man frowned, “That’s a fucking fortress chief, how in hell are we gonna bust them outta there?”
Brody looked up, “You said it Nate, we’ll not catch them before they get t
here neither.” Brody checked his watch, “We’ve got a few hours of daylight left, enough time to do a recon of the island from the lake shore, there’s enough cover there to keep us hidden. As some of you know the militia compound is on the south of the island and the bridge is at the north. We’ll scout out the bridge first then decide what to do. Any questions?”
Mercy stepped forwards, “How many militia are on the island? And farm workers?”
“Slaves,” Nate corrected.
Brody nodded at Nate, “You answer that one Nate, you knew someone who escaped from there—”
Nate raised his eyebrows, “Sure did… a fella I met on the road before I found you guys. Ex-cop… went by the name of Stinger. He said they had around thirty to forty prisoners in the compound and ran the place with ten to fifteen militia. There’s another eight to ten guys guarding the bridge at the north end of the island—”
“How’d he escape?” Mercy asked.
“He broke out of a work detail and ran into a marshy area. The militia wouldn’t follow him on horseback. They sent a few men in with dogs but he was able to evade them, they tried to burn him out but that didn’t work out for them, the ground was too wet. He stayed low and waited them out, they gave up after three days, then he came out and took to the road—”
“Resourceful guy,” Mercy said. “Did he tell you about the compound itself?”
Nate shrugged, “Not much, except the prisoners are kept in a separate block and locked in overnight. The militia use leg irons on the prisoners at night to prevent escape attempts—”
Mercy shuddered, “Yeah, I’m familiar with that shit—”
Brody checked his watch again, “OK everyone, saddle up, let’s move out. I want scouts on our tail and flanks. I’ll take us in—”
Fifty minutes later they were moving through the trees along the northern shore of Lake Monticello. Brody stopped after a further ten minutes and dismounted his horse. He picked a handful of men and pointed at Mercy.
“Dawes, come with us. We’re on foot from here. The others will stay put and watch the horses,” Brody said.
Mercy slid off her horse, her back and legs stiff and aching. “Sure, lead on.”
The Survival Chronicles (Book 7): Hard Mercy Page 19
