Brody took them along the lake, using the trees as cover. He took his time, stopping frequently to listen and wait. Birds called out in the canopy above, crickets chirped and the water lapped against the rocky shore a few feet away. Five minutes later he crouched down and pulled out a pair of binoculars. He beckoned Mercy forwards and handed her the binoculars.
“Over there, that’s the north tip of the island. You can just make out the footbridge across the water. We’ll move closer for a better look but get your bearings first—” Brody whispered, his face expressionless.
Mercy peered through the binoculars and adjusted the focus.
Yes, there’s the bridge, there’ll be defences on the island side. Shit… it’s exposed. The defenders have a good field of view across the water. Maybe climbing under the bridge at night might work—?
Mercy sighed and handed the binoculars back to Brody, “Yeah, I see what Nate means. It looks like a tough nut to crack. A defender’s paradise—”
“Water’s deep enough too; twenty, thirty feet in places. They’ve got dogs on the island and they patrol the shore at night, in case you were thinking we could just all just swim across—” Brody said.
“Good to know, the thought had crossed my mind,” Mercy replied.
They crept forwards through the undergrowth until they were twenty yards from the bridge. Brody hunkered down and pressed the binoculars to his eyes again, concentrating on the bridge. Mercy scanned the island and its shoreline.
From the map it was about a quarter of a mile long and a couple of hundred yards across. The compound lies at the southern end… hey, what the hell—?
Mercy tapped Brody on the arm, “Give me those for a moment—”
Brody handed over the binoculars and Mercy pressed them to her eyes. The water sparkled in the low sunlight making it difficult for her to discern the shapes floating in the lake.
Wait, what—?
She gripped the binoculars, her knuckles white.
“Fuck,” Mercy whispered.
“What?” Brody said.
Mercy lowered the binoculars and blinked, “There’s tropes, loads of them, just floating in the water around the footbridge—”
Brody looked through the binoculars and swore, “Clever bastards, they’ve made it like a minefield. There’s at least sixty tropes floating there. Probably more laced under the water, they’ll have used chains and cargo nets to keep them in place—”
For fuck’s sake—
“Well, we’re not going to get your men across under the bridge… even at night,” Mercy said, sighing.
“A full frontal assault is out too, any charge across that narrow bridge would be suicide. They’ll have a machine gun position no doubt, on the other side,” Brody replied.
Goddammit—
“It’s like a moat and a minefield put together,” Mercy said.
Think, think, think—
Mercy rested her forehead on her arms and closed her eyes.
Brody is right, the bridge is too well defended. What if they’ve got random tropes in the water around the whole island? They patrol at night, they’ve got dogs. Wait, what about the south of the island? The compound end—
Mercy lifted her head and looked at Brody, “I’ve got an idea—”
Chapter 34
Incursion
“I’ll swim across at night. Not here, not at the bridge. This is where they’d expect an attack. No, I’ll swim over to the island at the southern end, the compound end. Just me. Not you or your guys. I’ll bring a radio, so I can keep in touch. You and your men stay up here at the bridge, wait for my call. Think of it as a recon mission. I won’t engage them… I’ll just find out information. If there’s any tropes floating in the water I’ve got the biotech so they shouldn’t attack me—”
So long as there’s not any alphas in there, but Annalise said there were no alphas in Charlottesville… so hopefully none out here—
Brody nodded, “Well, yes, the more intel we have about their set up the better. Even if you could create a diversion on the other side of the bridge that would help us get across. We’ll need to think it through. We’ve got a few hours of daylight left, we’ll pull back from here and go and check out the southern part of the island—”
“Let’s do it,” Mercy replied.
They withdrew and returned to their horses. Brody ordered his men to keep a discrete eye on the bridge. He then brought Mercy and three others inland and approached the island from the south. They left their horses with a guard and walked the last fifty yards to the lakeshore. Brody took out his binoculars and lay down in the long grass. He watched the island for a minute then handed Mercy the binoculars.
“You can see the compound from here. You can’t make out everything but you can see the foundation wall and the palisade running along the top. What do you think?” Brody asked.
Mercy squinted through the binoculars and processed what she saw, “Remind me how many men we’ve got here.”
“Fifteen, not including me and you,” Brody replied.
“Roughly the same as them over there, give or take, according to Nate. But that’s old intel. It might be a fair fight but they hold all the cards; the bridge and the island and those floating tropes.” Mercy paused. “You’re right, your men would be slaughtered if they rode across the bridge and the tropes rule out a sneak attack from under the bridge, so—”
The buck stops with me. Go on say it, it’s me. It’s always me—
“I’ll go over,” Mercy said. “I’ve got the biotech, I’ll swim across at night, if there’s any tropes in the water they’ll not be interested in me. I’ll evade the militia shore patrol, get to the compound… and gather intel. I’ll find out how many of them are over there and where they’re keeping Barnes and Dimitri. I’ll have the radio and keep you updated. You and your men stay up near the bridge and don’t move until I call you. You’re right, I might be able to pull off a diversion… draw some of their men away from the bridge… something. I’ll figure it out but I need to get over there first, check that compound and see their defences up close—”
If it was me in there Barnes would come and get me—
Brody nodded, “Everything you say makes sense, I can’t fault the logic, but you’ll be alone and you’re a woman… if they capture you… those bastards… it won’t be pretty.”
Mercy looked away, “I know Brody. I’ve lived with that shit every day since all this craziness happened. Women and men, men and women… it’s all changed. Civilization is only skin deep. Nothing will ever be the same again but I’ll be damned if I let men like those take over what’s left of the world. We need men like you, Barnes and Dimitri. Men prepared to take a stand and fight—”
“OK,” Brody said, nodding. “I get it, I don’t like it… but I get it. Their island is a fortress and they know it. The only way off and on is the bridge. The only thing going for us is your biotech… you can sneak in—”
“Not just that Brody, you’re right, the island is a fortress. They may feel safe, secure in their fortress… but that sometimes leads to complacency and complacency is a chink in their armour—”
That’s all I need… a little carelessness, a chink—
Brody’s men gave Mercy a waterproof bag to protect the radio and her silenced Glock 17. She took extra magazines for her pistol and three grenades. One of the men found an old lifebuoy on the lake shore. They left Mercy just after sunset. Mercy secured her M4 carbine to the lifebuoy and pushed it ahead of her in the water as she waded out into the moonlit lake.
They’ve gone now, everyone’s gone, I’m alone… it’s just me. Like the old days in New York. I should like this, this should be my element… but it feels different. Shit, pull your act together, you survived alone for nearly two years in the city… you can do this—
The water was cold, it took her breath away as it reached her chest.
Breathe, allow your heart to settle before you start swimming—
Her brea
ths came in small ragged gasps as her body adjusted to the cold shock of the water. She waited, her feet still on the bottom and a minute later her breathing steadied and her heart rate dropped.
OK, now—
Mercy eased herself out into deeper water. The lake bed shelved away steeply and her feet lost contact with the bottom. She struck out, heading towards the island in the distance.
Sound carries at night. Try not to splash—
Fifteen minutes later she reached the island without encountering any tropes. She hid in reeds and listened to the sounds of the night; water lapping on the rocks, wind rustling the long grass and a blue jay calling in the distance.
Wait a bit longer. Watch for any patrols—
Mercy checked her watch; 10:17 pm. The water was at her waist. She started shivering in the cool breeze.
Shit, I need to get moving—
Mercy untied her rifle then pushed slowly through the reeds and made it to solid ground. In the distance she saw the outline of the militia compound.
We’re good, we’re good. OK, move on out—
She crouched low and crept through the undergrowth towards the compound. She stopped thirty yards away beside a weeping willow and concealed herself in its drooping foliage.
That’s close enough for the moment. Watch and learn—
Ten minutes later a scuffing sound came from the compound. The foundation wall was constructed of stone and rose to waist height. The rest of the palisade was made from wood and sheets of corrugated iron. She tensed and focused on the top of the palisade.
Movement. The glow of a cigarette.
One guard—
A dog started to bark inside the compound, a second dog joined in.
Two dogs, maybe more—
The guard reached the end of the palisade and passed from view.
On his rounds, seems alone, time him—
Mercy timed the guard’s circuit of the compound twice.
Fifteen minutes for him to do a circuit, give or take—
She looked over her shoulder towards the lakeshore.
Where’s the shore patrol? No sign of them yet. There’s dogs inside the compound but no sign of any activity outside. Maybe they don’t feel the need. They feel secure, well, keep it that way, remember this is only supposed to be a recon mission—
Mercy watched the guard disappear from view for the third time.
Right, now… move in—
She stole forwards and made it to the compound wall. She listened then climbed up the stonework to the wooden corrugated iron section. She stepped up on a protruding piece of timber and peered over the top of the palisade.
A walkway, all the way around to the front gates, two buildings, candles and storm lamps in the far building. Near building… its door looks bolted, no lights. Jeep and caravan to the left. Lean to and van over by the far building and a… woodshed over on the right—
A storm lamp lit the open-sided woodshed. Dogs were barking inside the shed. A man’s voice cut through the dogs’ noise. A thumping sound followed. Mercy strained to see what was happening but her line of sight was blocked by the near building. She glanced across the compound, the lone guard had completed his circuit on the far side. He was beside the front gates.
Just enough time—
Mercy dropped down from her vantage point and ran around the corner of the compound to midway along the wall to where she estimated the woodshed was. She took her time and carefully climbed up the stone foundation to the wooden and corrugated iron palisade. She paused.
Should be OK—
She stepped up onto a horizontal section of corrugated iron and pulled herself up. She peered over the top of the palisade and looked down onto the rear of the compound. The open sided woodshed was clearly visible on the right. Mercy’s eyes widened.
Jesus… that’s Barnes and Dimitri—
Barnes and Dimitri were hanging upside down from a crossbeam inside the woodshed. Both men were naked, their battered bodies were covered in blood and bruises. Two fierce looking Dobermans were chained to an upright post and a burly looking man with rolled up shirt sleeves was pacing around Barnes and Dimitri. Mercy flinched and her lip curled.
He’s got a whip, he’s been flogging them. What is it with these bastards and whips?
Mercy closed her eyes and shuddered. A wave of nausea gripped her.
What did that Kindred bastard, Brother Bastion, say? I’m gonna put bullets on your grave. Breathe, let it go, it’s in the past. He’s in the past. He’s gone. One, two, three—
Mercy opened her eyes and watched as the torturer put his whip down and lit a cigar. Blood dripped from Barnes’s hands onto the ground. The militia man turned sideways, his face catching the light from the storm lamp. His skin glistened in the lamp’s glow. Mercy’s jaw clenched.
He’s sweating from the exertion. Fuck him. This changes things, this changes everything—
Movement. Mercy’s eyes snapped over to the palisade walkway.
Shit, the guard’s coming back, get out of sight—
Mercy ducked down and dropped to the ground. She slunk back to the bushes and crouched low. Her mind spun with what she had seen.
Torture. Fucking torture… they want to find out who was behind the operation at the prison today. Barnes will hold out, he’s got the training. Dimitri on the other hand… who knows? A fucking whip? Anyone would cave under that. No… I can’t afford to waste time with a diversion up at the bridge defences. I need to do something here, now, before they kill Barnes or Dimitri. But there’s only me, dammit—
Mercy checked her watch; 11:07 pm.
OK, OK, dial it back. Think it through… let the militia settle down for the night in their safe compound on their safe island. Hopefully they’re lulled into a false sense of security. In a while most of them will be asleep, leave it until then… then I can make my move. If I can neutralize the guard, climb in over the wall and free Barnes and Dimitri. Shit, there’s the dogs, but dogs bark all the time… I’ve got my silenced pistol and they’re chained to that post, so I can take them out. Shit, there’s too many variables in there. A lot of shit could hit the fan… but I’ve got no choice. Call Brody, give him a sitrep but just enough, don’t mention Barnes or Dimitri. Keep Brody at arm’s length otherwise he’ll charge in and lose his men for nothing—
Mercy withdrew from the compound and radioed Brody, telling him about the compound but omitting the details on Barnes and Dimitri. “Am continuing surveillance, will give you update in a couple of hours—”
Brody’s voice crackled down the line, “Understood Dawes, be safe. Brody out—”
A couple of hours? A lot can happen in a couple of hours—
Mercy waited for half an hour. She timed the guard and returned to the wall when he had passed her chosen spot. She clambered up and peered over the palisade again, memorising the compound layout.
Porch in front of the far building, two windows, wood smoke… so a stove. The other building’s dark, no windows, no light, its doors are bolted. That’ll be the prisoner block—
The front door of the main building opened and three men appeared, two were carrying a large steaming pot. The third man held a shotgun and a set of keys. The smell of hot food carried across the compound, the dogs in the woodshed started howling. Mercy lowered her head and watched as the men walked across the compound to the unlit building. They stopped in front of the door and unlocked its sliding bolts. Shotgun man entered first, switching on a torch to light the way. The men with the steaming pot followed.
They’re feeding the prisoners. OK, so this must be the night time routine. There’s still too much activity. Give them more time to settle down—
Mercy dropped down from the wall and returned to the trees. She waited another half an hour, again timing the guard manning the palisade. The wind rustled the leaves above, water lapped on the nearby shore.
Maybe now—?
She tensed, preparing to move in again.
A man’
s voice carried on the wind, “I’ve had enough of this shit. We’ll get back to it in the morning. Fucking losers—”
Silence, followed a minute later by a slamming door.
OK, go—
Mercy returned to the wall, she crouched in the shadows below. She listened, waiting until the guard on the palisade above had passed. She climbed up, positioning herself on the same piece of corrugated iron as before. She readied her silenced Glock 17 and waited. Her clothes were still wet from the lake swim and her muscles were stiff. Her breath misted the cool night air. She looked down at her jacket.
My clothes are steaming. It’s my body heat. Christ, the guard will see the steam. Shit, can he see the steam—?
Mercy’s shoulders tensed. She prepared to drop to the ground. She heard the scuff of a boot above. She froze.
Wait. Maybe he won’t—
Nothing.
Another scuff a few feet away. The strike of a match then a cloud of cigarette smoke appeared over the parapet.
He’s within reach, on his way back around the circuit. Odds on he’s facing away from me. Go—
Mercy stepped up onto the protruding corrugated iron section. She pulled herself up and peered over the top of the palisade. A guard in a sheepskin coat was facing her, four feet away. Their eyes met and the cigarette dropped from his mouth.
Mercy’s gun hand flashed over the parapet, her index finger squeezed the trigger, executing a double tap. The gun spat, sending two rounds into the man’s head. A cone of blood and bone flew out from the back of his skull. He dropped to the walkway then toppled to the ground below. The two dogs started barking and howling. Mercy shrunk back, below the palisade.
Goddammit—
She listened and waited. The dogs continued to howl, straining at their chains. A few seconds later a man’s voice yelled, “Shut the fuck up or I’ll come over there and whip your asses, you mangy mongrels—”
The dogs’ barking was replaced with whining and whimpering, then silence. The door slammed again. Mercy froze, waiting. She counted and stopped at twenty.
Nothing. A reprieve? No choice, I need to go in now before they discover the body—
The Survival Chronicles (Book 7): Hard Mercy Page 20
