“You OK?” Barnes shouted.
He took the shot. A sniper to the end, Barnes. I’m all out. You though… that’s the forty percent rule right there—
Mercy nodded at Barnes, “Yeah, the bastard just nicked my shoulder. How are you guys doing over there?”
Barnes raised his hand and shouted “Keys, we need keys to get the prisoners out.”
Mercy went to the camper van, she picked up the officer’s CZ P-10 C pistol and searched his body and found a set of keys attached to his belt.
Has to be one of these—
She walked over to Barnes and handed him the keys. Two minutes later the prisoners’ block was open. The prisoners were chained to each other and to bolts set in the concrete floor. The room smelt of fear, sweat and human waste. A thick cloud of flies buzzed in the air.
Christ almighty—
Mercy brought a hand to her mouth. Bile rose in her throat, she forced it back down. She looked up and down the rows of frightened faces.
Men, women and children. There must be thirty or forty people in here. Poor bastards. Why the fuck do people do this shit to each other? Over and over again, I’m just sick of it—
Barnes bent down and fumbled with the keys. He succeeded in opening the first lock and pulled the restraining chain from the prisoners’ leg irons. They started struggling to their feet.
Mercy coughed then spoke out loud, “OK everyone, we’re here to help you. But we need your cooperation. There’s only three of us, there’s more help on the way but first there’ll be militia from the bridge to deal with. Free yourselves and find a weapon, there’s guns lying around outside over by the guard house. Search the caravan and the camper van, you may find weapons there too. We’re going to have to keep the main gates locked until our people arrive. Once you’ve found a weapon join us at the gate and be ready to fight—”
I hope that sounded convincing. Those militia bastards are going to get here before our guys do. And that means a shitload of trouble—
Barnes cradled his M4 carbine, “We’ve gotta hold that gate—”
I feel wasted Barnes. I guess by your reckoning I must have sixty percent left in the tank—
Mercy forced herself to move, “Yeah, let’s go—”
Chapter 37
Damage
“So we’ve got heavy duty locks on the gate and concrete Jersey barriers out front… at least that’s something,” Barnes pointed out.
“Yeah, but a couple of slug rounds will bust those padlocks open, we’ve got to play the long game, play for time. Shit, look over there, see those lights coming—” Mercy said, alarm in her voice. She pointed through the gates.
“That’ll be the militia coming to check on the compound, they’re on horses, they’ve got head torches, looks like six of them. I’ll take position behind the palisade. See if you can talk them down, with a bit of luck they might think it’s a failed prisoners’ revolt,” Barnes said. He climbed up the ladder to the palisade with his assault rifle and the shotgun.
Mercy gritted her teeth.
Every second you can delay them counts. Don’t open the gate—
An older woman, a middle-aged man and a teenage girl shuffled up beside Mercy. The man held a captured militia pistol. He stared through the gates at the approaching riders.
Why are these people still in their leg irons—?
“They’re coming for us, ain’t they? They’ll kill us for this, for what you’ve done here,” the man nodded, his voice flat. “Well, I’ll fight them for what they’ve done to us here,” he staggered to the gate and pushed the pistol out through the bars. He squeezed the trigger. Nothing happened.
What the fuck—?
Mercy ran up to the man, she forced his gun down and spotted the safety switch was on.
“No, no,” Mercy said, “not yet… wait, we’ve got to delay them. Leave the talking to me. Go, hide over there, behind the wall, take your family away from the gates—”
Shit, he’s not right in the head. There’s nothing I can do about it now—
A barefoot boy ran over from the guard house, holding a box in his hands. Mercy squinted at him, then peered into the box.
Grenades, Jesus, where are the adults—?
Mercy took the three grenades and looked around. Dimitri was walking over from the prisoners’ hut. Mercy pressed the grenades into Dimitri’s hands, “Take these, give them to Barnes, up there,” she indicated the palisade above. Dimitri nodded, a vacant look in his eyes.
He’s in shock, Christ, that just leaves me and Barnes—
Mercy clutched the dead officer’s CZ P-10 C pistol and looked at the scene of devastation behind her. The guard house was still burning, the heat intense on her skin. The bodies of the militia garrison lay scattered in the open. Cinders floated up into the night, glowing like golden fireflies. More prisoners were emerging from the prison block, looking frightened and dazed.
No time to hide the bodies, no time to prepare the prisoners, no time—
Mercy turned to the gates. The old woman was still clinging to the bars.
Christ—
Mercy stepped forwards, “Lady, please, you’ve got to go, go and hide—”
The woman turned towards Mercy, tears staining her face, “I’ve got to get to my son, he’s out there in the fields. They beat him and left him there… he’ll be cold, he’ll be cold and hungry. I’ve got to get to him—”
She’s lost it—
Mercy frowned and squeezed the lady’s shoulder, “It’ll be OK lady, it’ll be OK… we’ll get your son, just go over there and join the others. It’s not safe right now—”
The woman ignored Mercy and turned back to the gates, her hands gripping the bars, her knuckles white.
The sound of approaching riders grabbed Mercy’s attention. She withdrew to the side of the gates, hiding from view. Horses’ hooves thundered on the compacted earth in front of the compound. Militia head torches shone into the compound, the low murmur of men’s voices came from outside.
The Jersey barriers will keep them twenty feet from the gate, they’ll need to come through one at a time—
Mercy closed her eyes and waited. A cold breeze swept across the compound from the lake shore, bringing with it the scent of sweet honeysuckle.
Beautiful—
Mercy closed her eyes and listened to the sound of boots on gravel outside the gates.
A voice came out of the darkness, “OK folks, you’ve had your fun. Open up and let us in. There’s no way you can escape this island and you know it. Open the gates and we’ll talk—”
A muffled laugh came from somewhere beyond the barriers. The sound of a shotgun round being chambered was clearly audible. The elderly woman at the gates whimpered and mumbled something about her son in the field.
He’s dead lady, but your broken mind doesn’t know that. Come on Brody… where are you? Shit, there’s been no gunfire from the bridge, maybe there’s some delay? Maybe… no, they’ll want to do it stealthy. It’s likely these guys left a skeleton crew at the bridge; two or three men with the machine gun. No, Brody will be doing it right, slow and stealthy—
Mercy looked up at Barnes, he was ready with his assault rifle and the grenades. Dimitri was crouched at his side, gripping his handgun, a blank look on his face.
Christ, Dimitri looks as if he’s seen a ghost—
“OK, if you want to play it the hard way. We’ll bust open the gates ourselves, we’ve got an RPG here. We’ll just toast your sorry asses. Hitch, bring it up—” the man’s voice called out.
Mercy looked up at Barnes who was peering over the palisade. He looked down at her and held up one finger mouthing the letters: R-P-G.
OK, so no bluff there. Here goes—
Mercy hid her pistol under her belt in the small of her back and stepped out from cover, “Wait a minute mister. No need for that… we’re just getting the keys. We’ll have the gate open in a moment, just hold on—”
A second man had joined the f
irst and was unslinging a rocket propelled grenade launcher from his shoulder. The first man took the RPG and turned back to face Mercy.
“Ah, there you are. OK bitch, open the gate right now or this baby fucking will,” he patted the RPG.
“Yes, yes, the keys are coming, I swear—” Mercy turned around, waving to a non-existent companion.
The lead militia man knelt down and lifted the RPG to his shoulder, taking aim at the gate, “I’m bored with this shit. You’ve got five seconds. Five, four, three—”
Mercy grabbed the old lady who was still clinging to the bars. She pushed the woman over a pile of tyres to one side of the gate and rolled in after her. A cry went up from outside followed by an explosion. The gate collapsed inwards, heat and light enveloped the compound. Shrapnel flew in all directions. An assault rifle opened up from the palisade. Mercy covered the woman with her body, she felt a jolt of pain in her shoulder.
Oh—
Mercy pressed her face into the dirt and groaned. Another smaller explosion followed the RPG strike, then small arms fire erupted. Mercy clung on to the old woman, pinning her to the ground.
“It’s going to be alright, it’s going to be alright, it’s going to be alright,” Mercy repeated into the lady’s ear.
Mercy lay shivering beside the old woman until the gunfire stopped. The pain in her shoulder had lessened to a dull ache.
This was all a dream, everything… all this shit. Wasn’t it? I’m going to wake up now back in New York, back in the orphanage. Any moment now. Yes, it’s all a bad dream, all of it… It has to be—
Mercy blinked. The compound was still there with the burning guard house and the smell of death heavy in the air.
“Except it isn’t a dream,” Mercy whispered to herself. She cradled her injured arm and sat up, staring out across the scene of devastation. The RPG round had blown the gates apart. Barnes was slumped against the palisade on the walkway. Dimitri was climbing down the ladder, his head hung low. Mercy pushed against the wall, forcing herself up. Her vision went blurry and she staggered against the pile of tyres.
Head rush—
Mercy took a deep breath and waited for the light-headedness to pass. A young girl, her feet in leg irons, appeared out of the smoke and bent down to help the old lady at Mercy’s feet. Mercy stood up and walked across to meet Dimitri in front of the open gateway. Dimitri stared into Mercy’s eyes, a blank look on his face. He tried to speak.
Mercy gripped his arm, “Barnes? Barnes? He’s OK is he? He’s not hit?”
Dimitri slumped to the ground and put his head in his hands.
“Dmitri—?” Mercy shook his shoulder.
Barnes—?
Mercy turned to face the walkway. Relief flooded through her as she saw Barnes climbing down the ladder. He reached the bottom and staggered over to join her. Mercy hugged him. Barnes’s legs buckled and he sank to the ground. Mercy sat down beside him, her breathing shallow.
Well I guess that’s our sixty percent all used up. Nothing left in the chamber. I’ve literally got nothing left—
“Will they be here soon?” Dimitri said out of the blue, “The cavalry?” He stared down at the pistol in his hand, a puzzled look on his face. He threw it on the ground, his lip curled in disgust.
Mercy stared at his gun, then reached back for her own pistol.
It’s gone, it must’ve come loose when I jumped into that pile of tyres—
“I got one of them, at least I think I did,” Dimitri said, “Barnes got all the others.” Dimitri stopped then whispered, “He butchered them.”
Smoke wafted from behind, covering them in a swirling cloud.
Mercy leant forwards and picked up Dimitri’s pistol with her good hand. “You did great Dimitri, you did just great. We’re all here, we made it didn’t we?”
Dimitri was silent.
Mercy closed her eyes, “Yes Dimitri, the cavalry will be here soon.”
Movement. The scuff of a boot.
Mercy opened her eyes. The smoke cleared for a moment. The militia leader was standing in the gateway, clutching his midriff. Blood was seeping through his fingers. His eyes met Mercy’s.
“Die bitch,” he growled, aiming his rifle one-handed at Mercy.
Not today—
Mercy pointed Dimitri’s Ruger American 9mm pistol at the man and squeezed the trigger. Her round took him in the throat. His head snapped back and he dropped to the ground, unmoving.
“Nice shot,” Barnes grunted.
Dimitri rolled over and retched onto the ground.
“Left handed… my first lucky shot of the night,” Mercy said, her voice flat.
I guess somebody up there is looking out for me but why… is totally beyond me—
“Now that’s a beautiful sight,” Barnes croaked.
“What—?” Mercy said, peering through the swirling smoke.
Ten horsemen rode up to the Jersey barriers and began to dismount. Mercy gaped at the new arrivals.
Familiar faces, thank the gods—
“We got here as quick as we could,” Brody said, vaulting over one of the barriers. His eyes ran over the three dishevelled people in front of him. “Christ, you’re all… alive. I almost didn’t recognise you.” He looked at the devastation inside the compound. “You sure worked this place over.” He frowned, “You all need some attention, one of my guys here is a medic.” Brody turned around, “York, over here, bring the medical kit. The rest of you men secure this place and check on the prisoners—”
Brody knelt down and helped Mercy to stand, “You need patching up, some rest and food. We’ll loot what’s left of this place, see what we can find. We’ll leave in the morning. We’re a ways from Charlottesville but the militia have other slave farms out here and some other strongholds in Charlottesville. Sooner or later they’ll send some of their people here.”
They entered the compound. Brody took in the scene and headed towards the caravan. Half an hour later Mercy’s wound was cleaned and dressed. Barnes and Dimitri were checked over and their wounds cleaned and stitched up. They were given food and water. The medic gave Mercy a shot of morphine for her rib and shoulder pain. Mercy lay back in the caravan bed and closed her eyes.
Yes, but have we done enough? Have I done enough?
Her consciousness succumbed to the morphine.
Chapter 38
Beginnings
Mercy woke screaming. She was drenched in a cold sweat. She reached out, searching for a weapon, any weapon. Her eyes latched onto a candle burning in the corner of the room.
“Where am I? Where the hell am I?” she screamed.
“Hey, hey, hey, slow down baby. You’re OK, you’re safe. We’re all safe—”
A familiar voice.
Flynn—
Mercy’s eyes locked onto Flynn’s face.
“It’s OK Mercy, I promise. This has been happening for the last week. You wake up like this, distressed, disorientated. It’s all OK, we’re back in the mountains, at Brody’s hideout. We came here after you got back from the island in the lake… remember? You were shot, you lost some blood but you’re making a good recovery. Physically you’re healing up real well—” Flynn’s voice faltered. He leaned in and kissed Mercy on the lips.
“Yes, but did we do enough? Did I do enough—?” Mercy whispered, tears streaming down her face. “All those others who died… ever since we left New York, I can’t remember their names Flynn. I can’t remember their names.”
But I see their faces—
“Slow down baby,” Flynn buried his face in Mercy’s hair and held her tight. “We’ll get through this… it’ll just take time, and that’s something we’ve got plenty of.”
“Yes, Flynn but what’ll we do?” Mercy asked, sounding lost.
“Do?” Flynn repeated. “We’ll be together, here in the mountains. Brody has said we can stay… all of us; Rose, Tawny, me, you and Barnes. We can winter here and… just live. Live and recover—”
Live and recover? B
ut it’s not over, it’ll never… be over—
Mercy pulled a face, “We need to run and hide Flynn. Those that stay put die… they always die… you know that. We need to run and hide—” Mercy said, looking around for the door.
Flynn kissed her again. “Baby, it’s all right, we’re safe, I promise you. I’m here, we’re all here, the campground is secure. The militia… what’s left of them, are in no fit state to come searching for us. Brody’s keeping an eye on them, he has scouts. Look, we can winter here in safety, we can work on your recovery, we can heal and get strong together. We’re a family, we need time to recover, we’ve been surviving for so long. We just need to breathe and live a little now—”
“Winter here—?” Mercy repeated, her shoulders slumped. “Flynn, what’s wrong with me. This isn’t… me. Wait, I remember now, I remember it all now…”
“Hey, it’s OK, it’ll get better, we just need to give it time, be patient, let nature take its course. The medic said it was—” Flynn stopped, his body tensed.
Mercy narrowed her eyes, “Said what Flynn? Tell me. What did he say?”
Flynn looked away, frowning, “Nothing Mercy. It’s nothing really… he’s not a doctor—”
Mercy turned Flynn’s face towards her. She stared into his eyes and her voice softened, “Tell me what he said Flynn.”
Flynn closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “He said you have post-traumatic stress disorder. PTSD. He says we all have it to some degree… except—” Flynn paused.
“What?” Mercy said.
Flynn’s face crumpled, “Except yours seems to be worse—”
Mercy absorbed Flynn’s words, processing the information. She lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling.
“But he says your body is healing real fast. He thinks it’s something to do with the biotech inside you. Barnes and Dimitri are still hobbling around after the beating they took but you, you’re way ahead of everyone else, your bruises are almost gone, your arm is back to full strength, you’re almost one hundred percent—”
Mercy closed her eyes.
The Survival Chronicles (Book 7): Hard Mercy Page 22
