She looked up and saw the Bell UH-1Y Venom helicopter gunship hovering forty feet above the trees. A drum roll tore through the air as the Dillon M134 Gatling gun burst into life overhead. The mob of tropes disappeared in a haze of red mist, their bodies disintegrating under the Gatling’s steel rain. Mercy glanced over her shoulder and kept running. She reached a clump of low bushes and crouched behind them. She watched as four heavily armed men fast roped from the gunship to the street below.
Mercy calculated.
They’re interested in the armoured truck. I’ve got five seconds max. Run—
She stood up and dashed across the road to the wasteland on the opposite side. The ground was rough and overgrown. She tensed, expecting a bullet between her shoulder blades.
With that minigun… I’d be shredded—
There was no gunfire, just the rhythmic thump of rotor blades. Mercy made her way through the long grass and weeds to a set of abandoned waterfront garages. She crept forwards, towards the RV park’s boundary fence. Brambles tore at her face and hands, she peered back at the street from behind the last garage. The four men were investigating the armoured truck, one using a radio. The helicopter rose and pulled away. Soon the street was quiet again.
Mercy reached the RV park fence, fell to her knees and pulled at the rusty chain link. A section came loose, she crawled underneath into the campground. She lay on her back, staring at the sky, heart pounding. She focused on a cloud passing overhead.
I’ve seen everything now—
The sun disappeared behind the heart-shaped cloud, illuminating its edges.
Make a wish—
Chapter 21
Soft Launch
Mercy closed her eyes and listened to the wind rustling the long grass.
If I keep my eyes closed I can make it go away—
She bent her right leg and felt her calf. She winced in pain and opened her eyes.
That’ll be one hell of a bruise, but at least there’s no blood—
A snap behind. A surge of adrenaline. Mercy held her breath.
“Dawes, it’s Renton, keep your head down. Enemy’s still close. Are you OK?”
Mercy rolled over, “Yeah. I guess. Did Rose make it?”
“Yes, good job. The LT’s pulled back to the far side of the campground. We’ve got eyes on the gate. That recon team seems mostly interested in your armoured truck. The bird’s pulled away for the moment. You good to go?”
Mercy nodded, “Lead on.”
They used the long grass as cover and crawled to the campground reception block. They stood up at the rear of the building.
“We’re good to walk now. There’s no line of sight from the road to here,” Renton’s eyes ran over Mercy’s arms and legs.
“Don’t worry Renton, I’m not bit, just battered is all,” Mercy rubbed her aching neck. She checked her SIG P226 and glanced around. “Come on, let’s go.”
They made their way back to the others at the far end of the campground. Hicks was concealed on the roof of an RV, his scope trained on the armoured truck. Mercy saw the flash of the oxy-acetylene torch in the washing block’s porch. Pace was welding empty fuel tanks together. Tawny was helping him. Fay, Suzie and Thomas were holding a framework of metal poles and struts. Cronin appeared from the nearest RV, flanked by Rose and Flynn.
Flynn embraced Mercy, grinning from ear to ear. “I knew you’d make it, I knew it’d be fine—”
Mercy tried to smile. She returned Flynn’s hug, feeling his bony frame through his jacket.
We’re all wasting away—
“Glad you made it Dawes,” Cronin said, his eyes moving to the sky. “Let’s get under cover, that bird may come back.”
They stood beneath the porch and watched as Pace and Tawny worked.
“It’s called an outrigger,” Rose said.
“A what?” Mercy asked.
“An outrigger float, supported by two booms. Like a Tongan canoe…” Rose answered.
“Tongan canoe—?” Mercy repeated the words, her voice flat.
Old words from the old world, meaningless now—
The outrigger was almost finished. A low thump invaded Mercy’s thoughts.
Cronin looked up, “Helo’s back, everyone stop.”
All eyes went to Hicks, concealed on the RV’s roof. The helicopter roared across the sound towards the mainland and the town. They waited. Mercy stared at her feet, her hands clenched, she focused on a stain on her boots.
Mud? No… trope blood—
She glanced at her jacket. Two rents lay in the sleeve, exposing the Kevlar panels underneath.
She raised her eyebrows.
When did that happen?
“They’re going,” Cronin said.
Mercy looked up at Hicks, his hand reached out from under the tarpaulin and gave the all clear signal. The gunship’s angry sound receded across the bay. Hicks confirmed that the helicopter had picked up the NSA recon team.
Cronin frowned, “They could return anytime, when will that thing be ready?” he gestured at the makeshift outrigger.
Pace shrugged, “It’s ready to weld to the boat; another thirty minutes ought to do it.”
Cronin nodded, “Get to it, the sooner we’re out of here the better.”
Flynn looked across the sound, “How far is the road bridge from here?”
“About five klicks up from the next point,” Cronin said. “We can hole up there, wait for dusk and move out when it’s dark.”
Thunder rumbled in the distance.
“Let’s hope that weather front makes it here in time, I hope your forecast was accurate,” Fay added.
“Constantine’s people said there’d be secondary storms after the hurricane, if we time it right it’ll provide cover for our attempt on the bridge,” Tawny said.
Mercy looked at Cronin, “We’re still going for the deep water channel at the middle of the bridge?”
Cronin nodded, “It’s a long road bridge, they can’t have eyes everywhere, darkness and the storm will help—”
“Yeah, it sounds better than attempting the fence,” Fay said, her eyes serious.
Mercy bit her lip, she kept quiet and watched the others carry the outrigger float to the bulrushes where the airboat was concealed. Tawny and Hicks used a wheelbarrow to bring the oxy-acetylene rig over to the boat to finish the job.
There’s always something. What is it? What have we missed?
Mercy squinted at the sun, already dropping to the west. She frowned and went to help Rose and Flynn carry water from the RV to the airboat. Forty minutes later the boat was ready. Raindrops drizzled the air. The airboat was transformed with the outrigger floats on either side, secured by booms. Cronin gave the word, they boarded the boat and pulled out into Currituck Sound. The sky was ominous, the wind picking up from the south west. Everyone was silent, all eyes on the distant road bridge.
Christ, that road bridge must be at least four klicks long. The militia will have spotters, snipers, all kinds of shit on it. Maybe we should’ve taken our chances with the fence—
Wind tore at Mercy’s hair, rain sluiced down from the heavens. The sky and sound were grey. Lightning flashed somewhere behind. Charlie and Sasha watched the approaching storm, their eyes wide. Searchlights burst into life at either end of the road bridge and began sweeping the water in wide arcs across the sound. Pace steered the airboat to the mid-section of the road bridge.
No lights. Why have they left the middle of the bridge dark?
Mercy stared at the unlit section of the bridge, frowning.
That’ll be where the water is deepest, the current strongest. Maybe they figure it’s too dangerous for anyone to attempt to get through there—
Pace lined up the airboat with the dark stretch of bridge, they were well away from the searchlights on either side. The SEALs faced out, M16s at the ready. Mercy’s hand went to her SIG P226.
We don’t want any shooting, we don’t want to wake the—
Renton h
eld his hand up at the front of the boat and made a swiping movement at his throat. Pace cut the engine, his eyes on Renton. Renton peered through his rifle scope and leant forwards, his body tense. He jerked his head back a second later and turned to speak with Cronin.
“What do you think he saw?” Flynn’s words broke into Mercy’s thoughts.
“I don’t know—”
Rose turned around. “Mines… he said there are mines in the water ahead—”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Tawny swore, “that’s all we need—”
Flynn tapped Tawny’s shoulder, “Hey, it’ll be fine, we’ve got Navy SEALs with us, this is their bread and butter.”
Tawny glanced back, giving Flynn a look, “Yeah, right.”
Cronin moved to the rear of the boat and spoke to Pace. Pace nodded and started to free the anchor behind the engine. Cronin pressed between the seats and spoke to Mercy and the others.
“Renton’s spotted mines, beneath the bridge. There’s a way through; we’ll need to pass close to the concrete pillar on the left. He needs to disarm one of the mines in our path, so we’ll drop anchor and he’ll go overboard. Me and the other SEALs will use the paddles to steer us to the pillar. I need you guys to be our eyes and ears, watch for anything unexpected and no shooting unless there’s a danger to life.”
Cronin looked each of them in the eye, “Don’t worry, we’ve got this, stay focused—”
Cronin went to join the other SEALs, they had found the airboat paddles and were in position on either side. Renton nodded and they began to paddle towards the road bridge. Two minutes later Renton gave the stop signal. Pace released the anchor.
Rose watched the anchor rope play out. She pulled a face, “That’s about twenty foot of rope he’s used.”
“Cronin’s dropped the front anchor,” Flynn looked up at the concrete pillar on their left. “Look, the outrigger’s almost touching it.”
Mercy glanced up at the road bridge, she could make out a road barrier, fifty feet above. Renton handed his M16 to Cronin and took off his tunic, he grabbed a pouch from his webbing and dropped overboard into the water.
Mercy stirred, “Come on everyone, keep a look out. I don’t know how long it takes to disarm a mine. We need to stay alert, watch the bridge, watch the water.” She leant back and peered at the bridge looming overhead.
A flash of lightning illuminated the sky. Mercy’s eyes widened.
You’ve got to be kidding me—
The lightning was followed by the crash of thunder, the air seemed to hum with violence.
Mercy grabbed Rose’s shoulder and pointed at the bridge. “It’s packed with tropes, looks like they’ve been hemmed in, maybe some kind of NSA defensive ploy. There must be hundreds of them… right over us. They looked pretty agitated, maybe the storm’s riling them. Tell the others—”
Rose nodded and leant forwards to Tawny and Fay. A second, prolonged lightning flash tore across the sky and was followed by a crash of thunder directly overhead. The metal road barrier buckled and gave way under the weight of the dead. Mercy’s head jerked up. Trope bodies fell through the gap between the road and the failed barrier.
Darkness returned.
Chapter 22
Silent Killing
The dead hit the water.
Jesus, how many are there?
Mercy shouted a warning to the others, “Tropes, falling from the bridge—”
Two tropes slammed into the boat, one narrowly missing Rose. The other crawled towards Hicks who was leaning over the side of the boat. Rose jumped forwards, knife in hand. Three seconds later the trope lay still, blood seeping from the knife wound in its temple.
Mercy turned to see Fay dealing with the other trope which had broken its spine on the seats. Mercy’s eyes jerked to the water, rotting hands and arms appeared over the side of the boat.
“They’re trying to get in, push them off—” Cronin roared from the front.
Mercy, Fay and Pace worked together at the rear of the boat, stabbing and slashing at the dead as they tried to pull themselves out of the water. Rose, Hicks and Flynn were a blur of activity further up the boat, everyone battling the churning water. More bodies fell from above, splashes filled the darkness.
Christ, Renton’s out there in the water—
Mercy pulled her knife from another trope skull and watched as its body sank beneath the waves. There was a lull in the fighting. She looked up, Cronin was grappling with a body at the front of the boat. Mercy stepped forwards, her eyes narrowed.
That’s no trope, that’s… Renton—
Cronin turned and shouted, “Start her up, he’s done it, we’re clear ahead.” Cronin began raising the front anchor.
Pace needed no encouragement, he pulled up the rear anchor and gunned the engine. More trope arms appeared from the water, drawn by the noise. Fingers clawed at the hull, some latching onto the outrigger floats. The boat surged through the dark, under the road bridge. Wind and rain tore at Mercy’s face, she squinted ahead then looked back. Behind, the road bridge stretched from side to side, its searchlights still sweeping the sound at both ends.
We’ve thrown them off. We’re through—
The road bridge retreated, becoming smaller with each minute. Mercy slumped into the nearest chair, every inch of her soaked. Cold seeped into her bones.
Is this what it’s like to be dead—?
Flynn sat down beside her, his face drawn. “Renton made it, can you believe that? Sometimes good stuff happens—”
Cronin shouted from the front, “Check each other for bites, I’m coming around—”
The boat’s engine hummed, reassuring in the semi-darkness. Mercy leaned into Flynn’s shoulder, her head resting against his.
No one bit, Renton back in one piece, not a single shot fired… yeah, sometimes good stuff happens in amongst all the shit—
Mercy closed her eyes and listened to the engine.
This is it, we’ve got in under the radar, we’re in NSA territory—
Her breathing deepened, sleep claimed her.
“We’ve outrun the storm,” Tawny’s voice woke Mercy.
Mercy opened her eyes. The engine was idling, fog surrounded the boat.
“Wait, what’s this? Where are we?” Mercy turned to Flynn.
“Relax, you’ve been asleep,” Flynn replied. “We’ve made progress. Pace reckons we’ve covered thirty miles. We’re close to the North Landing River, that’ll take us all the way to Chesapeake and Norfolk—”
Mercy leant forwards stretching her arms, “So, why have we stopped?”
“Fog. The storm turned out to sea, now we’ve got this fog. We’re close to the river mouth—” Flynn rubbed his face.
“I’m going to check with Cronin,” Mercy went to the front of the boat.
Cronin turned at Mercy’s approach, he held a finger to his lips and pointed ahead. A boom stretched across the water, blocking their way. Mercy leant forwards and peered at the murky water. The wind changed direction bringing with it the stench of rotting flesh. She recoiled, bringing a hand up to her mouth. Cronin was speaking to Renton in a low voice. A splash on the far side of the boom caught Mercy’s attention, she focused on the area and saw a flash of reptilian teeth.
Christ, alligators… eating, oh God... there must be thousands of bodies. What the hell is this?
Cronin leant towards Mercy. “We’ve cut the engine; I don’t like this. Renton’s going in, he’ll set a charge on the boom, we’ll blow it open and get through. The city’s upriver, all these bodies, they’ve floated downstream to this barrier. Looks like some kind of NSA defence system. I’m watching Renton. Get the others to use the paddles to hold our position, I don’t want any more engine noise—”
Mercy nodded and turned around. She looked at the outrigger floats welded to the airboat and frowned.
Should’ve made the outriggers detachable. We could’ve just shed them, would’ve made things simpler—
They began paddling ag
ainst the current to keep the airboat close to the boom. Mercy watched the water.
I hope there’s no alligators on this side of the boom—
A flare shot into the air to the left of the boat, followed by a second flare on the right. Strange shadows danced through the fog, muddy river water lapped against the hull.
Shit—
A swish followed by a groan. Blake fell forwards, knocking against Mercy. She turned, reaching out to help. A crossbow bolt protruded from his neck, arterial blood pumped into the bottom of the boat. Blake had a surprised look on his face as his life ebbed away. Mercy cradled him in her arms, lowering him to the floor. Two more bolts shot harmlessly through the air, landing in the water feet away.
Suzie cried out and dropped her paddle. The others reached for their weapons. A deafening fusillade pierced the night from the left bank; twelve musket balls flew through the air, eight found their mark, slamming into the boat. Mercy’s eyes flicked left and right, Cronin was reaching out to Renton, the others fired blindly into the swirling fog. Mercy reached down for her SIG P226, water sloshing at her feet. Another volley of musket balls smashed into the boat.
Fuck this—
Mercy took a grenade from her webbing. She pulled the pin and threw the grenade at the shapes moving along the left bank. She looked down.
We’re sinking—
Seconds later the grenade exploded. Water was filling the boat. Mercy scrabbled against the hull, reaching out to Flynn. Their hands touched as the boat went under.
Cold. Shock. Water. Thrashing.
Mercy splashed, trying to find Flynn, trying to find anyone. The current pulled her, she lost her bearings in the fog. Voices and shouts filled the air, another round of musket fire erupted from the far shore. A solitary red flare lit the night in an eerie glow.
Mercy struck out, away from the light and noise into the arms of the current. Cold crept through her limbs sapping her strength, the near bank lay beyond her reach. Her head went under, she felt herself being pulled down. Her feet brushed the riverbed sending a signal to her brain, her eyes opened, an animal instinct ignited. She kicked at the river bed propelling herself upwards. Something brushed against her hand, she reached out and grabbed a handful of reeds. Her head broke the surface, she arched her back and gasped, shuddering. A reed bed lay in front of her, she dragged herself through the reeds and up onto a muddy bank.
Fear Mercy Page 13
