Fear Mercy

by Fergal F. Nally

  Mercy looked at Billy-Ray, “Drive slow, walking pace, they’ll be expecting trouble, let me do the talking. Don’t turn the engine off—” Mercy’s stomach felt hollow.

  Keep it together—

  Pace entered the cab and slammed the door, “Told the others, they’re ready, good to go.”

  Mercy nodded at Billy-Ray. He engaged gear and the truck moved forwards, the engine growling under the hood. The flashing lights at the end of the tunnel grew nearer, figures darted around behind the lights. An armoured personnel carrier was partially blocking the tunnel entrance. Billy-Ray slowed down. Mercy opened her window and leaned out. A figure detached itself from the side of the APC and walked towards them, pistol in hand. The NSA soldier shone a torch in Mercy’s face.

  “I see you got the stowaway there. You guys OK, any casualties?” the NSA man said.

  Mercy shook her head, “No, we’re good. I saw him climb on board. We found him on top, looks like he was alone—”

  “Good,” the NSA man said. “We’ll take the body, see if there’s any biometrics on him, could be a deserter. If he’s not one of ours we’ll need to find out how he breached security. Pull the truck into that bay over there,” the soldier waved to the left.

  The APC reversed, allowing the truck to exit the tunnel. Billy-Ray pulled into the bay keeping the truck’s engine idling. A group of NSA soldiers lifted the body off the snow blades and carried it into a low building on the right. Narrow windows looked out towards the truck, figures moved behind the glass, the room inside was brightly lit. The rest of the base was shrouded in darkness, a gate and fence were just visible in the distance.

  Billy-Ray nodded at the gate, “That’s our way out, it’ll be similar to the other side. Triple fence, three gates, lock system to prevent trope incursion.”

  “It’s about two hundred yards away, let’s keep it cool, see what happens,” Mercy said, her voice tight.

  The NSA guard returned to Mercy’s window, “We’ll need to give the truck the once over, it’s protocol. Step down, I’ll take you through the procedure—”

  Fuck—

  Mercy nodded. “No problem.” She jumped down and watched as six NSA men with inspection gear approached the truck. Two men brought lights, others followed with mirrors on long poles to examine underneath the truck. A man climbed onto the container and walked its entire length. Mercy went with the guard to the rear of the truck.

  The guard turned to her, “We’ll need to check inside with the dogs, these fugitives can be clever bastards.”

  Shit—

  Mercy blinked, her face flushed, “Of course, I’ll get the keys from the cab.”

  The guard nodded and pulled a pack of cigarettes from his top pocket. He held it out to Mercy, “Smoke?”

  “No, I’m good thanks. We’re on a schedule, the sooner we get this done the better—”

  “No sweat,” the guard grunted and lit his cigarette. “I’ll wait for you here, dogs are coming.”

  Mercy returned to the front of the truck and stepped up to the cabin, swinging herself into the passenger seat. “They want to search inside the container… with dogs, we’re fucked—”

  Billy-Ray pointed to the brightly lit window on the right. A soldier was staring through the glass, a telephone pressed to one ear, he was nodding. The soldier’s expression changed, he turned to the others in the room and jabbed his finger at the truck. The door flew open and six NSA soldiers burst out with their guns raised.

  “Go, go, go—” Mercy shouted.

  Billy-Ray engaged gear, released the breaks and slammed his foot on the accelerator. The truck shuddered and jerked forwards, throwing them into their seats. Shouts came from outside and the soldiers fired their automatic weapons. Bullets bounced off the truck’s armour and hardened windows. Mercy slid down her seat and pulled out her pistol.

  Can’t return fire—

  The truck lurched across the compound, gathering speed. The rattle of bullets on its armour was deafening.

  Shit, have we got bullet proof tires? Self-sealing more like—

  A strange, high pitched sound filled the cabin. Mercy looked up, Billy-Ray was screaming at the top of his voice. She looked out the windscreen, they were rushing towards the gatehouse. Four NSA soldiers stood in front of the barrier shooting, their rifles on full automatic. Their rounds slammed into the snow blades and windscreen, creating a spider web of cracks in the glass. Seconds later the truck slammed through the barrier into the first gate.

  The snowplough blades ripped through the gate and the truck powered forwards destroying the second and third gates. Sparks burst around the truck as it smashed through the final gate.

  Electrified gate—

  The truck surged ahead, its tires gripping the pockmarked asphalt. Mercy stared out of her window at the dully moving shapes outside.

  What—? Tropes, hundreds… no thousands of them, against the fence—

  The truck shuddered as it careered into the tropes. The six hundred horsepower engine roared as it forced its way through the seething mass of corrupted flesh and bone. Ten seconds later it burst free of the horde. Mercy looked in her side mirror and watched as the tropes surged through the breached gates into the NSA compound.

  That’ll give them something to think about—

  Billy-Ray swore, “Fuck, that was something, that was something—” he gunned the engine and slapped the steering wheel with his hand.

  “Stay cool Billy-Ray, keep it together, focus, we need to get out of here,” Mercy shouted.

  Billy-Ray gripped the wheel, his knuckles white, sweat glistening on his brow. “These trucks are tagged, they’ll scramble a chopper to find us. I’ll exit Interstate 64, they may think we’ll keep to the main road, it might buy some time. I’ll head east to the coast, my crew used to have a safe house and a go-fast stashed at Buckroe Beach—” a sign flashed by on the right. “Route 169, that’s our turn,” Billy-Ray slowed and pulled off the highway.

  Anonymous buildings and houses passed in a blur. Mercy was processing what Billy-Ray had said.

  “What do you mean, a go-fast?” she asked.

  Billy-Ray’s mad grin was lit by the dashboard lights, “Yeah, that’s a pimped speed boat used for drug runs back in the day—”

  Mercy closed her eyes.

  Now we’re relying on a drug cartel’s old kit to get us to D.C., well… why not? If they outran the Coast Guard and the DEA back then maybe we can outrun the NSA now—

  “Keep your eyes open for choppers,” Billy-Ray said.

  Cronin leaned forwards and pointed at the cab roof, “We can use the gun hatch to keep watch.”

  Mercy nodded and helped him unlock the hatch. She pulled herself up through the hatch and stared at the cloudless night sky. The surrounding streets were bathed in moonlight.

  No sign of pursuit… yet—

  She turned to face the oncoming road. Her eyes widened. The sea stretched out to the horizon, a long pier reached into the ocean.

  We’re headed straight for that pier—

  Mercy shouted through the hatch, “Billy-Ray, what are you doing? We’re running out of road—”

  Billy-Ray’s disembodied voice rose from the cabin, “Yeah, I’m going to dump the truck in the sea—”

  Christ—

  Chapter 34

  Gated Community

  “No, wait, Billy-Ray. We’ll save time if you just drive to your safe house. If we dump the truck we could run into all kinds of shit before we get to your house,” Mercy yelled, the wind was making her eyes water.

  Billy-Ray slowed then stopped at a T-junction, the pier stretched into the sea ahead. He closed his eyes and swayed his head from side to side. Mercy slid down into the passenger seat.

  “Come on, it makes sense,” Mercy said, her voice level.

  “Yeah, maybe you’re right,” Billy-Ray gunned the engine and turned the steering wheel. “Hold on, I’m going to take us up the coast road to a gated community. We’ll pull in beside the
wall, the safe house is inside. We can use the truck to climb over the wall—”

  Mercy glanced back at the others. Cronin shrugged then nodded. They continued up the coast road, surf pounding the beach on their right. Large houses passed on the left. After a few miles a wall loomed out of the night.

  “Here it is,” Billy-Ray shouted. “This place was used as a back-up; boats, fuel, food. Let’s hope it’s still all there.”

  He parked the truck beside the wall and stopped the engine. He checked his side mirror, “Truck noise has stirred up some interest, local tropes are inbound. Let’s get over the wall now.”

  Mercy nodded, “Leave the doors open, make it look like the tropes got us. Cronin, let’s free the others in the container.”

  Mercy and Cronin jumped down and made for the rear of the truck. Billy-Ray, Pace and Hicks climbed through the gun hatch onto the cab roof and then onto the wall. Dozens of tropes were converging on the truck. Mercy opened the container doors and made her way to the back.

  “Everybody out, this is the end of the line. Out, out,” Mercy shouted, banging crates with the flat of her hand.

  One by one her friends appeared from their hiding places.

  “Thank Christ, it was stifling in there,” Tawny muttered as she climbed out of her crate, stiff legged.

  Flynn jumped down to the container floor, “Remind me never to do that again.”

  Rose and Fay emerged with Sparrow, Bird and Sasha in tow.

  “Follow me… tropes are close,” Mercy ran to the container doors and jumped down beside Cronin.

  “Don’t want to waste any ammo on these fuckers, let’s get behind the walls—”

  The nearest trope was a hundred yards away.

  Might just make it—

  Mercy helped the others down, brought them to the truck cab and showed them the open roof hatch.

  “Climb through the gun port, then it’s up and over the wall. Billy-Ray and the others are inside. Move, move—” she helped Bird and Sasha up first then allowed the others to negotiate the hatch themselves. Two minutes later Mercy closed the truck’s gun hatch and glanced over the side; a score of tropes were shuffling along the side of the truck towards the cab.

  They look wasted enough—

  She cast her eye along the road at the gathering trope crowd.

  No sign of super tropes… or should I be calling them alphas?

  Satisfied, she clambered over the wall and dropped into long grass and weeds on the far side. Flynn, Rose and Fay were waiting for her.

  “Billy-Ray’s gone over there,” Tawny pointed at an impressive house at the end of the road. “He says the boat’s in the garage, there’s another gate at the side of the development… there’s a marina—”

  “Good, come on, let’s go—” Mercy said.

  They ran across the open road, along the overgrown sidewalk and through the front gardens of the nearest houses. They arrived at the safe house to find its garage door open and Cronin at the entrance.

  “Billy-Ray’s true to his word, there’s a RIB in there. Four engines, looks powerful and there’s enough fuel for a hundred nautical miles, about a hundred and thirty land miles—”

  “How far is it to Annapolis from here?” Rose demanded.

  Cronin pulled a face, “About two hundred miles give or take. Billy-Ray’s got a place in mind for a fuel stop.”

  “What about the side gate to the marina?” Mercy asked.

  “Locked, but we’ve got shotguns and slug rounds so no problem,” Cronin replied. “Pace and Billy-Ray are giving the boat the once over, it’s on a trailer so we can haul it down to the water—”

  “Wait, listen… can you hear that?” Rose held a hand up.

  Mercy lifted her face to the sky. The unmistakable sound of a helicopter reached them.

  “Quick, into the garage,” Cronin barked. “Shut the door—”

  They piled into the double garage and pulled the door closed. Mercy glanced around and grabbed a claw hammer from a work bench. She inserted the claw into the side of the garage door and levered the metal back creating a spyhole.

  A few seconds later a Sikorsky MH-60S Knighthawk helicopter appeared over the trees its searchlight illuminating the abandoned truck and the tropes surrounding it. The helicopter swung over the gated community, its searchlight probing the houses and gardens. It completed a circuit of the development and returned to the main gates.

  A few seconds later four ropes fell from the belly of the Sikorsky and four armed men fast roped onto the flat roof of the gatehouse. The men crouched and waited for the helicopter to withdraw. The Sikorsky did a final circuit of the development before flying off to the south, its lights disappearing into the night.

  “Four NSA soldiers, they’ve landed on the gatehouse roof. Heavily armed, they’ve got night vision and comms. They’re staying put, not coming down, looks like an observation post. They’ll probably wait for reinforcements in the morning to do a sweep and retrieve the truck—” Mercy said.

  “Shit—” Tawny replied.

  “Dammit to hell,” Hicks said, “if you’ve got line of sight on them, they’ll have line of sight on us. We’ll never get the RIB to the marina—”

  Mercy slumped back from her makeshift spyhole allowing Cronin to look.

  “Think… think everyone, there’ll be a way. There always is.” Mercy turned to Billy-Ray, “Billy-Ray, draw us a map of this place, we need to visualise what we’re up against. If we can get a shooter in a position higher than the gatehouse… that’s the key—”

  Billy-Ray grunted and called them over to the far corner of the garage. He took a carpenter’s pencil from the workbench, tore an old map of Buckroe Beach from the wall and reversed it, laying it on the floor. A minute later he had sketched an outline of the gated community.

  “It’s only rough, from memory, but it should be OK,” Billy-Ray stood back, admiring his work.

  Cronin knelt down and scrutinised the diagram. “There’s no way we’re getting the boat out of here without neutralising that observation post.”

  Mercy knelt beside him and tapped the paper. “OK, so this block of apartments on the right overlooks the gatehouse. If I could get in there with a rifle and open up on the NSA’s OP—”

  Cronin nodded, “We could use the distraction to come in from the rear through the bushes and long grass—”

  Hicks grunted, “Yeah, but remember they’ve got night vision—”

  Rose chewed her lip, “We need something else—”

  Sparrow stepped forwards, “Why don’t Bird and me walk down the road, in the open, with a box of supplies or something, like we’ve been scavenging. That’ll grab their attention, we look like kids, at least Bird does, that might work—”

  Mercy shook her head, “No, too risky. What if they open fire?”

  “Me and Tawny could do it,” Flynn offered.

  Hicks pulled a face, “Shit, I’d shoot you if I saw you coming out of the dark. I reckon Sparrow has a point, kids look less of a threat—”

  Mercy frowned then nodded, “It’s about timing, there’s only four of them but they’re in a good position. Billy-Ray, how long will it take me to get into position in that block, say the first floor?”

  Billy-Ray scratched his chin, “From here, going around the back… about ten minutes. There’s a lane running around the development, that should help—”

  Mercy looked at the map, burning it into her memory, “Yeah, well, we all know shit happens, so give me thirty minutes to get into place. Then Sparrow and Bird can do their thing.” She looked at Sparrow, “Take pistols with you, as soon as you hear my shots run for cover, got it?”

  Sparrow nodded, pulling Bird close, “Got it.”

  Mercy checked her watch, “Well, I guess that’s it, unless anyone’s got a better idea?”

  Nobody spoke.

  “Let’s synchronise watches then,” Mercy grinned, “like in a bad Hollywood movie.” Her attempt at humour fell flat. “OK, it’s 3:17 am,
I’ll leave through the back at 3:30. I’ll aim to shoot at the OP at 4 am, that should give everyone time to get into position.”

  Cronin nodded his agreement pulling out his silenced pistol, “Weapon and ammo check everyone. Hicks, Pace on me, we’ll make sure we’re clear of tropes here.” Cronin turned to Mercy, “You’ll need an M16 for the roof shot, here, take mine and give me your shotgun.”

  Mercy nodded and took Cronin’s assault rifle. “I’ll bring it back,” Mercy said.

  “That you will,” Cronin replied.

  Cronin and his men disappeared through the internal door to the house. They returned a few minutes later. “We’re good to go, downstairs is clear—”

  Everyone started filing from the garage into the house. Flynn approached Mercy, “I know you’re doing this on your own because you have the biotech, but—”

  Mercy put her finger on his lips, “I know, be careful—”

  Flynn pulled her to him crushing the air from her lungs. He stared into her eyes, “Dammit Mercy, I mean it, this isn’t a game—”

  Anger flashed through Mercy, she pushed Flynn away. “Don’t you dare say that, you of all people—”

  Mercy’s anger evaporated in an instant. Her shoulders slumped, she reached for Flynn, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it—”

  Flynn took her in his arms, “I know, me too. We just need to get this thing done—”

  Mercy sighed, she felt empty, hollow.

  I have no more words—

  They said their goodbyes at the back of the house and parted. Mercy found a gate in the garden fence which led onto the path Billy-Ray had described. She waded through weeds and long grass, pausing to listen at intervals. An owl hooted in the trees somewhere beyond the wall. Moonlight bathed the development.

  I’m in a black and white movie, a cut scene from a scary video game—

  Random thoughts flashed through her mind as she passed dead houses full of other people’s memories.

  Echoes, ripples in time, lost lives, waste—

  She passed a children’s playground then an open space choked with weeds. The apartment block reared into view. She pressed on to the rear of the building and found a fire door. She pressed her face to the nearest window and looked in.