The Survival Chronicles (Book 6): Dark Mercy

by Nally, Fergal F.

  Shit, keep it quiet, no shooting—

  Mercy ran the last few steps to a deli counter, she swung around, knife in hand, covering Fay. An emaciated trope was dragging itself along the floor, its entrails trailing along the floor. Its legs were wasted and misshapen. Fay grabbed a mop from behind the deli counter and brandished it at the crawling trope.

  It’s attracted by her scent—

  Fay shoved the head of the mop into the thing’s snapping teeth. Mercy leant over the counter and plunged her knife into the thing’s decayed brain. It slumped to the floor letting out a foul smelling belch.

  A growl came from the other end of the shop followed by footsteps. Mercy pushed on the rear door’s panic bar and found herself in a back lane occupied by dumpsters. She ducked under a shallow awning with Fay close behind. Barnes shut the door and rammed his knife underneath, jamming it.

  He threw himself under the awning, joining the others behind a large dumpster. Seconds later banging came from the door. Barnes cursed and pulled out his silenced Glock 19.

  Mercy tilted her head. “Wait,” she hissed.

  Barnes froze, a high pitched buzzing echoed over the narrow lane, it grew louder. A red laser light fanned across the ground, working its way up the alley. Fay squirmed and looked down, a large rat stared up at her. She jerked and it disappeared under the dumpster shooting out from the far side into the middle of the lane. A soft hiss came from above and the rat went rigid before exploding in blur of bone and blood.

  Drone—

  The high pitched buzzing receded and seconds later the alley was silent again.

  This A.I. shit is real—

  Mercy shrugged off the ghillie suit and gave it to Fay. “Here, you take this Fay. I’m invisible to normal tropes. You can be invisible to drones, seems fair.”

  Fay was trembling, she accepted the ghillie suit with a half-hearted smile. “I didn’t want it before, more weight to carry, but now, yeah, I’ll take it thanks—”

  They waited until they were sure the drone had gone. Then they pressed on. Twenty minutes later they reached another junction. A sign caught Mercy’s eye: ANNAPOLIS TOWNE CENTRE. An impressive building rose up before them. They checked the road and crossed over, ducking around a shuttered bank. Barnes took them around the side of a building to a boulevard. A huge mall lay ahead, a domed tower dominating its entrance.

  The main doors were long gone, shattered glass lay everywhere. They entered the mall and picked their way through the concourse. They reached a set of rusted escalators. Large puddles of water occupied the ground floor. A store guide stood beside the escalator. Barnes wiped its grimy surface with his glove. He jabbed his finger at it and pointed up the escalator.

  Mercy scanned the guide and saw the electrical store listing. She nodded and followed Barnes up the escalator, Fay took up the rear. Mercy looked around, conscious of dripping water and the squeaking steps beneath her. She neared the top of the escalator and took the last step. A rusty scrape filled the air. A host of pigeons burst from their perches overhead. Mercy swore.

  Goddamn it. Careless—

  Barnes glared at her, alarm written across his face. He beckoned them into the shadows. They listened, waiting.

  Nothing—

  Barnes brought a finger to his lips and pointed around the corner. Mercy raised her head in acknowledgement. Barnes went first, he made it to the store entrance and peered inside. Satisfied there was no immediate threat they entered and began searching the shelves. They took an aisle each and worked their way around the store using their torches. The floor was strewn with smashed TVs and battered domestic appliances.

  Fay reached the end of an aisle and shone her light into the darkness ahead. She rushed forwards and crouched beside a torn box. “Found one,” she blurted out.

  Mercy joined Fay and looked at the box. The cover image showed a small drone with a remote control. Fay read the blurb; “HD Camera, best drone for beginners with altitude hold, G-Sensor, trajectory flight, 3D flips, headless mode, one key operation, 2 Batteries—”

  “It comes with batteries?” Mercy said. “Quick, open the box, make sure it’s not broken and check the batteries are there. I’ll look over here for any spare batteries—”

  Barnes approached and gave the thumbs up. He stood beside Fay while she went through the box. Mercy reached the back of the display area and shone her torch on the shelves and floor. She reached down and checked a floor level storage area. A smile broke across her face.

  “Yes… result—”

  She pocketed the three spare drone batteries and turned towards Fay and Barnes. The explosive sound of birds taking flight filled the atrium outside. Barnes swung around. Mercy’s eyes went to the store entrance. Pigeons streaked across the open hallway outside the store.

  What the hell now—?

  Barnes crouched and gave a hand down gesture. Mercy dropped to the floor and crept to the edge of her aisle. She peered around the corner, her eyes widened. Three NSA soldiers wearing body armour and gas masks had entered the store. They stopped inside the entrance. One of the soldiers was holding a full-length, bloodstained riot shield.

  Jesus, no—

  The middle soldier pointed a pistol at Barnes’s position and pulled the trigger. The pistol clicked on empty. The soldier continued pulling the trigger. The other two stood motionless beside their frontman.

  Wait. What—? This isn’t right—

  Mercy risked another look.

  They’re tropes. They’ve been bitten. Armed and armoured tropes—

  Mercy caught Barnes’s eye, she signalled to him. She would draw them to the serving counter on the right. The counter would act as a barrier. Barnes could pick them off from the rear with his silenced rifle. Understanding crossed Barnes’s face, he nodded and pulled away from Fay. Mercy signalled at Fay to stay put, then she picked up a discarded printer cartridge and hurled it across the shop towards the counter.

  The three NSA tropes lurched towards the noise. Mercy sprang from cover and raced for the counter. Three seconds later a low hiss punctured the air from the rear of the shop and the furthest trope dropped to the floor, its neck a pulp of bloody flesh and shattered bone. Mercy reached the long counter and jumped over. She pulled her knife out and tapped the counter. “Over here fuckers, come and get me—”

  A second round hissed through the air and slammed into the back of the lead trope’s helmet. The trope fell forwards onto the counter and remained motionless, its shield clattered to the floor. The pistol-wielding trope turned towards the back of the shop and continued pulling its empty pistol trigger. Mercy waited for Barnes to finish it off when the lead trope’s head lifted from the counter and turned in her direction.

  What the—? Bullet proof helmets—?

  The trope pulled itself over the counter and threw itself at Mercy.

  Alpha—

  Mercy pushed herself back, gaining a few feet. The alpha landed where she had been sitting, its teeth snapping behind its rubber gas mask. Another high velocity round whizzed through the air. Mercy focused on the alpha, bringing her knife up to her chest, clutching it in both hands.

  It can’t bite you through the gas mask—

  The trope fell on her, tearing at her clothes, trying to reach her neck. Mercy felt her knife glance off the trope’s chest armour. The blade tip found a crack and pierced the trope’s left shoulder, severing ligaments. The trope’s left arm fell away, useless. Its full body weight pressed Mercy into the floor. She twisted the blade, struggling for breath. Her vision blurred.

  Can’t… breathe—

  The trope slammed its head into her face and neck, trying to bite her exposed skin. The gas mask’s tinted lenses pressed against her. She heard the alpha’s snapping teeth through her choked cries.

  Can’t free my knife—

  Mercy used her remaining strength to bring her knee up between the alpha’s legs to try and propel it upwards, away from her face. Her knee connected but the alpha failed to move. Inst
ead, it brought up its right hand, pulled away its mask then lunged at her.

  Fuck—

  Mercy turned away from the snapping teeth. A soft hiss filled the air, the alpha jerked and fell on top of her, its mouth close to her ear. Blood spilled out from under its helmet onto Mercy’s hair and neck.

  Oh—

  “Dawes—? Are you OK?” Barnes said, his voice close.

  A blur, scrambling.

  Keep still, don’t move—

  Barnes climbed over the counter and lifted the dead alpha off Mercy. He knelt down beside her and felt her neck for a pulse. “You’re OK, you’re not hit—”

  A pause.

  Barnes grabbed a dirty cloth from behind the counter. He straddled Mercy and wiped her neck.

  A sigh.

  “You’re not bit either. You’re good, despite appearances—” Barnes added.

  Mercy opened her eyes, her heart was pounding, her mouth dry. “I’m alive—?”

  Barnes stood up, “Sorry, I had to shoot that fucker at point blank, under the helmet. The round just missed you—”

  Mercy rolled over and steadied herself. Her ribs ached. A wave of intense nausea overwhelmed her and she retched. Nothing came up. She sat back against the wall.

  Running on empty—

  Her nausea passed. It was replaced by mixed feelings.

  I’m still alive. I’m still here—

  Barnes reached down, “We’ve gotta leave, we’ve made too much noise. The watchers will be here soon—”

  Mercy took his hand. “We’ll strip these bastards of weapons and ammo first.”

  Fay appeared at the counter, the drone box in her arms. Her expression changed to relief when she saw Mercy. She took a step back and whispered, “Drone’s OK, it’s got its own batteries too. We’re good to go—”

  Mercy rose to her feet, “Fay, you just made my day—”

  Chapter 8

  Flood

  Barnes and Mercy took two AR-15 rifles, two Glock 17 pistols and smoke grenades from the dead NSA soldiers.

  Fay glanced at the store entrance, “I heard something—”

  No. Really—?

  Barnes glanced up then turned back to one of the bodies, “Quick, check for antiserum vials.”

  Mercy cursed and stooped to the body at her feet, she searched the inner pockets and found a torch. “None here,” she clambered over the counter.

  Barnes grunted, holding a vial in his hands, “Got one—”

  They moved towards the front entrance and looked out into the mall atrium.

  Fay breathed in, “I must’ve imagined it—”

  A creak came from the escalator. Barnes shook his head and pushed Mercy towards a nearby fire door. “We’ve got company, get away—” he knelt down and aimed his captured AR-15 at the escalator.

  A watcher appeared at the head of the escalator. It turned to face Barnes. Barnes squeezed his trigger, the rifle was on full automatic and thirty rounds slammed into the watcher forcing it back. Stray rounds hit the store window behind the escalator. Its grimy glass shattered, releasing tonnes of water from the forgotten aquarium.

  A wall of water surged towards Barnes, Mercy and Fay. Barnes was knocked over. Mercy gripped Fay and grabbed the fire door handle. The initial surge dissipated and the water level fell quickly as it found its way down the escalator to the floor below.

  Barnes got to his feet and retrieved the drone box from the entrance to the electrical store. “Go, go—” he barked at Mercy.

  Mercy opened the fire door and entered a dark stairwell. She switched on her torch and checked the immediate area. Fay held the door open for Barnes then shut it when he was through.

  “Find something to barricade the door—” Barnes barked at Mercy. He gave the drone box to Fay.

  Mercy grunted, “On it, there’s something here, wait—”

  Mercy shone the light into the stairwell and pulled out a set of folding warehouse steps. “Here, try these, there’s other stuff back here too—”

  Barnes jammed the top of the folding steps under the door handle. He placed the base of the steps against the foot of the stairs. “Get going, I’ll cover the rear—”

  Mercy pulled the silenced SIG P226 from her leg holster.

  Not much need for stealth now, Barnes must’ve emptied a whole magazine into that thing—

  Mercy climbed the stairs holding the torch over her SIG. A smell hit her after the first few steps, she shone her light up the stairwell.

  Fay stopped behind her, “What is it—?”

  Mercy’s lip curled, “It’s… OK, just some old shit—”

  Mercy’s eyes registered the graffiti scrawled on the wall: TURN BACK, YOU WILL BE SHOT.

  Water had seeped into the painted lettering, bleeding the pigment down the wall.

  Old words. Got to be old words—

  A loud bang shook the door behind them.

  Barnes cursed, “They’re coming; those things have cutting lasers. They’ll be through the lock in a minute. Move it—”

  Mercy quickened her pace. She slowed and pointed her pistol at a shape looming out of the dark above.

  “Jesus—” Fay grimaced.

  Mercy pointed her torch further up the stairwell. Six bodies hung from the top railings.

  They’re all children. What the fuck—?

  “Move, move it—” Barnes bellowed.

  One of the bodies started twitching.

  Mercy pressed forwards and reached the fire door at the top of the stairwell. A barricade of pallets and broken furniture blocked the door. Fay staggered up the last few steps carrying the drone.

  “Help me with this,” Mercy said, grappling with the nearest pallet.

  Barnes joined her and they managed to move the barricade three feet. Mercy squeezed through the gap and listened at the door. Hearing nothing, she twisted the handle and opened the door slightly. Daylight dazzled her, a cool breeze rushed in from the roof. She looked down, an ankle-height wire glinted in the gap.

  “Don’t anyone move,” Mercy ordered. “We’ve got a problem here. Barnes give me your wire cutters.”

  Barnes handed her the multi-tool. “Better make it quick, those watchers will be through that door any second.”

  Mercy traced the wire to the doorframe on her left then cut it. She let the wire down slowly until the weight on it disappeared. She opened the door and stepped out onto a flat roof. A small city of flapping tents and weather beaten shacks stood twenty yards away. Pots, pans and plastic containers littered the roof. She went behind the door and picked up the fragmentation grenade, carefully removing the wire from the pin.

  “Frag trap, well spotted,” Fay said, as she joined Mercy.

  Barnes closed the door and looked out over the tent city. His eyes strayed to a collection of tropes occupying the roof. “Jesus H., what are we gonna do about those fuckers?”

  “There must be at least sixty of them,” Fay whispered.

  A large group of tropes were spread out across the far side of the roof. A group were fighting over a seagull that was caught in some netting.

  “Looks like a bird trap, I’ve seen those before,” Fay said.

  “Yeah, this group was infected a long time ago—” Mercy said.

  Barnes grabbed a coil of cordage from the ground and started tying the door handle to a spike jutting from the wall. “Figure a way off here while I lash this down—”

  “There’s a fire escape ladder on the far side of the roof,” Fay pointed to the steel frame.

  “With sixty tropes in the way,” hissed Mercy.

  “Wait… see that metal tank in the middle of the roof? Could be for water. Maybe it’s fuel? It’s beside some kind of cooking area—” Fay said.

  “Only one way to find out,” Mercy raised her silenced SIG and aimed at the tank. She squeezed the trigger, her round punched a hole in the side of the container making a slapping sound.

  A gush of golden liquid squirted from the container onto the roof.

&
nbsp; “Could be cooking oil,” Fay sounded disappointed.

  The noise attracted the nearest tropes who lurched towards the leaking tank, their arms outstretched. They scrabbled at the metal tank and banged the sides with their arms and fists. More tropes turned away from the trapped seagull to join those at the spewing container.

  Mercy smiled, “No… that’s gasoline. I can smell it—”

  A dull thud came from the door behind them.

  “Watchers… they’ve made it up the stairs, time to go,” Barnes growled.

  “Follow me,” Mercy said. “Keep low—”

  They crept along the side of the roof using the tents as cover. A sheet of flame erupted around the leaking tank, enveloping the crowd of tropes. A cluster of tents burst into flames.

  “Shit, must’ve been a spark—” Mercy said, crouching behind a ragged tent.

  The noise and flames attracted more tropes from the far side of the roof.

  “They’re coming this way,” Mercy said.

  Barnes peered around the side of the tent, “They’re crashing through the tents. Move, move—”

  Mercy jumped up and wove through the flaming tents, avoiding two burning tropes. She shot three more, clearing the way.

  “Come on Fay, you first,” Mercy took the drone box and pushed Fay towards the fire escape.

  “You next,” Barnes barked at Mercy. “I’ll use this cabling to lower the drone to you.” He picked up a coil of discarded cable from the roof.

  Barnes started securing the box with the cable. Mercy took in the raging inferno on the roof as she swung onto the fire escape. Her eyes drifted up, following the smoke. A black dot hung in the sky.

  Shit, drone—

  “NSA drone. Barns, drone, incoming, come on—” Mercy shouted.

  Christ, this smoke will be visible for miles around—

  A handful of flaming tropes turned in response to her shouting and lurched towards the fire escape. Mercy climbed down the ladder reaching Fay in the deserted loading bay seconds later. Fay reached up to catch the box that Barnes was lowering. Mercy looked up, the box was dangling ten feet above. Without warning it fell. Fay lurched forwards and caught it. Mercy helped her set it down. They looked up.