Nothing I can do—
Mercy curled into a ball and closed her eyes. The Beast snapped the whip in the air for effect before lashing Mercy three times. Pain surged, white hot, through every fibre of her being. She teetered on the edge of consciousness, something stirred in her stomach and she pulled back from the brink. A sense of warmth blossomed from her abdomen and the pain diminished from white hot to bearable.
That feeling. I’ve had it before… the biotech—
The Beast laughed and rolled up the whip, returning it to his belt. He barked at the crowd, “Back to work my good people, there is much to be done. We are all blessed, being able to help the cause, being able to help rebuild our great nation—”
The Beast mounted his horse and rode slowly up the ramp, his second in command by his side.
Mercy looked up.
I’m going to kill you—
Chapter 18
Shafted
Amber helped Mercy to her feet. “Don’t say anything, keep moving—”
The butchered woman and boy were thrown into a wheelbarrow and carted off to the far side of the site.
“Where are they taking them?” Mercy glanced over her shoulder.
Amber shook her head, “Shhh, don’t talk, the gangmasters are bad. I don’t want a beating.”
They arrived at the mine shaft and were guided inside. A diesel engine was roaring, pumping air down the shaft. A battered cage lift stood open and waiting. They were crammed into the lift and the doors slammed shut. A rusting sign declared: LOADING: NO MORE THAN FIFTEEN PEOPLE.
There must be thirty in here at least—
Dim bulbs flickered the length of the vertical shaft as the lift juddered and creaked down into the pit. Mercy stopped counting after she reached three hundred. The descent seemed to take an age. The air became thick with dust and the temperature rose. At last the lift ground to a halt with the rattling of chains. The doors opened and they stepped out into a wide tunnel. A detachment of Kindred was waiting for them. They were split into two work details and led off down separate tunnels. Mercy’s leg irons chafed her ankles as she shuffled along the uneven ground.
I’ve gotta find something to tie the chain to my belt, less likely to trip on it then—
They passed a flooded section on the right and two minutes later they encountered a partially collapsed wall.
Shit, this whole place looks about ready to cave in—
A short diversion took them to a set of narrow gauge rail tracks. Fifteen minutes later they arrived at an open area. A rock face stood before them. Pick axes, hammers and chisels lay where the previous shift had dropped them. The gangmaster and his men lit candles and storm lamps to illuminate the area.
We’ve left the electricity behind. Shit, this is primitive—
Amber nudged Mercy and nodded at a pickaxe on the ground, “Do as I do, they start beating us if they think we’re slacking.”
Amber started chipping away at one end of the seam with a hammer and chisel, loosening large chunks of rock. Mercy watched the others and followed suit. The work was brutal and before long Mercy’s back and neck were aching, her head thumped from the stifling heat.
Jesus, twelve hours of this—?
Mercy forced herself to continue. The work was back breaking. Others took the loosened rocks, broke them into smaller pieces and put them into small rail carts at the back of the chamber. Once the carts were full they were pushed by hand down a separate tunnel.
The Kindred kept a close eye on the workers, striking out at those they felt were slowing. Mercy’s throat burned with thirst, her vision began to blur. She staggered and leant against the wall. A whistle sounded and the gangmaster raised his voice. “Form a line and make it quick—”
“Water break,” Amber whispered. “Usually every hour or so.”
Mercy stood behind Amber and watched as the Kindred handed out bowls of water scooped from a large drum. The line moved slowly, the exhausted slaves were swaying on their feet. Mercy tilted her head and listened to the sounds around her.
It’s quieter now, no knocking, no banging, listen—
She turned towards a tunnel on the far side of the chamber. Her forehead furrowed.
There, yes. I hear them. Moaning. Tropes, that’s one of the passages that’s been laced with tropes. Maybe a way out… for me at least—
Mercy downed her water in two long gulps. Her head cleared a little and she continued to work alongside Amber. The water breaks were regular and welcome. They worked through the night, their bodies screaming in pain. The minutes bled into hours, the hours crawled by. Mercy dreamed of escape. She leaned against a wooden support, allowing others to remove the rocks she had loosened. Her hand brushed against a nail in the support. She stiffened and checked the Kindred were not watching. With a few firm tugs she managed to free the nail, she shoved it into her pocket then resumed her work.
Finally, the shift ended. The gangmaster blew a whistle and cracked his whip. They dropped their tools and filed out of the tomb-like chamber. Mercy stooped to pick up a piece of cord on the way out, she used it to tie the excess leg iron chain to her belt. They rode the cage lift to the surface and fifteen minutes later they were at the mine entrance. The early morning sunlight dazzled Mercy’s eyes, she put her hands over her face.
They staggered back to the slave compound, prodded and whipped by the Kindred. Mercy looked up as a cart trundled towards the cookhouse. The cart was covered with sacking. One of its wheels jammed in a pothole. A bloody human leg flopped over the side as the cart was manhandled out of the hole.
Holy fuck—
A wave of nausea washed over Mercy. She stared after the cart as it was wheeled towards the kitchens. One of the guards pushed her back in line with a vicious jab of his cattle prod. Mercy’s legs buckled but she held onto the camp fence and forced herself to stay standing. Amber moved in and supported her.
“Did you see the cart?” Mercy gasped.
Amber grunted, “Of course I did. I didn’t want to tell you about that bit because I knew you’d not eat anything and to survive you’ve got to eat. Otherwise—”
Mercy sighed, “Otherwise I’d be promoted from the chain gang to the food chain. Or would that be demoted—?”
Amber looked distracted, she shuffled alongside Mercy. “Look, we’ve got to get out of here. People don’t last longer than a week the way they work us and the conditions we’re in. We’re dying on our feet. I’ve been here three days, you’ve been here one day; we’re not going to make it unless we do something. The others in here are like rabbits in headlights, they’ve given up, they’re just living from meal to meal. We’ve got to try something before it’s too late—”
They were nearing the compound gates. The slaves were being processed at the entrance.
One in, one out. Shackles on, shackles off—
Mercy leaned against the fence, her eyes drifted up to the top of the cliff. A Kindred in a face mask and robe was patrolling on the inside of the perimeter fence, a hunting rifle slung over his shoulder.
“Yeah Amber, I know. If I come up with an idea I’ll let you know—” Mercy replied.
Trust no one. Like she said, people here would sell you out for an extra mouthful of food—
The guards checked them in and their leg irons were removed. Mercy drank her fill of foul smelling water from the camp trough and went to her tent followed by Amber. They collapsed onto their beds and fell asleep immediately. Mercy woke a few hours later, her whole body stiff and wracked in pain.
Christ. I didn’t know this level of pain existed—
Mercy sat up and examined an empty bed beside hers. The other occupants in the tent were unmoving, deep in exhausted sleep. She found a tear in the unoccupied camp bed and managed to slide out a section of its metal frame. She crept under the bed and lay on the ground. A wooden tent spike caught her eye and she pulled it from the ground. Using the nail she had found in the mine she split the tent peg in half and jammed it into the ho
llow part of the metal frame.
A shiv of sorts, better than nothing—
She put the crude weapon into her pocket and returned to her bed just as Amber was stirring.
Amber rubbed her face with shaking hands. “I’m so hungry.”
“Don’t start talking about food, that’s a road to nowhere,” Mercy said.
“How long have we been out?” Amber looked around.
“Don’t know, they took my watch. Everyone else is still out cold—”
“I need more water, I’m going outside,” Amber sat up and held her head in her hands. “I’m getting weaker, I need out of this place. I don’t think I can do another shift—”
She’s losing it—
Mercy stood up, “Let’s go. I’ll come with you, I could use a drink too—”
They left the tent and headed to the water trough. The smell of cooking meat from the barracks kitchen filled the air. Mercy’s stomach heaved and she turned away. They took their fill of the grey water and were on their way back to the tent when a commotion came from the mine entrance at the top of the ramp. The main gates opened and three armoured trucks descended the ramp to the lower level.
Mercy watched as the trucks drew up alongside the barracks. NSA soldiers in helmets and body armour piled out of the trucks. They started carrying sacks from the barracks to the trucks.
“That’s the vivianite they’ve come for,” Amber said. “They only take the best samples, see that mound of spoil beside the ramp, that’s the stuff that’s been rejected—”
Mercy’s shoulders tensed, “People have died to get that shit out of the ground.”
The Beast emerged from the barracks and spoke to the soldiers. A few crates were unloaded from the trucks and handed over to the Kindred.
“Likely ammunition resupply or booze, or both,” Amber said.
They watched as the transaction was completed. Thirty minutes later the NSA trucks drove up the ramp and disappeared through the gates.
“Slick operation, they look like elite troops, they don’t hang around,” Mercy observed.
“They’ll want to get back to DC before dark. They’ll have to run the gauntlet of the undead on the outskirts of the city,” Amber replied.
“That stuff must be important to them, to keep this operation going, all this infrastructure—”
“Yeah, looks that way.” Amber glanced up at the sky. “Reckon it’s mid-afternoon, we should get a bit more rest. Food will be here before our shift—”
A single shot broke the silence. Mercy looked up at the perimeter fence, her whole body alert.
Barnes? Rose?
Mercy waited.
Nothing.
“Could’ve been something… or nothing,” Amber said. “The undead pass through the forest on their way to DC probably one of the guards popped one—”
Mercy turned to enter the tent, “Yeah, probably.”
Two hours later they joined the queue for the food tent. The gruel’s oily stench filled the air. Mercy wrinkled her nose.
I can’t believe we’re doing this—
The queue moved slowly.
They’re feeding us human flesh. Christ. But if we don’t take it we die. Death gives life. Bastards. Brother Bastion I will have you for this—
Mercy shut down her mind and accepted the bowl of thin broth from the emaciated kitchen slave. She took one of the small wooden spoons on offer, followed Amber to a table at the back of the hall and sat down. She forced herself to take a sip of the warm liquid. She shuddered and pulled a face.
A wiry man on her right grabbed her bowl and emptied its contents into his bowl, “You don’t like it bitch? Here, let me help you out—”
Mercy stiffened. Anger rose in her chest but was swiftly followed by reason.
Don’t make an issue of it. It’ll end badly, keep a low profile. Choose your moment—
Mercy turned away from the man. Amber said nothing, she emptied half of her own broth into Mercy’s bowl. Mercy looked at Amber and nodded, protecting the food with both hands. She shovelled it into her mouth, forcing it down. Mercy watched Amber finish her broth.
She didn’t have to do that. She probably just saved my life—
They filed out of the mess tent and queued up at the gate for the 6 pm shift. The day shift was coming out of the mine shaft. Their gaunt faces and sunken eyes hit Mercy hard.
That’ll be me in another few days. They’re broken, they’ve given up, they’re already dead—
Mercy donned her leg irons and stood in line behind Amber. The compound guards processed them one at a time under the gangmaster’s watchful eye. The leg irons were secured with locks and they were pushed through the gates. Mercy felt the shiv in her pocket and pulled out the piece of cord to attach the excess chain to her belt.
Amber tapped Mercy’s arm and nodded at the ramp. A flatbed truck appeared at the top and moved slowly down the ramp to the lower level. Five bound, hooded figures were taken out of the truck and made to stand in a line. Mercy looked at the new prisoners, searching for any recognisable features. One of the barracks doors opened and the Beast walked down the steps and approached the line of hooded prisoners. He leant in close to them, one at a time.
“What’s he doing?” Mercy asked Amber.
Amber shook her head, “Nothing good, you can be sure of that—”
“Oh fuck, it looks like showtime again—” Mercy groaned.
The Beast pulled the newcomers into a circle, then he shoved them to their knees. He stood behind a young woman and pulled off her hood with a flourish. She blinked and licked her cracked lips. Her face was bruised, her hair matted from a bloody scalp wound. The Beast dragged her to the centre of the circle and made her stand. He cut the cable ties at her wrists, freeing her hands.
The Beast swung around, his eyes searching the line of slaves along the camp fence. His eyes passed, then returned to Mercy. He pointed his whip at her. “That one, bring her here. We’ll have a little sport to break the ice for these new workers—”
A guard pulled Mercy over to the circle of prisoners and thrust her inside. She staggered in her manacled feet, just managing to remain upright.
The Beast came over and prodded her back with his whip. “Yeah, you’ll do, you’ve about the same amount of meat on you as this new bitch.” He moved Mercy, placing her opposite the newcomer, ten feet apart. He signalled at the gangmaster, “Remove her chains.” The gangmaster unlocked Mercy’s leg irons. The Beast stepped back and raised his arms to his men. “Enjoy, brothers, enjoy.”
The guards let out a cheer and drew in for a better view. The Beast pulled a trench knife from his belt and threw it into the circle between Mercy and the newcomer. “Fight or die,” his words pierced the air.
Mercy tensed, her eyes glued to the young blonde woman standing before her. The woman dashed towards the knife, dropping low to the ground. Mercy stepped forwards kicking dirt into the woman’s face. The blonde blinked but her hand reached the knife and her fingers closed around its handle. Mercy moved in to kick the woman’s hand but the blonde rolled away.
Shit, we don’t have to do this. I don’t want to do this—
Mercy kept her distance from the blonde. They circled each other within the ring. The woman rushed forwards, feinting to the right, then closed in on Mercy’s midriff. The blade sliced through the air, Mercy felt a sting and flinched. She looked down. A line of fresh blood stained her shirt.
Close, goddammit—
Mercy licked her lips and locked eyes with the blonde.
The shiv—
Mercy reached into her pocket for the primitive weapon, then her eyes fell on the discarded leg irons on the ground. She edged towards them, her arms held forwards in a defensive posture. The blonde lunged with a scream and slashed the air inches from Mercy’s face. Mercy threw herself down and grabbed the leg irons. The blonde lunged at Mercy’s back bringing the blade down in a savage arc. Mercy rolled in the dirt bringing the leg irons up in a sudden movement.
The chains smashed against the blonde’s throat, stunning her. She fell back, dropped the knife and clutched her neck.
Make it look convincing—
Mercy followed through with a vicious kick to the blonde’s knee, felling her. She knelt down and picked up the trench knife and stepped close to the woman. She punched her on the jaw with the knuckle guard. The crunch of breaking teeth was audible. The blonde collapsed to the ground making a strangled gurgling sound.
She’s choking. Shove her over, Jesus, get her on her side—
Mercy kicked the young woman hard enough to roll her on her side. Mercy threw down the knife and sank to her knees, her breathing laboured.
The Beast clapped his hands three times in mock praise, “Not bad for a woman. I was going to lend you my whip to spice things up but you improvised with the leg irons. Nice touch bitch.” He approached Mercy, knelt down beside her and grabbed her by the hair. He pulled her head back, picked the trench knife up and ran the point of its blade across Mercy’s neck.
“Well aren’t you the lucky one? You’ll be pleased to hear you’ve won this evening’s prize.” He brought his face close to Mercy’s head and licked her ear.
Mercy closed her eyes, flinching at his touch and the stench from his body.
The Beast smiled, whispering, “And young lady… the prize is me—”
Chapter 19
Blood and Whisky
The Beast released Mercy and walked back to his quarters. “Bring her to me,” he barked at his men.
Mercy was lifted to her feet and shoved towards the barracks. The Beast went up the steps to a porch area on one side of the barracks. He opened the door and disappeared inside. The two guards dragged Mercy inside and forced her to kneel on the floorboards.
The Survival Chronicles (Book 6): Dark Mercy Page 12
