Yeah, if they were still alive—
Rose sidled up to the handrail judged the angle and made the jump. Her left foot landed on the rail and in the same instant her right foot kicked the wall propelling her out and up towards Arabella. Their hands touched but the jump was short, Rose crashed to the floor hitting her head on the elevator door. Her vision went blurry, darkness took her.
“Rose, Rose—” Arabella’s voice sounded hoarse. Why was she hoarse? Rose blinked, opening her eyes, the elevator doors were partially open, trope hands were trying to reach her through the gap.
Trope hands? Where am I?
Confusion washed over Rose.
“Come on Rose, that’s it get up, try again, you can do it, make the jump,” Arabella said, desperation in her voice.
Jump? Rose’s memory returned. Christ, how long have I been out?
Rose stood up, her head clearing. She kicked at the trope hands, they were forcing the doors open, this was it, she positioned herself beside the wall looked at the handrail and Arabella’s hand above. Jump, left foot, right foot, kick, jump, grab—
Rose grabbed Arabella’s hand, she reached up and found the side of the hatch. Arabella held on and Rose pulled herself up, she heard the elevator doors open, her right foot kicked out and connected with a trope skull. Rose was through the hatch, Arabella slammed it shut engaging the lock. They were thrown into darkness, tropes screamed and tore at the elevator walls below.
Rose pressed her forehead on the cool metal of the elevator roof. “That was close,” she managed to croak.
Arabella echoed the sentiment, “Too close—”
Chapter 13 Dash
Mercy looked around.
The sinkhole was huge, she remembered being shocked when she had seen it a few weeks before. She estimated it at about seventy feet across and two hundred feet deep. Its southern side was steep but the northern edge had subsided and lay at an incline.
“Vince, do you want the good news or the bad news?” Mercy said.
“Either—” Vince replied.
“Well, the good news is we have a way out, and it’s pretty close to my place,” Mercy said.
“Yeah, and the bad news?” Vince said.
“We’re going to have to climb out of here, I’m looking at a huge crater out here, the street’s gone, it’s some kind of sinkhole.”
“Sinkhole? Situation normal then, nothing’s simple is it?” Vince answered, resignation in his voice.
“You good to go?” Mercy asked.
“Always,” Vince replied.
“OK, well, we’ll move real slow, there’s lots of rubble out there, seems to be plenty of handholds though.”
“Let’s do it,” Vince said.
Mercy pulled herself from the shaft and reached out to the broken ground. Her hands found loose soil and debris, she scrambled to one side making room for Vince. Once she was sure he was secure she turned her attention to the north side of the sinkhole. Its slope was climbable, there was enough star light for her to make out a route.
She gritted her teeth and started climbing. The ground was mixed, some of the handholds were secure, others loose. She looked back at Vince’s progress, waiting for him to catch up. The last thing she wanted was to set off a secondary landslip engulfing him. As they gained height she saw a large pool of water glinting at the bottom of the sinkhole. They made good progress for twenty minutes then Mercy stopped for a rest. “Reckon we’re about three quarters of the way up Vince, how’s it going your end?” She turned to look back.
Vince was gone.
Mercy stared. Shit, he was there a minute ago— where’s he gone?
Mercy scanned the slope, the starlight had almost vanished due to clouds. She couldn’t see Vince. She looked at the dim outline of the sinkhole’s rim. So close— Cursing, she lowered herself down the slope. Climbing up was one thing but climbing down was ten times worse, she couldn’t see where to put her feet.
“Vince? Vince, where are you?” Mercy called out.
She heard a muffled cry on her right. Shit, he’s fallen, he’s injured—
“Vince? Is that you?” she shouted.
No answer.
Mercy shuffled towards the sound. The slope was loose, clods of soil came away in her hands. Her feet slipped, she reached out in the dark and grabbed hold of something soft, fleshy. It moved, twisting towards her with a low gurgling sound.
Christ— a trope, how did it get down here?
Mercy tried to pull away but her feet couldn’t find purchase on the unstable ground, she clung to the trope’s arm in the darkness. Its body was half buried in the landslip. Its fingers and nails dug into her jacket, it still had strength, she heard its teeth snapping a foot or two above her.
She reached across to her holster using her left hand, the trope thrashed, she almost lost her grip, soil skittered down the slope beneath her feet. She grabbed the trope’s arm with both hands and managed to stabilise herself. Her arm brushed against the taser on her webbing.
The taser—
She’d had a brief look at it back in Vince’s place. She had a rough idea how it worked but she couldn’t discharge the weapon whilst holding the trope.
Use it to smash its skull—
Mercy kicked her legs to the right and found firmer ground. Her right boot met something solid, she transferred her weight still holding the trope’s arm. Its body loosened from the slope, its teeth appeared in front of Mercy’s face, its eyes stared into hers as it bit a mouthful of her hair. Its breath stank of the grave.
“Fuck you—” Mercy screamed jerking back. She grabbed the taser with her left hand and rammed it into the trope’s mouth smashing its teeth. She pulled the trigger.
Nothing happened. The trope’s body oozed out of the muddy ground. Mercy threw herself away from the sliding trope and scrabbled at rocky debris. She slipped again then her left hand found a coil of wire half buried in the soil, it held, arresting her fall. She watched as the trope slid down the slope, the taser jammed in its mouth.
Something struck its head on the way down and the taser discharged sending over a thousand volts into its skull. Mercy watched as its desiccated body burst into flames and slithered to the dark pool of water at the bottom of the sinkhole. Just before entering the pool it turned its head towards her, flames erupted from its eyes. It let out a low defiant hiss then disappeared into the inky water.
“Yeah, fuck you too,” Mercy shouted.
“What did I do to upset you? And what was all that noise?” Vince’s voice came out of the dark on her right.
Mercy jerked in surprise. “Vince? What happened? I came back, I thought that thing had got you—”
“I slipped a while back, thought I’d caught up with you but guess I was wrong. Life was easier underground, even with the freaks—”
“OK so we’re both alive, that’s good, let’s have a break and try again.”
They stopped, drank some water and rested a few minutes. Mercy told Vince about the trope.
“I wonder how it got there.” Vince said.
“No idea, but we need to be extra careful, there could be others,” Mercy replied.
“Yeah and we’re nearly at the top, god I’ve not been on the surface since the Fall, you realise this’s a big moment for me,” Vince declared.
“Yeah, a night to remember all around. Come on let’s go,” Mercy said.
They pushed themselves up the final section of the slope and emerged on the corner of West 54th Street and 9th Avenue. They lay panting on broken tarmac for a few minutes. Mercy took out her hammer, her eyes were restless, searching the windows and streets. She listened to the sounds of the dead city.
It was cold and breezy, the weather was changing. She had missed the open skies, the wind on her face, it was good to be on the surface again. She looked back at the sinkhole. Never again, never again—
“Think I cut my hand,” Vince said interrupting her thoughts.
“Let me have a look,” Mercy exa
mined his hand. Relief coursed through her, she couldn’t see any blood. “We’ll have a proper look when we get to my place. Here, just in case—” She took the duct tape from her pack and bound Vince’s hand.
“We’re a couple of blocks from my place, think you can make it?” Mercy asked.
“Sure. You can’t get rid of me that easily. I’m like a bad penny,” Vince replied.
Mercy was tired, her body ached, they had taken a beating. She stood up and helped Vince to his feet.
“We’re going to do this slow and quiet. I want you to keep your arm on my shoulder and follow me. No talking unless absolutely necessary, if I stop you stop, are we good?” Mercy whispered.
“Got it,” Vince said.
They skirted around the sinkhole and set off down 9th Avenue.
Mercy gripped the hammer, she was breaking every rule she had lived by over the last two years.
Don’t go out at night— fail.
Don’t get involved with other people; people are trouble and just do bad shit— fail.
Don’t lose your gun— fail.
Thunder rolled across the sky, drops of rain fell onto Mercy’s skin. A gust of wind tugged at her hair bringing with it a waft of rotten flesh from one of the nearby alleys.
Keep moving, the rain will provide cover, tropes don’t like rain… we’re so close now don’t make a mistake—
Mercy’s eyes scanned the buildings and the road, she was wired. A flash of lightening burst overhead illuminating the street for a split second; a figure caught her eye on the right, she raised the hammer, every muscle tense.
A mannequin in a shop window stared back at her then vanished back into darkness.
A mannequin, it’s only a mannequin, get a grip girl—
They trudged on, the rain drops becoming heavier, then the sky opened in earnest, sheets of rain pounded the street. She stopped to get her bearings, there was the laundromat on the left, and West 52nd Street over on the right.
Keep it together Mercy girl. “Mercy girl”? That’s what Flynn called me—
They reached the corner of West 52nd and 9th Avenue, Hell’s Kitchen, Angel territory. Flynn should be there. Was he waiting? The rain sluiced from her hair down her back. They left 9th Avenue.
West 52nd Street seemed to have more cars than 9th Avenue. Mercy weaved her way around Buicks, Dodges, Chryslers and Fords. She pushed ahead seeing her block in the distance. She slowed down for the last twenty yards, there was the postal truck marking the outside of the safe house.
Its door was open. She looked through the rain, then approached the truck. The driver’s window was shattered, she held the hammer out and peered into the truck. Another roll of thunder, followed by a flash of lightening. The driver’s seat was bloodstained. She moved to the back of the truck and turned to Vince. “Just need to do something here Vince, bear with me, you can let go for now.”
Vince nodded.
Mercy braced herself and opened the truck’s rear door.
It was empty. She stepped back taking a deep breath. Something on the ground caught her eye beside the rear wheel. She picked the object up and stared at it turning it over in her hand.
Flynn’s cap. He was here— the Angels have him.
Mercy slammed her hand on the side of the truck in frustration, the buildings stared back at her. The rain fell. There was nothing she could do now.
Mercy turned to Vince. “Come on Vince, let’s get some rest.” She took his arm and led him across the street to the door of her building.
Tomorrow was another day.
~
Rites looked at the boat, he was excited, his speech pressured. “Stevie boy, we’re going to have to tell the others about this, this means we can leave Manhattan, head over to New Jersey. The Flyers can really fly then, we can break out of the quarantine. We’ll need to do it by night, the government are bound to have eyes on the Jersey side—”
Stevie looked unhappy. “No, no, Rites, this is our secret. This is for me and you and Flynn. I have to find my brother and you’re going to help me. We have to get off Manhattan, you know why, you’ve seen it Rites, it’s getting unhealthy around here, the tropes are changing. You’ve heard the others, the freaks are changing too, the skinnies are disappearing from cars, what’s that all about?” Stevie ran out of steam. “All I’m saying is we need to leave— with my brother, and this, this is our ticket outta here.”
Rites was silent, his face inscrutable.
Stevie looked at the launch, its sleek lines pleasing to the eye, the engine was tuned and running sweet, everything gleamed. He remembered the day he had spent exploring the Chelsea Piers, he’d almost given up on finding anything useful on the scuttled vessels but then he’d discovered this beauty hidden within the super yacht. The military had obviously overlooked the launch. Now she was his and finders did keep in this new world.
Stevie remembered Flynn telling him he wouldn’t last more than four minutes if he tried to swim across the Hudson River, the cold and the current were killers. Stevie had spent days and nights fixing the launch, stocking her with food and supplies. He’d even managed to scavenge some ammunition and a few guns. The others had grown used to him disappearing for days on end, they no longer asked him questions, he was a loner, a capable scavenger, so as long as he continued to contribute they were happy.
But Flynn knew Stevie was up to something, he had tried to get it out of him, but Stevie had held back. He’d wanted to show Flynn the launch when he’d finished with her, wanting to impress his brother. Flynn was family, this was his secret, their secret, their escape. But Flynn had vanished with that girl somewhere up near the tower. He needed to find him, bring him to the boat and escape before all hell kicked off in the city.
Stevie needed help, he couldn’t do it by himself, he needed Rites. Rites knew that part of the city, the alleys, the safe houses. Trouble was it was full of tropes, the cars and buses full of skinnies too, and if the virus was waking the skinnies who knew what they were capable of.
He looked at Rites— Last Rites. The man they had made fun of when he had joined the Flyers. Last Rites, the ex-priest who whispered words of god to Flyers who were bitten or mortally wounded. Last Rites, who had killed as much as any of them and had become accepted and trusted by the group. Last Rites, who owed Flynn his life, after the trope attack under Greyshot Arch.
Rites looked up at Stevie. “OK Stevie boy, you got it. I’m with you and your brother. If we can find Flynn we’ll take your boat and get the hell outta here. I got some unfinished business in Newark and it’d be good to see it through, never thought I’d get the chance,” he patted the boat’s hull, “but this baby’s my chance.”
Stevie’s heart leapt. Rites was on side.
They were going to find Flynn.
Chapter 14 Trapped
The screaming lasted an hour.
Rose thought the tropes would break the lock on the trap door, but it held. She and Arabella sat on the hatch to make sure. The elevator shaft was dark, the tropes’ violence managed to buffet the elevator causing the cables to jerk and moan. Finally the noise abated.
“What do you want to do?” Arabella whispered.
“It could be a trap,” Rose replied.
“Or they might have had enough—” Arabella suggested.
“Not sure, did you see the way the skinnies took down that bear? Must’ve woken up every trope in six blocks.” Rose said.
“Wonder where a grizzly came from. A grizzly? In Manhattan?” Arabella asked.
Rose smiled despite their situation, “Anything’s possible in the Big Apple. Remember the time they found a massive alligator in the sewer system?”
“Yeah, I saw the photos, an albino alligator… scary.” Arabella said.
“So we’ll open the hatch a bit, to have a look,” Rose said.
“OK, but just a crack,” Arabella nodded.
They positioned themselves either side of the hatch. Rose held her breath and placed her hand on the l
ock. “Ready?”
“Go on—” Arabella replied.
Rose disengaged the lock with a soft click. She waited then opened the hatch a fraction, a nauseating stench wafted through the narrow slit. Rose listened, waiting, then brought her head level with the opening to see what lay below. As she did something moved and a shape hurled itself at the hatch throwing it open, an arm reached through.
Arabella screamed and slammed the hatch down on the trope’s arm. Rose kicked at its fingers, she heard the crunch of splintering bone. The trope shrieked and fell hitting the elevator floor.
“Quick, lock it, lock it,” Arabella shouted.
They slammed the hatch and heard the lock engage with a sharp click. The elevator exploded with renewed violence as tropes returned screaming and banging its walls. Rose and Arabella sat huddled on the hatch shaking, too frightened to speak. Finally after fifteen minutes the noise abated and silence returned to the elevator.
“Well, we know they’re waiting for us,” Arabella whispered, “we’re trapped Rose, we’re trapped, we’re going to die here— Rose?”
Rose squeezed Arabella’s hand. “Hang on Bella, hang on. Remember what the big girls told us? There’s always a way out, you just have to stay calm, work it out, see it. Can you stay calm for me? We’ll work it out, we’ll find a way—”
Arabella was shivering, Rose could hear her teeth chattering, she felt Arabella’s fear. The big girls said tropes and freaks could smell fear, they homed in on fear, they must not be afraid.
“Bella, Bella, come on it’s going to be OK. Listen, calm down, breathe, slow deep breaths, in out, in out, that’s it. Focus on my voice, we’re going to be OK, repeat it after me: we’re going to be OK. It’s important you calm down, the tropes, they can sense fear, they zoom in on it, so just breathe. We’re safe here, they can’t reach us, we’re good, there’ll be a way out of this, that’s it, slowly, slowly—” Rose rubbed Arabella’s back.
The Survival Chronicles (Book 1}: Mercy Kill Page 12
