“That’s why we got these—” the man said.
Rose heard a grating noise.
A low whistle followed, the woman said, “Gas cartridges— really?”
“God has spoken to the Preacher. The tropes breathe air just like us, we got these babies and the gas masks from the army cache we found on the Lower East Side— go figure,” the male voice responded.
“Yeah, I heard a rumour the military were going to use gas— guess they never had the time eh? We could waste lot of tropes using this stuff, what does it say?” the woman asked.
“The Professor’s confirmed it as sulfur chlorine— chlorine gas to you and me,” the man replied.
“Shit, I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of that,” the woman replied.
“Just as well the storm’s passed, we couldn’t have used it in that deluge,” the man said.
“It’s God’s will,” she answered.
“It’s God’s will— death to the infected.”
“May they rest in peace,” she replied.
They wandered away. Rose pondered the information and her position. She analysed her plan and decided to stick to it— so the Preacher was going to provoke the tropes, bring them out— show them who was boss. OK, so he had a 50 Calibre heavy machine gun and chlorine gas, it still did not change things from her perspective.
A gas mask couldn’t stop a bullet.
She had the magic bullet. She had the will, she held all the cards.
Rose smiled.
~
The double glove and duct tape had worked.
Laurient’s wristwatch alarm beeped waking her from an empty dream. She switched the alarm off— 6 am. Dakota was asleep, the gloves had controlled the bleeding.
Laurient shook Dakota’s shoulder, “D wake up, it’s time. I need you to keep an eye on our back, once the shooting starts we’re gonna stir up a whole shitpile of trouble.”
Dakota blinked and rubbed her eyes with her good hand. “No problem boss, Angels are always ready eh? Any sign of activity below?”
Laurient pressed the binoculars to her eyes and looked out over the street following it to the Charging Bull and the podium. “Yeah, a man and a woman by the podium and twelve more guys around the Bowling Green— at least sixteen guys, that I can see, they got bikes and assault rifles. The two by the podium have got some crates, one of them’s open, I can’t make out what’s in it. Grenades maybe? Hang on—” Laurient adjusted the focus. “Shit—”
“What?” Dakota said.
Laurient pulled the binoculars away from her eyes.
“What is it boss?” Dakota repeated.
Laurient blinked. “They’ve got gas masks—”
~
Mercy nudged Flynn, “Time to rock—”
Flynn opened an eye and grunted.
“It’s 6 am, Tawny’s sending the Angels out— they’re going to check for tropes and skinnies, so long as they attack the Preacher’s people and not us, that’s what we want. Hopefully they’ll wipe each other out and we’ll just have to do some mopping up—”
Flynn looked around the office they had broken into. It had served its purpose sheltering them from the storm. They were so near to the Charging Bull— his stomach rumbled.
“You need to eat, can’t have you flaking out on me in the thick of it. There’s some food over there, you looked as if you needed the sleep so I put off waking you. We got another half an hour or so—”
Flynn scratched his chin, he needed a shave. He looked around, “Who’s got the rocket launchers?”
Mercy stood and held out her hand, “Rusty’s crew got one, Tawny’s got the other. They’ve split into two groups, they’ve figured out a crossfire position for the Bowling Green; a proper kill zone— Rusty’s words.”
Flynn snorted, “Yeah, nothing can possibly go wrong— I’ve heard that one before.” He grabbed Mercy’s hand and pulled himself up eying the tinned rice and peaches in the corner. “So what about us?”
“Extraction, that’s our job. Tawny wants us to stick around here near the Broadway Atrium building— we’re supposed to help Laurient and Dakota, they may need backup when they bug out of the building—”
Flynn went over to the tins of food and began eating. Mercy watched him, she’d begun to think about a future, her future, with Flynn. She hadn’t figured him out yet, there was more to come, they needed time, to be, to breathe— not just to survive. She reflected on the last two years, she had been existing not living. She wanted to spend time with Flynn and watch him grow in her heart and her in his— was that too much to ask?
Mercy reflected, there was no god, how could there be? The past two years had proven there was no god, only nature which was beautiful and cruel. Survival of the fittest was the only law, so far she had survived, but she was tired, burnt out, she needed to breathe, let life back in.
Flynn swallowed a mouthful of food, “What you thinking girl?” Peach juice ran down his chin, he wiped it away with his sleeve.
Mercy took a step towards him, “I’ve had enough of this Flynn, the killing, the dying, the endless sleeplessness, the—”
“Loneliness,” he finished for her. He put down the empty tin and walked over to her taking her in is arms.
Mercy felt conflicted, she had never allowed anyone this close before, her armour was impenetrable, but it felt dangerous, it felt wonderful.
Remember what happens? Every time someone gets close they die on you, the warning ran through her head.
Flynn walked towards her, their eyes locked, all the words of doubt fell away. He leaned in to Mercy, his breath felt hot on her cheek, the moment between them was charged with life— and something else.
Hope.
Flynn pressed his lips to hers, she responded her armour falling away. Mercy reeled in the kiss, her world in freefall, she felt open for the first time, vulnerable— it was delicious, it was alive, it was freedom.
They stayed in their embrace for what seemed an age, slowly the kiss melted and they came up for air. Mercy placed her head on Flynn’s chest holding him close.
Her words returned, “You taste of peaches.”
Mercy was full. Her brow furrowed, she had let him in, her heart now carried another. She knew what would follow with this new open door— fear.
Fear of losing him.
“It’s all good,” Flynn said. “We’re going to make it through this— we’ll get it done and find our way back to Stevie and his boat, we’ll get out of here, start afresh. You and me Mercy girl, you and me.”
Mercy nodded and released him. She looked at her watch, “We’d better get in position, there’s a recessed doorway beside Laurient’s building, we can see all the way down to the Charging Bull.”
They left the office and went down Exchange Place to Broadway. Dawn was near, the air was cold, their breath misted the air. Mercy shivered, she looked at the sky, the clouds had gone. There was no sign of the Angels, she wondered if they were in position, there had been no shots— everything was quiet.
Mercy looked up and down Broadway, it was clear. She turned to Flynn, he winked at her, she stared at him burning his face into her memory. They crossed the street and found the doorway. Metal shutters reached the ground covering the shop window but the shutters protecting the doorway were partially open. They crawled under the gap into the recess. They could make out the podium and the Charging Bull in the distance.
Twenty minutes later the roar of motorbikes came from Battery Park. Mercy tensed, this was it— no going back. First four, then eight, then twelve motorbike headlights appeared at the Bowling Green. Two bikes approached the podium and stopped. The riders dismounted and started unloading boxes. They spoke to each other for a minute then bent over the boxes.
“Wish I could hear what they’re saying,” Flynn said.
Mercy squinted at the figures, “The other riders are checking the perimeter, they’re armed, automatic rifles— scouts, the Preacher’s taking no chances.”
&
nbsp; “It’ll be proper daylight soon— not long now,” Flynn whispered.
Chapter 20 Punishment
Ash mused on the night’s events scratching his stubble. It had been a long night, the Preacher was fastidious and had just authorised release of the launchers and gas cartridges from the armoury.
Initiate Matthew briefed him, “Ash, God has given us permission to use gas to cleanse the infected from the city. The virus is Satan’s manifestation of evil on the earth, it is our job to rid the earth of evil and any that disobey God’s law. Blood from the sacrifice will lure the infected to us, we can take them with the 50 Cal and our guns. The gas will weaken and slow them down. Everyone has a gas mask and enough ammunition. God is on our side.”
Ash had done as ordered, the sacrifice perimeter was secured, he signalled the Preacher’s personal guard, they were on their way from Battery Park. He turned to his second in command, Initiate Miriam, “Matthew said a strange thing earlier.”
Miriam produced a cigarette packet from her top pocket and offered it to Ash. He shook his head, she lit a cigarette and inhaled smoke deep into her lungs.
“Oh yeah? What was that?” Miriam asked.
Ash handed her a M32 40mm grenade launcher modified to fire the chlorine gas cartridges. “Matthew said it’s our job to rid the earth of evil and any that disobey God’s law.”
Miriam considered his words. “You think he’s going to do it then?”
Ash shrugged taking up his own grenade launcher, he loaded it with six of the gas cartridges. “Just sayin’, them Angels have been a pain in the ass these last two years.”
“Maybe the Preacher will make an announcement after the sacrifice?” Miriam said.
“Matthew said the Preacher was praying all night, so yeah maybe there’s more to come,” Ash replied.
“About time if you ask me, Laurient needs to be taken down a peg or two— hey maybe the Preacher will give her a blood sacrifice, now that would be sweet,” Miriam checked the six gas rounds in her M32.
“Sweet divine justice,” Ash said.
Ash’s radio crackled, “Forward group, ETA two minutes, repeat two minutes, over.”
Ash held the radio to his mouth, “Roger that, all secure here, over.”
The radio crackled into life again, “God is good, over and out.”
~
“Gas doesn’t change a thing,” Laurient said to Dakota. She put the muzzle of the Mauser SP66 through the hole in the window. She focused on her breathing, centring herself. She would get one head shot perhaps two— the rest would be wildcards.
Dakota hung back by the barricaded door peering through the glass along the corridor, doubt ran through her mind. Did I lock the stair door? Did I?
Laurient ranged the Zeiss telescopic sight on the podium beside the Charging Bull. She moved the crosshairs to the statue seeing the horns the Preacher’s men had sharpened to wicked points, old blood stained the ground beneath the horns. She felt calm. What she was doing was right; the tropes, the skinnies, the freaks they were enemies— but this cult leader was poison, with his rules, mind control and religious manipulation.
Laurient moved the scope to the Fearless Girl statue and smiled— ironic. The victim of today’s sacrifice would inevitably be a young woman, picked by the Preacher for his twisted purpose. Laurient reflected on The Fearless Girl statue which seemed to defy the Preacher’s barbarism, it was strange he had not taken it down.
Laurient moved the scope around the Bowling Green spotting the positions of the Preacher’s security detail. Their bikes were the giveaway, dirt bikes mostly, apart from the Harley Sportster 48, her eye lingered on the Harley for a second, its rider raised a hand to his right ear and looked back towards Battery Park.
They’re coming—
She followed his gaze aiming the Mauser down Broadway to Battery Park, a few seconds later she saw the first vehicle approaching; an army Humvee with a roof mounted 50 Cal followed by four SUVs. The vehicles drove up the street to the Charging Bull then turned right stopping on the far side of Broadway, facing south.
That’s right, prepare for a quick exit, Laurient thought.
The SUV doors opened, armed men and women emerged fanning out around the podium. One of the men carried a camcorder and pointed it at the second last SUV. Laurient was unable to see through the vehicle’s darkened windows.
Once the armed escort were in place, one of the men went to the second last SUV and opened the rear door. Laurient took a deep breath her finger hovered over the trigger. A tall, thin, older woman stepped out, blonde hair tied back, she stood straight and turned to the SUV waiting. She wore a white skirt and white blouse, even her shoes were white.
OK, OK, OK— so who are you bitch? Laurient thought.
The woman brushed her skirt and beckoned at the SUV, a smaller figure emerged from the back seat. Laurient focused on the figure; a young girl dressed in a nun’s black robe and veil, her face was hidden by black goggles and a mask covering her nose and mouth. She was shaking and had difficulty climbing out of the SUV.
Laurient stared, there was something familiar about the young girl. The older woman helped her out of the SUV and led her by the hand to the Charging Bull, the man with the camcorder recording their every movement. The girl was unsteady and took small steps. A heavily built man placed a set of steps at the head of the statue, he took a step back.
Something niggled Laurient, like a scratch she could not reach.
The SUV’s passenger door opened and a young man stepped out, he wore a dark suit and sported a beard and a ponytail. He cast his eyes over the scene and nodded at the older woman. He went to the back of the SUV and opened the far side rear door.
The Preacher stepped out.
It had been eighteen months since Laurient had seen him, he had aged but looked fit, he still had the familiar shock of white hair, the same ramrod posture and intense eyes. He moved towards the podium in his designer white suit accompanied by three body guards and the younger man.
Laurient did not have a clear shot.
Wait for it, wait for it, wait for it— Laurient’s inner voice demanded.
The Preacher climbed onto the podium surrounded by his men. He sank to his knees raising his face to the sky. Dawn light crested the eastern buildings casting shadows over the Bowling Green.
Laurient cursed as the podium fell part in shadow, the Preacher was still kneeling. She didn’t have the shot. Her inner voice whispered again— the ghost of a young girl’s voice just out of reach.
The Preacher stood up remaining obscured by his bodyguards. He raised his hands to the sky and shouted something. Movement caught Laurient’s eye, she flicked the Zeiss scope to the Charging Bull. The heavily built man carried the young girl up the steps to the bull’s head. He lifted her, face up, for a moment nothing happened, then without warning he threw her body onto one of the bull’s horns impaling her.
The young girl screamed— a terrible scream, a scream that reached Laurient’s ears. A scream that tore the fog from Laurient’s memory.
Maggie, my Maggie— Laurient’s mind reeled in shock.
The man began twisting Maggie’s body on the bull’s horn. Blood spilled from her wound onto the ground. Laurient was frozen in horror, she stared enthralled as if under a spell. The man then wrenched Maggie off the bull’s horn repositioning her over the second horn. Maggie’s screams reached a new level of intensity.
Something snapped in Laurient. As the man threw Maggie onto the second horn Laurient’s finger squeezed the trigger. The Mauser’s 7.62mm high velocity round tore through the air into Maggie’s heart killing her instantly. Her screams stopped, her body slumped, her blood dripped to the ground. Laurient’s head sank. Forgive me little one, forgive this mercy kill— you will always live in my heart little sister.
The Mauser’s retort echoed across the Canyon of Heroes.
For a second nothing happened.
Then everyone in the street below seemed to move at once. The Preac
her’s bodyguards bundled him behind the podium. The 50 Cal opened up on Laurient’s building its large calibre rounds smashing into glass, steel and concrete.
Laurient ignored the 50 Cal, they were firing blindly, her rifle’s magazine still held two rounds, rounds with the Preacher’s name on them. She sighted the Mauser on the podium, movement caught her eye, she took the shot, a man’s body sprawled from behind the podium his head a mashed pulp. She emptied another round into the platform, a leg fell into view from the side of the podium, another hit, but the Preacher’s white suit remained elusive.
The Humvee’s gunner saw Laurient’s second muzzle flash and brought the 50 Cal to bear on her position letting off a long burst. Laurient’s world exploded in intense light as the rounds ripped through her skull and into the ceiling above.
“Got the fucker—” the gunner shouted pumping his fist in the air.
Ash watched the blood dripping from Maggie’s body, he knew what was about to happen. He helped Lady Magdalene to her feet, “Get to the Preacher my lady, get back to Battery Park now.” He pushed her towards the podium and the SUVs.
The nearest perimeter guard squinted north up Broadway, he brought his binoculars to his eyes. His body tensed, “Tropes, scores of them—” he shouted.
Ash readied the grenade launcher and signalled to Miriam, they had worked out the perfect kill zone for the chlorine gas. He looked around and shouted at his men, “Tropes inbound, put your masks on, fire at will, repeat fire at will.” Ash turned his back on the podium, it was up to the bodyguards to bring the Preacher to safety.
~
The Preacher reached out and touched Matthew’s body. “I’m sorry my son—this was God’s will, it is all God’s will, you’ll be in Paradise now as I speak. Rest in peace.”
“Come on father, we’ve got to go, the tropes have smelt blood, they’re coming, let me help you up—” the bodyguard’s words were cut short as a 9mm round tore through his throat.
The Survival Chronicles (Book 1}: Mercy Kill Page 20
