They passed the damaged section of road and Flynn increased their speed from a crawl to ten miles an hour. After a few minutes the road veered closer to the Hudson River and an expanse of blue opened out on their left. Something akin to exhilaration washed over Flynn. They had made it out of Downtown Manhattan in one piece and they had a plan— they were going to make it.
Don’t get ahead of yourself. Believe it when you taste it, Flynn’s internal voice warned.
Flynn concentrated on riding the motorbike, the city passed by on their right. He reflected on the day’s events: somewhere in there would be survivors, the Flyers, remnants of the Angels, maybe some of the Preacher’s people who had escaped the trope onslaught. It seemed as if the city was devouring itself, the Preacher’s sacrifice had ignited a feeding frenzy of trope blood lust.
The Chelsea Piers came into view. Flynn stopped the bike in the middle of the road. “We’re here guys,” he said nodding towards the buildings in the distance. “Stevie said his boat was at Pier 59, the one with the golf driving range. What do you think? Should we walk or ride up to it?”
“Walking is a good idea, but it’d be useful to have the bike in case we need to bug out fast,” Mercy replied.
“OK, I’ll kill the engine and push it in, you guys be ready for any shit,” Flynn replied.
They walked the last three hundred yards in silence, listening and watching. The Hudson River Greenway passed on their left and West 17th Street on their right. They arrived at Pier 59, Flynn parked the bike.
“It looks deserted,” Dakota said.
Mercy looked around uneasily. “So what next Flynn? How are we going to find Stevie?”
“He’ll be expecting us, we’re on time, and he’s got Rites with him,” Flynn paused, “so I guess we just go in.”
The front of the pier was locked up, its protective shutters down. A sign proclaiming Golf Club hung above the only open entranceway.
“This’s got to be it,” Flynn peered into the dark opening.
“Lead on, we’re right behind you,” Mercy looked at Dakota, she was unarmed. “Here, take this,” Mercy handed Dakota one of the Peacemakers.
Flynn nodded and followed the road inside the building.
The darkness ahead was palpable.
Mercy went to the left wall and signalled Dakota to move to Flynn’s right, she held the Peacemaker tight. Wind moaned through the building, anticipation filled the air.
We’re being watched, Mercy thought. Mercy looked at Dakota catching her eye, Dakota was frowning, she wasn’t happy either.
OK, Stevie anytime now would be good— Mercy thought. She was about to signal Flynn when a voice came from behind.
“Drop your weapons, do it slow. If you don’t I’ll kill you all,” the voice was cold and carried authority.
Mercy knew the threat was real. “OK guys, do as he says,” she said.
Flynn’s shoulders slumped, he raised his hands. This wasn’t Rites. They were so close— what the hell had happened?
“Good, now kick the guns back towards me,” the voice ordered.
Mercy and Dakota did as they were told.
“OK, so now everyone’s going to kneel down hands on heads, and don’t get any ideas,” the voice said.
They heard a match being struck. They got on their knees and waited, the smell of cigarette smoke came to them.
Mercy’s eyes had adjusted to the gloom, she looked for an advantage, a weapon, she saw nothing useful.
Footsteps.
“Who are you? What do you want?” Flynn asked.
“Oh, you wouldn’t know me, but I saw you, like rats running from a sinking ship. Did you think we were just at the Bowling Green?” The voice paused followed by a harsh cough, “No— we got drones see? We see everything, we saw you escape with your assassin there.”
Silence.
“OK, so—” Mercy started.
“Shut up bitch, I wasn’t talking to you,” the voice said.
Ash was savouring the moment. He would kill them all but first he wanted to know why they had come to the Chelsea Piers. What was their plan? The burns on his face hurt like hell— where had those bitches got rocket launchers from? No matter he was here, the rest were dead. The drone updates from Battery Park had gone silent an hour after he escaped from the Bowling Green.
Ash walked over to Dakota and placed the end of his Steyr AUG rifle at the base of her skull. “Tell me why you’re here or I kill the assassin.”
Flynn turned his head to look at Ash. “We’re here to find a boat, we heard there were boats here— I mean there’s supposed to be one that’s usable.”
“This place was trashed after the Fall— the army sunk all the boats,” Ash retorted.
“We think there’s one left, overlooked—” Flynn replied.
“That’s it? That’s all you got?” Ash raised his voice. His face was on fire, the nerve endings reeling under the onslaught of pain. He was angry, he wanted to waste these kids and crawl away, find some booze and pills and blot out the pain. But if there was a chance of escape, of survival no matter how small he wanted it. Manhattan was a spent force, its resources gone. Something fucked up was happening to the tropes and skinnies— the city was too dangerous now. No, he needed to leave and set up somewhere else, New Jersey or Newark. Things would be better over there.
Ash closed his eyes and took a deep breath riding the wave of pain. “OK kids, here’s what we’re going to do. You’re gonna bring me to this boat of yours, then we’ll take it from there. What do you say?”
Flynn nodded, “Sure mister. It’s all good.”
“Any sudden moves and you get wasted,” Ash replied. He kicked Dakota hard in the side, she sprawled on the ground gasping, “Except you, bitch, you get wasted now for what you did.” Ash pushed Dakota’s head with the Steyr AUG.
A loud blast rang out of the darkness. A hole appeared in Ash’s chest, he crumpled to the ground, a surprised look on his face. His finger squeezed the trigger as he fell releasing a hail of bullets into the floor.
Rites stepped out from a side recess, “Sick bastard. Flynn, you OK?”
“Yeah Rites, thanks man. I was wondering when you’d show up.” Flynn went over to Ash’s body and took the Steyr rifle.
“Saw this guy from the roof, he came in from West 18th Street. Must’ve got intel from his drone people back in Battery Park.” Rites went over to Dakota and helped her up, “You OK girl? You look like shit.”
Dakota was shaking, her breath coming in rasps.
Mercy ran over to Dakota, “Are you hit Dakota?” Mercy checked her over and was relieved to find no wounds.
“Maybe busted a rib?” Dakota said.
“OK, so we need to leave, there may be others on the way, all this talk of drones has got to me—” Mercy said. She retrieved Dakota’s Peacemaker from the ground.
“I think it was just him, the way he was talking, but yeah let’s go,” Flynn looked at Rites.
“Follow me,” Rites said helping Dakota to her feet, “we’re good to go.” Rites produced a flashlight and led the way towards a set of doors off to one side. He raised his hand before they reached the doors.
“Hold on guys— just a little insurance policy here,” Rites bent down and shone the torch on a trip wire. He traced it to the right, reaching a wall mounted fire extinguisher, he knelt down and fiddled with the wire. “Gotcha—” Rites stood up holding a Claymore mine.
“Jesus, Rites, where’d you get that?” Flynn asked.
Rites smiled putting the disarmed mine into his pack. “Stevie told me about your rocket launchers— well the US Army left a lot of shit lying around. I found a stash when I was looking for you Flynn. I got more back at the boat, so let’s go.”
Rites pushed the doors open, a long corridor stretched ahead, they could see out the windows into the marina on the left, the military had done a good job scuttling every boat. Large sections of decking had been pried up and removed, scorch marks and old camp fires litt
ered the corridor.
“Looks as if some group tried to hold out here, must’ve been a while ago,” Mercy said as they walked along the corridor.
Graffiti adorned the walls, the script crisp and clear, Mercy’s eyes fell on the words as they passed:
“When the Lamb opened the fourth seal, I heard the voice of the fourth living creature say, “Come and see!” I looked and there before me was a pale horse! Its rider was named Death, and Hades was following close behind him. They were given power over a fourth of the earth to kill by sword, famine, and plague, and by the wild beasts of the earth. (Revelation 6:7-8)”
Dakota snorted, “Yeah damn right, just about sums up the last two years.”
They continued down the corridor passing the scuttled boats. A partially sunk super yacht took up the last mooring, water lapping on its mid-decks, a good portion of it remained above water.
“Rites, where are we going? There’s nothing left after that yacht—” Mercy asked.
Rites strode forwards towards the end of the corridor to a door which opened onto a covered walkway. “Patience— you’ll see.”
Mercy’s hands strayed to her Peacemakers, she was tired and low on trust.
They went through the door and walked along the walkway to the super yacht. It was in a sorry state; fire damage and smashed windows. Graffiti was scrawled along its length: “Death to the rich”.
“Nice touch,” commented Flynn.
Dakota pointed at the inward facing bow, “Look you can see her name.”
“Valhalla— very apt,” Mercy said.
Rites led the way to the yacht and around to its near side. A ladder stretched from the edge of the walkway to the yacht’s upper deck.
“Follow me, Stevie’s down below fine tuning the engine, you’ll see in a minute,” Rites crawled over the ladder onto the deck.
Flynn and Dakota followed Rites. Mercy looked around expecting to be attacked at any time, the building above remained quiet. Her sense of unease grew, something was wrong. She glanced at the sky, a drone hovered directly above. Shit— they’re coming, she thought.
“Drone, drone above us, they know where we are— they’re coming. We gotta go now,” Mercy shouted.
The others looked up. Flynn cursed and brought Ash’s Steyr AUG to bear on the drone.
“Save your ammo Flynn, they already know where we are,” Rites shouted. “Follow me, quick.”
Mercy scrambled across the ladder as the others disappeared below deck after Rites. The Valhalla’s interior was a mess, it had been looted and trashed. Mercy followed the others, Rites’s torch lit the way. They descended to a flooded level, the water reaching their ankles. They scrambled over smashed furniture and fittings.
Go, go, go— this is taking too long, Mercy’s inner voice warned.
They moved to the yacht’s port side, Rites followed a corridor bringing them to the stern section. A door appeared on their right, he banged on it with the butt of his shotgun.
“Open up Stevie, it’s Rites. I got Flynn—”
Seconds later they heard a latch and the door swung open. Stevie stood alone, face and hands covered in oil, his eyes lit up when he saw Flynn. Vince stood at the back of the room his hand on a winch.
Rites moved aside, Flynn stepped through the door embracing Stevie. “Told you we’d be back didn’t I?”
Stevie’s eyes welled up, he fought back tears. “It’s all good, Flynn the launch is working— me and Vince got the sea door open and lowered her using the winch.”
Flynn’s face was blank, he held Stevie at arm’s length. “Where?” he said.
Stevie pulled Flynn across the empty room to an opening in the Valhalla’s hull. They peered over the side to see the yacht’s launch floating in the water fifteen feet below. A rope ladder reached down to the launch.
“A ship’s tender— of course. Clever dude,” Flynn said, his face beaming. “Do you know how to drive it?”
Stevie frowned, “No, but Rites does, don’t you Rites?”
“Yeah, well, it’s been a while but we’ll give it a go,” Rites said.
Mercy stepped forwards, “OK then let’s do it— like now people.”
Stevie went first followed by Flynn with Vince on his back, then Dakota. Dakota gasped in pain holding her ribs as she descended to the launch, she refused help and made it down in one piece.
“You go next Rites, you’re the driver,” Mercy slapped Rites on the back.
Rites nodded and scrambled over the edge.
The muffled sound of gunfire broke the silence.
Shit, shit, shit— Mercy thought, raising her eyes to the sky.
There was no sign of the drone.
Mercy lowered herself over the edge and climbed down after Rites. Ten seconds later she was in the launch and had released its mooring ropes. Rites sat at the helm, they watched him, waiting, the atmosphere tense. More gunshots rang out nearer than before.
Rites pressed the ignition switch. Nothing happened. He cursed and tried a second time. Nothing.
“It was working just before you arrived, I swear,” Stevie blurted out.
“It’s OK Stevie we believe you, it’ll be fine. We’ll give it a minute, maybe the engine’s flooded, just give it a minute.”
Mercy pointed her Peacemakers at the pier, “Trouble’s coming, I suggest we bring all weapons to bear on the pier — shoot anything that moves.”
Flynn checked the Steyr’s magazine, twelve rounds left. “Ready,” he nodded at Mercy.
“Here goes nothing,” Rites muttered pressing the ignition switch again.
The launch’s engine roared to life, Rites let out a shout of relief. “Rock n’ roll—we’re on our way Stevie boy, we’re on our way.” He reversed the launch alongside the super yacht and began pulling away.
A blast of automatic weapons fire shattered the corridor windows in the pier building. Without warning a motorbike burst through the doors at the end of the building. Mercy and Flynn brought their guns to bear on the bike and its two passengers. It spun in a wide circle avoiding a burst of gunfire from further down the corridor.
Rites opened the throttle and steered the launch away from the marina.
“Wait, don’t shoot,” Mercy grabbed Flynn’s shoulder. “It’s Tawny— she’s trying to escape those bastards.”
Tawny righted the motorbike revving the engine and shot through the driving range gates at the end of the pier. She glanced at the launch on her left and signalled, pointing ahead.
“What’s she doing?” Dakota said.
Rites pushed the throttle forwards and the launch forged ahead to open water.
“She’s not stopping, she’s going to jump off the end of the pier,” Mercy said. “Rites can you reach her?”
Two new motorbikes burst from the corridor pursuing Tawny. Flynn opened fire on the lead bike, his rounds hit its two riders and punctured the fuel tank. The bike crashed into a concrete pillar and erupted in flames. The second bike narrowly missed the pillar and shot through the flames emerging unscathed. The rider kept after Tawny but the passenger turned his weapon on the launch firing a burst of high velocity rounds hitting the water feet from the launch.
“Nail him, nail the bastard,” Mercy shouted.
Flynn squeezed his trigger, then threw the gun down in disgust, “Magazine’s empty.” He reached for Rite’s shotgun, “This won’t be much use, bike’s out of range for me.”
Tawny accelerated towards a gap in the netting at the end of the driving range. Rites swung the launch around in time for them to see Tawny’s bike jump from the end of the pier. Tawny and her passenger were thrown into the Hudson.
Mercy aimed her Peacemakers, “Hold her steady Rites.”
The launch was about seventy yards from the pier. The second bike skidded sideways to halt at the gap in the netting.
“Broadside on— thanks for that,” Mercy said squeezing her triggers blasting away at the bike’s silhouette. The gunman on the bike screamed and fell holding
his arm. The rider revved his engine and pulled away from the edge of the pier.
“Right let’s get Tawny,” Mercy shouted.
Tawny held her hand up in the water, Rites brought the launch alongside her.
“Find her, find Rose. She didn’t come up,” Tawny yelled.
Flynn took off his jacket and jumped overboard. The shock of the cold water almost stopped him in his tracks. He recovered pushing himself deeper into the unforgiving Hudson. He looked around frantically, a glint caught his eye, he swam towards it.
It was the girl’s belt buckle glinting in the sunlight, Flynn reached her grabbing her shoulders then swam towards the surface. Bullets pierced the water around him as he came up, he heard return fire from the launch.
Rites reached down and took the girl from Flynn. Mercy threw Flynn a rope and he hauled himself out of the freezing water his teeth chattering. Mercy threw a blanket around him and rubbed his back.
“Bastard came back for more,” Mercy said. “Wasn’t his lucky day.”
Flynn looked across to the girl stretched out on the floor of the launch, recognition dawned on him. This was the Rose he had met at his cell back at the Manhattan Cruise Terminal, the same Rose who had wanted to kill him. Tawny was working on her chest. “Come on Rosie girl, you can make it, you can make it.” Tawny gave Rose’s chest a series of compressions followed by two breaths. Rose spluttered and coughed, river water spewing from her mouth. Her eyelids fluttered open.
Tawny rolled Rose onto her side and hugged her. “That’s my girl— Tawny’s here, no one’s going to hurt you now, no one.”
Rites looked out across the Hudson and gunned the engine.
Chapter 22 Lighthouse
Rites steered the launch out into the Hudson. “The tidal current’s dragging us upriver, just our luck. I’ll aim downriver to fight it.”
Mercy was exhausted, she sat on the deck looking at the others: Flynn, Stevie, Vince, Tawny, Rose and Rites. With her, that made seven— how had this happened? Questions bubbled up in her mind.
“Tawny, how did you find us?” Mercy asked.
The Survival Chronicles (Book 1}: Mercy Kill Page 22
