The Survival Chronicles (Book 1}: Mercy Kill

by Nally, Fergal F.

  Tawny met Mercy’s gaze, “Rose here killed the Preacher, saw it with my own eyes. She got me out of a tight situation, and she’s an Angel, one of my sisters, she went AWOL on my watch. So I had to get her out of there. We did pretty good, dodged around Lower Manhattan— man, there was a lot of tropes and skinnies, they was everywhere.” Tawny stopped, closing her eyes.

  Mercy thought Tawny had finished.

  After a pause Tawny continued her eyes still closed, “The plan was for the Angels to regroup at the Cruise Terminal and figure things out from there. I got me and Rose on the bike but the Preacher’s men were waiting for us, an ambush. Saw one of their drones at one point— bastards were onto us once Laurient took the shot. Anyhow I had my own personal stash at the Chelsea Piers, figured I’d lose the Preacher’s men in Hell’s Kitchen, then head down West Side Highway to the piers. Long story short; didn’t lose them, saw an abandoned bike at the entrance to the piers, figured maybe another Angel, next thing bullets, you guys and the stunt bike action at the end of the pier.”

  Mercy digested the information. “Yeah, that was some jump Tawny—”

  Tawny hugged Rose to her chest. Rose was pale and shivering.

  “We need to get to Jersey City and sort ourselves out, we need a fire, shelter and food,” Flynn said, looking across the Hudson. He frowned, “What’s wrong Rites? We’re not making much progress.”

  “Like I said the tidal current is pulling us upriver and— hang on,” Rites leaned forwards and tapped a gauge on the instrument panel. “Shit— we’re losing fuel fast, we must’ve taken a hit from the pier. Check the side of the boat, I’ll keep aiming for the far shore.”

  Flynn went to the starboard side of the launch, three bullet holes pockmarked the hull over the engine. “Yeah— she took three rounds.”

  “Could be the fuel pump, or fuel lines— nothing we can do. We’re almost on empty, we’re at the mercy of the current,” Rites replied.

  Two minutes later the engine coughed, stuttered and cut out.

  The launch rocked in the Hudson’s swells. They looked to their left and saw Union City’s shoreline receding. On their right they passed the Upper West Side and Upper Manhattan. The remains of the George Washington Bridge loomed ahead.

  “Airforce sure did a job on the bridge,” Tawny said.

  “Desperate measures, quarantine—” Flynn responded.

  “Hey, we’re being pulled into the shore,” Mercy said. “Look, the land under the bridge is coming closer.”

  “Yeah, see the red lighthouse below the bridge, we’re headed towards it,” Tawny said.

  “Tiller’s useless without power,” Rites said. “The current will dump us where it wants.”

  The rocky promontory grew nearer and ten minutes later the launch struck the shoreline close to the lighthouse. Submerged rocks breeched the boat’s hull and freezing river water gushed in.

  “OK, everybody off now,” Rites ordered, “not long until this baby sinks.”

  Mercy jumped to the rocks holding one of the mooring ropes and held the launch steady while the others clambered off. Flynn helped Vince, Dakota and Stevie onto the rocks, then jumped back on board and handed weapons and packs to Tawny and Rites. They lay exhausted on the shoreline and watched as the rocks finished off the launch’s hull. The little boat sunk fast.

  Mercy let go of the mooring rope. “Well I guess that’s that,” she said, her voice grim.

  “There wasn’t enough time to get any food off,” Stevie groaned.

  “What are we going to do now?” Rites asked. “I don’t want to go back to the city—”

  Silence.

  Mercy stood up, “It’ll be dark in a few hours, let’s find shelter, this is Fort Washington Park right? There’ll be somewhere to hole up for the night— we can consider our options. Maybe we’ll find another boat?”

  Rites nodded, “Yeah, sounds good, let’s get moving, she looks rough,” he nodded at Rose.

  “OK, let’s find a path and head north,” Mercy said.

  “Lock and load everyone,” Tawny added.

  Mercy reloaded her Peacemakers, Rites reloaded his shotgun, Tawny had lost her automatic rifle but still had her two Glock 22 pistols and spare magazines.

  “We can’t afford to run into any tropes, we’ve not got the firepower to defend ourselves,” Tawny said.

  “OK, so we’re in stealth mode,” Flynn added.

  “If we keep to the shoreline we’re unlikely to meet tropes,” Mercy said.

  They set out in a column, Mercy led them, staying close to the river. Tropes would not forage near the Hudson, their food supply was more plentiful in built up areas. Mercy felt comfortable in the park, surrounded by trees and grassland. For so long she had survived in the city and its buildings, mausoleums to the dead.

  Mercy kept her eyes open, all they needed was a defensible shelter for the night. She estimated three hours of daylight remained. Dakota and Rose needed to rest, she forged ahead feeling the group’s fate heavy on her shoulders.

  Time passed, light faded, the others followed her without complaint. Mercy was wracked with doubt— she was used to looking after herself, what right did she have to push others beyond their limits? Her eyes strayed west to the New Jersey Palisades, the setting sun mocked her, she was a failure, unable to find shelter for the group.

  Mercy pushed on through the darkening hours. The sun disappeared in the west plunging them into twilight. Still she pressed on, waiting for a break. Then she stopped. A shape caught her attention on the shore ahead. She waved to Flynn who joined her.

  “What do you think?” Mercy asked, her voice tense.

  “Looks good to me,” Flynn answered.

  “OK, but just you and me, we’ll check it out first. Tell the others—” Mercy delivered her words on autopilot, she was too tired to be subtle.

  Flynn vanished for a few minutes then reappeared by her shoulder. “OK girl, the troops are in agreement, let’s do it.”

  Fatigue clawed at Mercy’s every fibre, her body screamed at her to stop and rest. She willed her body silently: No, no keep moving, keep going. Those that stop die— you of all people know this— move your ass…

  Mercy nodded, “OK big man, follow me.”

  Flynn smiled and saluted Mercy in mock military fashion.

  Mercy stood up, cocked her Peacemakers and strode towards the building on the shoreline. Another twenty yards brought them to an overgrown sign. Mercy pulled the weeds away: Inwood Canoe Club.

  Just what we need, Mercy thought. Please, no tropes—

  They crouched and moved towards the club house. The place looked deserted in the twilight, the windows were boarded, a lock hung from the outer security door frame. They went around the back of the building to find it similarly secure.

  “Locked up tight,” Mercy whispered.

  “Yeah, we could bust in but we’d make too much noise—” Flynn responded.

  Mercy looked at one of the outhouses. “Here, give me a boost.”

  Flynn rested his back against the wall and put his hands together. Mercy placed her foot in his hands and stepped up grabbing the edge of the flat roof. She hauled herself up, it was too dark to see properly but she was able to cross over to the clubhouse roof.

  A row of skylights greeted her, she checked each in turn, all were locked. She chose one with a rusty lock and kicked it hard. The lock fitting snapped off on the third attempt. She went over to the edge of the roof and spoke to Flynn. “I’ve found a way in, I’m going to have a look, keep an ear out. Go around to the front door.”

  Flynn nodded, “Be careful.”

  Mercy went back to the skylight and pulled it open, its hinges protesting at the intrusion. She took the torch from her webbing and shone it into the space below. Nothing moved, she saw tables, chairs and a counter strewn with life jackets. She lowered herself from the skylight and dropped to the floor. She searched the rooms for tropes, the place was clean. It felt like a time capsule, undisturbed since the d
ay it had been locked up. She went over to the front door and found a key box on the wall.

  “OK, so we need a break— give us a break,” Mercy said aloud. She opened the box and found an array of labelled keys. She took the front door set and tried the inner lock, it opened after the second try. She pushed the door, Flynn stood on the other side of the security frame smiling.

  “You’d have made a great burglar,” he said his eyes glinting.

  “Here try the other keys on this fob, there has to be one for the security door,” Mercy handed him the keys.

  Two minutes later the outer door was unlocked and they stood together. Flynn leaned in taking Mercy by the arms. “Good job Ms. Dawes— another win.”

  Relief washed over Mercy and something else. She stared at Flynn in the reflected torchlight, his chin, his cheeks, his eyes. He reached out for her, she melted into his arms her head on his chest, he squeezed her tight, she could hear his heart, it was reassuring, a good sound, of life and strength.

  “Come on let’s get the others—” Mercy said tapping Flynn on the back.

  “If you say so,” Flynn whispered, his voice husky.

  They spent the night in the clubhouse, using wetsuits as mattresses and life jackets as pillows. At the back of the room they discovered an old vending machine which provided out of date soda, chocolate and peanuts. After eating they looked at each other in silence.

  Tawny stirred, “We all need sleep, but we need to set up watch, I’ll take the first two hours, Flynn you’re on after that, then Mercy and Rites. Everyone happy?”

  They were asleep in minutes. Tawny checked the locks on the front door and stared up at the skylights. She sat with her back to the door keeping her eyes on the room and the skylights. She thought about the day’s events, how many of the Angels had survived? The Preacher’s gas attack had taken them by surprise, she had used all of the incendiary rockets, one had been a dud but the others had been effective.

  The tropes and skinnies had attacked them from behind, from everywhere, but the gas had weakened them. She had been lucky, she’d headed south of the podium searching for the Preacher only to see Rose do the job— brave little Rose, who would’ve thought?

  Rose had guts— she had killed the Preacher in a cold rage. Tawny furrowed her brow looking at Rose as she slept— Rose was damaged goods, capable of extreme violence. She would be an effective tool to harness but she had an unpredictable streak, she needed watching, tutoring— everyone had gifts, the key was to unlock the potential.

  There was no doubt the Angels were finished, a spent force, the Preacher was dead. Tropes and skinnies now ruled the city. It was time for a fresh start. She needed to figure this group out; Dawes was a loner, but people responded to her, a leader from within. A group needed a strong leader if it was to survive. Tawny mulled over the options for the next two hours but no conclusions came. She woke Flynn then lay down in the corner, sleep took her in minutes. Night gave way to morning, dawn light crept in through the skylights.

  Mercy went over to Dakota, “How you doing Dakota?”

  Dakota pulled up her shirt showing Mercy the bruising along her right side, “It’s just bruised, don’t think anything’s broken. Breathing’s a lot better thanks, but some painkillers wouldn’t go amiss.”

  “What about your hand?” Mercy indicated Dakota’s right hand.

  Dakota shrugged, “Just a cut, cleaned it last night.” She showed her hand to Mercy.

  “Looks OK but keep your eye on it, for infection—” Mercy said examining Dakota’s hand.

  Mercy moved over to Tawny and Rose. “Rose how are you feeling?”

  Rose nodded, Tawny answered for her, “She’s a lot better, the rest has helped— she’ll be fine.”

  Rites approached, “Found these in the back,” he handed Mercy a map and a battered first aid kit.

  Mercy gave the kit to Dakota, “May be some aspirin in there?”

  They gathered around the map; a nautical chart of the Hudson and East Rivers.

  “So what’s our plan for today?” Rites asked.

  “Find another boat and try again,” Mercy responded.

  “Well look, there’s a harbour just north of here—” Flynn pointed to the map.

  “Dyckman Marina,” Mercy read out. “It’s worth a try.” Tawny gave her a look. “What?” Mercy asked.

  “You’re getting close to the north wall there,” Tawny said. “Best not wake the sleeping giant and all that—”

  “Uncle Sam’s dead, tropes defeated the army during the Fall,” Flynn said.

  “But not before they put the wall up in Inwood Park. The one surviving crossing is up there; the Henry Hudson Bridge,” Tawny tapped the map. “The government put Manhattan under quarantine, remember the news on TV before everything went to shit?”

  “Yeah, I remember,” Flynn said.

  “All I’m saying is we should keep away from the wall, they had all sorts of tech up there to protect it. We don’t want to run into any A.I., drones or bots—” Tawny added.

  “Come on that was propaganda, put out to frighten people— you don’t believe that crap do you?” Rites said.

  Tawny pulled a face, “I spoke to someone who’d been up to the wall just after the military completed it— they were using live rounds at the time; shooting people and tropes.”

  “OK, OK,” Mercy said raising her hand, “we’re getting ahead of ourselves. We’re just going to look for another boat, right? We’ll steer clear of the wall, understood?”

  Tawny nodded backing away from the map. “Yeah— let’s do it. We can always use this place as a base, we can come back tonight.” The others nodded their agreement and started collecting their kit for the day’s exploration.

  Mercy bit her tongue, holding back— For Christ’s sake Tawny, never stay in the same place two nights in a row, you’re not protected by the Angels any more. Don’t you know anything?

  Mercy looked over at Vince who sat in the corner, quiet as usual. She hadn’t had a chance to speak to him since their time in her safe house. Vince was a loner too, he’d understand how she felt. She longed to get to know him better, he was full of knowledge, an untapped resource but he was lost in this world of vision. He thrived on helping out, she looked around for something he could do.

  Mercy caught Tawny’s eye and nodded towards Vince, Tawny’s shoulders slumped. “Yeah, we’ll come back here tonight,” Mercy heard herself say. “Hey Vince, Dakota, Rose, Stevie can you guys stay here and keep this place secure?”

  Dakota nodded, “Yeah, good plan, I’d only hold you guys up. I’ve used all the aspirin from the first aid kit, it’s helping. It’d be great if you could find some more.”

  Mercy nodded, “We’ll keep an eye out.” Mercy railed at splitting the group, but Dakota was right: Flynn, Tawny, Rites and herself would cover more ground without having to watch out for Vince, Rose and Dakota. Stevie looked unhappy, Flynn took him aside and spoke to him. She saw Stevie nodding and knew Flynn had persuaded him to stay behind. It made sense— it was risky, but a risk they had to take.

  Vince nodded waving in Tawny’s direction, “No problem, good luck out there.”

  Rose had gone back to sleep curled up in a corner. They needed more food and water. Mercy sighed, not much to ask for then; a boat, painkillers, food and water. She went outside and waited for the others, she looked around the yard in front of the clubhouse. A storage area with a large number of canoes lay on one side, she went over to explore.

  “What you got there?” Rites stepped through the door and followed her.

  Mercy looked at the canoes, the army had got there first, they were riddled with bullet holes. “Nothing, they’re useless, holes everywhere,” she turned away from the canoes. This was going to be hard, Stevie had been lucky to find the launch hidden within the super yacht. The army had otherwise done a thorough job— but they had to keep trying.

  The others emerged from the clubhouse.

  “OK good to go. Me and Flynn wi
ll take point. Tawny, Rites you good to watch our backs?” Mercy asked.

  Tawny looked at Rites, “Sure, whatever.”

  They set off north keeping to the shoreline. The going was rough, weeds and undergrowth had taken over the parkland. Mercy pushed the pace and twenty minutes later they reached a group of low buildings beside the river. A jetty was visible behind the buildings.

  Mercy raised her hand and crouched in the long grass to watch the buildings. Twenty minutes later she looked at the others and nodded. They descended towards the buildings and crossed the empty car park. The place seemed deserted, Flynn pulled ivy from a sign on the building’s wall. “A restaurant,” he whispered to Mercy.

  Mercy pointed at Tawny and Rites, “Let’s split up, we’ll cover more ground. Me and Flynn will take this building, you two take the jetty and the outbuildings. Meet back here in ten minutes.”

  Tawny and Rites headed off around the side. Mercy followed the building’s glass frontage facing the river. She scraped dirt from one of the windows and pressed her hand up against the glass peering in. Tables and chairs were laid in rows in front of a bar, it was too dark to see much else.

  “Look for a way in,” Mercy said to Flynn.

  Flynn moved along the decking trying the windows and shook his head when he reached the end. Mercy signalled him to check further on, she turned to explore her side. Peacemakers raised she reached the end of the wall, out of habit she stopped and peered around the corner.

  She froze.

  A dog stood in the carpark, its nose to the ground. She levelled the Peacemakers at the animal her eyes flicking to the treeline beyond. The dog held its position raising its muzzle, sniffing.

  Mercy waited, watching, her muscles tense. She had to let the others know, but she couldn’t afford to take her eyes off the dog. Its ears pricked up, it looked back towards the forest, Mercy crouched, scrambling to the edge of the decking and dropped to the shore below. The deck lay on stilts, she was able to hide in the space beneath. She wrinkled her nose at the stink of seaweed and oil.

  She heard voices, and strained to see through the slats of wood along the side of the deck. A group of armed men appeared from the forest on horseback, each carried an automatic weapon and a sword, a few had bows. The first rider was different, clearly the leader, he emanated strength. He wore a uniform of sorts, Mercy squinted trying to make out the detail. She frowned, he wore a grey civil war uniform, Confederate with yellow brocade at the neck and wrists. He was clean shaven, a long scar on his left cheek, he wore a Confederate black slouch hat, she made out the yellow cord around its brim.