Stars? Of course, it’s night outside—
Mercy looked at her watch, 11:43pm.
God, we were in there for twenty four hours. It’s like escaping from Hell—
Claire kept going and fifty minutes later they emerged from a hatch. Wind tore at their hair, trees swayed around them, stars glittered in the sky. Claire waved and headed off through the trees. Mercy shivered and followed the others, a path took them uphill, a low thrumming sound came from somewhere ahead. The unmistakable smell of aviation fuel permeated the air.
Claire rushed through the trees to the edge of a clearing. Seconds later three sleek attack helicopters rose from a helipad below, their lights blazing. They flew in formation the sound of their rotors cut through the wind. The helicopters came straight towards them. Claire retreated into the trees signalling the others to do the same.
The lead helicopter roared overhead flanked by the other two. Mercy caught a glimpse of a golden eagle on its side panel, wings outstretched, painted in NSA colours. Seconds later they were gone.
“Shit they’ve escaped, that was him,” Claire shouted through the wind.
Garrett nodded, “Bastard escaped.”
“He’s got nine lives,” Claire responded.
“Bastards always do,” Garrett spat.
Mercy leaned forwards, “Who was that?”
Claire looked her, “That was the NSA’s Commander in Chief, formerly President Mitchell.”
Mercy stood still. A face returned to her, from the days before the Fall, a face on the TV every night, on the news. A face the American people had trusted, a face that had represented good, but was now the face of evil. She shuddered feeling the cold pierce her bones.
“If only we’d had a RPG,” Tawny said, “we could’ve toasted his ass.”
“Could’ve ain’t gonna cut it,” Mercy replied.
“You got that right, sister,” Tawny said.
Mercy looked at Tawny, it was the first time Tawny had called her “sister”. Tawny smiled holding Mercy’s gaze just longer than was comfortable.
“Let’s check out the helipad, see if we can find anything useful,” Claire shouted above the wind.
They scrambled down the steep path to the helipad. A few outbuildings lay on one side, Claire approached them from behind. They were all empty apart from some oil stained work benches and a few overalls scattered on the ground.
Rose bent down and searched the overalls then stood up clutching a torch. She flicked the switch, it burst into life. “One torch is better than none,” she grinned.
Claire kicked at an empty wooden pallet, she turned to Garrett. “You still got your plane at the landing strip?”
Garrett nodded, “Yeah, should still be there, just where I left her.”
Claire stepped aside and ushered Garrett forward. She turned to the others, “OK, so we’ve got a 20 klick night hike through the mountains. We’re going to take it slow, one fall, one mistake would... not be good.”
The master of understatement— Mercy thought as wind tore through the trees.
Garrett used his map and compass to guide them to a mountain pass and from there, west. They found their way through great tracts of Douglas fir. Spruce, aspen and beech took over as they dropped height. The rough ground took its toll on their muscles and joints and at the end of eight hours they had slowed to a crawling pace. The night was dry however and their spirits lifted when morning light lit the eastern sky.
Garrett stopped in an Aspen grove to consult the map, a stream gurgled nearby and birdsong punctuated the air. Mercy slumped to the ground and closed her eyes, the pain in her body was real, she massaged her legs and tried to ignore her aching feet. Rose was limping, Tawny tried unsuccessfully to persuade her to take off her boots to check for blisters.
Garrett seemed unaffected by his flesh wound, Mercy watched him. He had lit up when they had found Claire. Mercy’s eyes drifted to Flynn who was helping Stevie with his boot laces. She noticed they were wearing the same clothes they had worn in New York.
Christ, the NSA are mean bastards, didn’t even give them new clothes—
Mercy sidled up to Flynn and Stevie, “How you guys holding up?”
Stevie looked sheepish, “Keep tying my laces wrong, never did get the hang of it—”
“You’re OK buddy, you’re bearing up good, considering the only wilderness you ever saw was Newark,” Flynn said, tongue in cheek.
“You got that right,” Stevie retorted. “Anything west of the Hackensack River is off grid.”
“How are you doing?” Mercy rested her hand on Flynn’s shoulder.
Flynn turned to her, “Compared to where I was twenty four hours ago I’m in heaven, and I’m with you, it don’t get any better. You came for me, you came for us. I knew you would—” he leaned in towards her and took her arm.
“We’re almost there, another few klicks. Keep your eyes and ears open, we’re not in a city I know, but the wilderness has its own teeth and it can bite when you’re tired and hungry,” Garrett folded his map and waited for the others to get to their feet.
Mercy grimaced as she forced her body to move again, it screamed for rest, to lie down and melt into the earth, to give up and stop. Her pain flashed to a new crescendo before abating with movement. She looked at the others they looked like refugees staggering from a war zone.
Forty minutes later they broke from tree cover and looked out onto a small airfield. A cluster of buildings lay at the other side of the landing strip a few hundred yards away.
“Civilization,” Tawny said.
“Yeah, civilization. You know what that means—” Rose replied.
“Tropes,” Stevie added.
“Yeah, fucking tropes,” Rose spat.
“The place was clear when I landed here a few weeks back,” said Garrett. “But yeah, never trust civilization, eh?” He unslung his rifle, knelt down and looked through the scope, “Nothing moving over there, we’ll go in. OK, I want eyes and ears all over this everyone,” he stood up and looked at the others. “Ready?”
They nodded.
“We should spread out, be less of a target, in case—” Mercy offered.
“Good idea, OK everyone you heard. Spread out and let’s go in, anything bad happens we meet back here,” Garrett turned towards the airstrip.
Weeds had grown over the edge of the runway and in places the tarmac had degraded becoming rough and uneven, a legacy of the harsh winter months. Roots and weeds were also making inroads on the runway’s surface.
How soon nature takes over—
The late morning air was warm, Mercy felt the sun on her back, a trickle of sweat worked its way down her side. Reflected light dazzled from the distant windows. Two hangars stood alongside the buildings, a fire truck and fuel truck stood on their own.
Where’s Garrett’s plane?
Mercy looked at the empty airstrip. The hangar doors were closed. She felt vulnerable, exposed out on the tarmac in full view. In cities there was always cover, you were part of the city. She clutched her Beretta and marched on, Stevie and Flynn on her right, Tawny and Rose on her left.
Garrett and Claire walked ahead of the others. They stopped just before the first building, Garrett raised his hand. He levelled his M24 and took a step forwards, listening. He extended his hand signalling the others to stay. He went to the building, looked through the windows and moved on to the second building and repeated the same checks. Satisfied, he beckoned the others forwards.
“These two are clear, we need to check the hangars next,” Garrett looked at Mercy. “You’re armed Mercy, you come with me.”
Mercy stepped forwards.
Claire looked at the nearest hangar, “You expecting trouble Garrett? The place feels deserted—”
Garrett shook his head, “No, not expecting anything. Just being careful that’s all.” He glanced at Mercy, “Ready?”
Mercy cocked the Beretta, “Say the word.”
Garrett pulled on the hangar door
, it rolled open. The interior was dark, daylight penetrated a short distance. They stood still, listening, waiting. Nothing. Garrett nodded at Mercy, he moved through the doorway M24 raised, he took a few steps and switched on his night vision scope. Mercy followed, her eyes wide. The place smelt of oil and something else she could not place. Two small aircraft lay side by side under the vaulted roof. Garrett slowed, Mercy almost bumped into him, she looked over his shoulder, the scope’s night vision bathed his face in dim green light.
Garrett sucked air in between his teeth and stepped back. Mercy saw the tension in his shoulders and felt the change in atmosphere. A skittering sound came from the rear of the hangar, she saw movement.
“Run,” Garrett hissed, he followed the movement with his M24 and took two steps back.
Mercy obeyed Garrett’s order and ran for the door, she only had the Beretta at least Garrett had the M24. Before she reached the outside a low shape shot past her through the door.
Shit, a bear cub—
Mercy ran after the cub. Three shots shattered the silence as Garrett blasted at the darkness. A roar of anger and pain came from deep within the hangar. Garrett charged through the door and slammed it shut. Seconds later it burst open, its lock broken by the force of the blow from behind. A huge bear filled the doorway, it thrust its shoulders through the door buckling the frame on either side. Garrett stepped back and levelled the M24 at the bear’s head and fired three shots at point blank range.
The bear slumped in the doorway. Gravity did its work and the bear fell to the ground. Life vanished from its eyes, its blood soaked into the ground.
Garrett was silent. Mercy stood still, she stared at the dead bear.
“Close call,” Rose said stepping forwards. “Shit, this is bad karma, me and Arabella were chased by a grizzly near Battery Park. That’s the second bear I’ve seen up close.”
“Well, let’s hope they don’t come in threes,” Tawny added.
The bear cub ran to its mother and started licking her face.
“What are we going to do about the cub?” Stevie said stepping forwards, “We can’t just leave it there.”
“We can and we will,” Garrett snapped into action. “Those gunshots will have alerted the whole valley. Any remaining NSA will come and explore, we’re outta here. My plane’s in the next hangar, let’s go.”
They ran over to the second hangar and opened its doors. The de Havilland Canada DHC-6 Twin Otter sat untouched where Garrett had left it three weeks earlier. The hangar was otherwise clear, Garrett started to check the aircraft.
“She’s good,” he declared after a cursory examination. “Everyone in, let’s get her going,” he waved the others to the passenger door as he climbed in through the pilot’s door. A few minutes later the two Pratt and Whitney Canada PT6 engines burst into life.
If the gunshots don’t give us away this certainly will— Mercy thought, gritting her teeth.
“OK, strap yourselves in, I’m going to take her out—” Garrett’s voice was tense, the strain was showing. The plane shuddered, Mercy looked out her window. The hangar was the larger of the two, Garrett had plenty of room to manoeuvre. The Twin Otter made the turn without a hitch and moved towards daylight. Garrett steered the plane through the open doors, taxied to the end of the airstrip and turned to face the runway.
“Mercy, get up here, two pairs of eyes are better than one,” Garrett shouted.
Mercy went to the co-pilot’s seat and strapped herself in. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach, she was sweating.
Garrett turned to look at her. “Have you flown before?”
“No,” Mercy shook her head.
Garrett grimaced, “Well there’s a first time for everything—” he released the brakes and opened the throttle. The plane lurched forwards.
The Twin Otter picked up speed and hurtled down the runway. Out of the corner of one eye Mercy saw movement and looked out the co-pilot’s window. A Humvee with a roof mounted machine gun was approaching the airfield from the west. She swore and watched its advance.
“We’ve got company, on our left; NSA Humvee with machine gun,” she shouted to Garrett. “Extreme range, doubt they could hit us.”
“No, but those bastards can,” Garrett replied, pointing ahead.
Mercy looked down the runway, her eyes widened. A second Humvee was hurtling at them, a 50 calibre machine gun on its roof.
“Bastards want to play chicken? I’ll show them who can play chicken—” Garrett pushed the throttle all the way forwards and eased back on the control column. The Twin Otter’s nose rose sharply. Mercy gasped as she watched the Humvee race towards them, its 50 cal swung up and fired. A line of tracer rounds erupted in an arc towards them.
Then they were above the Humvee and airborne. Gravity pinned Mercy to her seat. Bright blue sky stretched out as far as she could see. She felt as light as a bird.
I’m flying, I’m really flying—
Mercy’s fear turned to wonder.
Chapter 15 Evasion
Garrett adjusted the controls and took the Twin Otter to twenty five thousand feet. “This baby’s got a range of one thousand four hundred klicks. I was able to refuel her when I landed so she’ll get us back to Texas, hell, she’ll get us back to Galveston, three hours tops.”
“Unless they send aircraft to intercept,” Claire popped her head through the cabin doorway.
Garrett scratched his chin, “Last intel I received they were using all their air assets on the assault on Fort Worth.”
Claire’s face fell, “Fort Worth? They’ve got that far? I thought Constantine got the militias from Arkansas and Mississippi to join us. There was talk of the Georgia group coming in to the fold. What happened?”
Garrett rubbed his chin, “Arkansas opted to stay neutral and Mississippi picked a fight with Alabama over hostage ransoms. It got messy, last I heard Constantine sent an envoy south of the border.”
“Mexico?” Claire sounded puzzled. “But I thought there was hardly anyone left down there.”
“Seems as if we were wrong, there’s a strong signal coming out of Monterrey—” Garrett replied.
Claire closed her eyes and thought, “I remember something about a CDC unit dispatched to Mexico in the early days of the Fall, a field unit. But nothing came of it as far as I can remember.”
“Things disintegrated pretty quick back then, they probably didn’t have a chance,” Garrett said.
Tawny’s head appeared in the doorway, “Hey I’ve found a first aid kit back here, let me have a look at your arm.”
The others gave her space to clean and inspect Garrett’s wound. Tawny seemed satisfied and bound the wound with a clean dressing. “It looks OK, you’ll survive. It’ll need another dressing tonight.”
“We should be back home tonight,” Garrett said smiling. “You guys get some rest back there… I’ve got this.”
Claire gave Mercy a look. Mercy undid her seatbelt and went through to the back.
“Your turn as co-pilot,” Mercy said as she passed Claire.
“Yeah thanks, I’ll keep an eye on him. Thinks he’s Mr. Indestructible,” Claire raised her eyes.
Mercy returned to the passenger area and sat beside Flynn. Stevie sat across the aisle glued to the window.
Flynn held Mercy’s hand then kissed her on the lips. “Missed you girl, I knew you’d find us. That was some stunt you pulled back on the Chinook, didn’t see that coming.”
“Yeah, that guy pulled me out with him. Anyway, what happened to you guys on the Chinook? I mean, that guard was infected, he must have bitten two or three of the others. I’ve not seen the infection spread so fast before.” Mercy’s expression was flat, she was exhausted, all she wanted to do was sleep.
“Those guys were good, they didn’t hesitate, they killed their own with head shots and threw the bodies out of the helicopter. It was over in minutes, a close run thing though, it could have gone either way. They got us down to Peterson, I heard them say they were send
ing a recon unit to track your guy and get you back. Guess that never happened, huh?”
Flynn felt Mercy’s head on his shoulder, he looked down and saw she was asleep.
“Good to have you back Mercy girl,” he whispered.
A loud bang woke Mercy. “What was that?” she asked Flynn.
“We’ve hit an electrical storm, came out of nowhere. Garrett’s tried to go around it but it’s too big,” Flynn gripped Mercy’s hand.
A flash of lightning lit Mercy’s face. She looked into Flynn’s hazel eyes, “I want you to listen to me Flynn. I’ve got something to tell you.”
The Twin Otter shook as they hit a pocket of turbulence. Mercy stared at Flynn, he looked sick.
“Sounds serious, go on I’m listening,” Flynn said, his skin glistening with sweat. The plane hit more turbulence and dropped, their stomachs flipped.
“You remember I told you that I was in hospital before the Fall?” Mercy said bringing her face close to Flynn’s.
“Yes. You were having tests—” Flynn answered.
“Well I didn’t tell you the whole story. I’ve got a genetic disorder, it’s rare, it’s called Urbach-Wiethe disease. It means I never experience fear, it also confers some sort of immunity to the phage virus. The NSA found my medical records in the cloud, a body camera on one of their freaks recorded me surviving a trope bite in a subway back in Manhattan. The NSA have been after me ever since, apparently my immune system is genetic gold. The rest you know; the NSA implanted some kind of genetically modified parasite in my liver. It’s that biotech that makes me invisible, immune to most tropes. But not all, as I found out in Colorado Springs, there’s a new breed of trope out there. I call them super tropes, they aren’t fooled by the biotech. The NSA want to recapture me, fine tune their biotech and release me back into the field… I don’t know… to spy on and infiltrate the tropes? Tropes are showing signs of socialisation, they’re hunting in packs, cooperating, building a hierarchy. They’re organised, more dangerous—”
The Survival Chronicles (Book 3): Mercy Fall Page 11
