The Survival Chronicles (Book 3): Mercy Fall

by Nally, Fergal F.

  Use it, use it, it means you’re alive. Get up, take stock, there’s always a way, always a way, find it, search it out—

  Mercy forced herself into a sitting position and removed the remaining duct tape from her forehead. She was in a small room with a concrete floor, a single barred window lay on the left, a woman lay asleep in the corner.

  Meredith’s mother. How long have they been here?

  Mercy turned to see a small figure crouching on the floor; a skinny girl eight or nine years old with ragged hair and sad eyes.

  “You’re pretty,” Meredith said. “That’s not good. Mommy says, I’m to make myself ugly, so as the men won’t come as often. You need to make yourself ugly or they will come for you.”

  Mercy looked at Meredith’s battered face. “How long have you been here Meredith?”

  “I don’t know, but it was winter when they found us. I remember snow. Now the snow’s gone and there’s leaves on the trees outside,” she pointed at the window.

  Mercy pulled herself up, staggered to the window and looked out. An open space was dominated by a huge cherry tree, a platform at its base. A road ran in a loop around the space. A large house stood on the other side of the road, a riot of pink and purple bougainvillea adorning its front. But it was not the bougainvillea or the house that caught Mercy’s attention.

  It was the cage hanging suspended from the cherry tree. The cage with the trope, a super trope, similar to the one she had encountered in Colorado Springs.

  Christ, it’s alive. They’ve captured one alive—

  Chapter 18 Safe Room

  Mercy stared at the super trope. She felt its presence inside the compound, inside the room, inside her. A crow landed on the cage and squawked, the trope’s head snapped up, the cage rocked on its chain. The crow flapped up into the cherry tree, perched on a branch and tilted its head at the cage.

  A nagging sensation caught Mercy in the stomach, her hand went to the skin beneath her shirt, to the scar there. What had happened to the parasite the NSA had implanted in her? Had it evolved, adapted like the virus in the real world? Was she evolving too, adapting to the biotech inside her?

  Am I one of them? Like that thing out there?

  Without warning the super trope swung its head in her direction, their eyes locked.

  It can’t see me, it can’t see me, not in here—

  Mercy stared at the trope, she did not feel revulsion, she did not feel fear.

  It’s as if we are aware of each other, connected somehow—

  And then she understood; it knew she was there, watching.

  “The men come in the evening after they’ve been out scavenging,” Mathilda reached up and took Mercy’s hand. “We can talk until then, you can tell me stories, I like stories. Mommy used to read me stories until—”

  Mercy looked into Mathilda’s eyes. She was not good with children, they needed so much and she had nothing left to give. She could see the pain and loss in Mathilda’s eyes. The world had betrayed her, life had betrayed her, adults had betrayed her and yet she was willing to trust, to open up to a stranger. Mercy saw the hope in her eyes, a small pilot light of trust left. She could stamp it out with a word or a look, she could finish off Mathilda’s life in the blink of an eye.

  “Yes, I will tell you a story Mathilda, later, when we get out of here and these men are dead. But now we will play a game, you will draw me a picture of what you know of this place. A picture of the compound, of the buildings, of the lake and the road outside. You will tell me about the men here, about their leader. You will tell me everything you know. Then I will tell you what we are going to do, how we’re going to get out of here—”

  Mathilda held Mercy’s gaze then nodded. She told Mercy about the houses in the compound, the vegetable gardens tended by older women. She told Mercy about the vehicles the men used, their dogs and motor bikes. And she told Mercy about Jedediah Ruxton the leader of the La Casa Brotherhood. Mercy concluded they were a loose group of misfits that had coalesced into a ruthless gang with allegiance to none but themselves.

  “He’s the bad one, the real mean one, he’s the one to watch. He kills people, he keeps women as slaves, makes them do things, he makes me want to—”

  Mercy saw tears building in Meredith’s eyes, her lower lip trembled and her chin puckered. “He killed Papa, for a packet of cigarettes—” Meredith collapsed into Mercy’s arms. Mercy let the girl sob against her chest. Mercy’s eyes went to Meredith’s mother, asleep in the corner, she had not moved.

  “What’s wrong with your mother? She’s not woken up yet—” Mercy asked, curious.

  “They give the older women tablets to make them sleepy so they don’t get upset when they come for us,” Meredith said, her eyes rimmed red. “There are other children in the buildings here, here and here,” she pointed at the map she had drawn on the dusty floor.

  “What about other prisoners? They’ve captured my friends—” Mercy asked.

  Meredith shrugged, “Sometimes it gets crowded in the cells and others come and join us for a while, but the men prefer to keep us separate if they can,” her voice tailed off.

  Divide and conquer—

  Mercy looked at the barred window, “And that thing outside? In the cage—”

  Meredith’s eyes widened with fear, “If we don’t do as they say they—”

  Mercy knew what was coming but she had to hear it to make it real. She raised her eyebrows at Meredith.

  “T-th-they feed people to it—” Meredith finished with great effort. She did not cry, or whimper. She looked as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

  And the truth will set you free—

  Mercy’s resolve hardened.

  Kill or be killed, whatever, we’re dead already—

  Footsteps outside, keys rattling, more footsteps. Mercy turned to the door. The sound of a bolt, a low hatch opened and a bucket appeared through the opening, followed by a jug. The hatch slammed shut and the footsteps receded.

  “Lunch time,” Meredith whispered. “I hope there’s no roaches in the oatmeal, they taste bad.”

  Mercy ate her oatmeal slowly, wary for any chemical taint, she tasted nothing suspicious and forced herself to eat. She needed strength to heal and find a way out. So far she had not seen it, the solution was being elusive.

  “I’ll keep some for Mommy, for when she wakes up,” Meredith said taking the rest of the oatmeal. “You can speak to her later, she gets sad though, she cries a lot. I try and keep her happy—” Meredith went to lie beside her mother.

  Mercy looked around the room, it was empty except for a slop bucket in the corner. She went to relieve herself, the stink of ammonia made her stomach turn, she swatted at the flies in the air. Afterwards she examined the bucket, its handle was loose.

  I could work that free, use it as a weapon—

  She wrinkled her nose, knelt down and loosened the handle further. After twenty minutes of effort one end of the handle came away. Mercy felt a rush of triumph, her face flushed with the small success. A door banged outside, men’s voices followed, she rushed to the window and looked out. Her heart leapt, two men were carrying Garrett across the open space on the other side of the cherry tree. She strained to see where they were taking him, his face was bloodied, his feet dragging across the ground.

  Not good, he’s taken a beating—

  Mercy watched as the men hauled him out of sight beyond the cherry tree, a door slammed a few seconds later.

  I’ll know where to find you Garrett, when it’s time—

  She slumped at the window, her eyes drifted back to the super trope in the cage. She stared at its massive body wondering how its muscles had become so developed.

  Altered metabolism, altered immune system, altered mental state. Definitely aware—

  Words marched through Mercy’s head as she stared at the creature. Across the open area the front door of the large house opened, three men emerged. She knew when she saw him, he had the eyes and deme
anour of one in charge. She had seen that bearing before, the same menace, the same superiority, subjugating all others. This then was Jedediah, he walked across the open ground towards her building.

  He’s coming for me—

  Mercy rushed to the slop bucket and worked on the other end of the handle bending and re-bending it in desperation. On the sixth attempt it snapped off in her hand. She had a weapon. Her heart raced at the sound of footsteps and the rattle of keys in the lock. She lay down where Meredith had untied her, stuck the duct tape across her eyes, and put her hands behind her back.

  The door opened, its hinges creaking noisily. Mercy retreated to the safe place she kept in her head. No one and nothing could reach her now. Her safe place was forged from pain and scar tissue.

  “Is this her?”

  “Yes, boss, she was with that guy—”

  Steps approaching. Cigarette smoke. Silence.

  “She’s undone her bonds. Nice, resourceful. I like that.” Silence followed by more footsteps then, “It stinks in here, this is no way to treat a woman. Feed her, get Julia to clean her up then bring her to me.”

  “Yes Jedediah, will do.”

  “Oh, and another thing—”

  “Yes boss?”

  “How many times do I have to tell you? Never hit a woman on the face, anywhere else sure, but not the face. It’s not civilised. Understood?”

  “Got it, sorry boss—”

  Footsteps, a door closing.

  “OK, you heard the man, bring her to Julia—”

  Rough hands grabbed Mercy, she stayed detached, her body a vessel. She remained mute as the men brought her outside and marched her to a new building. More doors and keys and a series of rooms underfoot. Finally she was deposited onto a chair.

  “She’s all yours Julia, boss says to feed her and fix her up. He wants her when you’re done.”

  “OK, I’ll do my best, give me an hour—” a woman’s voice.

  Footsteps followed by a door closing, its lock engaged.

  “I’m just going to remove this tape so I can get a look at you, so hold still.”

  Mercy felt fingers on her forehead, the duct tape was removed from her eyes. She blinked and squinted. An older woman stood over her, smiling, her silver hair tied in a bun. She had kind eyes, an ugly scar ran down her neck.

  “My name is Julia, I work for Jedediah. I patch people up, try and fix them, if I can. Used to be a nurse, back in the day, seems so long ago now. They brought you in last night. Were you looking for food? Shelter? Protection from those… things?”

  Mercy looked at the room, her eyes taking in its dimensions, objects, its secrets. A bloodstained table stood in one corner, alongside it was a glass cabinet with various dressings and boxes of medicines. A few needles and syringes lay in a dish on a sink. A green door faced her on the left. She kept quiet and looked at the woman.

  “What’s wrong with you? You deaf? Mute? Or just scared? It don’t matter to me, we all got our uses, if you’re no use in this world you’re dead, just another mouth to feed. No room for freeloaders. Jedediah’s taken a shine to you, so maybe that’s your use girl. Maybe if you’re nice to him he’ll let you live. So let’s pretty you up and give you your best chance, you’ll only get one chance to please him so I’ll do my best for you.”

  Mercy watched as Julia opened the green door and disappeared into a small kitchen beyond.

  “Oh and don’t get any ideas, I’m a prisoner here too, the other door and windows are locked, there are guards outside. So please, no trouble, I don’t want any trouble, Jedediah feeds trouble to that thing in a cage outside and believe me it’s not a pretty sight. He makes everyone watch.”

  Mercy stood up, rubbed her wrists and went to the door behind the chair. She tried the handle. It was locked, the windows were barred, armed guards stood outside. She pressed her face to the cool glass, the morning sun sparkled like diamonds through her half open eyes.

  “So who are these men? What is this place?” Mercy raised her voice so Julia could hear in the kitchen. The smell of food filled the room, Mercy’s stomach rumbled, Meredith’s meagre mouthful of oatmeal had only served to intensify her hunger.

  “This place? This place is heaven or hell depending on your point of view,” Julia responded. “This place is shelter from the dead shit storm out there, but there’s a shit storm in here too. You choose where you want to survive, I chose here. I’m not young enough for Jedediah and his men so I don’t get bothered that way. I fix people up, some live, some die but that’s my job and I get food and shelter.”

  Mercy heard steps and turned around. Julia was holding a bowl of steaming broth and a spoon.

  “Eat up child, this is chicken broth. You’ll need strength to keep that man happy—”

  Mercy looked at Julia, she took the bowl and spoon. Her body was a machine, she needed food to survive, to fight back. She tasted the broth and raised her eyebrows.

  “Chicken? I can’t remember the last time I had chicken, it’s good. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” Julia responded and sat down on the chair. She watched as Mercy ate. “You asked what this place was. This is, was a gated community before the Fall. Jedediah was the leader of a biker gang somewhere in Arizona. Him and his crew were chased out by the Navajo Indian Nation. The Navajo have greater numbers, they know the land and are surviving better than people like us. They see the Fall as a rebalancing of nature, they think their ancestors’ spirits have come back to torment and kill the rest of us. They are taking their land back—”

  Mercy finished the broth and returned the bowl to Julia.

  Julia’s hand shook, “Watch yourself girl, watch yourself with that man, he plays rough, he’s—” she tapped her temple, “not right in the head.”

  Mercy’s face was blank as she spoke, “Men follow madness, it’s always been the way, like moths to a flame, madness and killing illuminate men’s hearts. It’s as old a truth as the mountains, and the truth sets you free. We were… I was taught that—”

  Julia looked up, “Ah, I see you have it, in your eyes. You are hard, a survivor, you’ll know what to do when the time comes. Come on, we have work to do—”

  Mercy smiled, “Women always have work to do while men fuck the world up—”

  Julia laughed, “Oh, you’ll go far. This place is not the end for you child, you can outsmart him, and the others, you are strong.” She stared humming and returned to the kitchen.

  Mercy went to the medicine cabinet and looked through the glass, she raised an eyebrow. “You’ve got antibiotics, that’s gold right there, people will kill for those—” she said over her shoulder.

  “Men have died for those ones, I can assure you of that,” Julia appeared by her side. “As for the oxycodone and fentanyl, well some others have died for them too. Ever since the first caveman… the human race has wanted to be strung out of its skull—”

  “Yeah, well it’s because life sucks, it ain’t easy, like in the movies,” Mercy replied.

  “You said it girl. What’s your name anyway? I don’t usually ask folks their names because I tend not to see them again. But you’re different, I’d like to know your name.”

  Mercy turned to Julia. Giving her name felt like opening up, losing something. It meant stepping out of her safe space, but she looked at Julia’s kind eyes and nodded, “The name’s Mercy, Mercy Dawes.”

  Julia took a deep breath, “Well Mercy Dawes it’s nice meeting you.” She glanced at the clock on the wall, “We’d better get you showered and ready for Jedediah, follow me.” She took Mercy into the kitchen and through another door to a simple shower room. Julia turned on the water, “It’s hot for the first five minutes then ice cold, enjoy.”

  Julia left Mercy to shower. Mercy made the most of the hot water.

  Fringe benefits of working with the devil, or one of many devils. Might as well be clean when I kill the bastard—

  The water turned cold as Julia had predicted. Mercy stepped out of t
he shower and towelled herself dry. Julia knocked on the door and entered holding a long white dress.

  “Really?” Mercy raised an eyebrow. “Bit of a cliché, isn’t it?”

  “It is what it is, it’s what he wants—”

  Mercy took the dress and put it on without further comment. “I imagine he wants hair and makeup done too?”

  “How did you guess?” Julia replied, bringing Mercy back to the first room.

  Mercy allowed Julia to comb her short hair. “I know my friends are here, he took them two nights ago twenty kilometres from here, we were holding up in a barn. Have you seen them?”

  “Just one, a young man. Jedediah interrogated him. His was pretty beat up, needed some stitches, one eye swollen bad but he’ll heal, he’s young.”

  Mercy closed her eyes, her jaw clenched. She wanted to take Jedediah’s life.

  Get the job done quick, cut off the head of the beast, sow disorder, confusion. There’ll be a new leader there always is, concentrate on creating chaos now—

  Julia applied Mercy’s makeup and red lipstick. “You going to do my nails too?” Mercy looked at her cracked, bitten nails.

  Julia snorted, “Don’t be silly girl, that would be taking things too far, men don’t notice nails.” Julia went to the table and returned with a mirror. Mercy held it up staring at her reflection. She did not recognise herself, a young woman stared back at her, a young woman with angry, hard eyes. Where was the young girl?

  She’s back in New York. She died in the orphanage two years ago along with Amy and Carrie—

  Mercy breathed out returning the mirror to Julia. “Nice.”

  “I take pride in my work,” Julia said, returning the mirror and cosmetics to the desk.

  Mercy turned to the glass cabinet.

  “Don’t even think of trying to take a weapon, they’ll search you before you get near him, if they find anything on you all my work will have been for nothing,” Julia said, her back to Mercy.