The Survival Chronicles (Book 3): Mercy Fall

by Nally, Fergal F.

  She’s got eyes in the back of her head, how did she do that?

  Julia’s hand went to the long scar on her neck, “Believe me I should know.”

  Understanding flashed between the two women.

  “All the others who’ve passed through his hands have had no fight left in them, they were dead inside,” Julia tapped her chest, “but you have fight left inside, and that fight must come out or you will die… one way or another.”

  Mercy stared at Julia, her face blank, she gave nothing away. She felt herself retreat into the safe space deep within. Footsteps echoed down the hall, outside a bird sang.

  Bring it on—

  Chapter 19 Broken Arrow

  Two of Jedediah’s men took Mercy across the compound to a large white house surrounded by a decked veranda. Bougainvillea cascaded around the outside, bees hummed at the blooms, a butterfly fluttered nearby. Mercy became an observer, watching, waiting, absorbing everything. They climbed the steps to the veranda, one of the men pushed her hard.

  “Against the wall, arms out.” He shoved her against the wall and searched her. The other man chewed tobacco and looked on, his face deadpan.

  “She’s clean, go ahead,” the searcher said.

  Tobacco man knocked on the door.

  “Come,” a voice from within, the same voice from earlier in the day.

  Tobacco man opened the door and waved his gun. Mercy crossed the threshold and entered a dimly lit room, she blinked, her eyes adjusting. The door closed, daylight vanished. She waited, she could not see him.

  “My, my, you do scrub up well. Pretty little thing ain’t you?” Jedediah’s voice came from the corner of the room.

  Mercy turned and saw him sitting in a high backed chair. He did not look like a biker, he wore a suit and a clean white shirt. His full beard extended untamed concealing his neck, he held a cigar in one hand and a glass of whiskey in the other.

  I’m in a Wild West movie, all we need now is the O.K. Corral—

  “Come here,” Jedediah said, his voice low, husky.

  Mercy stepped forwards and met his gaze. His cold eyes swept up and down her body.

  Like a crocodile—

  “I like what I see… but what I see is damaged. You have beauty but underneath you have pain,” he blew cigar smoke in the air. “What keeps you alive?” he asked. “Tell me your story—”

  Mercy blinked. This was not what she had expected, she looked around the room; table, chairs, non-descript paintings. Her eyes searched for a weapon, there were a hundred ways to kill a man with the most ordinary of things. The human body was vulnerable, soft in so many places, it was a wonder the human race had survived for as long as it had.

  “And no bullshit, I have an inbuilt BS detector,” he added, taking a sip of whiskey. His eyes never left her body, they wandered over her stopping here and there.

  “What keeps me alive?” Mercy repeated. “Now? My friends, before then? Who knows? I had nothing to live for before them but I existed. I saw many give up, take the easy way out. Would you blame them? But I’m an orphan, so no family, no parents, brothers, sisters, so maybe that makes a difference. My family back then were other kids like me, dispossessed, cast adrift. Maybe we’re used to loneliness, solitude, maybe we’re more resilient, not emotionally attached to anyone or anything—” she paused. “In a way we’re equipped for this new word because we’re already dead in so many ways.”

  Jedediah licked his lips and ran a finger along the rim of his glass. “You’re attached to your friends and your boyfriend now. You’re no longer an island, you are weakened through your friendship. Emotion and human attachment have no place in this world, only the strong will survive to rule over the weak,” he waved his hand at her. “Continue with your story… Mercy Dawes. Mercy looked up. He knew her name, he had interrogated the others, he was toying with her.

  How much does he know? He probably knows about the plane—

  Mercy thought quickly. The only way to avoid contradicting the others was to tell the truth. The truth wouldn’t tie her in knots and anyway she was going to kill him, so what was the harm?

  “We’re on the run from the NSA, our plane went down in the storm, we sheltered in that barn where we ran into your men,” Mercy’s voice was a monotone. She remembered reading that most communication was non-verbal, she adopted an open posture, her tone compliant.

  Jedediah raised an eyebrow and gave her another wave of the hand. She backdated her story to include their escape from New York, her incarceration by the NSA and the freeing of her friends in Halifax and subsequent events in Colorado Springs. She stopped finally, her mind empty. It felt strangely cathartic to have shared her story with another human being even if it was under duress.

  Draw him in with a net of truth, build the illusion of submission—

  Jedediah stared at her processing the information she had given him. His lip curled, “They’ve implanted a parasite inside you? Show me the scar—”

  Mercy pulled up her dress revealing the scar.

  Jedediah’s face screwed up, “And there it is. That’s some weird shit right there.” He scratched his chin, “Well that’s a bummer, there’s no way I’m going to share my bed with a parasite riddled bitch, that’s the bad news. The good news is you’re valuable to the NSA and Constantine. Constantine don’t do business with folks like me, but the NSA… we might be able to do business with those fuckers.”

  Mercy could see her opportunity to kill Jedediah slipping away. She was not going to get close to him after all, she took a step forwards.

  Jedediah shouted at the door, “Jake, take the bitch away, I’ve got some thinking to do.”

  Mercy froze, this was not the time, but the time would come. The door opened and Jedediah’s guards led her away.

  “See no one touches her, she’s valuable,” Jedediah bellowed after them.

  The two guards took her back to her cell giving the cage under the cherry tree a wide berth. The caged trope stirred and turned its head, its eyes followed Mercy across the square, boring into her back. They shoved her into the cell locking the door behind her.

  “You’re back,” Meredith stood up, came to Mercy and took her hand. “You look pretty, you look different—”

  A figure stirred in the corner, “Come away Meredith, come away child.”

  Meredith turned to her mother her face torn, “This is Mercy, she’s my friend. We spoke this morning—”

  Meredith’s mother appeared out of the gloom and pulled her away, “It could be a trick child, stay close to me.” She looked at Mercy, “What do you want with us, with my child?”

  Mercy moved back, “Nothing, I want no trouble. I’ve just been with Jedediah, he’s holding me and some of my friends. I want to get out of here, but I think I’ve blown it. I need time—” Mercy retreated to the other side of the room, sat down and buried her head in her hands.

  Shit, what just happened? Is it good or bad?

  Mercy sat for a long time. She could not see a way out, the ball was in Jedediah’s court, she would have to bide her time, keep her eyes open. She felt useless and noticed her hands were wet. She frowned, puzzled, then realized she was crying.

  I haven’t cried in years—

  Her mind filled with thoughts of failing her friends, of failing Flynn. An irrational fear rose through her; if that murderous excuse of a man found her repulsive would Flynn find her repulsive too? She told herself she was being irrational, emotional. Flynn had, after all, reassured her on the plane. But the thought would not leave her.

  Unclean, diseased, a parasite carrier—

  Without warning a roar erupted overhead and the ground shook with an explosion. Three more blasts followed in rapid succession, part of the ceiling collapsed and dust filled the air. Screams and shots came from outside, the cell wall had fallen on Mathilda and her mother. Mercy crawled across and pulled at the rubble, her ears ringing, dust and sweat ran into her eyes. She was dimly aware of more shots outside and a further
explosion.

  She was not strong enough to move the rubble, a bout of coughing gripped her. A blast ripped through the building, the wall at the back of the cell collapsed. Mercy turned and covered her eyes and mouth, the dust choking her, she had to get out. Blinking through her fingers she made her way across the room and crawled into the daylight outside. Smoke billowed across the compound, the cherry tree stood in the square as before, its cage lay open on the ground.

  Her mind registered the broken cage but moved on, filtering more information. A thudding noise in the sky made her look up, a NSA helicopter banked and swung to face the compound. A group of Jedediah’s men ran across the square carrying automatic weapons and rocket propelled grenades. She gazed at her bloodied white dress, lost for a moment. Machine gun fire snapped her from of her reverie, she scrambled from the pile of rubble into the square. The cherry tree seemed to be an island of serenity amid the maelstrom of violence. Julia’s building had been destroyed. Behind it lay a long, low building untouched by the bombing, Mercy crouched and ran over to it.

  A dead guard lay on the ground, his head almost ripped from his neck. Mercy picked up the AR-15 by his side and took a bunch of keys from his belt. Nearby gunfire added to the sound of one or more helicopters. The NSA were here, they had been discovered, how? Mercy’s mind filled with questions, her hands worked on auto pilot. She felt detached as if she was watching herself in a movie. She tried a few keys and found the right one, she opened the door and went inside. She unlocked three cells releasing shouting people, a sea of faces and chaos.

  Flynn’s battered face approached, his lips were moving but she could not hear him. He reached up to her ears, his fingers came away stained with blood. The others rushed to the door, their names returned to her, Tawny, Rose, Stevie, Flynn, Garrett and Claire. She had found them, her people, her family. Flynn led her from the building, the others stood in the square, Stevie pointing off to the right, the compound wall had been blasted open.

  They ran, the muffled gunfire angry and insistent behind them. Mercy felt detached, she climbed over the broken wall out into the trees and bushes beyond. She gave the AR-15 to Flynn. Tawny had found a Glock 17 pistol and was in the lead. They ran through the trees, arriving at the shore road. They followed the road keeping to the trees.

  Minutes passed, Mercy’s legs felt numb. The others stopped and scrambled into a culvert, fear on their faces, Mercy followed. The road vibrated above, a series of vehicles sped by, NSA markings on the last two. They were closing in on the compound, tightening their grip. She looked behind and saw flames through the trees. Jedediah was not going down without a fight. She squinted at the fire and realised the flames were in the trees, the forest surrounding the compound was alight. The fire was advancing rapidly fed by a strong north west breeze.

  Mercy’s eyes searched the advancing flames, the road had been spared. The others rose form the culvert and started moving south along the road, Flynn pulled at Mercy’s arm. A veil lifted from her hearing and his voice broke through into her consciousness.

  “Come on girl, we gotta get out of here, that’s napalm they dropped, this whole place is going up in flames, it’s tinder dry,” his voice was urgent, loud.

  Mercy climbed out of the culvert and glanced along the road. A large figure was running towards them, flames licking at its body from either side of the road. She brought her hand to her forehead and stared at the figure. The super trope’s eyes were glued to hers.

  Fury and bloodlust were written across its face. Mercy grabbed the AR-15 from Flynn and turned back to the road. The super trope had vanished. Mercy watched the flames either side of the road and waited.

  Nothing—

  But it was there, hunting her, she recognised that look, that determination.

  Mercy backed away from the culvert, the AR-15 covering their retreat. “We have to leave the road, get to the lake, swim to the far side. That thing is tracking us, this fire isn’t going to stop it, we’ve got to tell the others. If we stay on this side of the lake we’re dead—”

  Flynn’s eyes searched the flames, he nodded. “Come on, let’s go.”

  They caught up with the others. Rose and Tawny were heading towards the lake. Rose put her finger to her lips and pointed ahead. A line of soldiers was advancing through the trees from the south, drawing the net tight. Mercy followed Rose and Tawny as they made their way to the lake shore.

  A mass of reeds and long grass stretched into the water offering cover. They waded up to their chests then the lake bed shelved away forcing them to swim. Thick smoke swept across the water from Jedediah’s compound, the flames had reached a new ferocity on the south west shore. The forest burst into flames in the advancing wall of fire, some trees exploded throwing the flames deeper into the bush.

  Small mammals and rats threw themselves into the lake and swam to the edge of the reeds. Mercy swam, the AR-15 slung by its strap on her back. She watched as the others negotiated the reeds and swam towards the east shore. Most of the gunfire had died down within the compound, two helicopters hovered over the buildings firing intermittently.

  Rifle fire broke out near the lakeshore behind them. Mercy smiled.

  Sounds like you bastards have met our friend—

  Mercy’s feet struck gravel, she swam a few more strokes then stood up.

  “Keep to the reeds,” Rose’s voice carried across the water.

  Mercy turned to look back at the western shore, she saw movement, an outline breaking the water’s surface along the edge of the reeds.

  Shit it’s coming, it’s following me, it knows—

  Chapter 20 Super Trope

  Rose pushed through the reeds onto the eastern shore. The NSA helicopters were still firing on Jedediah’s compound. The smoke was thick but not as bad as on the western shore. She glanced at the other side of the lake, everything was on fire; buildings, trees and bushes. She crouched on the muddy shore and helped Stevie and Tawny out of the water. Flynn, Garrett and Claire followed. Mercy was further back something had delayed her, she was looking over her shoulder.

  No time to sightsee Mercy, come on, now—

  A cough came out of the smoke somewhere on Rose’s left, she held her hand up in a fist. The others fell silent behind her. Another cough, this time closer, there was no time for a plan. Rose picked up a sharp rock at her feet and crouched, her body a coiled spring.

  A soldier, a wet scarf tied across his mouth and nose, stepped out of the smoke and stared across the lake. His eyes traced the line of reeds to Mercy, he raised his rifle and aimed. Rose jumped and slammed into his body bringing him to the ground. She smashed the rock against his skull in a savage blow, he crumpled his trigger finger letting off a burst of fire across the water narrowly missing Mercy.

  Rose took the dead soldier’s M4 carbine, a Ranger combat knife and two grenades from his webbing. She waved the others north then she ran south along the shore where the smoke was thickest. Men’s voices reached her through the veil of choking smoke. She pulled the pin from one of the grenades and hurled it towards the voices then turned and bolted. The grenade exploded stirring up the thick smoke. A barrage of tracer rounds burst out from the smoke missing Rose and ploughing into the lake. Rose stopped to help Mercy out of the water. Mercy still wore the white dress Julia had given her, her feet were bare and her hair was matted in blood.

  Mercy staggered out of the lake with Rose’s help. Flynn appeared and grabbed Mercy, supporting her. Rose led the way north along the eastern shore away from the smoke and soldiers. The lake surface stirred where Mercy had been moments before. The super trope emerged, its nostrils flaring, it saw the dead soldier, it hesitated drawn by the smell of fresh blood. It wanted the other’s flesh, the girl. It raised its head, closed its eyes and inhaled, in amongst the smoke and the stale sweat of men it searched for the girl’s scent.

  “Eat this, motherfucker—”

  The trope opened its eyes, a soldier emerged from the smoke a Benelli M3 combat shotgun in his
hands. The shotgun fired cutting the trope in two, consciousness flickered in its brain as it blinked at the sky through the smoke. The soldier appeared, blocking its vision, a snarl rose in the trope’s throat but was cut short by the M3’s blinding flash.

  Rose caught up with Tawny. “Here take this,” she handed Tawny the M4 carbine. “I’ve got these,” she held up the knife and grenade.

  Tawny checked the M4 and nodded. “You use this,” she gave Rose the Glock 17. “Watch my six, we need to put distance between us and those soldiers.” Two shotgun blasts tore through the air followed by a third seconds later.

  “Shit, they’re close, get a move on,” Garrett growled behind.

  Tawny marched ahead keeping the shore on their left. The others followed, Garrett fell back to help Flynn with Mercy. They staggered along the shore away from the smoke and confusion. The shoreline curved west out into the lake, Tawny cut across the promontory to a small hill. She crouched amongst the trees and looked over the lake and shoreline. The fire was spreading along both shores, she could see NSA troops to the west and east.

  Rose reached Tawny seconds later.

  “North looks good, there’s buildings up ahead, a wire fence, some warehouses. We could lose ourselves in there—” Tawny said.

  “Good, you keep on point. I’ll hang back and watch the rear, look out for tropes, all this noise will attract them like flies to shit,” Rose replied.

  Tawny grunted and waved the others on pointing at the distant fence. They stumbled off the hill and headed north through the trees. Rose hid in bushes, her eyes turned to the south.

  “Come on you bastards, I know you’re there. Show yourselves—” she muttered.

  Seconds later a soldier emerged from the trees twenty yards away, Rose raised her Glock 17 aiming at his chest. He brought his right hand to his ear and stopped, four others emerged from the forest around him. They stopped and waited, eyes on their leader. He looked up at the hill then at the promontory to the west. He turned and raised an arm sweeping his men in an arc toward the promontory.