The Survival Chronicles (Book 3): Mercy Fall

by Nally, Fergal F.

  Tents, blankets, camo nets, bottled water, medical supplies—

  She crawled forwards, eyes and ears scanning the crates and the information stencilled on the sides. Half way down the aisle she came to a row of longer crates marked with a series of serial numbers.

  Hello—

  Mercy turned to Flynn and tapped the nearest crate with the butt of the Ranger knife. He nodded, his eyes alight with curiosity. She handed him the torch, got to her knees and placed the knife under the top panel working at the lid, easing it open. The panel came loose and popped up with a creak. She held her breath and waited, the sour smell returned in a sudden draft. Understanding hit her, she ducked down and back towards Flynn, the knife gripped in both hands. She landed on her back, on top of Flynn. The trope threw itself at her impaling itself on the Ranger knife up to the hilt. It let out a low guttural snarl, bloodstained mucous dribbled from its mouth and nose onto Mercy’s tunic.

  Mercy twisted the blade tearing a hole in the thing’s lungs which released a wave of putrefying gas. She turned her head away from the trope’s searching yellowed teeth and pushed it away from her. Its feet lashed out at her shins, pain shot to Mercy’s brain in a blinding light. The trope crawled up her chest inching towards her neck. Mercy felt movement under her followed by a sudden jerk. Flynn’s hands shot up either side of her head and pushed the trope’s head away from her exposed neck.

  Mercy let go of the knife and reached up to the trope’s rotting face, she thrust the palm of her hand against its lower jaw, hyperextending the trope’s neck. She felt the crunch of breaking teeth and bone, the trope’s jaw dislocated and dangled above her chest. Its head flopped to one side but its bony fingers kept raking her. She forced herself up and threw its emaciated body against the crate pulling the knife from its chest. She thrust the blade into the trope’s skull, it kicked once, twice, then slumped against her, a dead weight.

  Mercy panted for a few seconds then pulled the knife free. Flynn extricated himself and retrieved the torch from the floor. Flynn’s breathing was ragged, Mercy could smell his stale sweat.

  “Close fucking call angel—” Flynn rasped in her ear. “You bit?”

  “No—” Mercy replied pushing the trope’s body away from her. She got to her knees, “Let’s see what we’ve got.” She pulled herself level with the topmost crate and pushed the lid aside. “My, my—”

  “Happy days,” Flynn echoed.

  “Well, I suppose it is a supply train—” Mercy reached into the crate and lifted out a Remington combat shotgun. “There’s shells down here too, there’s two more guns below this one, here help me.” They pulled out two more Remingtons and the ammunition.

  “Look, there’s a separate layer below,” Flynn said. “See what’s under that plastic sheeting.

  Mercy pulled the plastic layer aside and smiled, “Well they’re not going to miss a few of these, are they?” She pulled out two Sig Sauer P226 pistols and a Beretta M9.

  “How considerate; ammo, holsters, the lot,” Flynn held up the leather holsters.

  “Come on let’s get these to their new owners,” Mercy said, taking the Beretta for herself. They emptied the crate and reattached the lid.

  They carried the shotguns and pistols with as much ammo as they could stuff into their pockets back to their freight car. Flynn found Rose who gave them a hand with the guns. Garrett’s eyes lit up when he saw their find, he immediately began checking the weapons.

  “Mostly slug rounds but there’s some buckshot too. Good job—” Garrett nodded, scratching his chin.

  “At least we can defend ourselves,” Tawny said.

  “Yeah, but only as a last resort, stealth will be our only hope if we want to get out of this thing alive,” Mercy said.

  “Yeah, NSA on one side, infected on the other,” Claire added.

  “Not to mention possible friendly fire,” Garrett said.

  The conversation paused.

  “Any way to avoid that? Like passwords, codes?” Mercy asked.

  “There will be, but I don’t know what our guys are using. We were supposed to go to Galveston, nowhere near the front. If I can find a radio maybe I could contact Galveston, they could let our guys in the field know—” Garrett’s words hung in the air.

  “That’s a big if—” Claire added.

  The train tracks clacked beneath them as they considered their predicament.

  “Well we’ve done about as much as we can for the moment, let’s use the next few hours to rest up. Two on watch at all times—” Mercy said.

  “Me and Rose will take first watch, then it makes sense for Garrett and Claire to take the next watch as we’ll be approaching Fort Worth. You and Flynn have done well to get us these,” Tawny indicated the new weapons, “so you two get some sleep.”

  Mercy was relieved at this as she still felt exhausted, she’d been running on adrenaline for too long. She and Flynn crawled into a gap between two crates and lay down together. Flynn wrapped his arms around her, she wanted to talk but kept her thoughts to herself.

  What will the next few days bring? Are we going to make it? Some of us might not get out alive—

  Mercy gripped Flynn’s hand and closed her eyes driving her demons away. For years she had functioned alone, now she had people, others to care for, people that cared for her. She had a life that she hadn’t had before the Fall, she was prepared to fight for her friends, for her life. Flynn started snoring, she smiled and relaxed enough to fall into a fitful sleep.

  Chapter 22 Fort Worth

  “Wake up, we’re here—” Flynn whispered in Mercy’s ear.

  Mercy blinked, frowning, it felt like she had been asleep for five minutes. “What time is it?”

  “5:46 am,” Flynn replied checking his watch.

  Mercy rubbed her eyes and sat up, she was stiff down one side, she started massaging her arm and leg. “So where are we?”

  “Garrett says we just passed through a place called Rhome, he wants to get close to somewhere called Diamond Hill, depending on NSA activity—”

  “So we’re coming in from the north? North West?”

  Flynn nodded. “Out flank the NSA, cross over to Constantine’s side and transit to Galveston.”

  “Transit, I like that,” Mercy said her voice dry. “What could possibly go wrong?”

  Flynn pulled a face and did not answer. The train’s horn sounded twice, gunfire erupted from the freight cars ahead.

  “Shit, what now?” Mercy said.

  Flynn edged by her, raised the tarpaulin and looked out, he cursed and extended a hand to Mercy. She took it and pulled herself forwards squeezing out between the crates, a light drizzle sprinkled her face. She followed Flynn’s gaze and sucked her breath in. The trope horde was huge, it extended as far as she could see on either side of the train. The infected were emaciated, in bad shape, staggering towards the city and now the train. The flat car shuddered, the train’s engine roared.

  “Did you feel that?” Mercy grabbed Flynn’s arm. “We’ve hit something—”

  Garrett and Claire appeared from between the crates further along, they took in the scene.

  “There must be tens of thousands of them, what’s attracting so many?” Flynn said.

  As if to answer his question a distant rumble erupted from the city ahead.

  “That’s not thunder, that’s—”

  “Artillery,” Mercy finished Flynn’s sentence.

  “That’s what’s attracting them… the firebase Garrett was talking about,” Flynn replied.

  The train shuddered again then lurched forwards picking up speed. Dozens of infected threw themselves at the train disappearing under its wheels. The train ploughed on crushing bone and rotten flesh on the tracks. Without warning two tongues of flame erupted from the forward freight cars incinerating rows of infected. The flames spread and soon a large swathe of infected were engulfed.

  “Shit, flamethrowers or… some form of napalm,” Flynn said.

  “Effective a
s hell, look at those tropes burn,” Mercy echoed.

  The train broke through the horde and pulled away.

  “We’re going too fast to get off now,” Flynn observed.

  Garrett crawled over to them, “Get ready to jump, the train will have to slow in about five minutes, we’ll be entering the central district, follow my lead. Looks like the firebase is located in the core somewhere, we may be lucky and get near to Diamond Hill—” he pulled away and went to the others. Tawny and Rose glanced over at Mercy, Stevie came to join Flynn.

  Mercy checked her weapons and prepared for the jump. She looked at the terrain on either side of the train. They were entering a built up area of Fort Worth, the outskirts of the city falling behind. She looked at Flynn and raised an eyebrow.

  “I know, I reckon we’re doing thirty at the moment, speed needs to reduce to twenty, at least, for us to jump,” Flynn said.

  Mercy remembered something she had seen on TV. “Do what parachute jumpers do; jump, hit the dirt with your knees bent and roll. I think that’s supposed to help—”

  Stevie and Flynn nodded. Mercy crawled over to Tawny and Rose to explain the technique, they understood and passed the message along to Garrett and Claire. Buildings, trees and a park flashed by, the train’s brakes screeched and they began to slow. Garrett’s eyes were glued to the city streets, his brow furrowed.

  Garrett went to the flat car’s left side and signalled the others to follow. He pointed, “Trail Drivers Park, that’ll do us, get ready—”

  The train slowed with a shudder. Garrett jumped from the side and disappeared from view. Mercy watched the others go. Flynn took her hand, they jumped together after Stevie. The ground passed in a blur then Mercy’s feet hit the dirt, she fell forwards and rolled, her momentum carrying her over the railroad escarpment and down a grassy slope towards a chain link fence. She slammed into the fence and stopped, her breath came in ragged gasps, her heart pounded.

  Adrenaline coursed through Mercy’s veins, her senses reached out. She could move her arms and legs, her breathing was settling and her head clearing. She looked around; grass, weeds, the sound of the train receding. Her eyes focused on the sky, a cloud the shape of Africa was passing overhead, an insect buzzed nearby and the smell of honeysuckle filled the air. The ground was damp, she was covered in mud. She pulled herself out of her daze and stood up.

  She had lost the Remington in the fall. She found it nearby and wiped dirt from the stock. The weeds moved a few feet away, Flynn’s grinning face appeared.

  “You OK?” Flynn moved towards her.

  “Yeah, I’m good. How’s everyone else?” Mercy asked.

  “They made it, your rolling trick seemed to work plus the ground was soft, so bruises, but no injuries,” Flynn brushed leaves from Mercy’s hair then put his arms around her.

  Mercy closed her eyes and breathed him in, Flynn’s presence was intoxicating. She allowed herself four heartbeats then pushed him away, she had to focus, they were not safe yet.

  “Thank goodness the train slowed down, that was the main factor. Where’s Garrett? What’s his plan?” Mercy said looking around. “We can’t stay here for long—”

  Garrett and Tawny appeared from the long grass further along the fence. Tawny pressed her finger to her lips and came close to Mercy and Flynn.

  “Keep quiet, there’s infected moving in this direction, from across the tracks and through the trees, the train must have attracted them, that and the NSA artillery,” Tawny looked over her shoulder. Cannon fire reverberated through the city, death hung heavy in the air.

  “We must be close to the NSA positions,” Flynn said, his voice low.

  Garrett unslung his shotgun and waved to them, “Follow me.”

  He led them back to Claire and Rose who were crouched at the top of the escarpment looking over to the other side of the tracks. Fort Worth stretched out to the south and east. Mercy’s gaze wandered off along the tracks, in the distance a red and white NSA flag fluttered behind fortified positions. A large group of infected were heading towards the firebase, piles of dead littered the ground around the stronghold and the smell of burning flesh filled the air. Mercy’s stomach turned, she tasted the bile rising in her throat. A series of explosions tore at the front ranks of the infected and they went down like wheat before a scythe.

  “Claymore mines,” Tawny muttered.

  More infected pressed forwards trampling the fallen beneath their feet. Six bright flashes appeared from the firebase walls and long tongues of flame scorched the air and ground in a large swathe. The infected lurched through the flames and burned instantly, the fire spread through them like a storm.

  “Flame throwers, just like on the train, that’s how they’ve been able to maintain their position. Come on let’s get out of here,” Flynn grabbed Mercy’s shoulder. She turned to see Garrett and the others on the far side of the tracks squeezing through a gap in the fence.

  “Yeah, let’s go I’ve seen enough of Hell for one day—” Mercy forced herself up.

  They crossed the tracks and made it to the fence, Flynn kept watch while Mercy crawled through then he followed. Garrett and the others had moved down the street and were approaching a junction. Flynn’s eyes flicked to the left and widened.

  “Shit, we’ve got company—”

  Mercy followed his gaze and saw a large group of infected advancing down the street towards them.

  “Run—” Mercy said.

  Flynn needed no encouragement. They sprinted towards the others and saw Garrett hesitate.

  Mercy approached Garrett, “We’ve got to move, what’s holding you up?”

  Garrett glanced back and nodded at the corner of the building, “Be my guest, take a look.”

  Mercy peered around the corner and froze. Around fifty tropes were standing in the street outside a low building, a collection of NSA vehicles were parked outside, an aerial stood perched on the rooftop along with the NSA flag.

  “We’ve got to cross the street and lose ourselves in the buildings, even if the whole block is occupied by the NSA. They’re safe, locked up on the inside, we’re caught in the open, look what’s behind us—” Mercy jabbed her thumb at the wall of infected advancing up the street behind them.

  Without warning a NSA jet screamed low overhead heading south. The sound of distant artillery filled the air. The tropes surrounding the NSA building looked up the street at the crossroads.

  “Shit, that’s all we need,” Garrett said. “Everyone follow me, do not, I repeat, do not fall behind,” he burst from cover and raced across the street ducking into a narrow alleyway between two large buildings. Mercy could feel the tropes’ eyes on them, she glanced to the left before she entered the alley; a dozen infected had peeled away from the main group and were racing towards them. Garrett led the way down the alley, through and across a series of lanes to the banks of a large river. A rail bridge stretched out before them, its mid-section barely intact. Garrett stopped and bent over, breathless.

  After a few seconds Garrett stood up, “This is the West Fork Trinity River, I wanted to go east but they’re forcing us south, downtown—” he glanced back the way they had come.

  “There’s so many of them,” Stevie said.

  “The shelling, it’s attracting them from all over, we’re close to the front lines,” Claire said.

  “Better get across the bridge, looks as if your lot tried to blow it up, to stop the NSA from crossing,” Rose said to Garrett.

  “Yeah, scorched earth, we should be able to climb over the middle section, rails look intact—” Garrett squinted at the bridge.

  “OK, so now would be a good time, they’ve found us—” Mercy pointed. The horde had grown in size. “I can see about sixty, maybe a hundred, run—”

  They dashed onto the rail bridge and made it to the sabotaged section. The bridge had been blown up leaving two twisted rails spanning the forty foot drop to the river below. Garrett went first, both feet on one rail, both hands on the opposin
g rail.

  “Just keep moving, eyes on your feet, don’t look down—” Garrett ordered, leading by example.

  There was no time to think.

  Mercy looked back, “Shit, quick, everyone, go, go, go—”

  The infected ran along the tracks towards them, some stumbled tripping on the sleepers causing others to fall, but the horde pressed on, an insatiable tide. Mercy’s eyes were glued to the advancing wall of infected.

  Flynn nudged Mercy, “Come on, you next.”

  Mercy climbed onto the rails and moved sideways across the gap. She counted.

  One, two, three, four, hand over hand, come on, you can do it. Stevie’s made it already, it’s only twenty feet—

  Mercy’s foot stepped off the last section of twisted rail, a hand grabbed her by the shoulder and pulled her up onto the far side of the bridge. Tawny patted her back and pushed her further along.

  “Not done that before, first time for everything I suppose—” Tawny said reaching down to grab Flynn. Flynn clambered up beside them his breathing laboured.

  They watched as the tropes reached the breach in the bridge. They hurled themselves off the end of the broken section and fell to the swirling waters below.

  “Fucking bloodlust’s a bummer, it’ll land you in deep water,” Rose muttered, staring at the tropes in the water.

  “Come on, let’s go,” Garrett said. “We’re exposed out here—”

  They crossed the remainder of the bridge and reached dry land. More buildings loomed in the distance, plumes of smoke rose in the air.

  “It stinks of death,” Tawny said.

  “Yeah, shit and blood, same old same—” Rose muttered.

  “Welcome to Hell,” Stevie said, his voice a whisper.

  “Oh—my— god,” Flynn broke the spell.

  Mercy turned to him, “What?” She followed his gaze and looked back at the river bank.

  “The fuckers are coming out of the river—”

  Chapter 23 Trapped