“Run—” Tawny shouted.
The ground shook with the impact of a distant explosion. Acrid smoke reached the bridge on a chill north east breeze, the sky grew darker by the minute. Mercy did not notice any of these things, her eyes were fixed on the tropes emerging from the river. Some walked out of the water, others crawled, river weed caught in their hair and clothes.
New behaviour, new danger, they’re adapting, the virus is learning—
Mercy’s mind struggled with the evidence her eyes were relaying. She felt a malevolent presence, a binding force pushing the dead onwards.
This virus is relentless—
The word coalesced in her mind.
Be relentless back, it’s the only way to resist—
Flynn pulled her away. “Run—”
Mercy tore her eyes from the tropes on the riverbank and ran after the others along the railroad tracks towards the heart of the city. Long grass and weeds filled the terrain on either side of the tracks for over a mile. Large warehouses and broken roads revealed themselves through the swaying grass. Mercy looked back, the infected were concealed by the long grass, she knew they would keep coming.
Relentless—
Mercy turned to the others, they had to pace themselves otherwise they would not make it. Her eyes were drawn to a row of bungalows off on the right, ivy covered streetlights poked up at intervals.
We’ve reached the suburbs, at last. We should get cover further in, we can rest and regroup—
Garrett led them from the railroad towards the bungalows. Mercy pushed through the long grass after the others. Without warning a swarm of flies exploded around her, something crunched under her foot. She jumped back Beretta at the ready and stared at the grass, she made out a uniform and a hand. A dead NSA soldier lay at her feet, a neat bullet hole through his forehead. She noticed something on his belt, she bent down and retrieved a radio and a combat knife. She flicked the switch on the radio, it crackled to life.
Well, that’s a win—
Mercy switched off the radio, clipped it and the knife to her belt and ran after the others. Garrett had found a road heading south towards the city centre, he waited for Mercy to catch up.
“OK guys from now on there’s danger of friendly fire. Texas Rangers have some artillery pieces dug in to the south of the city, at least they did a few weeks ago before I went to Colorado. It is what it is, the infected are driving us through the hot zone, we may be able to throw them off in the city centre with buildings and the shelling as a distraction. It’ll be better than out here, we’re too exposed, we should be able to pull east or south east once we’re through the core.” Garrett’s eyes fell on Mercy’s radio. “Where did you get that?”
“Back there, dead NSA soldier, part of a recon unit most likely—” Mercy replied.
“Good, we can use that, I might be able to contact our side, but first we need to get to the core, so let’s go,” Garrett turned and marched along the road, Claire by his side.
A drop of rain landed on Mercy’s cheek, she looked at the bruised sky. Lightning flashed in the distance.
Flynn smiled, “It just gets better, don’t it?”
“Yeah, nature keeps giving—” Mercy replied.
They carried on along the road for another mile, the grassland was replaced by buildings, streets and high rise towers.
“I feel better already—” Tawny said, her eyes searching the shell shattered buildings.
“The shelling’s stopped. Why?” Rose asked, turning to Garrett.
“Could be anything, they could be waiting for intel from their recon units. Our lot are dug in all over the south side. Let’s use the cease fire to keep moving, but keep your eyes open, we’re in sniper territory,” his eyes drifted towards the high rise buildings.
They continued down the street. Mercy spotted a sign: EAST WEATHERFORD STREET. Garrett continued on and took them down a series of streets heading south and west, Mercy took in the shell damaged buildings and cratered road.
“Jesus, how long have they been shelling this place?” Mercy said.
“Long enough—” Flynn answered.
“Reminds me of those pictures on TV before the Fall—”
“Yeah,” Flynn nodded, “This is what the human race does, we beat the crap out of each other, it’s what we do best.”
Mercy’s eyes scanned the buildings on either side looking for trouble. “Yeah, put one guy on a desert island and he’s happy, put two guys on a desert island and there’s world war three—”
“Humans are basically idiots—” Flynn responded.
Garrett stopped a short distance ahead and picked something up from a crumpled body on the ground. Mercy squinted at the dead NSA soldier.
“Looks like Garrett’s got us another radio,” Flynn observed.
“Wonder if that soldier was recon like the other guy?” Mercy said. “The last one looked about twelve. Maybe it’s just me but I feel old.”
“Join the club—” Flynn answered.
Garrett turned off the main road into a side street and made for a building surrounded by a chain link fence. Two school buses stood empty on the tarmac outside.
“Looks like we’re going back to school,” Flynn whispered.
“Always keep your eye on the exit,” Mercy replied looking around.
The rain became heavier, they were drenched. Mercy followed Flynn through the school gates. As she was shutting the gates, movement further down the street caught her eye, she crouched and stared at the area.
You’re getting jumpy, there’s nothing there, get inside—
Mercy walked down a recessed concourse to a set of glass doors, the others stood in the entrance hall beyond. She glanced at the gate one last time before she entered the building. The street was deserted, the clouds low, the rain heavy.
“We’ll barricade these doors, cover our rear and search the building. We could hide here, rest. I can try this—” Garrett tapped the radio strapped to his belt.
Mercy glanced at Flynn, “Let’s check this side of the building first,” she turned down the corridor the Remington resting easily in her hands. Flynn moved close behind, he was her shadow. They checked four classrooms in four minutes, the remaining three classrooms had been partially destroyed by the shelling. Wind and rain whistled through the broken windows and blasted walls.
“No sign of life,” Mercy said.
“You mean death,” Flynn quipped.
“Yeah, that too,” Mercy shut the last door and they retraced their steps along the corridor.
“It’s too quiet, I don’t like it,” Flynn whispered.
“Yeah, me too, quiet is bad in cities, tropes are like rats, you’re never far from one,” Mercy said.
“Or six—” Flynn scratched his chin.
They reached the foyer, the others returned a few minutes later. “There’s a kitchen and dining hall through the back. We can barricade the doors and lie low for a while,” Garrett said, moving to the back of the building.
They followed him and entered the canteen, guns at the ready. The room was deserted.
“No tropes, not so far,” Tawny’s voice echoed in the high ceilinged hall. “I wonder what happened here—”
“Feels like it was evacuated, there’s not much sign of chaos—” Stevie said, sitting on a bench.
“Guess we’ll never know,” Claire echoed. “How about that radio Garrett?” she added.
“Yeah, let’s give it a go. Can you guys barricade the doors?” Garrett asked.
Flynn, Mercy and Tawny stacked benches and chairs against the canteen doors. Mercy looked out the window into the large playground with its fenced off basketball court. The outside space was full of weeds, the fence surrounding the basketball court was thick with ivy along one side.
They returned to the centre of the room and gathered around Garrett. His eyes were closed, his fingers moving the frequency dial. The radio’s battery was strong and the canteen filled with the sound of static then a
sudden burst of chatter filled the room. A male voice listed a series of numbers which was followed by music.
“NSA code, probably co-ordinates, targets, or positions,” Garrett said. “Not what I want,” his fingers continued moving the dial. He reached the end, then changed bandwidth and repeated the process. Thirty seconds into the new cycle he opened his eyes and blinked, “There, listen—”
Mercy looked at the radio in Garrett’s hands. What was he talking about? She frowned, she only heard static.
“There,” Rose said, “A tapping sound—”
Garrett nodded, “A tapping sound, that’s our guys. An open channel that’s monitored. It’s for any of our guys who are trapped or caught behind enemy lines.” Garrett’s fingers began squeezing the transponder creating a series of static pulses. “Let’s hope they get this—”
“So… what? You’re doing like… Morse code?” Stevie asked.
“Not Morse but something similar,” Claire answered. “It’s a basic coded messaging system, Garrett’s waving a flag at our guys. We’ll see if there’s any response, hopefully they’ll recognise our call sign—”
“The NSA could be listening in—” Tawny said.
“Yes they could, it’s always a risk but it’s all we’ve got,” Claire replied.
“Right, that’s our message sent, let’s see if there’s any response,” Garrett put the radio on the table and looked at the others. Minutes passed without any change in the barely discernible signal within the static. Then, as Mercy was about to stretch her legs, a series of rapid pulses came out of the radio set. Garrett pulled out a pencil and started writing a series of numbers on the surface of the table. The pulses lasted twenty seconds then stopped.
Garrett put the pencil down and stared at the numbers he had written. “They’re sending a chopper to extract us from the east of the city in twelve hours’ time, from the roof of Oakland Lake Mall—”
They fell silent and looked at the radio, the rain outside beat against the windows, a flash of lightning lit the room. The drumming rain became more insistent, Mercy’s eyes darted to the window. The hairs on the nape of her neck stood up; the drumming was not coming from the window. She turned to look at the canteen doors.
The noise was coming from the corridor on the other side of the barricaded doors. A hollow feeling opened up in Mercy’s stomach.
“They’re here, they’ve found us—” Mercy said, her voice flat.
Chapter 24 Separation
“More will come, those doors won’t hold, we’ve got to leave,” Garrett said.
“Jesus, we’ve just got here,” Stevie voiced what they were all thinking.
“They’re smarter—” Rose whispered.
Tawny readied her M4 carbine. “Whatever. They’re persistent fuckers, I’ll give them that. But you heard the man, we’re close, we got an extraction plan now. Let’s get going Garrett, take us to this Oakland Mall—”
Garrett stood at the window looking at the sky. “The rain should dampen our scent. OK let’s bail. Check your weapons, safeties off and follow me.” He headed to the playground door and waited for the others. He met their eyes in turn, resignation written large across their faces. Without warning a high pitched whine filled the air, a second later the building shook violently.
“Incoming—” Flynn shouted, pulling Mercy to the floor.
Debris and dust filled the room, three more shells struck the street outside. The shockwave felled the others. The salvo ended and fresh shelling started up a block away.
Garrett pulled himself up, he hauled Claire and Stevie from the debris. Their faces and arms were grazed but otherwise they were unharmed. Tawny and Rose appeared, caked in dust, looking like ghosts.
“Where’s Flynn and Mercy?” Claire’s voice filled the gloom.
“Here, we’re OK—” Flynn appeared from behind a toppled table, Mercy at his side.
“Shit, the doors are down— run,” Garrett ordered.
The barricaded doors had fallen, beyond lay open corridor leading to the entrance lobby. The corridor was full of tropes, some, pulverised by the blast, lay unmoving on the floor, others began rising to their feet.
Garrett pushed the rear door open and went out into the rain, the others followed. A high wall surrounded the playground, the fenced basketball court lay in the corner. Garrett rushed over to a dumpster and climbed up, he reached down to Claire.
“Come on, up here, over the wall, it’s our only chance—” he hauled Claire onto the dumpster and put his hand out for Stevie.
Mercy watched as the others scrambled onto the dumpster and reached for the wall. Screams and moans came from the demolished dining hall. Mercy swung around, the Remington in her hands and blasted at a knot of tropes appearing from of the smoke and dust. Flynn and Rose appeared by her side and opened up on the seething mass with their shotguns.
Garrett shouted from the dumpster, “Now, come on, leave them—”
Flynn fired his last slug blasting a trope’s head at point blank range, he swung the Remington’s stock hitting another trope’s skull, the rotten bone caving with a sickening crunch. Rose turned and made for the dumpster, Garrett reached out and pulled her up. The others had disappeared over the wall into the alley beyond.
“Go, leave me, go,” Mercy ordered Flynn, steel in her voice. “I can hold them off—” She blasted at a trope emerging from the ruined dining hall.
Flynn saw movement in his peripheral vision. Three tropes had come between them and the dumpster. “Shit, they’ve flanked us.” He reached out and pulled Mercy further into the playground. She started reloading the Remington, more tropes appeared, climbing and crawling over what was left of the canteen wall.
Mercy swung around and saw the basketball court. “Quick, in there—” She shoved Flynn towards the gate then opened up on a trope scrambling down from a first floor window.
Flynn ran into the basketball court and held the gate open. Mercy emptied the Remington into the growing crowd of tropes in the playground. She retreated into the basketball court and Flynn slammed the gate shut engaging the bolt. The tropes rushed at them and started clawing at the chain link fence. Mercy bent over, her breathing ragged. She recovered and looked at Flynn. He was staring at the dumpster and the wall, the others had gone.
“They got away,” Mercy placed her hand on Flynn’s shoulder. He was shaking, she turned him around to face her. He was unrecognisable, his face and chest was covered in blood and gore. Adrenaline flooded through Mercy. “Flynn? Are you OK? Are you bit?” She brushed clots of gore and slivers of trope bone from his face and neck examining his skin.
Flynn stared at the mass of crazed tropes on the other side of the fence. “There’s just too many of them, too many—”
Relief coursed through Mercy, Flynn had no bites, she hugged him. “It’s all good, we’re still alive, the others got away. I’ve got you, it’s all good, Flynn stay with me, don’t give in to it, don’t go there, stay with me. We’ll find a way, stay with me, come back, come back please.” Mercy rocked him back and forwards in her arms.
Flynn’s breathing steadied, his eyes focused, he reached up and returned Mercy’s embrace. He took a deep breath, “I’m OK Mercy, I’m good… just went off the deep end a bit, I’m back—”
Gunshots erupted from the alley distracting the tropes.
“Shit, sounds as if they’ve run into trouble out there—” Mercy glanced at the wall.
Flynn tore his eyes away from the tropes on the other side of the fence. “Let’s think our way out of this,” he looked around the basketball court. “OK, so we have to climb out of here,” he pointed at the narrow gap between the back wall and the fence.
Mercy followed his gaze, “Yeah, the corner would be our best bet, it’s high though. Let’s give it a go.”
Mercy checked the gate’s bolt was secure then they retreated to the rear corner of the basketball court.
“Give me a boost,” Mercy said.
Flynn put his hands t
ogether and nodded, “Go for it.”
Mercy put her foot in Flynn’s hands and stepped up holding onto his shoulders. He straightened, lifting her up. She grabbed the top of the fence and placed a foot onto Flynn’s shoulder. She leaned over the fence, her hand touched the wall.
“Push me up some more,” Mercy shouted.
A trope started to squeeze down the narrow gap between the fence and the wall. Flynn gritted his teeth and lifted Mercy another few feet. With one eye on the wall and one on the trope Mercy bridged the gap with her hands and trunk and swung her legs onto the wall. The trope stuck its fingers through the chain link pulling at Flynn’s jacket.
Flynn swung around and pushed at the trope through the fence. “Bastard, get away from me—” He looked back at the other tropes in the school yard, more had turned away from the press at the gate, coming instead to force themselves between the fence and the back wall.
“Come on Flynn, climb up, grab this, I’ll pull you up,” Mercy called from the wall, she was dangling her belt over the top of the fence.
Flynn stepped back from the fence and walked across the basketball court, his eyes calculating distance and height. A metallic noise came from his left, he turned, the tropes had loosened the bolt on the gate and were working it free. Flynn looked up at Mercy and ran forwards. The gate burst open, the tropes surged into the basketball court. Flynn jumped up against the trope leaning on the other side of the fence and threw himself up. His hands caught the top of the fence and he pulled himself up, with a last effort he reached out and grabbed Mercy’s belt.
The tropes slammed into the fence beneath his feet, Flynn’s feet came away from the chain link and he fell. Mercy pulled on the belt throwing herself over the wall into the alleyway beyond, her body a counterweight. Flynn held on, grabbing the belt with two hands. Tropes reached up scrabbling at dead air inches from his feet. Sweat beaded Flynn’s brow as he looked down into the crowd of blood thirsty tropes. For a moment he did nothing, his face blank then he recovered, pulling himself up and over the fence onto the wall.
“Shit,” Flynn swore. The top of the fence cut his hand as he transferred his weight to the wall. Thick drops of blood fell onto the tropes in the narrow space below driving them into a frenzy.
The Survival Chronicles (Book 3): Mercy Fall Page 18
