Blaze spat on the floor, “Spider knew the risks, them tropes were following us.”
Kiki exhaled a long plume of smoke and handed the cigarette back to Stiff, “Yeah, they didn’t attack until we were focused on the NSA. They’re thinking. Christ, what next? They’ll be shooting at us—”
Stiff threw Kiki a warning look then turned to the younger kids, “Shit happens, we all know that, it is what it is. Anyway look what we got; guns and ammo, medicine and a radio. We’ll be able to follow the NSA’s movements, we can take out some of their stragglers as they push south. Once they move on, the city will be ours again, they’re only interested in getting Constantine—”
Mercy stepped forwards, “What do you mean? Isn’t Constantine fighting back? What about the Resistance?”
Stiff looked at Mercy, a dangerous light in her eyes, “Constantine? No, no sign of anything except for the Rangers she left in the city to slow the NSA. Her main force is concentrated in Galveston but they’re doing squat up here. She’s sacrificing Fort Worth, drawing the NSA south, who knows what her strategy is? If you ask me there’ll be a reckoning in Galveston, there’s enough firepower down there to level the whole of Fort Worth and Dallas put together—”
Mercy stared at Stiff, her words sinking in. They were heading into the eye of the storm, they were in a race to reach the Galveston pocket. The NSA were closing in on Constantine, it was total war, a struggle to the death.
“And you want to head to Galveston?” Stiff added. “Why don’t you stay here with us? Wait for the dust to settle, the new world order. There’s always room for people like us, we’ll survive whoever’s in power, they can’t control everywhere—”
“I’m fed up running, I want to make a stand. Anyone who’s an enemy of the NSA is a friend of mine,” Mercy fired back, she looked at her watch. “I’ve got three hours to get to Oakland and find my friends. I’m not waiting until morning. I’m taking Flynn and we’re going now. You promised a guide—”
Stiff stood up taking the cigarette from Kiki. “That was before Spider died, granted you did good work back there, but Spider’s death changes things. I need all my people, I can’t afford to lose any more of my crew. You and your friend are free to go but you’re on your own. My offer stands, if you want to ride out the storm here you’re welcome, we could use you—”
Mercy’s face hardened, “I might have known you’d go back on your word, you’re true to your name. We’ll take our own weapons with us, at least give us some ammo—”
Stiff held Mercy’s gaze for a few seconds, her face broke out in a smile. “Sure, what you think we are, animals? Here take these—” she handed Mercy two 9mm pistol clips. Mercy stared at the rest of the guns and ammunition on the table, the atmosphere was tense.
Walk away, walk away, fight another day—
“Fine,” Mercy said, her voice flat. She took the two clips and went to Flynn in the partitioned area, he looked asleep. She approached his bed and was surprised when he opened his eyes and smiled at her.
“Hey beautiful, you came back for me. My hand is good as new, I’m feeling better. What’s the plan Mercy girl?”
Relief coursed through Mercy. Flynn seemed stronger, she inspected his hand, his grip was good, the bandage fresh, there was no sign of fever. She gave him a quick recap on what had happened and her conversation with Stiff.
“So we’re leaving, let’s get our stuff and leave,” Mercy watched as Flynn pulled himself up from the bed.
“Lead on babe, I’m right behind you,” he said, his eyes bright.
They found Joker and Kiki and said their goodbyes. Joker returned the two empty Remingtons, Mercy’s Beretta, Flynn’s Sig Sauer and Mercy’s handset. Joker pulled a torch out of his back pocket and gave it to her. She switched it on, the batteries were good.
“Thanks,” Mercy said.
“Your radio’s still got some juice in it,” Joker said. “Could come in useful—”
Kiki held out her hand to Mercy. “Thanks for your help back there, you evened the odds for us, we stand a chance now. I’m sorry Stiff didn’t keep her word about a guide, I know you’ll be OK. Oakland is well signposted, just follow Route 30 east, you can’t miss it—”
Mercy loaded the two pistols. Flynn raised his eyes.
“We got ten rounds each… I know,” Mercy said, pulling a face.
They donned their webbing and slung the empty shotguns across their shoulders. Mercy checked her watch and frowned, she turned to Joker and Kiki, “We’re ready, thanks for patching up Flynn. We’re outta here—”
Kiki reached out and grabbed Mercy’s arm, “Here take this map, I’ve marked the best route for you. See, we’re here, and Oakland is here—” Kiki traced her finger across the map between the two points for Mercy to see. Mercy inspected the route and nodded her thanks.
They left by the back entrance and crept up the alley to Pennsylvania Avenue.
“What is it with this stupid rain?” Flynn muttered.
“Don’t knock it, it’ll mask our scent,” Mercy replied.
Flynn grunted.
Mercy looked down Pennsylvania Avenue, “You ready for this?”
“Yeah, let’s go—”
Mercy stepped out into the road and turned east. Her watch read 3 am, the hulking shapes of trucks and vehicles littered the road ahead.
Plenty of places to hide, plenty of places for tropes to hide. Fuck it, let’s do it—
Mercy shrugged off her doubts and started walking, keeping to the middle of the road. They were completely soaked after a few minutes, rain trickled down Mercy’s back making her shiver. The rain tasted of smoke and death. She moved on, buildings brooded waiting for something to happen, their windows and doors like broken teeth.
The road rose passing an overgrown railroad track, the abandoned cars petered out and the road ahead was clear. They continued on and came to an overpass. Mercy consulted the map shielding the torch with her hand. “That’s Route 35 below, it’ll take us north and we can join Route 30 east to Oakland,” she tried to shield the map from the rain but failed.
“Got it,” Flynn said, “except we might want to choose another route,” he pointed to lights flashing in the distance.
“Shit, activity to the north, probably NSA, but who knows? Last thing we need is to run into anyone—” Mercy hunkered down behind the bridge wall. She chewed her lip and examined the map. “OK so if we continue down Hattie Street it’ll take us east, that’s all that matters, let’s go.”
They crouched, ducking across the bridge and reached the far side. Mercy kept the pace up and used the map, they joined East Vickery Road and entered Sycamore Park. Trees loomed over the cracked, pitted street. Long grass and weeds encroached on the road surface reducing it to a narrow lane. Mercy consulted the map again.
“If we had time I’d go around the park—” she said.
“I know, let’s just get it over with and go straight through,” Flynn replied.
Mercy put the map away and pulled out her knife. Beretta in one hand, knife in the other she advanced down the road. The wind picked up, Mercy’s shivering worsened, her teeth chattered. She needed to warm up, she pushed the pace then stopped after five minutes, the park’s exit was dimly visible. She reached for the map but her hand froze. Something was not right, she knelt and waited, listening.
The smell came first, low and coppery.
Fresh blood. Shit—
Blood meant trouble, Mercy tilted her head and listened through the wind. A low grunt followed by a deep sigh came from ahead. Mercy’s heart sank, whatever was making the noise was close. She turned to Flynn holding her finger to her lips, he nodded. She weighed the options, they could go right, left or ahead. They were blind, they needed to know what lay between them and the park exit.
It’ll be OK, just go slow, see what it is—
Mercy crouched low and moved forwards keeping to the long grass. She gained ten feet, twenty, she stopped and stared. A large form lay prone on the
road ahead, her brain struggled to understand. Part of the form was moving, rocking back and forwards in the rain. She moved another few feet her eyes glued to the shape. She stopped again her heart racing.
Understanding dawned as the shape was revealed. Mercy froze, four tropes knelt on the Humvee’s bonnet, feasting on two NSA casualties, their stretchers lashed to the vehicle.
NSA field ambulance— shit, that’ll draw every trope in a five mile radius, pull back and—
Without warning the nearest trope snapped its head up and rose from the bonnet. It turned around, sniffing the air making an agitated keening sound.
Mercy’s blood ran cold.
We’re fucked—
Chapter 27 Ablaze
The trope looked directly at Mercy, their eyes locked for a second, it threw itself, catlike, off the Humvee. The other tropes lifted their heads from the dead soldiers and stared in Mercy’s direction. Mercy aimed her Beretta and shot the advancing trope between the eyes as it lunged at her, it slumped to the ground the back of its skull a bloody mess. Mercy’s eyes followed it to the ground then returned to the Humvee. The others were gone.
Shit, where are they?
Mercy looked left and right trying to see through the sheets of rain and dense undergrowth. Her ears were ringing from the gunshot.
“They’re going to flank us,” Flynn said from behind, “watch out for—”
Out of nowhere a motor bike skidded, screeching to a halt beside Flynn. Mercy recognised the rider. “Get on, quick—” Blaze revved the engine. Flynn grabbed Mercy’s arm pushing her towards the bike.
“Get on Mercy, it’s OK, three can fit if Blaze stands—” Flynn shouted.
Mercy jumped on the bike and turned to see two tropes dragging Flynn to the ground, she lifted the Beretta and took aim. The tropes were grappling with Flynn, hitting him with fists and arms. Flynn lashed out giving one of his attackers a headbutt, its nose burst like rotten fruit, blood sprayed through the air. The second trope pulled Flynn to the ground and lunged for his neck. Mercy levelled the Beretta at the trope’s head but did not shoot for fear of hitting Flynn. A cracking sound tore through the air, the trope reached up to its neck, choking. Blaze hauled on the whip pulling the trope off Flynn, she dismounted the bike and shot the trope twice in the back of the head with her Glock 17. Its body went limp in the dirt. Flynn got to his knees.
“Down,” Mercy shouted and threw herself to the ground rolling to Flynn’s right. She brought the Beretta up and fired two rounds into a third trope which had emerged behind Flynn. Her first bullet tore through its neck shattering its spine, the second bullet entered its brain through the left eye, the trope slumped to the ground. Mercy helped Flynn up and they ran to the bike, jumping on together. The long grass parted behind the bike, six more tropes lurched forwards reaching for them.
Blaze gunned the engine and released the brakes, the bike shot forwards spraying the tropes with mud and grass. Blaze stood on the motorbike’s foot pegs and rode through the rain towards the Humvee, the tropes screamed and gave chase. The bike skidded then gained traction on the tarmac and accelerated narrowly missing the Humvee. Mercy glanced at the bloody remains of the NSA soldiers as they passed, one of the corpses moved, its jaw twitching.
Mercy recognised the bloodlust in the corpse’s eyes, Rose’s voice returned to her: The bullets always run out—
Flynn held on to Mercy’s waist and she in turn held on to Blaze. The bike kicked and bucked over a series of potholes then shot through the park gates in a blur.
You can sure handle a bike Blaze— Mercy held back a whoop.
Blaze moved through the gears and they sped along the street heading east. She manoeuvred the bike dodging abandoned vehicles, she maintained control in the rain. They came to an intersection, Blaze flicked the headlight to full beam; the street ahead was full of tropes moving towards the sound of the bike.
“Hang on,” Blaze gunned the engine.
Mercy had to stop herself reaching for her Beretta. Blaze let out a wild shout and pointed the bike at the nearest infected. They hit the tropes scattering them like bowling pins. Blaze used the bike as a weapon, skidding and slamming into the second knot of tropes. Mercy was nearly thrown off the bike but managed to hold on as Blaze regained control and sped off down the centre of the road her leather jacket slick with rain and trope blood.
The next twenty minutes vanished in a blur of empty streets and screeching brakes. Finally Blaze turned off the headlights and slowed down, the engine purred softly as they covered four city blocks. Blaze stood on the foot pegs, scanning left and right.
What’s she looking for?
Blaze’s shoulders stiffened, she steered the bike off the road and down an alley, tall buildings loomed on either side. They reached the end of the alley. Blaze stopped the bike, cut the engine and took the keys from the ignition.
“OK, get off, we’ve lost them for now. Oakland’s a fifteen minute walk from here, you got to make it to the mall right?” Blaze’s voice was level.
“Yeah,” Mercy said, her legs were like rubber. She felt elated, her skin was flushed, she felt alive and something more.
Good, that felt good. Christ, I actually enjoyed that—
Flynn was shaking, he stank of sweat, his clothes were covered in trope blood.
“That was—” he managed before stopping, “that was insane—” he stared at Blaze.
Mercy checked herself and Flynn for bites then turned to Blaze. “Why did you help us?”
Blaze shrugged, “Because I wanted out, and you offered a choice. Stiff’s crew are tight but the war’s drawing the tropes in, it’s becoming too dangerous, you saw the streets. It’s time to leave so I’m coming with you, you got a problem with that?”
Mercy stared at Blaze, she measured her words. “No Blaze, I don’t have a problem with that, that’s a perfectly sane reason in an insane world. Thanks for baling us out back there—”
Blaze shrugged. “I’ll get us to the mall. I see you’ve still got your radio. Maybe you can connect with your friends?”
Mercy looked at the radio on her belt. “The chopper extraction is supposed to be from the mall roof,” she checked her watch, “in forty five minutes. I’ll keep radio silence until the last minute, I don’t want to tip off the NSA. Lead on Blaze—”
Street names passed in a haze; Martha Lane, Rand Street, Normandy Road, Ederville Road. Mercy concentrated on following Blaze through the dark.
“Where’s the stadium that was full of the infected?” Mercy asked when Blaze stopped to get her bearings.
“Just north of here, a High School stadium, six thousand capacity, plus their baseball pitch and the school itself, easily another ten thousand. It was used as a field hospital and quarantine station for this part of the city during the Fall. Electrified fences were put up, thousands of people were crammed in and quarantined by the military. None of them made it, the infection took them all, the fence was intact until a week or so ago. I guess the fence failed or got hit by a stray shell, anyway they’re loose. I’m hoping the fighting downtown has drawn most of them away, we’ll see—”
Mercy digested the information, if it were not for Flynn and Blaze she could walk the streets with impunity the biotech inside her would see to that, unless she met one of the new super tropes. But she had to get Flynn, and now Blaze, to safety.
Jesus, my brain hurts, I can’t think myself out of this one, not unless I know what lies ahead. The only action is reaction, same as ever—
Mercy followed Blaze, she stopped looking at street names, they all merged into one, a landscape of numbing suburbia, desolate and overrun by neglect and nature. The rain finally stopped and the sky lightened in the east. She saw the mall first, a massive glass dome adorning its midsection. Then she saw the huge carpark surrounding the mall. Blaze stopped and crouched behind a car, they were at an intersection amongst a tangle of vehicles.
“Nice place to stop,” Flynn muttered, looking around, “multiple pi
le up back in the day.”
Mercy crept to the front of the vehicle. Blaze was peering around the side of the bonnet. “What can you see?” Mercy leaned around Blaze’s shoulder and looked at the car park ahead. “Shit—”
Infected were everywhere, some unmoving, others milling aimlessly about.
Blaze held her hand up, “Your extraction is from the roof, right?”
Mercy nodded, “Yeah not too long now. How are we going to make it through that lot?”
“They’re easily distracted, I’ll create a diversion over there,” Blaze indicated an overturned truck to the right of the carpark entrance. “I’ll see if I can torch that, I’ll give you five minutes to flank them and get in position before I set it on fire. Once they’re occupied with the fire you can swing in behind them and get to the mall doors,” she pointed at the glass doors under the dome. “That’s about as good as it gets—”
“That works for me,” Mercy replied, her eyes calculating the angles on the ground ahead. “We’ll wait for you inside.”
Blaze shook her head, “No, you get to the roof, no waiting. I’ll find my own way up, how hard can it be?” She grinned then turned away, “Go on, get in position, I’ll see you on the roof.”
Mercy watched as Blaze ran towards the overturned truck. She recognised something in Blaze, something solid, fearless.
I like you Blaze, I like your style—
“Come on Flynn, you heard the girl, she’s gonna buy us some time.”
“She’s got guts, I’ll give her that,” Flynn said. “Ready when you are, let’s hustle.”
Mercy dashed to the left of the intersection finding cover behind a row of smashed cars. Most of the cars had burned in the original pile up and only their rusting smoke blackened shells remained. She edged her way forwards to an intact Buick Roadmaster and stopped. Early morning light broke across the sky in the east, birds were flocking over the mall. The Buick was the last piece of cover before the car park. Mercy looked at her watch.
Anytime now would be good Blaze, anytime about now—
Mercy craned her neck her eyes searching the trail of wrecked cars, she picked up movement just above the tangled heap of vehicles. A thin wisp of smoke rose into the air, Mercy shook her head.
The Survival Chronicles (Book 3): Mercy Fall Page 21
