Mercy

by Tara Ellis

  “And the general knows about this place and is willing to lie and kill people to find it?” James wasn’t convinced.

  Hicks took a deep breath as he stood in the doorway. “Yes. Because he knows that even if he manages to regain control of the people, none of it will matter if he can’t feed them a year from now. We’re talking about extinction,” the captain implored, his voice rising. “There are three of these vaults, and whoever ends up controlling them will wield more power than anyone else throughout history. The power to decide who lives and dies, and how it will all happen.”

  The impact of the truth behind those words hit James hard enough to steal his breath. He gasped once before he could swallow, and tried to regain his composure. It always came down to power. Hicks was right that at the dawn of their new existence, it was all going to be reduced to land, food, and the ability to grow it.

  “We need to go.” Hicks was no longer smiling and he had a new, nervous energy about him. “I was hoping your dad would have checked in this morning and my concern proved unfounded. I’m afraid we made a mistake not leaving last night.”

  “The bird can get us farther in a half-hour of flight than we could have walked all night in the dark,” James countered. “And I hope your contacts are still good, because I’ve got a message for you to send before we leave.” He shoved past the captain and began up the stairs two steps at a time, feeling a new sense of urgency. The underlying feeling of a continuing synchronicity compelled him to act without giving it as much thought as he normally would. In that moment, all that mattered was that they needed to find his dad before anyone else did. They had to get to Mercy.

  Chapter 6

  ETHAN

  Miller Ranch, Mercy, Montana

  “I lost him!” Ethan muttered frantically as he scrambled forward on his stomach to the next tree, struggling to see the far side of the barn. He had joined the fight late and was still trying to get into a good position so he could help Sam and Sandy.

  He’d heard the first gunshots when he was over a mile up the fence line. By the time he was within view of the scene playing out, Chloe was running away toward the road, with only the barn in between her and ten armed men. Calling them men was an exaggeration. They reminded Ethan of Decker and Billy, with the same lack of concern for hygiene and an air of disregard for life…and sanity.

  Some of them were laughing. Laughing while taking potshots at the barn, where he assumed Danny was returning fire in a vain attempt to keep them away. Sam and Sandy were located directly west of the barn, and it was only because of them that the outlaws hadn’t advanced any further.

  It had to be the outlaws, because who else would be attacking them? Ethan questioned a lot of things as he watched two men on foot less than thirty feet below him attempt to sneak through the trees. Were they after the cattle? If so, there were ways they could have done it without any confrontation. That led him to believe they were either in a rush, or wanted the fight. Maybe it was both.

  Sandy finally noticed the two creeping her way and put a slug into a trunk right next to one of their heads. Ethan couldn’t help but smile as he watched them scatter. That guy probably needed a change of shorts.

  A snapping branch behind him replaced the smile with a startled gasp and Ethan flipped onto his back to see yet another man successfully getting past him. Pressing his lips into a thin line, he chastised himself for not paying more attention, and allowing himself to get distracted. If Ethan let the guy go, he’d work his way up behind Sam and Sandy and the two would be caught in a crossfire. Danny would be left on her own, and the other guy he’d already lost sight of was probably on the far side of the barn by then. They were outnumbered and about to lose their only advantage. He couldn’t let that happen.

  Up until that point, Ethan had managed to land a few accurately placed shots to effectively deter the desperados. He knew the gunfire would be heard throughout the valley and that help would be coming whether Chloe reached anyone or not. He’d been hoping they could hold them off until support arrived, except their best gunmen were all on a wild goose chase.

  Ethan grimaced at the irony as he pushed himself cautiously up onto his knees, never taking his eyes off his prey. The guy looked to be in his late twenties, though it was hard to tell for sure; he was so dirty. He was holding a pistol of some sort and was fervently licking his lips due to either nerves or excitement.

  The Winchester was unnaturally heavy in his hands and Ethan willed his arms to stay steady as he stood and aimed the weapon. “You’re gonna want to stop right there and drop that gun.” His voice was surprisingly even and had the desired effect.

  Freezing, the man’s tongue remained sticking out as he slowly pivoted to face Ethan. Then, his eyes widened and his upper lip curled into a hideous snarl. He looked more like a rabid dog than anything human, and he began making a noise that was a cross between a wheeze and a grunt. Ethan realized he was laughing.

  “Big mistake, kid,” he sneered.

  The lip, the way he called him kid, the smell of his rank body, all reminded Ethan of Decker. When he saw the man’s forearm flex in preparation to fire, he didn’t hesitate to pull the trigger first.

  They were close enough that it would have been nearly impossible for Ethan to miss. And he didn’t. The outlaw flew back with a grunt, the gun falling harmlessly from his hand to land in the soft pine needles. Ethan stood staring at it for a moment, confused.

  The woods around him receded, to be replaced with first the nightmarish scene of bodies and burning tires in downtown Pocatello when Billy killed all those people, and then on the road North of Virginia, Idaho. It was when he’d watched Decker die. Ethan experienced the same, hollowed out feeling he’d had that day as his hearing returned and the trees came back into focus.

  He was still staring at the gun, and Ethan shifted his view to take in the feet of the man he’d surely killed. They weren’t moving. He wasn’t moving. Another volley of shots forced him back to reality and he took a ragged breath, his lungs feeling as if they were being squeezed.

  Bark erupted from the tree trunk near his head as a bullet ripped into it, and Ethan flinched when the splinters stung his cheek and forehead. Instinct took over, saving his life, as he dropped to his stomach and barely avoided a second shot close behind the first.

  There were too many of them. Pulling the Winchester out from under his body, Ethan tried to find something to aim at, but the foliage was too dense. Instead, he fired randomly into the sky, hoping it would at least give his attackers something to think about. If he could just buy some more time—

  Shouts came from the direction of the road. A literal war cry, followed by the sounds of several horses stomping into the back pasture amid a fresh round of firepower.

  “Tom!” Grandma Miller screamed, her voice full of both terror and pride.

  Dad?

  Ethan dared to poke his head high enough to take in the scene playing out below where he was concealed. Sure enough, more than a dozen new riders filled the space around the barn and farmhouse. It was obvious they were eager to fight, as they were all armed and already shooting.

  Bishop was off his horse and taking a knee. Ethan watched as he gunned down a man approaching the doors of the barn, and then seamlessly pivoted to shoot a second who was running at him.

  Horrified but also enthralled, Ethan knew he had to help and was in the best position to prevent anyone from circling around on them, or getting away on the Miner’s Trail. Feeling somewhat numb, he fought through the weakness in his legs to make his way down the treed hillside, hoping Tango would remain where he’d secured him to a fencepost. The gelding would be spooked by the shots and could break free if he tried hard enough.

  Ethan emerged at the far end of the field behind the barn. The same one they’d ridden into only a week ago, to be reunited with his grandma. A man lay moaning, begging for help, but he ignored him. Ethan could tell by the clothing that it was one of the outlaws, and he wasn’t going to stop and r
isk anything for him. Not then, although he figured the man’s wails would find their way into a fresh round of nightmares.

  The storm had let up momentarily but was once again hammering them with rain and wind, making the farm look like a surreal battlefield from the Middle Ages. Men screamed, a woman shouted, followed by another shot and more screams. Ethan’s nose tickled with the acrid smell of gunpowder as it mixed unnaturally with the fresh, earthy smell of a rainstorm.

  Wiping at his face, he struggled to make sense of what he was seeing. It was more difficult through the downpour to tell who was who, although most of the outlaws were on foot. There couldn’t be that many left. He knew at least six of the ten were down, and probably more by then.

  A blur of movement from near the hayfield drew his attention, and Ethan swung his rifle up to track a lone man running toward him. It wasn’t anyone he recognized, though it was hard to be sure. Hail mixed in with the rain and lightning strobed around him. As it became obvious the guy was heading for the trail, Ethan aimed low. Steeling himself, he took the shot and watched as the runner tumbled, hard, before writhing on the ground, grasping his leg.

  “Ethan!”

  His head snapped around, and Ethan saw his dad running toward him. He was holding a rifle, his head was bare and wet, and he’d never looked more dangerous. “I’m okay!” Ethan called out as he brought a hand to his face and wiped away the blood oozing from where the splintered wood had pierced his skin. The rain would wash away the rest.

  Tom slowed, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he closed the rest of the distance. “Thank God you’re okay,” he said, taking ahold of Ethan’s arm and giving it a squeeze. “I was afraid I’d lost you all.”

  “Chloe and Danny?” Ethan asked, concerned by his dad’s comment.

  “Chloe’s fine,” Tom said, glancing back over his shoulder and carefully surveying the edge of the field while he spoke, his dripping hair whipped around by the wind. “Danny’s shot, but I think she’ll be okay.”

  “I’m sorry,” Ethan said, unsure why he felt a need to apologize. “I was up checking the line when they got here. I should have—”

  “I’m glad you weren’t here,” Tom said, cutting him off. His hand suddenly tightened on Ethan’s arm and pulled him backward, almost off his feet.

  Ethan saw him then, another man making a break from the trees, trying desperately to flee to the trail. When his dad didn’t react, he began to lift his Winchester.

  “No,” Tom said, putting his other hand on the rifle and pushing it down. “It’s okay. Let him run all the way back and tell Dillinger how he failed.”

  The storm abruptly retreated again, offering a disturbingly clear view of the battle zone. Ethan looked around at the bodies, the injured, and several people—friends, who were walking towards them, blood evident on several of them. He met his dad’s gaze and raised an eyebrow questioningly. “Did he fail?”

  Chapter 7

  PATTY

  Mercy Clinic, Mercy, Montana

  To say that their resources were overwhelmed would have been a gross understatement.

  Patty paused in her task to push back some stray hair, using the edge of her gloved hand since the fingers were covered in blood. She’d hoped to never see the clinic so full of patients again, especially not all at once. The injuries ranged from a twisted ankle suffered while jumping off a horse, to a horrendous gunshot to the stomach. That man had finally succumbed to the wound after screaming for three hours straight even though Melissa gave him some morphine.

  Fortunately, the only fatality was one of the outlaws. By some miracle, Mercy hadn’t lost any of their own. Although they had suffered multiple casualties.

  “The last of the…um, bodies have been stored in the garage,” Sheriff Waters said as he approached her and Tom. She wasn’t certain if he was giving the update to her or the new mayor, and she supposed it didn’t really matter.

  Tom nodded in response, not taking his eyes off of Danny, who was currently having part of her ear stitched back on to her head by Dr. Olsen. “How many in total?” he asked.

  “Eight,” Bishop answered. He glanced first at Patty and then over at the sheriff. “Eight dead, and that includes the guy who died here.”

  “Where are the other two?” Tom demanded; his voice gruff. “We need to talk to them. Now.”

  “One of them is sedated,” Melissa said, looking up briefly to take another threaded needle from Patty. “He might not make it without some advanced care and possible surgery. The other guy’s fine. The one Ethan intentionally clipped in the leg.” She paused then and narrowed her eyes at Bishop. “Was it really necessary to kill so many of them?”

  Patty flinched at the look Tom directed toward the doctor, and was thankful he had enough control to not respond. Instead, Danny was the one who reached up and grasped Melissa’s wrist. “I know it must look like a bloodbath,” she whispered, clearly in a lot of pain. “But we were the ones who were attacked. They didn’t leave us much choice.”

  “I know. I’m sorry,” Melissa sighed, closing her eyes. “I’m just so tired of death.”

  “We all are,” Tom said stoically. “That doesn’t make it go away, and I’m afraid this is only the beginning. We’re going to have to be ready to fight for our town if we want to keep it.”

  Sandy was on the next bed over, and she sat up then, staring at her son. “What does that mean, Tom?”

  Patty eyed the bandage wrapped around Sandy’s upper left arm, and noticed it was bleeding through. She really needed stitches, but the stubborn woman insisted the bullet graze was just a “scratch” and refused care other than the dressing and a sling.

  Bishop sat down next to her and put an arm around her good shoulder. “While we obviously didn’t find the outlaws waiting for us at the road, we did find a messenger.”

  “What sort of messenger?” Sam asked. He was hovering at the foot of Danny’s bed with Grace. The retriever was a quivering, whimpering mess and had been since Patty first saw her come into the clinic. She was such a sweet dog, and Patty sincerely hoped the trauma Grace experienced wouldn’t leave a permanent mark.

  “Dillinger was behind this,” Tom said bluntly.

  Danny gasped and started to turn her head in response. Thankfully, Melissa had quick reflexes, and jerked the needle back in time. “Danny, you have to stay still!” the doctor scolded, scowling at Tom. “Maybe you guys can wait to have this conversation until later?”

  “No,” Danny insisted. “I won’t move. We’ve already wasted too much time this afternoon, if the military is involved. We need to know what’s going on. Everyone does.”

  “We can call for a meeting,” Patty suggested. “I don’t think it’ll be possible to do it tonight, but we can arrange to get everyone together first thing in the morning.”

  “Good idea,” Sheriff Waters agreed. “Meanwhile, I’ve already added four more guards to either end of town, and two scouts to patrol several miles both north and south.”

  “Caleb went to check the repeater,” Bishop added. “The storm passed over an hour ago and the radios still aren’t working at any distance. I suspect it was taken out intentionally.”

  “Because?” Sam led, looking for further explanation.

  “That kid from Bishop’s hiking group who caused trouble at the farm before,” Tom said, looking at Sam. “We caught him carrying a response to Dillinger, accepting orders to take the cattle.”

  “They’ve already taken over the Duke Ranch,” Bishop added.

  Patty looked at the man she’d come to trust with her life over the past few weeks. Something about him had changed. He’d always seemed to be holding back, and now it was like his whole personality was out on the table and she wasn’t sure she liked it. It was like he was detached and more methodical. Sure, he was showing some concern and affection toward Sandy, but everything about him was…colder. More sterile. “How do you know that?” she asked, closely gauging his reaction.

  “That doesn’t matter ri
ght now,” Tom interrupted, puzzling Patty even further.

  “What does matter is that we’re clearly next on the agenda,” Bishop said. “Why he would use those outlaws instead of his men is still a puzzle—”

  “Because they don’t have any rules,” Ethan spoke over him as he walked up. “I got a chance to know the corporal and I guarantee you he probably didn’t have orders to do this, so he found another way. His men will come in through the front door while his dogs do the dirty work.”

  Patty was shocked by Ethan’s words. Not only because it sounded accurate, but that the teen would be astute enough to put it together in the midst of what was going on. His face, which had finally been almost clear of bruises, was once again marred. Several deep scratches and puncture wounds peppered his right check and forehead and his eye was already swelling.

  “He’s right,” Tom agreed. “Dillinger isn’t going to stop.”

  “How are we going to keep the military out of Mercy?” Sam asked, kneeling down to comfort Grace. “We saw what they did in Monida.”

  “We’ll discuss our options tomorrow at the meeting,” Tom said, looking at Patty. “You’re right. The town leaders and council need to be a part of this discussion, as well as the solution.”

  Patty smiled at Tom in a silent acknowledgement, relieved he grasped the bigger picture. It wouldn’t matter if a group of them decided to take action if the town wasn’t behind them. Avoiding an invasion would require everyone in Mercy if they were to have any hope at all.

  “There,” Melissa announced, applying a final dressing to Danny’s head. “I’m afraid your ear is going to be disfigured. It didn’t seem to be affecting your hearing, so I think it should heal up pretty good. Of course, I don’t have any way of scanning your head, so we can’t be sure the bullet didn’t crack your skull. There’s no obvious fractures or chips that I saw before sewing it up.”