Grant Us Mercy (Book 1): Grant Us Mercy

by Little, D. C.

  “We’ll stay in pairs. I’ve got Tuck. You okay with Hannah?”

  “We’ll be fine,” Kris said to the girl with a nod. Yet a trembling began within, and she hoped it wouldn’t cause the flashlight to waver and show her weakness.

  “Then let’s head out. Stay close.”

  Kris couldn’t help but feel as if she were just a member of Blake's team, rather than his wife. But isn’t a marriage supposed to be the best team? She sighed. She had never had the chance to find out. He had been gone too much to know what that would be like. Would he stay now, when they needed him the most?

  ~5~

  Blake fought against the emotions that kept trying to surface. He had his family. They were alive, and now it was his responsibility to get them home safe. Once they were there, he had no concerns. The bunker would feed them for a year if needed, and they could survive whatever chaos the sun might throw at them...or the demise of humanity in their neighbors.

  He gripped his son’s hand tightly, trying not to hurt the boy. He had grown so much over the last year it had knocked the breath out of him. The boy’s face had leaned out and his top adult teeth were just growing in. His eyes may look like his, but Kris’s smile filled their son’s face, that beautiful smile he hoped would return to her.

  He calculated the fire’s movements again. It had crept another five feet towards the creek than it had when he went through the first time. It would be cutting it close at the end. The bank on their left rose in sheer granite cliffs. No scaling that without rope. He had a roll in the backpack he carried, but not enough to get them up that height.

  They had no choice but to push through if they wanted to get home. They needed to be home. This fire was only a minor obstacle in the big picture. The world wouldn’t be the same after this, at least not for many years. He clenched his teeth, berating himself for not leaving for home a long time ago.

  Duty.

  That word had been ingrained in him since he enlisted at seventeen. Duty for his country. Duty for his officers. Duty for the elected officials he had sworn to protect.

  He glanced back to see how Kris and Hannah were scrambling through the overgrown creek canyon. Then he met the eyes of his son, so trusting. Duty.

  This was where his duty lay. Duty to his family.

  Blake boosted Tucker up a large boulder and then shimmied up himself. He positioned in a way to grab first Hannah’s arm and then Kris’s to help pull them up onto the mossy rock. Kris didn’t immediately let go of his hand once on top, and he clung to it as a call line of hope.

  She had always been his grounding rod. That woman had kept him on his toes since the moment they met. She challenged his conspiracy theories and laughed at his preparations, but she worked alongside him to prepare. He always thought she did so to indulge him. Kris never really fully believed this type of event would happen.

  Playing around with the idea, researching survival techniques, practicing them in nature had bonded them together. He knew she didn’t take it seriously, but every time he had to leave her, a small fulfillment eased his heart. At least she would have the skills she needed.

  After Tuck had been born, things changed. She no longer wanted to pretend the world could end at any moment. He didn’t blame her. The thought of his child having to suffer through a post-apocalyptic event made him want to retch. Which was why, even as Kris backed away from it, he pushed even harder to prepare.

  He had even more reasons to live and protect the ones he loved.

  The small sense of satisfaction that played inside him was easily overwhelmed by the heaviness of the situation. So much rested on his shoulders, but he would do it. He would make sure his wife and son survived, whatever the cost.

  A blast of hot wind hit him in the face, drawing him back to the present. He froze. The wind had shifted. Damn it. He dropped Kris’s hand, hopped off the rock and peered into the distance. The fire slowly edged its way down into the canyon.

  “Tucker, pull off your pack and unwrap that emergency blanket.” Blake shrugged out of his and did the same. “Quickly!”

  Tucker spurred his movement, hastily finding the packaged shiny blanket.

  Kris shot Blake a disgruntled glance before helping their son open the package and put his backpack back on.

  He knew the look, but now was not a time for niceties. It was time for action. Life and death could hang in the seconds it took to think of feelings.

  “Got it!” Tucker held up the opened blanket.

  “Good. Give it to your mom and come here.” Blake lowered him from the rock and then helped the girls down.

  “What do we do with this?” Kris asked curtly.

  “Wrap it around yourself and Hannah. Move as fast as possible. Stubbed toes or not, do not stop.” He picked up his son, his weight reassuring in his arms, and then wrapped both them up in his blanket.

  The crinkling sound distracted Blake. He couldn’t hear the rush of the fire or the trickle of the creek or the girls behind him. He turned to see their progress. They fiddled with the blanket, trying to get it around them both, tucking it into places and moving much too slowly.

  “What are you two doing? Just move!” Panic burned through his veins. The fire rapidly crawled down the bank on their right side. “Cross the creek and don’t stop.”

  He ushered them in front of him, urging them to move faster, pick up their feet, and stop crying.

  He assumed the sobs escaped from the girl. Kris had learned long ago not to cry when their lives were held in suspension. He had many times brought them to places they had no business going. They had stared down death and lived to tell about their adventures. This would just be another to add to the list. There was no doubt. They would make it. Even if he had to pick up the lot of them.

  At the bend in the creek, the fire had already made it halfway down the bank. He could feel the heat as he lowered the blanket to assess the situation. The boulders on the opposite side of the canyon allowed no escape.

  He turned to look behind him. Just before the creek escaped into darkness, he saw flames lapping on the overgrowth at the edge of the water. They couldn’t go back even if he wanted.

  “Hold that blanket around you tight. Breathe as shallowly as possible. Pick up your feet and run. Our lives depend upon it.” He barked the orders, ignoring the girl’s sucking, sobbing breaths.

  This transition would be hard on Hannah, but she would learn. She would have to.

  He pulled Tucker tighter to him. The boy had not made a peep. He just clung to him like a baby chimpanzee. The boy had good sense. It eased the heavy weight of responsibility on him. All those fights with Kris had been worth it. Tucker probably had saved them all.

  “Tuck, I need to use my hands. Can you hold on without my help?”

  “Yes,” he said, his young voice serious and determined.

  “Hang tight.” Blake held the blanket in a way that would keep any direct heat off his son. It left his knuckles exposed, and they burned as he ran, picking his way through watermelon-sized rocks in the bottom of the creek bed. His boots splashed in the water, causing droplets to sizzle on the shiny blanket surrounding them.

  Tucker squeezed his neck and wrapped his legs around his waist, hanging on with grunts each time Blake landed hard. He felt his son’s grips loosening. The slight boy began to slip down. He didn’t make a sound beyond the grunts of exertion.

  Blake dropped the blanket in order to hoist Tucker back in place. The heat seared the side of his face, and he felt Tucker’s hand pull in away from the blast. Once his son was secured, he grabbed at the blanket and yanked it back over them. His face burned, and his throat felt on fire from the heat.

  Tucker coughed a little and took in small, light breaths. The boy sure knew how to follow directions.

  They soon caught back up to the women.

  “You’ve got to hurry. I know it hurts like hell, but it will get worse if we don’t get out of here now!”

  The bright blanket reflected the orang
e glow of the fire that sped through the creek in front of him. He could see the girls’ feet stumble and catch themselves, but thank goodness it didn’t stop their momentum.

  The roar of the fire made it past the crinkling of the blanket and he knew they had made it to the worst spot. If they could push through this they would make it. A quick glance revealed the road lay only a hundred yards away.

  One of the girls fell. He reached out an arm that seared without the protection of the blanket and pulled Hannah back on her feet. He could hear Kris’s whispered words of encouragement. She had always been great at that sort of thing. His heart softened with thoughts of her gentle words cheering him on in some of his darkest days.

  A fire lit within him. He would make sure they got through this.

  “You’re almost there! The road is just ahead. You got this.” His attempt at encouraging was rewarded with a pace he hadn’t seen yet. The girls scrambled across the boulders and then up the far bank and onto the road.

  The fire crackled behind them, still threatening close and yet a safe distance for the moment.

  No one spoke. Everyone drew in deep, painful, and labored breaths. Blake’s throat seared. He knew everyone’s did. Tears streaked through the grime on Hannah’s face. Even Kris’s had a few trails.

  Kneeling down, he took Tucker by the shoulders and looked deeply into his son’s eyes. “Are you okay?”

  Tucker nodded. His lower lip trembled, but he stood tall.

  “You are so brave, so very brave.” He brought the boy into his arms, feeling a sting when he rested his face against his son’s hair. It sent him inhaling sharply, and Tucker immediately pulled back.

  “You’re hurt, Dad! I have burn cream!”

  Blake felt the smile pull at the corners of his mouth. “Thanks, Tuck. Let’s get farther from this fire before we stop long enough for that.” He looked at the two girls, who seemed to be staring at hell. “You two did well.”

  Kris nodded her head, and Hannah released a fresh stream of tears.

  “I didn’t think we were going to make it,” the girl barely whispered.

  “Yet, you pushed forward.” Blake softened his tone.

  “Thanks to Kris,” she said, granting Kris a brief flash of a smile in gratitude.

  “She’s good at that.” He nodded, taking a moment to look into his wife’s eyes. “Let’s stash these blankets back into the packs and head farther away from this inferno.” He glanced at the sky.

  The aurora had become muted by what looked like roiling colored clouds. Please let that be rain. It would be the only chance against the fire consuming their town. Would God have that kind of mercy for them?

  ~*~

  Kris’s mind warred while she clung to Tucker. With each step the boy became heavier and heavier. Her son was tired, and she couldn’t just put him in his comfy bed. In fact, they still had a few miles to go before she could...if she could even then. Longer than that depending on how far up Mountain View Hannah lived.

  She glanced at the girl who had sobbed her way through the creek canyon. Kris understood. She wanted to cry, too. Sucking in a deep breath, she took another step. Just one more step. The words became her motto even as the now limp Tucker slipped with each movement she made. Her arms screamed and her back spasmed, but she didn’t want to let go of her son.

  It had been pure torture not to have him in her arms through the canyon. Even though she knew Blake would do anything to keep their son safe, she longed to feel his breath and know that he was okay. She longed to reassure him and comfort him. That was not Blake’s strong point.

  Blake had pushed and yelled and forced them through. She had never really understood his tendency to become short and demanding during intense danger. Kris always thought kindness would go much farther. Yet, when they clambered over the rocky terrain, Hannah only moved when Blake raised his voice. Kris soothed her as they traveled, but her soothings couldn’t motivate the girl like Blake’s forceful commands.

  Maybe there was a happier middle ground?

  Her back spasmed so hard it made her suck in a breath and freeze. Strong hands rubbed down her back and then around her to take Tucker from her arms. She pulled back for a moment before the spasm doubled her over.

  “He’s gotten heavy.” Blake watched her, his brows knitted together.

  “A lot happens in a year.” She stretched down to relieve the tension in her back. A few deep breaths later it faded. She stood to look her husband in his eyes. The darkness shaded them, yet she felt their penetrating stare.

  “Kris, I...give me time to explain?”

  “Well, it looks like you’ll have plenty of time.” She swept her hand to the disaster that lay around them.

  The fire a mile or more behind them lit the sky in an eerie glow. As they slowly made their way to the housing around Mountain View Drive, no light emitted from the neighborhoods. Everything seemed eerie and filled with doom.

  Kris took a deep breath in as she stretched, but ended up coughing, her lungs rebelling at the smoke that filled them. Once she caught her breath, she glanced with worry at Blake. White flakes fell on Tucker in his arms.

  “Ash.” The simple word escaping her mouth seemed to seal their fate.

  “The wind has changed.” Blake hoisted Tucker into a different position, causing the boy to murmur in his sleep. “We have to hurry.”

  “Where on Mountain View do you live, Hannah?” Kris asked.

  “At the end,” she said, her voice hoarse from sobbing.

  “That’s two miles round trip out of our way.” Kris hadn’t meant to say it aloud. She looked back at the fire now heading toward them, toward their house, toward the whole town.

  “We’ll make it.” Blake reached out a hand while holding Tucker against him with the other. “We’re going to be okay, Kris.”

  She wanted to believe him, but the odds were against them. Her gaze caressed her son as tears filled her eyes.

  “I...I can make it from here by myself...” Hannah’s lower lip trembled, but she jutted her chin out in defiance of the emotions that consumed her.

  “Not going to happen. We’ll get you home to your parents.” Blake started up Mountain View Drive.

  “It’s just me and my dad,” Hannah barely whispered.

  Kris knew he wouldn’t leave the girl behind. Doing something that cold wasn’t in his nature. He protected out of a sense of self, not duty or training, just innate nature. That part of him was one of many she had fallen in love with. She didn’t want to leave the girl to fend for herself either, but as she looked over her shoulder while following Blake, she wondered if that choice would cost them their lives.

  As they trudged up the steep road, houses became closer together with each lot an acre or a half-acre rather than tens of acres. This had been the neighborhood she had pictured her children growing up in. A community that watched their kids ride bikes on the low-populated streets and held neighborhood barbeques.

  It hadn’t been Blake’s vision. He wanted autonomy. He wanted privacy and to sit smack dab in the middle of nowhere with only many acres surrounding them on all sides. There had definitely been a peace in living so far from others, but she felt sad that Tucker didn’t have neighborhood kids to play with, something she had enjoyed immensely in her childhood.

  Low voices met them as they arrived at the heaviest populated part of the neighborhood. People gathered in small groups, panic lining their voices as they pointed toward the glowing orange sky.

  Blake slowed until she and Hannah were even with him. “Stay close.”

  “They’re just my neighbors.” Hannah shrugged, her slight form lit by the weirdly-illuminated sky.

  “Events like this can change people. Be on guard.” Blake continued on, ensuring he kept them close to him.

  Kris watched him check his ankle holster and side holster. She knew he had packed his guns. Part of it reassured her, the other part felt that normal annoyance. He always had such a negative outlook on humanity. When tal
king survival, he planned alone. He had no thought to work with a community of people. To him, others couldn’t be trusted during disaster. Dog-eat-dog was his motto.

  Yet, as they leveled out on the street, their motion set off a couple dogs. The groups walked onto the road blocking their path, and she had a fleeting thought that Blake might be right. Unconsciously, she moved closer to Blake, seeking security in his nearness.

  “What’s going on here?” One man stood in front of the others. The tall, buff guy wearing a flannel with cut-off sleeves crossed his arms, causing his large biceps to reflect the eerie orange glow. “Where’d you guys come from?”

  “Jake, it’s Hannah. Have you seen my dad?”

  “Yeah, girl, he’s going stir-crazy over you. Just headed home to pack a bag and go looking for you. None of our cars work.”

  “Yeah, mine’s burning down the highway in Forest Glen.”

  “Who’s this with you?” The guy looked Blake over, his jaw clenching.

  “They saved me. There’s a fire in Thirteen Corners. It’s coming this way.”

  “I’m Kris. This is my husband Blake and our son.” Kris took a tentative step forward and held out her hand.

  “Jake.” He shook her hand, his grip squeezing her fingers. “We were just talking about what to do. The phones aren’t working. Cars aren’t working. Nothing’s working.”

  Blake shifted next to her, and she heard his teeth grind before he blew a quiet breath out.

  “If it continues this way, there’ll be no stopping it. The forest between here and there is overgrown and dry. I’d pack up what you can carry and get as far north as possible,” Blake said as if a command.

  “You serious, man? We have families, no cars, nowhere to go. You expect us just to hike out of here?”

  Blake tensed. “I don’t expect anything from you. Just sharing my two cents that could save you and your family’s hide before we travel on our way. Let’s get you to your father, Hannah.”

  Kris followed Blake as the group in front of them slowly parted to let them through. The hairs on the back of her neck stiffened. Had Blake just made enemies for them? Yet, he was right. That fire would tear through that forest and could be here in a few hours depending on the wind. A soft gust blew her hair and chilled the back of her neck even more.