Fear Mercy

by Fergal F. Nally

  Static crackled on the loudspeaker. A distant voice broke the spell.

  “Blue team here, over.”

  Mercy nodded at the militia man.

  “Blue team, this is Dog leader. We have the insurgents, repeat we have the insurgents, what are your instructions?”

  “Keep them secure, back up will be there in thirty, stay put. Further pursuit will be required, ankle tags detected further inland from your position. Stay put and await back up, over.”

  “Understood Blue team, Dog leader out.”

  The man tensed as he handed the handset back to Mercy, his hand shaking. Erickson stepped forwards pulling a combat knife from his webbing.

  “Now we can kill this fucker—”

  Mercy moved away, making room for Erickson.

  The militia man’s fingers closed around the unexploded grenade in the bottom of the boat. He lifted it up and pulled the pin, brandishing it at Erickson and Mercy.

  “You kill me and we all go up,” he said, his eyes wild.

  For fuck’s sake, that’s my grenade—

  Mercy backed away and lifted her hand, signalling Erickson to do the same. She pulled a face, “OK you win, we just want the boat. We’ll let you go, your buddies will be here in thirty minutes, you heard them.”

  The militia man nodded, “Tell him to back off.” He pointed at Erickson.

  Mercy nodded at Erickson who took a step backwards.

  “OK, nice and easy, look, you can step off the boat and get away… just don’t drop the grenade,” Mercy kept her voice level.

  The man pulled himself up and stood, his whole body shaking.

  He’s losing blood from that wound, he could keel over any minute—

  The man stepped onto the seat and put one foot on the side of the boat. He glanced back, his foot slipped. Mercy’s eyes followed his hand as he fell backwards into the water releasing the grenade. The safety lever flew off, the grenade dropped into the boat at Mercy’s feet.

  Oh—

  Chapter 13

  Aftermath

  My god—

  Mercy was unaware of the three SEALs jumping from the boat. Her eyes followed the grenade as it rolled under the engine housing.

  One—

  She dropped to her knees and put her hand under the housing, searching, her fingers scrabbling.

  Two… come on, come on—

  She held her breath and closed her eyes, willing her fingers to find the grenade.

  There—

  She pulled the grenade from under the engine and threw it out of the boat.

  Three—

  Mercy dropped to the deck, hands over her head.

  An explosion rocked the boat, shrapnel sliced through the air. The noise continued in Mercy’s head, she stared at the floor of the boat, her mind blank. A hand gripped the side, Renton’s face appeared.

  “You’re still alive,” he looked surprised. “You’ve got some balls—”

  Mercy lifted her hair from the puddle of water in front of her face. She turned to Renton, her ears ringing.

  What did he say?

  Mercy banged her ear with the flat of her hand and shook her head. “I can’t hear you,” she shouted.

  Renton held a finger up to his lips and shook his head. “Quiet, still some of those fuckers about—”

  Ramirez and Hicks climbed on board a few seconds later. They started the engine and moved the boat away from the wreckage of the other two. Ramirez steered slowly along the shore for ten minutes then pulled into some bulrushes. Dawn light was seeping through the trees. The early morning chorus had started in earnest.

  “That ought to do it, they shouldn’t find it here. We can use it again when the heat dies down,” Ramirez stared at Mercy, a concerned look on his face. “How’s your hearing now Dawes?”

  Mercy nodded, “It’s coming back. Where are the others?”

  Renton shrugged, “Fay and her kids took off, remember? They were gonna sort out their ankle tags and get back to their group I think. The Lieutenant wasted that other boat and had a firefight with the second boat, they’ve moved on—”

  Alarm spread over Mercy’s face, “Moved on? How are we gonna find them without comms?”

  “Field SOP; if a unit’s split in two, meet up at the nearest high ground, which I reckon is over there,” Renton pointed through the trees to a low rise in the distance. “Even if they’re not there at least we’d have a better view.” He paused, looking around, “Storm’s moved on, which will be a help.”

  Mercy stood up, she had lost her pack in the fighting. Her face was muddy, her clothes soaked. “Let’s go then.”

  They secured the boat and waded through the waist-high water, stepping over roots and avoiding branches. Finally, they reached the shore.

  Dry land, what a relief—

  Renton took point and led them through the forest. Mercy walked behind with Hicks taking up the rear. The ground rose in the distance.

  Probably a quarter of a mile away—

  Mercy’s eyes flitted left and right, her hands clenching.

  No pack, just my knife and pistol left, for fuck’s sake Dawes, you’re a walking disaster—

  Fifteen minutes later Renton stopped in front of a fallen tree which blocked the way. He moved left and pulled himself up, using the surrounding branches. Mercy watched as he swung his legs over the top and disappeared down the other side. She followed his lead and clambered onto the tree, straddling it. A muffled grunt came from the other side, she turned to look.

  Renton… what the hell—?

  Renton lay spread eagled on the ground, he was disappearing into the mud under the weight of his pack.

  Mercy frowned and tilted her head. Realisation hit her.

  Quicksand, do something—

  She looked around, her arms flailing, a broken branch lay against the side of the tree. She took it and reached out to Renton.

  Go on Renton, grab it, it’s just there—

  Renton’s face disappeared into the quicksand, his body tilting forwards. Mercy nudged the side of his arm with the branch, he reached back and grabbed it, raising his face from the dirt. Mercy pulled the branch, helping him further.

  His head and mouth are clear, at least he can breathe—

  Movement caught Mercy’s attention in front and to the right of Renton. She peered at the quicksand trying to make sense of the ripples converging on his position. A badly decayed face rose out of the quicksand a foot away from Renton’s head. A second trope head surfaced beside Renton’s right arm, its mouth gaping, about to strike.

  Fuck this shit—

  Mercy dropped the stick and pulled out her SIG P226 aiming at the nearest trope.

  Don’t—

  Her finger squeezed the trigger twice.

  Miss—

  Her rounds slammed into the trope’s back and arm, stunning it. It slumped forwards, unmoving, beside Renton. Mercy turned her attention to the other trope attacking Renton, he had blocked it with his left arm. Renton’s head disappeared beneath the quicksand as his right hand appeared, gripping his knife. Its blade plunged into the trope’s lower jaw pierced the roof of its mouth and entered its brain. The trope jerked and flopped, into the quicksand. Bubbles appeared where Renton’s head had been moments before.

  Dammit—

  Mercy turned and shouted to Hicks.

  “Rope. Hicks, your rope, now—”

  Hicks pulled his rope from the side of his pack and threw it up to Mercy. She caught it and took one end, throwing the rest out to Renton. The rope sailed through the air, the end landing in the quicksand beside Renton’s right arm.

  He’s almost gone—

  With a final effort Renton threw up his arm, it fell on the quicksand. The rope travelled down his arm and caught in his fingers. He grasped it and began pulling. Mercy held on tight and leant back.

  “Hicks, help me out here—”

  Hicks dropped his pack and rifle and clambered up the fallen trunk sizing up the situation. He
took the remaining rope and added his weight to Mercy’s. Renton’s head emerged from the quicksand, he gasped for air and freed his other arm. Renton held on, his body turning slowly to face the tree.

  He’s getting closer, it’s working—

  Hicks jumped down to the ground and continued pulling on the rope.

  Come on, just a few more feet—

  Ripples appeared on Renton’s left. Mercy’s eyes widened as the stunned trope reappeared, bursting from the quicksand to land on Renton’s left arm, its teeth tearing into his tunic. Adrenaline shot through Mercy.

  No, you bastard—

  She released the rope and pulled out her SIG. In one fluid motion she aimed and squeezed the trigger twice. One bullet slammed into the trope’s back, the other buried itself in its skull sheering off a large portion of bone. The trope slumped against Renton’s side. Mercy stared, the smoking pistol in her hand. Hicks continued hauling on the rope from behind.

  Renton looked up at her, he swore and pulled on the rope finally gaining purchase on firmer ground beneath the fallen tree. He released the rope and slumped, panting. Hicks joined Mercy on the tree and lowered himself down to Renton. Mercy’s eyes met Renton’s.

  Renton nodded, “I owe you Dawes.” He collapsed against the tree, closing his eyes.

  A light breeze rustled the branches overhead. Mercy raised her eyes to the early morning sky.

  How long have I been in this place? When did we leave the aircraft carrier? Two days? Three days ago?

  Mercy pulled a face, trying to measure time. She shook her head and shrugged. A bad taste filled her mouth, she held her hand to her face and exhaled.

  My breath stinks, I stink, this whole place stinks—

  An insect hummed beside her ear, she turned her head and lifted a hand to flick it away. The humming came again, carried on the wind.

  That’s no insect, that’s the bullroarer Fay’s crew were using—

  The sound reverberated a few seconds longer then stopped.

  They must be near, is it a warning or—?

  Movement flitted through the trees. Mercy crouched low on the trunk and reached for her pistol. Her shoulders relaxed when she saw Cronin and McShane step out of the trees on the far side of the quicksand.

  Hicks stood and raised a hand, “Stop, don’t walk there, quicksand.”

  Cronin and McShane took a detour and reached the tree minutes later.

  Cronin looked at Renton then Mercy, “Glad to see you’re alive. I take it you nailed those bastards back on the water.”

  Mercy filled him in on the details.

  “OK, so there’ll be more coming. We got Rose’s ankle tag off… that feral kid, Bird, appeared out of nowhere back there. She’s with the rest of my men on the hill, she wants us to follow her. After that shit back there I’m inclined to take her up on the offer, you got any objections?”

  Mercy dropped down from the trunk and ran her fingers through her hair. “Works for me Lieutenant, lead the way.”

  They set off through the trees towards the high ground. The sun reached down through the gaps in the canopy. The words of a song drifted through Mercy’s head, bringing her back to another time, another place. She bit her lip, snapping out of her reverie.

  Sloppy… lazy, keep awake, just because you’re with these people doesn’t mean you’re safe. You’re never safe, there’s no music, there’s no nothing, just this, just your next breath—

  Mercy watched the forest and followed Cronin. Twenty minutes later they were at the top of the rise. She was relieved to see Rose, Tawny and Flynn with the rest of the SEALs.

  Jesus, everyone’s looking wasted—

  Flynn came over and gave her a hug, “God, am I glad to see you. Are you OK?”

  Mercy nodded and returned Flynn’s embrace. She spotted Bird standing on the edge of the clearing, observing the group. The young girl’s eyes were bright and intelligent, missing nothing. She held the bullroarer in one hand, Glock 43 in the other.

  Strange kid. Wonder what her story is, she looks about eight or nine—

  Flynn caught Mercy’s glance, “Yeah, she appeared out of nowhere. She doesn’t speak, just sort of grunts. We worked out she wants us to follow her back to Fay’s new place.”

  “Yeah, well I hope Fay has managed to remove the ankle tags from those kids we rescued. I don’t want to run into any more militia.”

  “Fay’s resourceful, that’ll be sorted,” Flynn replied.

  Mercy pulled away and looked around. The others were ready. Cronin gave the order, they left the clearing and followed Bird. Mercy watched as Bird picked her way through the forest, stopping every now and then to listen and sniff the air.

  She’s using all her senses, she’s in her element out here, this is her ground—

  Mercy glanced at the trees, wary.

  My ground is the city—

  Bird led them through dense undergrowth, across streams and through an extensive marshy area full of biting insects. Tawny and Rose swore under their breath, Flynn exchanged glances with Mercy. Mercy checked her watch.

  Almost two fucking hours, where the hell is she taking us—?

  Mercy looked up, a glint flickered through the trees.

  Is that… water?

  They stepped out from a stand of trees emerging into bright sunlight. A wooden lodge stood before them, set back from a wide bay. A boathouse lay off to one side.

  What is this place?

  “Some kind of fishing, hunting lodge—?” McShane said.

  “Nice digs,” Rose added.

  “About bloody time,” Tawny sighed.

  Chapter 14

  Lake House

  Fay appeared at a set of French doors. She waved.

  Mercy glanced around, “This place looks untouched, no road access, just the water.”

  Rose spat on the ground, “I think I like it, cut off from the rest of the world.”

  They walked across the clearing to the patio where Fay was waiting. Bird disappeared inside.

  “You made it, worse for wear but you made it, and you got my two kids out of militia hands, for which I’m grateful. I sent Bird to find you, and before you ask, yes, we removed the ankle tags from Sasha and Charlie.” Fay paused, eyeing Rose, “You must be Rose, I didn’t get a chance to talk to you back on the boat, glad you made it, these guys really stepped up for you—”

  Rose nodded but kept silent, her expression inscrutable.

  “Anyway, you’re welcome to stay with us. We’re on the other side of the island here, well away from the coast. The militia have never got this far, so you should be able to rest up. Come in, come in—” Fay stood aside and gestured for them to enter the lodge.

  Mercy stayed outside with Fay and Cronin while the others trooped in.

  “I see you’ve got a boat house, anything of use in there?” Cronin’s voice was flat.

  He’s exhausted, we all are—

  Fay shrugged, “Yeah, there’s a launch but it’s not working, we tried it, don’t know why, we’re not mechanics. You’re welcome to take a look, see what you think, there’s tools and other stuff in there—”

  Cronin grunted, “One of my men can strip and rebuild engines, I’ll get him on it once he’s had a chance to eat. I’ll put a perimeter up around the place.”

  “No need, I’ve got eyes on the roof,” Fay said.

  “Good, but you’ve not got night vision, we have. I’ll get on it,” Cronin looked at Albemarle Sound glinting in the sun. “We need an exit plan, and right now I’m liking the escape-by-water route. This whole area is too hot, we need to put some distance between us and the militia, ASAP.”

  Fay shrugged, “Understood.”

  Cronin entered the lodge to brief his men.

  Mercy watched her friends inside the lodge. Fay’s crew were offering water and food to the new arrivals. Mercy sighed, “Thanks for taking us in, it’s been… hard.”

  Fay crossed her arms, “No problem, like I said, you got our people back for u
s.”

  Mercy squinted at Fay, the sun dazzling her eyes, “So Fay, are you coming north with us or staying here?”

  Fay exhaled, disbelief on her face, “North? No way… you think it’s bad down here? Things get even shittier the further north you go. Once you’re over the fence, you’re in their backyard. They’ve got more infrastructure closer to D.C., more militia and in Washington they’ve got elite troops. So short answer, no thanks, we’ll take our chances down here, maybe move further south when the dust has settled. We’ll try and outrun them, there’s only a few of us left anyway, maybe they’ll forget about us.”

  She doesn’t sound so sure—

  Mercy shrugged, “Sure, I get it, that makes sense.” She glanced inside, “I’m going to get some food and see if I can get a wash.”

  Fay pointed at the water lapping on the shore, “That’ll be your best bet, cold but does the trick.”

  Mercy nodded and went inside.

  Cronin dispatched Pace and McShane to the boat house once they had eaten. He organised a perimeter watch between the remaining men. Everyone was checking kit and cleaning weapons. Cronin spread his maps on the dining table.

  “OK everyone, heads up, Pace is going to check out the boat. We’ll see what he can do. Meanwhile, our job is to get the hell out of here, away from the militia. They have unknown assets in this area and with our raid on their OP we’ve stirred up a hornet’s nest,” Cronin paused to straighten the maps, the others gathered around the table. He placed his finger on the centre map, “My best estimate is that we’re here, on Kitty Hawk Bay, there’s an old nature reserve north of here… and a holiday park for RVs—”

  Fay intervened tapping the map, “Yeah, Route 158 crosses the water here, to Point Harbor. Militia patrol the road and have a good view over the water. The fence I told you about extends east from the road, right across the land to the coast. They’ve got it sewn up pretty tight.”

  Rose rubbed her arm, “Yeah, but they can’t be everywhere at the same time, there’ll be a way through. By night, by water… in the right boat, I reckon we could make it under the road bridge.”

  Cronin scratched his chin, “I agree with Rose; they can’t be everywhere. We need to adapt, be ready to breech the fence or get in under the bridge by boat. Intelligence is everything, once we get eyes on we can decide.”