Fear Mercy

by Fergal F. Nally

  Mercy looked at Fay, “So how’d you guys make it through the fence when you came south?”

  “They hadn’t finished constructing the seaward section when we broke through. We spotted the unfinished area and crept through at night.”

  The room was silent.

  Cronin pointed at the map, “Once we’re through, we can travel up Currituck Sound, it’s thirty miles long and eight miles wide in places. That’ll bring us to the North Landing River.” He traced his finger along the map, “We can follow it all the way through Chesapeake, to Portsmouth and Norfolk and then—” he stopped.

  “We adapt,” Tawny said.

  “Yeah, just the small matter of getting across the James River to Hampton—” Flynn said.

  “Look on the bright side,” Tawny added, “there are three road bridges.”

  “Yeah, three NSA-controlled road bridges,” Mercy sighed. She looked across the room and caught Bird staring at her.

  What is it with you little girl?

  “Well, so long as everyone knows what to expect, any ideas would be welcome,” Cronin folded the maps and started checking on his men, speaking to them in a low voice.

  “Yeah, well, I’m going to turn in now,” Mercy checked her watch; 10:03 pm.

  Fay nodded, “OK, reckon Cronin’s got it covered.” She looked out the window, “It’s dark, I’ll get Suzie down from the roof. Have a good sleep.”

  Mercy watched as Fay walked away.

  She’s a survivor. That’d be me if the NSA hadn’t captured me back in New York and implanted me with their bloody biotech. I’d just be a regular girl that no one would be interested in—

  “Penny for your thoughts,” Flynn sat down beside her.

  “We need to get out of here, this is all just… small beer. We need to get where the real fight is; Washington, and we… I need to finish it—” Mercy closed her eyes.

  “Kill President Mitchell,” Flynn said, his voice low. “Sounds like a bad action movie: Kill the President. Except it’s no joke.”

  Mercy rubbed her temples, “My head hurts, I’m thinking too much.”

  “Here let me take your mind off things,” Flynn stood up and went behind her chair. He placed his hands on her shoulders and began to massage her muscles.

  “That OK?” Flynn asked, massaging the knots in her neck.

  “Don’t stop, that’s good,” Mercy managed, her voice a whisper. She tilted her head forwards. “Where did you learn to do that?”

  “I used to massage my mother’s shoulders, she got bad migraine… when she was with us—” Flynn’s voice tapered off, his fingers stopped. “I tried to show Stevie how to do it for her… but he wasn’t a natural—” Flynn’s voice broke.

  Let him talk—

  Mercy reached up and took his hand. She squeezed it, keeping her eyes closed.

  Flynn kissed the back of her head and started massaging her shoulders again.

  “We’re going to get that bastard, Mercy, aren’t we? For Stevie and all the others—”

  Mercy nodded, “Yeah, we’re gonna get that bastard, for Stevie and all the others.”

  The first rays of dawn light crept across the floor from the French windows. Mercy woke and opened her eyes. She frowned, momentarily disorientated, then relaxed as her memory for the previous day’s events kicked in.

  Back in the shit—

  Voices outside. She lifted Flynn’s arm from her waist and rolled over. He was still asleep, the first sleep they’d had in days.

  He’s like a boy when he’s asleep, and a man when he’s awake. How does he do that?

  Mercy sat up and rubbed her face.

  That’s Cronin’s voice—

  She went to the French doors and looked out. Cronin was on the patio talking to Pace.

  Pace looks exhausted, he’s pulled an all-nighter working on that boat—

  Mercy opened the French doors and stepped outside. She shivered in the early morning chill, her breath clouding the air.

  Cronin and Pace turned to her.

  “So what’s the verdict on the boat?” Mercy asked.

  Cronin pursed his lips, “Good news, Pace has got her working, it’ll be tight but we should be able to fit everyone on board. The only problem is fuel, she’s got half a tank, so not sure how far she’ll take us.”

  “Anywhere away from here is good enough for me,” Mercy said.

  “Agreed,” Cronin replied.

  Pace turned towards the forest, “What’s that noise?”

  Cronin followed his gaze, “What—?”

  A black shape was hovering in the air a few feet above the trees. A low whine reached them from the object.

  Mercy swore, “Fuck, it’s a drone… and it’s seen us.” She reached for her pistol.

  It’s way out of range—

  Cronin unslung his M16 and took aim. Pace ran to the French doors to raise the alarm. Cronin squeezed the trigger; one shot, two shots, followed by a controlled burst. The drone disintegrated in the air and fell into the trees. Deafening silence followed. Mercy’s heart thumped in her chest.

  Cronin turned to face her, “They’ve found us.”

  “We need to leave, now,” Mercy ran into the lodge.

  Everyone was up and moving. Mercy pulled on her jacket and webbing. She caught Rose’s eye from across the room. Rose nodded; she was ready. A sense of relief washed over Mercy.

  Rose is back—

  “Come on, move out people, our ride’s waiting,” Pace stood at the French doors, his eyes darting to the sky.

  They rushed out of the lodge across the clearing to the boat house. Hicks had the door open, the sound of the boat’s engine filled the confined space.

  They piled onto the launch, everyone finding a space.

  This is a tight bloody fit, we’ll be sitting ducks in the water, but we’ve no choice—

  Mercy looked at the others’ faces, she could see their doubt.

  No bloody choice—

  Pace and Cronin boarded last. Pace took the wheel, “Hold on everyone. McShane, you’re our eyes with your scope up front, everyone else watch the sky and shoreline—”

  Pace gunned the engine and opened the throttle, the launch left the boat house. He made a sharp turn in the glittering water and sped north.

  Chapter 15

  Kitty Hawk Bay

  Fay was shaken. Mercy gave her a look.

  Fay leant forwards and shouted over the engine noise, “Drones… they used drones to hunt us in the city. We lost some good people to the drones. I’ve not seen them down here before. I’d thought we’d left them behind.” Fay pulled a face, “Looks like we’re coming with you after all. They must be close.” Fay’s eyes darted to the shoreline speeding by on the right.

  There it is; fear, real fear. I can feel it, smell it. That’s what tropes lock onto—

  Mercy looked away. Tawny and Rose sat on either side of the launch, eyes and guns trained on the sky.

  Everyone’s facing out to the threat, but there’s a threat inside; fear. Fear will get them killed.

  She looked at Flynn. Her heart sank.

  Fear will get them all killed—

  She understood.

  Constantine chose me. She knows about my Urbach-Wiethe disease, she knows I’m incapable of fear. Everyone else on this boat is expendable, everyone else is here just to get me to Washington.

  Mercy looked at her hands, her mind turning in.

  I have to leave them. I have to do this alone, I don’t want their deaths on my hands—

  Her face hardened.

  The time will come. You’ll know when, just wait for the time—

  “Shit, look over there, we’re heading into that,” Tawny said, pointing ahead.

  “Fog bank,” Pace said. “We’ll need to slow down.”

  “Coastal fog, it rolls in off the sea,” Sparrow said.

  “But we’ve just been in bright sunshine,” Tawny replied.

  “Welcome to mother nature,” Sparrow responded. />
  Tawny pulled a face, “Give me city smog over this crap any day.”

  Pace reduced speed and steered the launch into the fog bank. Sounds became muted, the slow throb of the engine and the lapping of the water against the hull was hypnotic. Fine water droplets beaded on Mercy’s skin. Her hair and clothes glistened. She glanced back at Pace who was frowning. Her eyes went to the tiller.

  It’s just a simple launch. No compass, he’s got no point of reference, no horizon… we’re blind—

  The engine gurgled, fog swirled around them.

  If anything, it’s getting thicker—

  The boat’s keel scraped on gravel. The air was still, quiet. The boat stopped, they looked at each other. McShane raised a hand at the front. His fingers curled into a fist, Mercy leant forwards and peered ahead. A few seconds later a layer of fog curled away; they were in a narrow channel, aground on a shingle bank. A wildlife hide lay seventy yards away, half-in, half-out of the forest. Mercy’s eyes swung right, the fog parted briefly, revealing a water tower.

  Shit… not good, and the fog’s burning off—

  “Everyone out, now, into the trees,” Cronin said, keeping his voice low,

  They left the launch and ducked into the undergrowth beside the water channel. The fog closed in again, obscuring the hide. Cronin and Pace dragged the boat in, concealing it in the bulrushes.

  That’s the Outer Banks over there, we must be on another island, this channel was quite narrow, it’s silted up. There could be NSA in the hide or water tower or both, best give them a wide berth—

  Cronin and Pace joined them in the undergrowth. Cronin gave a hand signal and mouthed the words: Follow me. He led through the trees, keeping the channel in view. Seconds later he stopped to look at the opposite bank. Six horsemen had appeared on top of the levee and were moving at walking pace parallel to them. Cronin crouched low and watched as the horsemen disappeared down the far side of the levee. Mercy scanned ahead, the wildlife hide was just through the trees.

  Three militia on the roof, one with binoculars, bad, bad—

  A high pitched siren pierced the air from the water tower.

  What the—?

  A whine from behind the levee, followed by an explosion behind them.

  Mortar round—

  Two more explosions detonated behind. Mercy glanced over her shoulder, bits of wood and debris rained down on the forest.

  Shit, they hit the launch—

  Three men appeared on the levee opposite and scanned the bulrushes with binoculars.

  They know—

  Cronin pointed at Erickson, Ramirez and McShane directing them towards the animal hide. He beckoned at the others to follow him, deeper into the forest.

  He’s splitting the party, leaving three SEALs to guard our flank. Those horsemen may attempt to cross over, cut us off—

  Mercy caught Rose’s eye. They joined the three SEALs as they moved towards the wildlife hide. Erickson crouched low, the others followed suit. They emerged from the undergrowth to a raised bank.

  “Road,” McShane mouthed.

  They crawled up the bank and looked along the road to the hide. The three men were still on the roof, facing away from the road. One of the men was using a radio and waving at the opposite shore. At least six other men were readying guns beside a large truck.

  “They’re co-ordinating a search,” Ramirez whispered.

  “I’d like to co-ordinate their asses with an A-10 gun run,” McShane said.

  “Roger that… and those riders on the other side.” Erickson agreed. “They’ll try and come over, get us in a pincer movement. We need to divert them from the others… we might be able to slip through, then again—” Erickson looked at the others. “We need to get across this road whatever the plan. Good to go?”

  The others nodded.

  Erickson looked at the hide then turned, “We go together, before that truck comes this way. On my mark—”

  They scrambled to the top of the bank; Mercy beside McShane, who was carrying his silenced SIG. Erickson glanced right and waited. A minute later he gave the signal, they climbed up the bank and ran across the road. Mercy rolled down the far side into the long grass.

  A squatting militia man let out a surprised cry and stood up, his trousers around his ankles. His eyes locked onto Mercy as he reached for his side arm. McShane appeared behind him, pressed the silenced SIG to the back of his head and squeezed the trigger. The man dropped to the ground a wide exit wound in his forehead and eye socket.

  McShane reached down and pulled Mercy up. “Help me lift him.”

  They dragged the body away from the road and joined the others. Erickson led, they crawled away from the hide towards a stand of trees on raised ground. The breeze played with Mercy’s hair, long grass rustled around her, birds sang in the trees on either side.

  It’s just another day—

  The stand of trees grew nearer. Without warning a handful of crows burst from the branches, cawing. Mercy’s eyes narrowed.

  Movement—

  Erickson stopped and raised a hand. He pointed to the right. Mercy peered in the distance.

  Horses, tied up. Militia—

  Mercy’s eyes darted around, searching the trees and undergrowth. An engine coughed into life at the wildlife hide. Mercy signalled to Erickson, she crawled forwards through the forest of ferns and long grass. She stopped after twenty feet, the truck lumbered along the road behind. She spotted a straight line; a rifle. A militia man materialised ahead, then she saw others, fanned out, in a line.

  Shit, they’re watching—

  Movement, the jerk of an arm. An object thrown, landing in the long grass on Mercy’s right.

  Jesus—

  Mercy pressed her cheek to the ground, put her hands over her head and opened her mouth. The fragmentation grenade exploded thirty feet away sending its concussive force through the air with hot shards of shrapnel. Mercy’s ears rang from the explosion. Dirt and debris rained down.

  Trying to flush us out, move, move—

  Mercy turned and crawled backwards, towards the SEALs. Militia voices shouted behind as the men advanced through the trees.

  They’re combing the area—

  Rose’s familiar face appeared in the long grass, McShane beside her.

  “Six men, twenty feet apart, bearing in on our position,” Mercy said, her voice low.

  McShane nodded and told the others. She watched as the militia truck moved along the raised road, it juddered to a halt level with their position. The tailgate flew open, five men jumped out.

  “Rose, with me,” Mercy said, crawling through the long grass towards the truck.

  Three militia men ran down the bank, automatic weapons in their hands. They careered through the waist high grass, towards Mercy and Rose.

  Mercy caught Rose’s eye, “Now.”

  They stood up and opened fire on the three men; Mercy with her SIG and Rose with her M16. The three men went down, bullets finding their marks with ease. The remaining two ducked right and left into the grass verge.

  “Rose, get down,” Mercy shouted.

  Machine gun fire opened up behind them followed by grenade blasts. Shouts and screams filled the air. Mercy crawled up to one of the dead men, Rose alongside her. Mercy took two grenades from the man’s webbing and gave one to Rose.

  “You take the guy on the right, I’ve got the other one—” Mercy said, her voice taut.

  Rose nodded and crawled away.

  Mercy pushed herself through the long grass towards the road.

  Truck’s engine is still running, no sign of the driver—

  She scanned the road, the bank and the grass.

  Come out you bastard, show yourself—

  An explosion, followed by a gunshot off to her right.

  Eyes forward—

  A pale blue butterfly fluttered over the grass. Another flicker of movement. The smell of sweat. A solid thump. Something heavy landed in the grass behind her.

&n
bsp; Roll away, roll away—

  A bone shaking explosion twenty feet behind. Seconds later a figure emerged from the long grass, M16 in hand.

  There you are—

  Mercy raised her SIG, the figure ducked to one side. Bright sun dazzled her. She shot twice, her two rounds going wide. She blinked, trying to see, holding a hand up to her eyes. The man turned, his gun raised, victory in his eyes as he took aim at her chest.

  Can’t see—

  Three shots shattered the moment. Close. The victory in the man’s eyes changed to surprise as two rounds caught him in the abdomen, the third slammed into his neck shredding soft tissue and shattering bone. Death took him before he hit the ground.

  A figure blotted out the sun and reached down.

  Rose—

  “We’ve gotta go,” Rose’s voice, hard and brittle, like broken glass.

  Smoke filled the air.

  “They’ve used smoke grenades, run, they won’t see us,” Rose said.

  Mercy looked back over the clearing. “Wait for me, up on the road, I need to check on the others—”

  “No, wait, Mercy—” Rose protested. “Fuck—” she watched as Mercy disappeared into the smoke.

  Mercy crouched low, SIG in one hand, knife in the other.

  Movement. Voices, ahead.

  “Three… that’s the last of them, call it in—”

  “This bastard’s still alive, what you wanna do?”

  “Stick him, he’s no use to us like that, no point wasting a bullet.”

  Three shadows, feet away, more approaching.

  Goddammit—

  A swift movement followed by a groan, then silence.

  Mercy gripped her SIG, her muscles tense. The truck’s engine revved back on the road.

  This is not your mission. The SEALs bought you time, use it, bail—

  Mercy backed away from the voices, then turned and ran through the waist high grass, up the slope to the road.

  Truck’s gone—

  The road continued west through the trees, away from the clearing. A lone figure stood beside the truck a hundred yards away.

  Rose—

  Mercy looked back, the smoke was thick across the low ground, she crossed the road and dropped down the slope on the far side. She ran along uneven ground towards the trees. Two minutes later she was with Rose.