Fear Mercy

by Fergal F. Nally

  Rose looked angry.

  “Ramirez, Erickson and McShane, they’re all dead,” Mercy spluttered.

  “I could’ve told you that,” Rose said.

  “Bastards bayonetted one of them in front of me, I nearly—”

  Rose’s face softened, “Yeah, I know. Save it, save every drop of it for Washington and that bastard Mitchell. Everything else is just… a distraction.”

  Mercy stared into Rose’s eyes. Her anger boiled a moment longer then cooled.

  She’s right, all of this is a distraction. Keep it together for all the others… for Ramirez, Erickson and McShane.

  Mercy nodded and glanced over Rose’s shoulder. “Let’s hope Cronin and the rest made it through. Come on, let’s see where this road leads.”

  Mercy jumped into the truck, taking the wheel. Rose climbed into the passenger seat. Mercy engaged gear, gunned the engine and released the brakes. The truck lurched forwards, juddering.

  “Fuck,” Mercy spat, struggling with the gear stick.

  Two gut-wrenching gear changes later, the truck moved forwards and picked up speed.

  Rose kept silent, her eyes glued to the road, M16 across her lap.

  The raised road twisted through the forest. They passed two small rivers and crossed rough and boggy terrain. Five miles later the truck rounded a corner, the road descended a slope to a loading area with a small dock. A boat lay moored alongside. A wide expanse of water stretched out to the horizon, its surface sparkling in the sun.

  Rose sat bolt upright, “Three militia, all armed. Two hundred yards, what do you want to do?”

  Mercy kept her foot on the accelerator, “They’ll think we’re militia, they won’t shoot. We’re committed, if we bail now they’ll just come after us.” Mercy bit her lip, “I’m gonna ram them, I might get one or two, you be ready with your gun—”

  Mercy changed gear and watched the guards as she approached. The men waved and stepped back from the road. Mercy estimated the distance and counted to herself. She lowered the window and pulled out her pistol.

  One… two… three—

  Mercy thrust her pistol out the window and fired at the man on the edge of the road. He fell down the verge to the trees. She slammed her foot on the accelerator, the truck sped forwards, engine roaring. The other two men jumped out of the way. Mercy wrenched the steering wheel and swerved, knocking the middle man to the ground. The truck’s tyres crushed him with a sickening bump. The man on the right jumped, arms flailing, into the water alongside the dock.

  Mercy drove onto the loading area, the truck skidded to a halt, narrowly missing the dockside. The smell of burning rubber filled the air.

  “You did it,” Rose said, stunned.

  “We’ve gotta make sure those guys are out of the fight,” Mercy opened her door and jumped down to the asphalt. “Rose, out this way, use the truck as cover.”

  Rose clambered out Mercy’s side and dropped down. Mercy was on the ground, crawling under the truck, her eyes glued to the trees on the other side of the loading area. A gentle breeze moved the treetops, the sun’s heat radiated from the warm asphalt into Mercy’s hands as she edged forwards.

  A hail of bullets slammed into the side of the truck from the treeline. Mercy rolled behind a wheel as bullets slammed into the asphalt inches from her face.

  Fuck—

  The gunfire stopped.

  He’s reloading—

  Mercy’s hand brushed against her tunic pocket.

  The other grenade—

  “Rose, cover me—”

  Without waiting for a response Mercy rolled out from under the truck and ran, zig-zagging across the loading area. She pulled the pin from the grenade and threw it at the spot where she had seen muzzle flashes. Rose blasted at the trees with her M16.

  Mercy dropped and rolled away from the forest, her hands reaching for her pistol. An explosion followed, the shockwave shook the ground. A cry pierced the air to the right of the blast. Mercy rose to her feet and ran, crouching, over to the spot. She peered down the verge and saw the third man lying wounded at the bottom. He was groaning, clutching his side, blood seeping through his fingers.

  Mercy watched as he writhed on the ground, her finger ready on the trigger.

  The man looked up and reached out a bloody hand, “Help me, please—”

  Mercy swallowed, her mouth dry. “Not a fucking chance in hell.” She turned her back and walked away.

  Chapter 16

  Flash of Red

  “Do you know how to drive one of these things?” Mercy asked Rose.

  Rose shrugged, “How hard can it be? I watched Pace when he took us away from the militia hut.”

  Rose untied the last mooring rope from the dock and jumped onto the airboat.

  Mercy spat in the water, “OK then, you drive, I’ll ride shotgun.” Mercy hefted the Sako Tikka T3 rifle she had taken from one of the dead militia men. She squinted through the Bushnell 3-9x40 Trophy scope at the shoreline stretching away from the dock. A splash caught her attention and she lowered the rifle. She looked under the dock at the concrete pilings.

  The one who jumped, there you are—

  The wounded militia man was clinging to a metal stay between two pilings.

  Trying to be quiet, aren’t you? Not easy when you’re wounded…

  Mercy lifted the T3 and peered through the scope.

  In the arm—

  The man flinched when he saw Mercy aiming the rifle at him.

  You’re lucky to be alive you bastard, you’ll live, not like Ramirez, Erickson and McShane—

  The roar of the engine cut through Mercy’s thoughts. She lowered the rifle and turned to face the open water. Rose let out a whoop as the airboat surged into the blue expanse. The wind played with Mercy’s hair, she closed her eyes, the water spray felt good on her skin.

  Another time, another place, this could be fun—

  She opened her eyes seconds later, alive to the danger they were in.

  This is fast and loud… but sometimes speed pays off—

  Mercy turned to Rose, “Rose, how fast can she go?”

  Rose grinned, she put her seatbelt on and opened up the throttle. Mercy braced herself and reached for a life jacket on the floor.

  Just as well we’re in shallow water, she’s top heavy with a shallow draft, she’d be unstable in rough water—

  Mercy glanced back at Rose. Rose raised her head and reduced their speed. Mercy settled into her seat and resumed her watch on the shoreline. They passed five miles of thick forest and rocky inlets. Mercy squinted through her scope at a promontory stretching into deep water ahead. She raised a hand to Rose, then pointed left. Rose slowed and steered into deeper water to bypass the promontory.

  Mercy scanned the shore quickly then returned her attention to the promontory moving back over the same ground, slower than before. A glint caught her eye, she swung the T3 back for a better look. The boat’s movement made it difficult to focus on the correct spot.

  I saw something, where? Where? There, there you are—

  Her eyes narrowed, her index finger brushed the T3’s trigger.

  Shit, binoculars. Someone’s watching us—

  Mercy’s throat tightened, she crouched lower in the boat expecting muzzle flashes from the treeline. Sunlight caught the binoculars again, Mercy’s finger tensed on the trigger. A figure stepped onto the shore, arms waving, a red rag in one hand. The image flashed through the scope into Mercy’s brain, her finger jerked away from the trigger.

  Christ, Tawny, it’s you girl. I nearly wasted you. Shit—

  Mercy broke out in a cold sweat and slumped to the side, her rifle pointing skywards. She looked up and blinked, her heart thumping in her ears. She heard a voice, her voice.

  “It’s OK Rose, it’s Tawny, Tawny and the others, they’re on the shore, they’ve made it. Let’s go get them—”

  Rose gunned the engine, the airboat leapt forwards towards the densely wooded promontory. Five minutes later th
e boat pulled up to the shore. Tawny, Flynn, Fay and her crew were waiting on the rocks, Mercy’s eyes darted to the trees.

  Where’s Cronin? Fuck, I’m going to have to tell him about Ramirez, Erickson and McShane—

  Like ghosts, Cronin and the remaining SEALs materialised out of the trees and ran to the boat.

  They were maintaining a perimeter. Are the militia really that close?

  Mercy helped everyone on board. A strong breeze was picking up. The boat was weighed down by everyone on board.

  Stable enough, but slow—

  Mercy’s eyes darted to the land.

  Nothing—

  Cronin caught her eye and nodded. He and his men were on edge, eyes and guns directed towards the shore.

  Not the time to talk, not yet, it’ll come, it always does—

  Rose pulled out into the sound and opened up the throttle, she steered away from the wooded island towards a distant spit of land. Mercy stared at the land, her eyes following it north and south.

  Back to the mainland, the Outer Banks. What’s over there? We need a break, time to regroup, lick our wounds—

  Flynn sat steely eyed beside Mercy, the roar of the engine behind them making it impossible to talk. He put an arm around her. She gazed into his eyes.

  I don’t want to lose you, you are my rock—

  She looked at the others.

  We’re still here, still kicking—

  “Land ahead,” Rose shouted. She slowed the boat and idled the engine.

  “Scope it out,” Cronin said, pulling out his own binoculars.

  Mercy raised her T3 and looked through the scope, training it on the shore.

  “RV park, lots of intact RVs, looks deserted. No obvious trope activity,” Mercy said.

  “Road bridge to the north, across the sound, stationary trucks and cars on it, no movement that I can see, but we’re too far away to be sure,” Hicks added.

  Sparrow became animated, “Hey that’s the caravan park I used on my way down here. It’s set back from the mainland by a small bridge over a waterway, there’s a fence and a locked gate onto the site. There were no tropes in the park when I was there, apart from the ones trapped in some of the RVs.”

  Fay looked north, “That’ll be Route 158; it joins the NSA fence that runs across the peninsula. They’ve got eyes on the bridge; night vision and snipers.”

  “So effectively, we’re looking at the NSA’s southern border,” Tawny said.

  Blake spat in the water, “Right there, beyond that bridge, that’s where hell starts.”

  Silence.

  “OK, we’re going in, light’s fading, we need shelter,” Cronin waved his hand forwards. “Eyes and ears everyone, remember, silent killing only… unless—” he left his sentence unfinished.

  Yeah, unless—

  Rose brought the boat close to shore. The RV park jutted into the sound on reclaimed land, a series of inlets led into its interior. Rows of silent RVs stood on the raised block of land. The wind moaned across the sound like a living thing. Mercy frowned.

  Stepping back on solid ground feels like revisiting the scene of a crime—

  Her shoulders slumped.

  Dirty, tired and hungry. Let’s get this over with—

  The boat brushed against the sloping shore. Hicks and Pace jumped out and held on to the mooring ropes allowing the others to jump down.

  “Secure the boat over there,” Cronin pointed at an outgrowth of bulrushes. “The rest of you fan out, watch for tropes we’ll check the first few rows and get eyes on the rest of the site from on top of that RV before the light fails.”

  They moved like ghosts through the rows of abandoned RVs reaching the end of the narrow parkway. Cronin selected the last RV and signalled to Renton, pointing to his eyes then rotating his index finger in the air. Renton climbed the RV’s rear ladder and knelt on the roof, he peered through his scope, methodically checking the whole holiday park. He spent some time examining the fence and gate at the park entrance.

  Renton climbed down and spoke to Cronin, “Campground seems secure, no random tropes visible. Front gate looks intact, seems locked.”

  “A break at last,” Cronin’s shoulders relaxed. “OK, back to the boat, we’ll find an unoccupied RV and stay the night. I want a perimeter, sound traps… the lot. We’ve still got juice in our NVGs so I want eyes on the roof all night.”

  Mercy sighed and closed her eyes. She rubbed the back of her neck, her muscles were knotted again, she could feel the tension in her spine.

  Like a coiled spring. Wish I had my night vision goggles, but I lost them with my pack didn’t I? Rank amateur—

  They returned to the boat. Fay and her crew emerged from the long grass near the water’s edge.

  “The three RVs down this end are empty, scratchers are in the other ones, they’re locked in so no threat,” Fay shouldered her Winchester SXP Pump shotgun.

  Cronin squinted at the three unoccupied RVs, “The one at the end gets my vote, closer to our boat. Hicks break her open and watch out for kid tropes.”

  Fay raised an eyebrow, “Yeah, little scratchers can sure turn a good day into a bad day.”

  Hicks and Pace went to the RV and peered through the windows. They flanked the door, Pace tapped it with his rifle stock. Then he pressed his ear to the door and listened.

  “Nothing… good to go,” Pace stepped back and covered Hicks who produced a small jemmy. Hicks forced the lock.

  The door swung open, Pace entered first, silenced SIG 1911 in hand. Hicks followed, seconds later they reappeared.

  “All clear,” Pace said, “It’s a big motherfucker, you could fit a football team in there.”

  Cronin looked at the sky and grunted, “That’s settled then, we’ll stay here tonight. I want no drama, no one wandering off-piste.”

  “We need more food,” Fay said. “Me, Blake and Sparrow will do some scavenging.”

  Cronin pulled a face.

  “You don’t need to worry, we know what we’re doing,” Fay turned and walked away followed by Blake and Sparrow.

  “No gunshots remember,” Renton said.

  “We’re good,” Blake threw over his shoulder.

  Cronin sighed and scratched his head.

  “They’re civilians lieutenant, there’s not much you can do,” Hicks said.

  Cronin grunted, “Pace, Hicks on watch, everyone else inside. Get some rest, check your weapons. Eat and rehydrate. We need to find this place on the map.”

  Rose sidled up to Mercy and Flynn, they watched as the others entered the RV. Rose hunched her shoulders and kicked the ground.

  “Go on Rose… spit it out,” Mercy said.

  Rose gave Mercy a sidelong glance, “I don’t like it, there’s too many of us. The more people the more chance of mistakes.”

  “Yeah, wherever’s there’s people there’s trouble, you got that right sister.”

  Flynn scratched his stubble, “Us four, Cronin and his three men, Fay and her crew, that makes sixteen. Christ.”

  Mercy closed her eyes, “I know, talk about trying to keep it low profile.”

  “Small army of our own,” Rose said, her voice disapproving.

  “I know,” Mercy replied, “for what it’s worth, Fay said she and her crew would bail once we’ve left the Outer Banks. I think she’s heading inland just before we reach Norfolk. They’re not coming to D.C., so don’t worry.”

  Rose pulled a face.

  “I know,” Mercy said, “it is what it is—”

  Mercy climbed up the RV steps and entered the motorhome. Her eyes lit up.

  This thing is massive—

  The light was fading outside, it was difficult to see everyone’s faces. Cronin sat at a large table at the rear of the RV, his maps spread out before him. Thomas, Suzie and Tawny were closing the blinds on the windows. Bird and Sasha were lighting a row of candles along the wall and on the table. Mercy, Rose and Flynn went to join Cronin, Renton and Tawny at the table.

  Cronin
pointed at the map, “The next obstacle is the NSA fence across here.”

  Renton rubbed his chin, “We’ll need eyes on, but from what Sparrow said the fence is now completed, sounds a challenge but it may be sparsely manned—”

  “The other option is we take the boat under the Route 158 road bridge at night. No fence, no hassle,” Tawny tapped the blue area on the map.

  “Fay said the militia have snipers with night vision on the bridge. It’d just take one of them to spot us and it’d be game over,” Rose said.

  Silence.

  “The weather report we got on the aircraft carrier said more bad weather was coming in on the back of the last storm. We could go under the road bridge at night, the bad weather would cover us,” Flynn suggested.

  Renton shook his head, “That water is deep, too rough, there’ll be currents. The fan boat is too unstable, she’d flip over, we’d sink. I don’t even know if Fay’s kids can swim.”

  Mercy’s eyes narrowed, “Unless we found a new boat around here somewhere.”

  Rose shook her head, “No, haven’t you seen this place? It’s exposed, storms have passed through here since the Fall. All the boats I saw were wrecked or sunk.”

  “OK then,” Mercy countered, “what if we could modify our boat, make it more stable?”

  “What do you mean?” Cronin said.

  “You know, like a catamaran, parallel hulls or stabiliser floats on either side, like oil drums or something. If we can find the materials could one of your men modify the boat?”

  Renton’s face opened up, “I’ve done welding before—”

  Mercy continued, “OK, so if we could find some welding kit and scavenge some oil drums and poles we could fix up the boat, make it more stable.”

  Renton pulled a face, “Well, technically yes. But where are we gonna get all that stuff?”

  Mercy pulled out a tourist map of Kitty Hawk Bay. “Found this in an information box outside, it’s a visitor map of the town beyond the gate.”

  Mercy opened the map and spread it on the table. She pointed, “It says there’s a garage here, a hardware store… here and a chandlery here.”

  Silence.