Mercy locked onto her target. The NSA man brought up his automatic rifle as she was aiming. His body jerked violently just as his finger squeezed the trigger. He fell to the ground, Barnes’s 7.62 mm round shredding his spinal cord. The soldier’s spray of bullets tore into the tarmac at Mercy’s feet, a ricochet hit her on the side of the head. Mercy collapsed to the ground, unmoving.
Darkness. Muffled voices. Pain. Burning. Thirst. Mercy tensed.
Am I… dead?
She groaned as waves of pain bored through her skull.
What the hell—?
“Hey, you’re awake—” a man’s voice.
Barnes? Why can’t I see you?
Mercy’s hands went up to the bandage covering her face. “Barnes? Where are you? Get this off me—”
“OK, OK, take it easy, lie still. You’re OK. It’s just a pressure bandage, your eyes are fine; a round clipped your ear is all. Plenty of blood, but you were lucky, a half an inch to your left and it would’ve been game over—” Barnes said, removing the field dressing carefully.
Mercy gasped as he removed the bandage. A mixture of relief and elation filled her as she blinked at the bright daylight streaming in through an open window. A fire escape loomed outside the window, a flock of birds crossed the sky in the distance.
“I can see,” Mercy whispered. She brought her hands up to her face, examining them as if for the first time. “I can see… for a minute I—”
Rose rushed into the room, “You’re back.” She bent down and hugged Mercy, “I thought you were gone, you’ve been out for a whole day—”
“A day?” Mercy repeated. She returned Rose’s embrace. “Water? Have you got any water?”
Barnes handed her his water bottle. “We got the rest of them. Between us. Rose and me. It was a turkey shoot. You got the last two. I got the middle two and Rose got the first two. We took most of their stuff—” Barnes gestured at the floor in the corner.
“Yeah, I see. You’re wearing their uniforms. There’s one for me?” Mercy asked.
“Sure is, it’s got a couple of bullet holes in it, but it’ll do,” Rose replied. “We took helmets and body armour too. We’ve got more ammo, food and another rifle plus more antiserum and a field dressing kit. Oh, and torches for the Metro. We stirred up a hornet’s nest though, that whole area’s been crawling with NSA since our ambush. We’re well away from the area. It took some doing but we got you out. Barnes carried you. We’re south of Lincoln Park just off 11th Street—”
“You need to rest,” Barnes said. “You lost some blood from your wound. You lost a chunk of your ear too. I had to put some stitches in for you. You’ll live but the wound will take a while to heal up. We’ve got food and water here, you need to eat, sleep and rest. Me and Rose are going out to capture a couple of tropes from near Lincoln Park, like we agreed—”
Mercy nodded, “Yeah, right… the Stadium-Armory plan, I remember. Wait, I can come with you—” she tried to stand up but slumped down, her head pounding.
“Woah, you’re not going anywhere,” Rose said, concern in her voice. “You’re staying here and resting up like Barnes said. After this next stop is Stadium-Armory Metro Station sure, but you get to rest this one out. Got it?”
Mercy started to protest but then nodded groggily as the headache took her breath away. “Yeah, OK, I think I’ll sit this one out—”
Rose stood up, “That’s agreed then. You can check out the NSA stuff we bagged, there’s your uniform. We’ll be back before dark. Barnes has left sound traps in the building, we’re on the first floor. There’s a fire escape out there and stair access to the roof in the corridor. There’s buildings either side of this one. You’ll be fine—”
“OK, I’ll stay here. Next stop Stadium-Armory, got it—” Mercy repeated.
Rose and Barnes checked their gear and said a final goodbye to Mercy before leaving. Mercy listened to their footsteps receding down the corridor and then the stairs.
Alone again—
Flynn’s face flashed before her.
Where the hell are you Flynn?
A wave of longing washed over her.
I miss you… so much—
A tear rolled down her cheek, she brushed it away, her hand shaking.
Enough of that. That shit will drag you down. Get busy—
Mercy ate a MRE meal and drank the water Barnes had left for her. She changed into the NSA uniform, wrinkling her nose at the smell of blood and stale sweat which clung to the fabric.
Sweaty bastard, whoever you were—
She paused, holding a Kevlar vest in her hand.
Didn’t help the previous owner did it? Then again Barnes is a sniper… and I got pretty close to lights out. Wear it, it’ll look more convincing—
Mercy donned the chest armour then sorted out her webbing and weapons.
Frags, good—
She attached four fragmentation grenades to her webbing and secured her HK45 pistol in its thigh holster. She sat down after her efforts, her head spinning.
Take it easy you idiot. You heard Barnes; you’ve lost some blood. Do as you’ve been told, rest up—
Mercy lay down on the dusty sofa in the centre of the room and closed her eyes.
They’ll be back before dark—
Mercy closed her eyes and let her mind wander. Her breathing deepened. A dreamless sleep took her within minutes.
A noise. A bang. A crash. Then silence.
What the fuck was that—?
Mercy sat up, her brain addled by sleep. She glanced around the room, momentarily disorientated. The light was fading outside, a chill was in the air. Mercy shivered.
That was one of Barnes’s sound traps for Christ’s sake—
Mercy rolled off the sofa onto the floor. She crawled over to the front door and checked the lock.
Came from the ground floor. Check out the window—
She went to the window and looked onto the street below.
Nothing—
A creak came from the corridor. She snapped her head up, aimed her pistol at the door and slid away from the window.
It sounds like one person, there’s no sign of others outside. A scavenger? An animal? Dogs? Shit… we can’t afford to lose all this gear, not after the effort we put into getting it. Wait, let’s see what happens. I can deal with one—
Footsteps in the corridor. A pause then a loud crash.
Shit, he’s kicked in a door… so not an animal. The bastard’s searching that apartment—
Rummaging noises, more crashing. Silence. Another loud bang from the corridor.
He’s in the apartment next door. He’s not making any effort to be quiet—
Movement. Smashing furniture, glass breaking. Silence. Mercy stared at the front door, her gun raised. A red light flickered through the keyhole. Mercy frowned then her nose wrinkled.
Burning. Fuck—
The door burst open, its melted lock fell to the floor. A hulking metallic figure stood silhouetted in the door.
Mercy’s eyes widened.
Fuck. What is that thing?
The four-legged machine took up most of the doorway. A revolving drum on the top of its body sent out a burst of laser light, blinding Mercy.
(To be continued…)
About the Author
Fergal F. Nally is an outdoors lover often to be found amongst it all in the Scottish Highlands. His passions are hillwalking, music, and reading great stories. He lives in Edinburgh. Dark Mercy—The Survival Chronicles VI is his twelfth novel.
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The Survival Chronicles (Book 6): Dark Mercy Page 25