Mercy smiled. She held her hands out warming them, her clothes began to steam, the atmosphere in the room changed. Her spirits lifted, “Great idea Vince, now, what about some food?”
“One step ahead of you,” Vince said as he retreated to his sleeping area. “Got some new tins on my last trip, hold on, I’ll get them.” He spent a few minutes rummaging amongst the boxes and crates. He returned smiling, the flames from the barbecue reflecting on his goggles. “Here, try these.” He handed a few tins to her. “It’s always a surprise for me—”
Mercy took the tins. The first was dog food the second pineapple chunks and the third was meatballs. “Cool, I’ll go with meatballs and pineapple, I’ll take a rain check on the dog food though. Hey, where do you get this stuff from?”
Vince shrugged. “Dog food ain’t so bad, here I’ll take it. There’s loads of tinned food down here, if you know where to look. The subway didn’t just transport people around the city.”
Mercy raised an eyebrow, “Really? You learn something every day. Hey, you serious about the dog food?” she asked, frowning.
“No, just joking,” Vince laughed. “I’d only eat that stuff in a real emergency.” He retrieved some more tins, a tin opener and two spoons. “Come on, let’s eat,” he said.
They sat on the floor by the barbecue and ate in silence. Mercy felt her clothes drying, the barbecue’s heat penetrating her muscles.
“So how long have you been down here Vince?” she asked after a while.
Vince’s face went slack. “I don’t know really. I used to live in Midtown with my parents and went to the School for the Blind on Pennsylvania Plaza. After the pandemic I lost my parents, I was at school, all hell broke loose. I hid in a cleaning cupboard for two days until the worst of the screaming stopped. I went out onto the streets, but there was more screaming there, so not good. I found the subway and it was safer than outside. No electricity but that didn’t matter to me. Then the freaks arrived soon after, they cleared the streets of tropes but not the buildings. At night the tropes came out of the buildings and attacked the freaks. The tropes had the numbers so I guess that’s why the freaks retreated down here.”
“Yeah, the military lost control of the freaks a few days after they were deployed, I remember the radio broadcasts, the warnings— before the radio stopped.”
Vince tilted his head. “Hey, you like music?”
“I love music,” Mercy replied.
“Good, I live for music.” Vince beamed at her. He reached into his jacket and pulled out an old mp3 player. “Found a stack of batteries the other week, don’t have much choice of the music on the player but it’s OK and it’s on random— wanna dance? I got a splitter and two earphones, it’ll warm us up…”
Mercy couldn’t remember the last time she’d heard music, proper music. Surviving alone on the surface, even in her safe house was fraught with danger, she relied on her senses to keep her alive. Switching off one of her senses, releasing it to music would be unthinkable— above ground. She looked at Vince and the room. She was safe, the hatch was locked, she was at least three stories underground surrounded by concrete.
“Yes, all right Vince, I’d love to dance,” Mercy said. She took the earphones and put them in her ears as he attached the splitter to the player.
“Ready?” Vince asked.
“Go for it.”
Vince pressed the play button and Mercy was surrounded by magic; music filled her ears, a familiar song, she couldn’t recall the artist’s name but knew she’d been a multi-million selling pop diva. Memories flooded back with the music. She allowed herself to be swept up in the beat, the rhythm, she closed her eyes and swayed. The music was transforming, freedom, like a drug, she felt her cares evaporate. Something unfamiliar welled up inside her.
Joy—
Life could still be joyful? Her thoughts went over the previous twenty four hours, she thought of Flynn. If she was here three stories below ground with a blind kid and a barbecue where was Flynn? Was he dead? She pushed the thought away, no, Flynn was a survivor like her. He was not dead, she had lost too many people, her breathing changed, her armour went up. She had to see him again, she could not be weak, even for one minute. Her eyes snapped open and she pulled the earphones out. Vince was dancing in front of her.
Our very own silent disco—
Mercy looked around and laughed at the absurdity of it all. What next in this rollercoaster of mayhem and horror? She watched Vince dance a few minutes longer, her clothes were mostly dry. Fatigue washed over her, the desire for sleep overwhelming. Vince sensed her disengagement as she dropped the earphones to the floor.
He switched the player off. “Had enough?”
Mercy yawned. “That was great Vince, just great. Clothes are dry, think I just need to get some rest.”
As she spoke her eyes drifted to the barbecue, she watched the smoke rising from the coals. Her eyes followed the smoke, her brain kicked in, they were in a large space, granted, but why was the smoke not accumulating?
“What is it?” Vince asked.
Mercy didn’t answer straight away, not used to being in company. “Sorry Vince, I wasn’t ignoring you, I was just thinking. Where’s the smoke going? Mind if I borrow your lantern?”
“Hell no, it’s for you anyway, go ahead, knock yourself out, explore.”
“OK, thanks. I’ll be back in a bit, don’t wait up,” Mercy answered.
She took the lantern and walked around the room following the smoke, she found a low doorway in one corner and felt a slight draft on her cheek. The lantern lit the new room with flickering light. She saw graffiti on the walls; a skull and crossbones, Old Glory emblazoned with flaming dollar signs and another art piece; a woman’s face with red eyes and vampire teeth leered out at her through the semi darkness. She recoiled, too much like a trope.
Her feet scuffed the dry concrete as she went, a slight echo reverberated through the air. Her foot kicked something on the floor, a harsh metallic sound skidded away from her, a collection of rusty spray cans lay littered the floor.
Relax, breathe, there’s no tropes here—
Mercy continued through a series of rooms, it was difficult to judge how far she had come, her watch told her she’d been walking for two minutes. She’d lost track of the smoke and still the rooms went on. She stopped and turned back retracing her steps coming to the graffiti image of Old Glory. She stopped and looked up at it absorbing its detail, the colours were vivid, as if the artist had just completed the work.
Then she saw the smoke, a thin tendril wound along the edge of the flag and disappeared upwards. A low concrete shelf lay to one side, she climbed up on it holding the lantern above her head. She made out a metal grille near the ceiling. The smoke disappeared through the grille, her heart quickened. The smoke had to be going somewhere, up, out. She stared at the grille, it was wide enough for a person to climb through. Mercy’s body screamed at her for rest. She wanted to rest, she needed to rest. But she also needed to open the grille and see where it went. Her internal dialogue raged, she returned to Vince and found him dozing on his bedroll.
Vince came to when she approached. “How’d you get on back there?”
“This place is big… I found where the smoke’s going, there’s a grille near the ceiling in the next room. I’d like to check it out, can I use the ladder?” Mercy asked.
“Sure, I got some tools over there, amongst all that rubbish, have a look,” Vince replied gesturing to the array of bags and boxes surrounding his sleeping area.
“Great, thanks,” Mercy said.
She stepped over his sleeping mat and rummaged through the nearest box. Dead batteries, tins of food, wire cutters, a set of paint brushes, nothing of use. She shone her light over the rest of the boxes, something caught her eye. She climbed over a couple of bags and reached a corner box. A gas mask lay on top of some military gear.
“Hey Vince, this box over here, you got some army stuff—”
Vince leaned o
n one elbow. “Yeah, the freaks were originally sent in with some army scouts, I found some of their stuff. Not much use to me, there’s some stuff in there I couldn’t figure out.”
Mercy leaned forwards and delved into the box, she took a peaked cap, some webbing and duct tape. She gasped when she reached the bottom of the box. A set of night vision goggles stared up at her.
“Hey Vince, you got night vision here,” Mercy said. She picked up the goggles and held her breath, they looked new, the straps were bloodstained. She flicked the switch, the goggles came to life.
Finally, a win—
“It’s working, way cool Vince. Mind if I take these?”
“Go ahead, hey I’ll come with you and hold the ladder,” Vince replied.
“Deal,” Mercy said. “Vince you got any bullets?” she asked. She had no gun but it was always good to have ammunition.
“Don’t have much use for ammo considering my condition,” he replied, “but if you look around I think there’s a police belt somewhere in amongst that lot, maybe some rounds on it.”
Mercy spent the next ten minutes rooting through the boxes and found the belt in the last box together with a crowbar. Vince was right, she found a clip with eight 9mm rounds and a taser. She took the rounds and looked sceptically at the taser, she had never used one. A weapon was a weapon, she took it. She spent a few minutes attaching and arranging the equipment to her webbing. She returned to Vince.
“OK Vince, let’s do it.”
They picked up the ladder and went to the room with the grille. Mercy set up the ladder, Vince held it secure while she climbed the twenty feet to the ceiling.
“Careful up there,” Vince said.
Mercy grunted and fixed the lantern handle to the top of the ladder. She looked at the grille, it was rusted but still fastened to the wall. She rammed the crowbar between the grille and its housing. After some effort she managed to loosen the grille, she worked the crowbar and after another few minutes the grille popped out into her hand.
A faint draft caressed her face from the darkness above.
She climbed down the ladder and dumped the grille and crowbar on the floor.
“Right Vince, the moment of truth—”
Mercy climbed back up the ladder and took the lantern, holding it over her head. Its light revealed a concrete shaft extending into darkness, hand and foot grips were visible.
Yes… always keep your eye on the exit— Mercy thought.
She’d found a possible way out. She’d seen enough for the moment.
“Looks interesting, promising even, let’s call it a day though, I’m wasted—” Mercy said.
“Yeah, me too. Good job,” Vince replied.
They left the ladder in place and returned to the first room. Vince produced some blankets and a sleeping bag for Mercy. She put cardboard on the hard floor, lay down and was asleep in minutes.
Mercy awoke in darkness, she was disorientated and shivering, it was colder than before. She brought her wrist to her face looking at the luminous dial on her watch through bleary eyes.
6 am—
She’d had five hours sleep. Unbelievable, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept so long. She listened and heard Vince breathing off to her left. Her leg was aching, the thigh muscles tender. She stretched her arms and legs feeling pain as the knots in her muscles protested.
Mercy swore and pushed through the pain. Her joints clicked and the pain receded a fraction. She repeated the process ten times then lay still, allowing her breathing to settle. Sweat beaded her forehead, a wave of nausea passed through her stomach. She lay considering her options. She did not want to go back down to the main subway level if she could help it, she wanted to explore the shaft some more.
A scratching sound interrupted her thoughts. She froze, listening. The sound was faint and came from the boxes. A rat? But she had seen no evidence of rats when she had searched there earlier. She waited for the scratching to stop, maybe it was her imagination, sounds were always worse in the dark. The scratching continued and was joined by more sounds this time on her right, something brushed her hand.
Shit—
Mercy pulled her hand away and reached for the lantern throwing the switch. She blinked not quite understanding what she saw. The floor was covered in rats of all sizes climbing over each other, they seemed to come from behind the boxes.
OK, OK, OK, not good—
Mercy jumped up and yelled at Vince. “Vince get up, we’ve got trouble.” She went over to him kicking rats away from his feet.
Vince rubbed his face. “What’s wrong?” he managed.
“Rats, scores of them all over the place,” Mercy said.
Vince stood up brushing his arms and legs. “Shit, I hate rats—” He stopped, his head turning to the hatch. “Quick, check the trapdoor—”
Mercy went to the trapdoor, water bubbled up through the cracks from below. “Water, the level below’s flooding, we’ve got to get out of here—”
Vince grabbed his stick and goggles. “Right let’s go, this time I’m behind you.”
Mercy knew what he meant. She took Vince’s arm and led him from the room to the ladder and the open shaft.
“You first,” Mercy said.
“No you go first, you’ve got to see the way,” Vince replied, “ don’t worry about me, I’ve survived down here for two years, I’m good underground, I’ll keep up.”
Mercy hesitated looking at Vince with his goggles and stick. The lantern threw flickering shadows across the room, rats were pouring in behind them, running across their feet, their numbers had grown.
“Right, keep close then,” Mercy started up the ladder.
Vince held the ladder steady against the flood of rats until Mercy had reached the top and climbed into the shaft. He followed her not pausing, his hands and feet finding their way.
“Come on Vince, I’m in the shaft, reach up, you’ll feel metal rungs,” Mercy shouted.
“I’m there, carry on, don’t wait for me,” Vince replied. He put his hand into the shaft feeling around finding the first rung. He hauled himself up and found the second and third rung. The rats swarmed around the ladder and toppled it by weight of numbers, it crashed to the floor. Vince’s left leg swung in space, he had three points of contact and managed to pull himself up the shaft.
“Well that’s that then. No going back,” he muttered.
The sound of rushing water filled the room below.
Mercy held the lamp in her right hand and looked down between her feet. Once she was sure Vince was with her she returned her gaze to the shaft above. The metal rungs disappeared into darkness. She continued climbing up the shaft wondering how deep underground they were. Two hundred, three hundred feet?
The breeze on her skin grew stronger and the sound of the water below receded. The shaft itself was dry, she wondered when it had last been used. It appeared to be a ventilation shaft, other shafts joined it at intervals. Thirty minutes passed, they were still climbing, her arms and legs felt dead but she forced herself on. She was dimly aware of Vince following her.
The lamp started to dim, its light weakening and flickering.
“Shit, don’t do this,” Mercy said aloud.
“What’s up?” Vince’s voice drifted up from below.
“Light’s about to pack in,” she replied.
“Welcome to my world,” Vince replied.
The lamp flickered again, dimmed and went out.
Shit—
Mercy attached the lamp to her belt and started climbing again. She slowed to a crawl as her muscles stiffened and joints protested. Sweat soaked through her shirt and cooled beneath the webbing, she began to shiver.
Keep moving, keep moving, move or die. Let me live, let me live— the internal dialogue returned. You’re never more alive than when death is your shadow, breathing down your neck— let me live, let me live —
Mercy lost herself in the task, hand over hand, one rung after the other, she was vague
ly aware of pain coming from her palms, they felt slick, sticky. She knew her hands were cracked and bleeding. The metal rungs were rusty and sharp in places, the ascent was taking its toll.
She reached up for the next rung and found air, she moved her hand around exploring, still no rung. She looked up staring at the space above. Her eyes relayed the information but she could not put the pieces together. She saw stars off to her right, on the left blackness, the breeze was stronger. She reached out further and felt broken edges, jagged surfaces.
Then, soft material, she brought her hand to her face and smelt it.
Soil. Stars, breeze, soil—
She had reached the surface, it must be the surface. But it didn’t feel right, didn’t make sense. She lowered her head and shouted to Vince.
“Vince, something’s wrong here, the shaft has stopped, seems broken, there’s sky, stars above, fresh air—” realisation hit her as soon as she said the words.
The sinkhole, of course… this is the sinkhole on West 54th Street and 9th Avenue… Jesus— the safe house’s just a couple of blocks away.
Chapter 12 The River
“Why are you showing me this Stevie boy?” Rites asked.
“Because it’s important— and because Flynn’s gone. I was going to tell him what I’d found. It’s our ticket out of here.”
“What do you mean Stevie? You’re not making sense,” Rites replied.
Stevie sighed, it was always frustrating explaining to adults what was in his head, his brother had always known how to communicate with him. Where was Flynn? Why had he stayed with that girl back at the tower? He should’ve just left her and escaped with the others.
Stevie looked at his brother’s friend, his mind fogged up.
Focus on Rites, breathe, calm down, breathe— you can trust Rites, Flynn trusted Rites… Rites’ll be OK with this—
Stevie took a deep breath. “OK, so you know we got the wall to the north, the Hudson to the west, the East River to the east, the Bay to the south—”
Rites nodded and shrugged his shoulders.
The Survival Chronicles (Book 1}: Mercy Kill Page 10