The Survival Chronicles (Book 1}: Mercy Kill

by Nally, Fergal F.

  They reached the top of the steps. West 42nd Street stretched out before them. Rain poured from the heavens, flashes of lightening beckoned from the south, the night was in turmoil. Vince sat on the sidewalk. Flynn grabbed Mercy pulling her away from the subway entrance. Tawny’s crew stood guns at the ready. A scream of defiance rose from the subway and a few seconds later Tawny emerged carrying the second M-202 in her arms.

  “Shoot the bastards,” Tawny shouted. She flung herself away from the subway entrance opening a clear line of fire for her crew. Nothing happened. The freaks’ angry roars were the only thing that emerged from the subway. Tawny picked herself up. She looked at the M-202 at her feet. “Hope these things are worth it, I lost my rifle for this—”

  Flynn held Mercy’s face. “Mercy, are you OK? Say something—”

  Mercy’s eyes focused on Flynn. “I’m… I’m OK. I felt something back there, different. I thought it was over. You came back for me.”

  “We wouldn’t have got out of there if it hadn’t been for you. Of course we came back for you,” Flynn replied.

  “Boss, found this kid skulking around the perimeter,” one of the Angels emerged from across the street pushing a wild looking boy at gunpoint.

  Flynn looked up and stared, his mouth opened. “Stevie? Stevie— what are you doing here? Leave him alone, that’s my brother.” Flynn ran to Stevie.

  “Flynn, I let her capture me. I saw you a while back and—” Stevie blurted out.

  “Never mind that,” Flynn embraced his brother.

  Stevie leaned into Flynn whispering, “I’ve got us a way out Flynn, a boat on the marina, Pier 59, Chelsea Piers. Rites and me have been looking for you, we’re good to go.”

  Flynn’s body stiffened. He processed Stevie’s information and whispered back, “Hold on to that brother, let me think.” In a louder voice he said, “Come over here Stevie, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

  Flynn brought Stevie to Mercy. “This is Stevie, my brother. You saved his life back in the tower.” He lowered his voice to Stevie, “She’s not a real Angel either.”

  “It was you?” Stevie’s eyebrows raised.

  Mercy shrugged and held out her hand. Stevie took it, “Thank you lady.” He looked back at his brother then at the Angels surrounding them.

  “Great,” Tawny groaned. “Now we got two kids to lug around.” She looked at her watch. “We need to think about the big picture here people, yeah?” Tawny looked pointedly at Flynn and Mercy then gestured at Vince and Stevie. “They’re definitely not coming along for the ride— not gonna happen, end of. You got to sort those two out.” Tawny walked over to her crew and started redistributing weapons and issuing orders. The Angels examined the M-202’s, familiarising themselves with the rocket launchers.

  Mercy looked at Vince. “Flynn what are we going to do about Vince? I had a feeling they’d ditch him once he’d served his purpose.”

  Flynn looked at Vince then his brother. His eyes narrowed and his expression changed. He took Stevie by the shoulders and lowered his voice, “Stevie, I heard what you said about the boat.” He leaned in to Stevie and Mercy, “These Angels don’t have to know. Stevie I need you and Rites to take that blind kid over there, Vince, to your boat. We’ve got a job to do first then me and Mercy will meet you at Pier 59.”

  Mercy looked at Flynn but kept silent.

  “No Flynn, I’ve just found you— I thought you were dead,” Stevie protested his voice loud.

  Tawny turned around staring then looked away returning her attention to the rocket launchers. One of the Angels seemed to know what to do and was demonstrating how to use the weapon.

  Flynn grabbed Stevie staring into his eyes. “I know, I know little brother but what we’re going to do tonight is a game changer. We’re going to take out the Preacher, the shit’s going to hit the fan. You don’t want to be anywhere near us when that happens, and you’re a crucial part of the operation because until now we didn’t have a get out plan. You are our exit, me and Mercy need you to keep that door open for us. Got it?”

  Stevie chewed his lip staring at his brother then looked across at Vince. “He’s blind?” Stevie said finally.

  “Yes he’s blind but don’t let that fool you, he’s a survivor, he’s just helped us get two rocket launchers,” Mercy said indicating the M-202s.

  Stevie looked back at Flynn. “OK then, I’ve got your back, I’ll take the kid back to the boat— what are you going to tell them?” Vince nodded towards the Tawny and her crew.

  Flynn winked, “I’ll tell them you’re taking Vince back to the Flyers. Best to keep the boat secret, yeah?”

  “Yeah,” Stevie grinned. It was good to be back with his brother, making plans, ducking danger, living. “I’ll wait for you,” Stevie affirmed.

  “We’ll be there tomorrow, no idea what time,” Flynn said. “We may need to lie low for a while if we’re being chased, so give us a day or two leeway in case.”

  Stevie pulled a face, “Like I said, I’ll wait for you.”

  Tawny was happy to be rid of Vince and Stevie and accepted Flynn’s explanation that Stevie would return to the Flyers.

  Tawny gathered everyone around and spoke in a low voice. “OK everyone check your weapons, safeties off. We got lucky, those freaks didn’t come out. We’ve still not blown our cover to tropes or skinnies, so eyes open, keep it tight, we’ve got a few hours left to get front row seats for Laurient’s show. Lock and load— don’t engage with anything unless it’s about to rip your throat out. Keep it quiet. Got it?”

  The Angels nodded.

  Flynn and Mercy said their goodbyes to Stevie and Vince who headed down West 42nd Street.

  Mercy took Flynn’s hand, “He’ll be OK Flynn, he’s got the same look about him as his big brother. No one’s going to mess with him.”

  Flynn lowered his voice and looked into Mercy’s eyes, “It all happened so quick, I didn’t ask— are you OK with the boat thing?”

  Mercy smiled and squeezed Flynn’s hand. “Yes I’m very OK with the boat thing, let’s just make sure we get out of this in one piece.”

  “Yeah— what can possibly go wrong?” Flynn said raising his eyes.

  “OK everyone move out,” Tawny said.

  Fifth Avenue beckoned.

  ~

  The rain was playing on Laurient’s nerves.

  They stood outside the Broadway Atrium. Dakota had come good, she was right, the building would give a clear shot to the Charging Bull and the Preacher.

  “I need a cigarette,” Laurient said to Dakota.

  “Me too,” Dakota replied. “Do you think Rusty will spot the tropes at City Hall? There were so many of them, like they’re waiting for something.”

  “She was half an hour behind us, Rusty’s a pro, we’ve not heard gunshots, so yeah, she’s OK, she’s got a good crew with her, she’ll be fine. They’re going to hold up somewhere off Exchange Place until just before first light, she’s going to hook up with Tawny and her crew with their rocket launchers,” Laurient said, her voice sceptical.

  Dakota grimaced, “Yeah right.”

  Laurient spat on the ground, she peered down the street towards The Battery. “Is that—”

  “A podium? Dakota said. “Yeah, looks like it. That’s where you’re gonna waste the bastard, ain’t it?”

  Laurient’s eyes narrowed, “Damn right D, Damn right.” Her eyes drifted upwards at the building. “Come on D, let’s get some altitude.”

  “Yeah, altitude with attitude, let’s go—” Dakota replied.

  Laurient shouldered the Mauser SP66 sniper rifle, she had a 7.62mm round with the Preacher’s name on it and her trigger finger was itchy. Morning couldn’t come soon enough.

  They entered the Broadway Atrium by the revolving door. Laurient activated her night vision goggles and scoped out the foyer.

  “Clear left and right,” Dakota whispered night vision green reflecting in her eyes.

  “Roger that, you go ahead, find the sta
irs, I’ll cover you,” Laurient replied.

  Dakota nodded and crouching she moved across the marble floor holding her Heckler and Koch HK53 machine gun. Something moved in the corner on her right, she swung the HK53 around and saw three rats running along the wall.

  The rats were huge— not a good sign. Dakota watched them disappear around the corner at the rear of the foyer beyond the elevators. She went after them and reached the elevators, their doors were closed. She reached the corner and peered around. An open door and stairs lay beyond. She turned and signalled to Laurient.

  Laurient joined her. “Nice work, OK nice and easy does it. Tropes love stairs, eyes and ears open, I think the tenth to twelfth floors should do it. Ready D? Same moves, you take point, I’ll cover you and the rear.”

  Dakota nodded and went towards the stairs. She hated stairwells, she hated the dark but would never admit it, not to Laurient, not to anyone. The best way to deal with your fears was to tackle them head on. The HK53 gave her confidence but she knew the magazine only held twenty five rounds. It took up to eight rounds to fell a trope, more if they had the bloodlust on them. She had six magazines, she did the math, one hundred and fifty rounds— she could kill eighteen tropes.

  After that it was back to the Stone Age— knife and fists. Dakota had a pistol but only a head shot with a pistol worked, she’d keep a bullet for herself. She steeled herself and went through the open door into the stairwell. Her feet stirred up thick dust which resembled snow in the night vision.

  Why so dusty?

  Dakota signalled Laurient to follow, then moved to the first step. The stairwell disappeared up, a black hole. Sweat trickled down her back, her neck was tight, she stretched then climbed the stairs. On the first floor landing a pile of debris covered the floor, she nudged the debris with her foot stirring more dust.

  It’s just dust keep going—

  Laurient caught up with her. “Christ, is that what I think it is?” She pointed to a heap of rubble in the corner.

  Dakota focused on the rubble, her mind struggling to make sense of what she saw. “Jesus, skulls— this is… people?”

  “Crispy critters, yeah some bad shit went down here. Come on keep moving D, you’re doing real good,” Laurient replied.

  They continued up the stairs avoiding charred human bones for the next six floors. After the sixth floor the ash and remains vanished. Dakota could feel dust clogging her throat and nose, she’d breathed it into her lungs. She wanted to cough and spit it out, cleanse herself of all those dead people. She suppressed the cough, swallowing instead.

  No noise, keep it quiet, keep it together, Dakota repeated to herself.

  Laurient’s night vision flickered, she tapped the goggles, the image stabilised. Just last long enough for me to get in position, she thought.

  They arrived at the tenth floor, Dakota stopped and turned to Laurient who nodded. Dakota went to the stair door and pressed her ear to it.

  Nothing.

  Dakota braced herself gripping the handle. She opened the door, an overpowering stench came from the corridor beyond. Laurient shook her head.

  Danger, her eyes said.

  Dakota closed the door, her nose wrinkled. Trope feeding ground— they moved up the stairs giving the eleventh and twelfth floors a wide berth. They arrived at the thirteenth floor.

  Thirteen, unlucky for some, Laurient thought. Well fuck that, I feel lucky today.

  Laurient tapped Dakota’s shoulder and pointed at the door. Dakota raised her head in understanding, she made no comment and went to the door and listened.

  Nothing.

  Dakota opened the door a crack, the air was stale but not offensive. She opened it further and listened.

  Nothing.

  They entered the corridor closing the door behind them. The offices on either side looked undisturbed through their glass walls, as if the occupants had gone on a coffee break. A woman’s handbag lay open on a desk, a briefcase on another desk, three jackets hung from a coat stand in another room. A pair of high heeled shoes lay beside another desk.

  Dakota pressed down the corridor, they needed to reach the south side of the building to get a good view over the Canyon of Heroes. A muffled cry came from the stairwell behind.

  They froze.

  It sounded human— but then tropes were known to mimic human cries to lure people out.

  Laurient’s eyes widened, were they being hunted? They’d been quiet, they had not fired a shot, they had only encountered rats. It was either nothing or the tropes were onto them.

  No further cries came.

  Laurient nodded at Dakota. They made it down the rest of the corridor without incident and entered the southern part of the building. Laurient chose a corner office, they moved in locking the door behind them.

  The office was sparsely furnished; table, chairs and a water cooler in the corner.

  Laurient went to the window and looked out, “Perfect D, perfect, look a clear view right to the bull and the podium. We got a sweet spot girl, good job.”

  Dakota placed her hands on the glass and looked down Broadway towards The Battery. “You got the glass cutter?”

  “Brought two just in case,” Laurient said taking off her pack. “Let’s barricade the door.” Laurient put the Mauser SP66 down beside the full length window.

  They moved the table, chairs and water cooler to block the door.

  Laurient went to the window and selected an area of glass to cut. Satisfied, she attached the glass cutter to the window and went to work. The diamond tipped tool cut out a perfect circle of glass. Cool air entered the room from outside.

  Lightening flashed over Battery Park in the distance.

  What are you doing now Preacher? Because I am crafting your death you bastard, this is for all the girls you took and defiled in the name of your religion, Laurient thought.

  “Shit,” Dakota said.

  “What?” Laurient asked.

  “Nothing, I mean I think I cut my finger,” Dakota indicated the glass Laurient had removed from the window.

  Laurient’s eyes widened. She glanced at the door. “Here let me see that.”

  Dakota took her hand away from her shirt.

  It was covered in blood.

  Chapter 18 Dawn Fire

  Stevie frowned, chewing his lip. Jesus, I have to watch every step he takes, he keeps stopping, this is taking too long, we’re going too slow— he had never met a blind kid before. How could this guy have survived for two years underground surrounded by freaks? At this rate it would take all night to reach the Chelsea Piers. I want to check the boat again. Perhaps I should just ditch this guy? No— I’ll do what Flynn asked, it’s cool, I can do this.

  “OK Vince you’re doing good, let’s try the belt again, I think that was better,” Stevie said.

  Vince nodded, “Sure Stevie, I got it, sorry man. It’s been a long night.” Vince reached out finding Stevie’s belt.

  They continued in silence, slow and careful. The rain had reduced visibility even more, Stevie was struggling to see twenty feet ahead. They approached 9th Avenue, the Department Of Motor Vehicles building lay across the street.

  Just keep going you’re at the DMV that’s not so bad, keep moving, we’ll have a break at Chelsea Park, Stevie thought. A figure stepped out of the rain feet away from him.

  “It is you,” Rites said. “I’ve been following you for the last block and a half. Who’s this guy? Thought we was looking for your brother?”

  “Rites, man am I glad to see you,” Stevie said slapping Rites on the back. “Thought we was trope food for a moment, didn’t see you coming through the rain.”

  “Think the rain’s helping us with the tropes, don’t knock it Stevie, so what’s the story?”

  Stevie put his hand on Vince’s shoulder. “Rites, meet Vince, Vince this is a friend of mine, Rites.” Relief washed over Stevie, now that Rites was with them it would be easier.

  Stevie nodded at Rites. “I’ll explain once we get to the
boat, let’s go. We’ve got work to do.”

  ~

  “Rusty, Jesus— check it out, City Hall’s crawling with tropes,” Sly said.

  Rusty peered through the rain at City Hall Park. She frowned, “Those critters disgust me, just wish we had a gun big enough to blow them all away. What are they doing there? Look, there’s even skinnies.” Low keening reached their ears from the park.

  “So we’re in Murray Street on schedule, shit I wanted us to move down Broadway towards Battery Park—” Rusty looked at her watch and swore. “This is going to mean a detour.” She turned around and examined the map with Sly and the others. “We’ll double back to Church Street, then south, plan’s still the same, we need to be in position in Exchange Place by 3:30 am at the latest. Eyes open, the place is crawling with nasties, avoid contact unless under direct attack. Understood?” The others nodded and dispersed to communicate the change in plan to the rest of the crew.

  Rusty turned to Sly. “There’s sixty of us spread back up Murray Street, it’s not easy moving so many in one go. Hope Tawny’s getting on better with her group.”

  “Well the hornet’s nest over there hasn’t stirred and they can smell blood on the wind, so no blood, no explosions, no gunfire. I reckon Tawny’s doing OK,” Sly replied.

  “It would’ve been so much easier with the radios—” Rusty sighed.

  “Yeah, but remember what happened last time we used radios,” Sly said.

  “I know, I know— fucking Preacher’s all over that,” Rusty rubbed her eyes. “Come on, we’ve got sixty Angels to get in position in under an hour and a half. This is gonna be a long night.” Rusty and Sly walked down Murray Street away from City Hall Park.

  A figure ran down the street towards them, Rusty recognised Cleo, one of the rear scouts. “Rusty, there’s tropes coming down Church Street from the north, loads of them, ten minutes out, what do we do?”

  Rusty frowned. “They’re either hunting us or they’re going to join that lot in City Hall, either way we need to get out of here.” She looked around at the buildings, an escape ladder beckoned on the left. “Right, get everyone up that fire escape, we’ll regroup on the roof and watch what they do. Let’s hope they’re just passing through.”