The Survival Chronicles (Book 3): Mercy Fall

by Nally, Fergal F.

  “What took you so long?” Garrett asked as she rounded the corner.

  “Nothing, just… nothing—” Mercy handed him the collection of keys.

  Garrett selected a key and tried it. The bike lock opened, he grinned, “Nice work, I’ve managed to pump up the tyres but not sure how long they’ll last. Best to get away from here. There’s a railway nearby then the highway, we need to get south. I know a place we can hide. You good to go?”

  “South works for me,” Mercy said.

  Garrett lifted the mountain bikes off the rack and gave one to Mercy. “Let’s go. Follow me, keep an eye out for drones.”

  Mercy got on the bike, the smiling faces in the photograph on her mind. She followed Garrett and they passed over a railroad track. A sign pointed to a slip road: Ronald Reagan Highway, she looked up at an overpass. Garrett took a side track and entered a park. Rusting swings and slides rose above a morass of weeds and long grass. Garrett pushed his bike through the weeds and up onto a narrow footbridge, they crossed over a dirty brown river. The bridge deposited them on the far side, Garrett continued up a track which led to the highway. Mercy joined him a minute later.

  Garrett leant towards her, “I’ve been on this road before, it’s OK. Keep an eye out for wires, the NSA have laid smoke traps, some flash bangs too; they like to know when the dead start to build up. I disabled a few traps when I came this way so we should be OK. Just keep to where I go.”

  Mercy nodded, Garrett was thorough. He climbed on his bike and pulled away. Mercy glanced at her watch, 6:13 am, she was dog tired, she needed to rest. This is where she would make a mistake. She jumped on her bike and grimaced.

  One last push, keep going—

  They cycled along Highway 25 leaving it to join Route 87 south. The day had started promising but Mercy detected a change in the air, leaden clouds were gathering in the distance and the air temperature was falling. Her legs and back ached, everything ached. She watched Garrett; head down, shoulders forward, he seemed driven too. Everyone she met was driven, things were black and white now, with the passing of the old world there was no more middle ground, no sitting on the fence. Each day alive was a surprise, like being born again.

  Route 87 merged into Route 115, built up areas passed on both sides. Mercy glanced back periodically, it would be ironic to be captured by a NSA convoy coming from Peterson Air Force Base. The abandoned cars thinned out, the going became easier, an exit road loomed ahead its sign proclaiming: COUNTRY CLUB OF COLORADO. Garrett took the exit and checked to make sure Mercy was following.

  The slip road led to the country club which was spread over a large area. They cycled into a large car park flanked by tennis courts, three hangar sized buildings stood a short distance away. A large body of water stretched to the south and the overgrown remains of a golf course was visible on the left.

  Garrett jumped off his bike. “We’ll dump the bikes here. There’s a building I’ve used before. I’m hoping it’s still safe.” He stared at Mercy and pulled a face, “How you doing? You look wasted.”

  Mercy looked around, “I’ve had better days. I could use a break in a Country Club right now, need to recharge my batteries.” She saw Garrett’s expression and added, “I’m OK, just tired that’s all.”

  Garrett nodded. “OK then, let’s go, stay close and stay switched on—”

  Mercy rested her bike against a van. She checked her Beretta making sure the safety was off and followed Garrett. The sky was even darker, distant thunder broke the silence. Goosebumps rose on Mercy’s neck, she shivered. They needed shelter soon, a storm was coming. Garrett ignored the clubhouse and headed past the tennis courts to a building marked: SWIM CENTER. He stopped short and watched, waiting. His eyes darted left and right taking in the details, processing information. He seemed satisfied and walked towards the front door. He put his hand on the glass and peered inside, he felt along the top of the door and tore away a strip of clear tape.

  Mercy smiled, approving. OK, so no one’s been through that door since you put the tape there—

  The theme tune from an old detective TV series played through Mercy’s head, she couldn’t shift it. Garrett opened the door and sidled into the foyer, Mercy hung back glancing around. Her eyes darted to the sky, heavy drops of rain splattered on the ground, a drop landed squarely on her forehead making her jump. Then, as if a switch had been thrown, the heavens opened and sheets of rain fell from the sky. A flash of lightning over the mountains spurred her into action. She went through the door after Garrett. A reception desk dominated the foyer. Garrett reached behind the desk and pulled out a long piece of wood which he slid through the front door handles securing the entrance.

  “There’s a bunch of rooms out the back, we’ll give the building the once over, but it was clear the last time I was here,” Garrett said over his shoulder.

  They moved through the building checking each room in turn. It was empty, undisturbed, as if the Fall had never happened. Mercy imagined screaming kids, excited at their swimming lessons, running through the corridors to the pool outside. There would be no swimming today. Mercy looked at the empty swimming pool beyond the glass, rain was falling in sheets. Maybe the pool would fill up, her mind wandered to her swim lessons back at the orphanage.

  “We’ll rest here, we should stay together,” Garrett said standing beside an open door. The office was large, desks and computers filled the space, Mercy collapsed into a plush leather chair and placed her Beretta on the desk, rain drummed on the roof.

  “I’m glad I’m not out in that,” Mercy said. “How did you find this place?”

  Garrett was busy in the corner, he opened a filing cabinet and pulled out some tins of food and a camping stove.

  “Research,” he replied. “I’ll get water from outside. There are blankets and some mats over there, feel free to get some rest. I’ll make coffee, then we can eat.”

  “Sounds good,” Mercy said.

  Garrett disappeared outside. Mercy pulled out a mat and threw a few blankets down. But should she let her guard down? Her instinct told her this man was not going to harm her, but who was he really and what did he want? He had saved her life from the super trope, but everyone wanted something. Mercy looked at the blankets longingly, she could fall asleep straight away, but she needed to know more. She forced herself to stay awake and went across to examine the tinned food.

  Baked beans, macaroni cheese, not bad mister, you know how to treat a girl—

  Mercy stepped over to the filing cabinet and pulled the top drawer open. More tins of food, military Meals Ready to Eat, a slew of maps of the area and at the back a bottle of tabasco.

  Where did this guy get the MREs and tabasco?

  Mercy picked up the MREs and looked at the labels; chili with beans, maple sausage, cheese tortellini, beef ravioli, meatballs in marinara, chili and macaroni. Her mouth began to water. She reached in and pulled out the bottle of tabasco staring at it trying to remember the last time she had had some. The tabasco bottle felt like a talisman. Garrett appeared in the doorway.

  “You found my stash and the tabasco,” he said pointedly.

  Mercy turned around clutching the bottle, “Where did you get the MREs and this?” she brandished the tabasco bottle.

  “Like I said, I’m with the Texas Rangers. I brought my own food to this shithole, you gotta have something to look forwards to after a long day at the office.” He put a plastic container of rainwater on the floor and busied himself with the gas stove. Mercy watched him work, he used a tin to brew up coffee and poured some for her into another tin. She drank the steaming liquid and felt her spirits lift.

  “Nothing like a tin of fresh Joe to make things better,” she said.

  Garrett opened the tins of beans and macaroni cheese and emptied the contents into a mess tin. The smell of the food drew Mercy in and she knelt across from him.

  “Why are you here? Why did you save me from that thing? Do you work for Constantine?” Mercy blurted her questions
out, she had to know, she had to piece together the puzzle.

  Garrett looked at her, he frowned. “Yes, I work with Constantine. I saved you because you crossed my path and you’re important to the NSA, they seem to be expending a lot of energy trying to capture you. I tracked your progress across the city; the exploding car, the escape from the graveyard, the action movie chase on dirt bikes. You and your friend were quite entertaining—“

  Mercy pulled a face.

  “Sorry, no offence,” Garrett added.

  Mercy shook her head, “Sam was special, he helped me after I bailed from the chopper. He had a tattoo on his arm, a number and two flags, NSA markings. He was mute, but we communicated, the NSA had experimented on him, I don’t know what they did but he escaped somehow. He was living rough in the wasteland beyond the air force base—”

  “Sorry I couldn’t save you both,” Garrett said, his voice tight, he paused and handed her the steaming mess tin. Mercy took it and opened the tabasco shaking it liberally on the food, Garrett gave her a spoon. He sat back and sipped his coffee studying her face as the rain and wind beat against the window.

  Mercy took her first mouthful of food and closed her eyes, taste and flavour exploded in her mouth. “That’s… so good,” she said opening her eyes.

  “Glad you like it,” Garrett said, he took another sip of coffee. “You said you bailed from a chopper, the NSA were moving you?”

  Mercy looked up and nodded, her mouth full of food.

  Garrett let out a low whistle and scratched his chin, “You must be a high value asset for them to go to all that trouble—”

  “I need to get to the NSA base of operations in these parts, I reckon they’re using the Cheyenne Mountain bunker. I saw one of their convoys heading south from Peterson Air Force Base. That’s gotta be where they’ve taken my friends,” Mercy stared at Garrett. What did she have to lose in telling him? He had saved her life after all.

  Garrett returned her look, his face inscrutable. “Cheyenne Mountain, huh?” he said finally. “And what are you gonna do once you get there? There’s just you—”

  Mercy looked at the floor. “I don’t know. Find a way in somehow, I’ll figure it out.” She swallowed the last bit of food and handed the mess tin to Garrett who proceeded to heat his own food in silence. Mercy watched as he prepared his food, she decided to tell him more, she told him of her escape from Manhattan, her capture by the NSA and their biotech experiments on her. She told him about Colonel Randel’s lab in Halifax and the attack on Fort George followed by the NSA extraction. “I think those guys came from Randel’s reserves at Shearwater Air Force Base near Halifax, either that or they came from the other NSA base in Portland, Maine,” Mercy paused, “or maybe the Chinooks came from Peterson Air Force Base—”

  Garrett finished his food and lent back against the wall. “That’s some story you got there. I gotta be honest, I wasn’t sure if you were a NSA spy, they’ve pulled stunts like that before. But I gotta hunch, I don’t think you’re a spy and the NSA sure as hell want you, so I’ll tell you what. I’m going to help you—”

  Mercy raised her eyebrows. “What? How?”

  “You’re right, the NSA are using the Cheyenne Mountain complex as their base of operations for the Midwest, it’s secure. Except we managed to get one of our operatives in there, I’ve been in radio contact with her. She’s been gathering information on the experiments they’ve been doing in there. Cobalt Biotech and the NSA are one and the same, Colonel Randel was just a bit player. The real power is held by the President or I should say the ex-president, him and his rotten cronies hold the Midwest and east coast including Washington DC.”

  Mercy looked up. “The President? I thought it was the Vice President and Secretary of State behind all this—”

  Garrett shook his head, “Rotten right the way to the top—”

  Mercy was stunned but it made sense, “Yeah it figures, this whole pandemic was their plan. Insane, fucking insane the lot of them. So what are you doing in Texas? You got a resistance or something?”

  Garrett studied her face, “We got ships, we control the navy or what’s left of it and of course we got the oil. The NSA have been gaining on the ground, they’ve got some capability with air power, they’ve been pushing us back to Fort Worth and Dallas. Our redoubt is Galveston, that’s where Constantine is. We’re fighting for the true flag, we’re fighting back for Texas and The United States of America. We’re strong enough to take the NSA on, but they’ve been fighting dirty so we’ve got to choose our battles. They’re continuing their work with the virus and other strains, they plan to harness tropes and the dead, control them and use them against us. That’s why me and Claire are here—”

  “Claire’s your person on the inside?” Mercy asked.

  “Yeah and I’m going to extract her the day after tomorrow and get us back to Texas, where we’ll be debriefed. You’re welcome to come with us—”

  Mercy hesitated, “I’ve had enough of fighting, the human race is so predictable. Don’t you see? It’s all started over again, the fighting, the destruction. I just want to get my friends out and cut loose.”

  “And do what? Go to California? I’ve know they’ve had some success clearing out the tropes and they’re protected to a degree by the mountains, but their oil is gonna run out soon. And when the power goes down people are gonna die, it’ll be back to the Stone Age. Except it’ll be a Stone Age with tropes, do you want to live like that? I know I don’t—”

  Mercy remained quiet. Maybe Garrett had a point. “What’s this Constantine like then? What’s her story?”

  Garrett pulled a tin from his top pocket and proceeded to roll a cigarette. “Constantine… where do I start? She’s a Lone State girl from Three Rivers direction. She worked for Cobalt Biotech as a lab data systems officer, she got suspicious and saw what they were up to. She’s a hacker with a conscience, she penetrated their security systems and pulled the data out, she sent it to Homeland, the National Security Agency, the FBI and CIA. But by then it was too late, the phage virus had already been released. The New State Army were poised, the Government was paralysed by political assassinations and the infection took over. There were pockets of resistance of course; Atlanta, Chicago, Texas, California and some other places, but the NSA put paid to that.”

  “Is it true that Atlanta was nuked?” Mercy asked remembering her conversation with Roberts.

  “Yeah, the NSA used a low yield nuke. Atlanta’s fucked,” he spat on the floor. “They’re insane, they need to be wiped out. That’s what Constantine is fighting for; freedom. You need to join us, not go wandering off to California, sooner or later the NSA will cross the Rockies and take California too—”

  Mercy thought, concentration furrowed her brow, “Freedom, I’ve heard that before, so many times. All in the name of freedom. Yeah maybe you’re right, what have I got to lose? Everywhere I go people are trying to kill me and my friends. It’s the same old same, probably no different in California. Let me sleep on it,” she paused. “So, have you come across those super tropes before? Like the one that killed Sam. I’m obviously not immune to those bastards.”

  Garrett shook his head. “No, that’s the first one I’ve seen. There’s some weird shit happening to the dead, they’re getting stronger, more intelligent, there’s a hierarchy. I’ve even seen some getting into vehicles, trying to drive, it’s like they’re remembering stuff. I’ve seen them pick things up, to use against the NSA; stones, wood. They’re getting better at ambushing too, simple tactics but effective. But that fucker, never seen anything like him, just be thankful I’ve got this,” he patted his M24. “I own anything within 800 metres of this bad boy.”

  Rain battered the window outside. Mercy closed her eyes and leaned back against a table leg. Garrett put the cooking things away, he checked his weapons and looked out the window. “So you know how to survive in cities?” his voice was thoughtful.

  Mercy blinked. “What?” she said, exhaustion threatening
to drag her down at any moment.

  “You know how to survive in cities—” Garrett repeated, more a statement of fact.

  Mercy sat up and looked at her hands. Cuts, bruises and welts ran along her arms and legs, but she was still alive, breathing and thinking. “Yeah, I guess. Survived in New York City for two years.” Mercy did not tell him about her medical diagnosis and her inability to feel fear.

  “That may come in handy,” Garrett said.

  “If I agree to come with you, will I get to meet Constantine?” Mercy asked.

  Garrett nodded, “I’m sure you will. This war’s not going to be won by brute force, it’s going to require cunning, strategy and dirty fighting. Up close and personal.”

  “Up close and personal,” Mercy repeated. “That’s all I’ve ever known.”

  Chapter 10 Infiltration

  Mercy’s eyelids flickered, the room came into focus. The previous day’s events returned to her in a rush. She looked at her watch; 10 am. Garrett had let her sleep in, sleep was as valuable as food these days. She felt battered and bruised, but refreshed. She sat up and saw the MRE ration pack beside her bedroll. She tore it open and devoured the beef ravioli cold, it tasted good. She washed it down with some of the rainwater Garrett had collected the night before.

  Outside the clouds had vanished, a pale blue sky stretched overhead, full of promise. What would the new day bring? So many of her days had brought fear, hunger and pain. She checked the Beretta, gathered her gear and studied the map Garrett had left open on the floor. She found their location; they were only four miles from the Cheyenne Mountain base. They needed to avoid the roads and trek cross country, they could be there within hours. Mercy’s mind raced ahead. How would she get to Flynn and the others? She could not do it alone, her best chance was to stick with Garrett, he had a plan for extracting Claire.