Dark Water: The Chronicles of Mercy

by G. P. Moss

  There’s no time to search for Sister Evie. We emerge from the alley shadows, ready to defend. A loud boom reaches us from somewhere behind. Probably the northern edge. As we approach the western boundary, a vicious snarl grows louder as a Hound’s feet gain traction on the wet ground, heading straight towards us at speed. It’s so fast it’s already started its mid-air flight when a steel bolt slams into its throat.

  Storm moves quickly out of the way as the Hound carries on, its momentum stopped by the ground. As it falls dead to the floor, she quickly kicks the bolt from its throat. Wiping it on the Hound’s body, it goes straight back into Ghost’s chamber.

  There’s no time for approval as more Hounds breach the boundary. At least three Subs are on us. Anne dispatches two, efficiently with the commando blade. Another almost reaches my neck before connecting with the sword. It stops dead. I leave it. I quickly put the sword back in the scabbard. It’s no use for these close quarters – there’s no room to manoeuvre. Subs and Hounds are falling and not all because of us.

  The danger increases through the confusion of battle. Shots are being fired from different directions. In this weather, this chaos, we could be killed, by residents trying to defend the town. We move back a little to give ourselves wider vision. Some Hounds have slipped past into the town. We’ll have to be aware they could double back for us. I take the smaller Glock from my pocket, putting it snugly into my right hand. Two Subs, eyes ablaze with monstrous fury, head straight for me. I squeeze the trigger. One pressure, two pressure. A slight recoil as one Sub falls, then another. Two shots. Two hits. Four bullets left in the clip.

  The ground is slippery. Anne fires to her left as Storm sends death bolts into fast approaching Hounds to her right. Two lone figures fire shots further along. There’s a distinct lack of people here defending the western line. Through the rain, muzzle flash briefly illuminates Sister Evie and Holly as they repel more Subs. They keep on coming. I empty four shots into these rampaging subhuman beasts. Carefully. Quickly. One shot each. In the head. I don’t waste time checking them for signs of life.

  The small Glock’s empty, an open breech bearing testament to the spent clip. It goes back in my pocket. No time to reload. Taking the larger gun, I crouch and turn, picking off the strays that Anne’s not covering. Storm can’t reload Ghost fast enough. I cover her as she folds the crossbow quickly. She’s using the first of her guns. Invading Subs are down to a trickle now. I hope it’s the last of them. I pray it is.

  The Hounds keep coming. Storm fires shot after shot until the clip empties. From her pocket, she pulls the smaller Glock. I look quickly to my left. A few Subs and Hounds are descending fast on Sister Evie and Holly. Storm starts to run to them, into more danger than she’s already in.

  I take down a Hound in mid-leap as it dives at her as she sprints to the aid of the two women. She’s firing on the Hounds as the Sister shoots oncoming Subs. Holly tries to retrieve her spare gun as the booming sound of a large weapon fills the air. She screams as the blast narrowly misses her, hitting the hard, rain soaked ground with a sharp thud.

  We realise what’s happening. David advances, pointing his shotgun in Holly’s direction. We fire on him, missing due to the distance and pelting rain in our faces. Storm runs to cover her, turns and fires at David as his trigger finger applies pressure. Storm looks at her gun, briefly, realising the six bullets have already been used. She’s hammered back as the cartridges pound their lethal shot into her chest. Sister Evie fires into David but he’s already dead, shot through the back of the head.

  A large, solitary man, dressed in black combats, fires into the remaining Subs and Hounds that continue to breach the boundary. He picks them off, his jaw square and set, in a grim determination to take them all down.

  Chapter Twenty

  The attack has stopped. Bodies litter the ground in a dark, sodden mess of blood, mud, and cracked concrete. Sister Evie presses her jacket against Storm’s chest before the man lifts Storm over his shoulder. I start to protest but he’s already moving fast, back towards the alleys. We follow, making sure there are no stragglers hellbent on adding us to the casualty list. I’m so sick I can hardly breathe. She’ll be okay, I say to myself. These are healers, it’s what they do. Yes, water, not humans. Focus, Mercy. I hold her sack close to me as we all hurry to Sister Evie’s.

  Anne talks to the man as we run. Sister Evie tries to apply pressure but it’s no good as Storm is bounced along in the driving rain. Please, let her live, I pray as we near the Sister’s house. I glance at Holly. She looks beside herself with sorrow. It’s not her fault. Please, I pray, let my friend live. I take the torch from my sack. I wind it quickly, throwing light onto the floor as Storm is laid down. Anne tears open her jacket and shirt. It’s a mess of blood. She’s breathing but it’s shallow and raspy. Her eyes are shut. The man looks at Anne, who lowers her head.

  She doesn’t give up. As the Sister starts to stem the flow of blood, Storm tries to speak. She looks at me, wants me. I lean closer, taking her hand in mine. It feels small and warm and vulnerable. She speaks in broken, hushed tones as my ear is close to her lips. I feel her breath. Barely.

  “Mercy, please tell Mum I was brave. That I love her.”

  Her hand goes limp as her eyes glaze - my brave friend has died. I gently close her eyes. The man looks at me.

  “I’m sorry, that I was too late.”

  I look at him, unsure what to say. Anne speaks first.

  “Mercy, this is Alex Nowak.”

  “I’m Mercy, Mercy Anne Browne. I came here to look for you.”

  He sits back on the floor. We look at each other over Storm’s body. The body of the girl who saved me. The girl who made it possible for me to get this far. I try my hardest not to but I can’t help it. The tears start to roll, fast, hot, and uncompromising. Of grief. Loss. Hope. I need her strength within me.

  After a couple of minutes, Alex speaks.

  “Mercy, I won’t be too long. I need to check the hotel and the boundaries, assess the casualties. Holly, stay with Sister Evie and Mercy. Anne will come with me.”

  “What about Carrie?” I ask. “Have you seen her?”

  “Carrie is dead, Mercy. I was heading to the northern edge as soon as I returned when I heard a shotgun blast. It came from David’s house. I forced my way in but she was already dead. It’s then I ran to Sister Evie’s and on to the western boundary. We’ll bury her properly when I return. Carrie and Storm.”

  Alex leaves us alone. He’s back and I don’t know what to feel. Perhaps I should be more grateful. I could have arrived in Eastsea, and nobody would have heard of him. Or he’d be long dead. Or a terrible drunk. He’s none of those things. I should be grateful. I am. One thing is for certain. From now on, I’ll make a difference. I owe it to myself. To others. To Mum and to Storm. No going back. We need to organise. Living like this, in a state of siege, is no good. It’s no life. It’s not even treading water like back in the valley. Subs and Hounds need to be wiped out. It’s our only chance to recover as a species. We can heal as we go, we can be switchers, but our goal is to take back control. I realise what Mum meant. I feel like I can be a leader, instrumental in change. I hold Storm’s hand - it’s already growing cold.

  Alex and Anne return after a few hours, with Rags. He’s so pleased to see me that after a few minutes I reluctantly prise him away from my face. He lays down next to Storm, putting his head on her shoulder. Alex runs through the basics so far. I notice him properly for the first time. Dark, wavy hair that he flips out of deep blue eyes. An old scar runs down the left side of his face, curving an inch around his jaw.

  “The other boundaries held tight. There were skirmishes but all Subs and Hounds were killed. Two townspeople died on the north side, none on the north-eastern or southern sides. The inner fire held well. A stray Sub reached through, chased by a Hound. The Hound was shot while Rags brought down the Sub before a Sister finished the job.”

  He says it like it’s a battlefield
report. It is.

  “The weather is calming down, just light rain now. I’ve lots to do. If you could help, it would be appreciated.”

  He says it without sarcasm - it’s just a fact.

  “I would like to bury Carrie near to the north-eastern edge, in one of the caves. The sea won’t reach it and it’s pretty much unknown,” he says.

  “I know it,” I say. “We came out that way.”

  Alex looks at me with a new respect.

  “Mercy, it’s your call. Would you like Storm to be buried there too?”

  “Yes,” I say, clearly and confidently, hiding the fact that my heart feels like it’s ripping in two.

  Alex continues.

  “The tide will start to roll out after two. If we say, about three, give the folks time to move the boundaries. It’ll give us some light.”

  *

  We make a large enough hole in the cave mouth to fit the two stretchers through. Carrie and Storm are covered in white sheets. They look serene. I want Storm to go to her final place with a look of peace even though her death was violent. We work hard and dig deep. When the two graves are finished, the women are gently laid to rest.

  Anne speaks for Carrie – a farewell of respect for a young woman caught up in the wrong household. I know what I want to say for Storm. I speak clearly though my voice wants to crack into a thousand hard, tiny pieces.

  “Storm came into my life, quite recently, at a time when I was lost, alone and on the verge of a horrible death. She gave everything and asked for nothing. I’m proud to call her my friend. She died selflessly, with great honour and as always with full regard for the welfare of others. She’s a hero and will be remembered this way. Now and always.”

  “Hear, hear,” Alex says.

  We fit boards above the bodies and begin to shovel the earth and stone back in. We stand and pray, heads bowed. Holly, Sisters Evie and Anne, Alex, Rags, and me - a guard of honour in the secluded cave.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  There’s much to do. Alex had to leave most of his recent haul far down the tunnel. I tell him about Mum. How we managed, with Johnny’s help and others too. Mainly Johnny though. Although Alex looks relaxed, he listens intently. I can tell, as he asks more questions. I tell him she died, that she became sick and was ill for a long time. And that her wish was that I find him. Move forward. That he’d know what to do. Alex notices me feel the tags. He looks at me, his eyes piercing mine. He speaks quietly.

  “I remember, clearly, the day I brought your dad’s tags back to the valley. We were in the East together. Your dad, Johnny, and me. We were out on assignment. An unofficial mission. The Roving Ambassador, I used to call him. He was good at that sort of thing. Mixing with the locals. Blending in then bugging out if things got hot. And they usually did. Daring. That’s him all over.”

  “Was him,” I say, unnecessarily correcting him.

  “Mercy, they declared him dead. Missing in action. There was no hard evidence for it. It was chaos there – tsunamis mixed with too many fingers in too many pies. It didn’t look as though he could have survived – your dad, Ha-Yun, and her son. When the massive wave hit, the ground where they stood had disappeared. We were sent back home on leave. Johnny and me. Shipped out, quickly. Our intention was to go back, try and find him. Back home, Johnny wanted to see friends in the valley, make sure your mum had everything she needed. I had to get back to Alice. The mess happened, on the way back.”

  I stare, open mouthed. I’m conscious of shaking my head as I start to speak. I stop the shaking.

  “You’re saying he’s alive?” I ask, incredulously. “He would have come back to us. Mum was heartbroken. She coped. Better than coped, but even as a child I knew she’d lost a part of herself.”

  He lets me finish before replying.

  “Mercy, he would do anything to get back home. But, assuming he is alive, or was then, what if he just couldn’t? It’s hard enough even going beyond the fires for most people, and that’s just here. We were almost seven thousand miles away. I don’t know for sure whether he was alive then or is now. What I do know, is he’s resilient. He can adapt to environments and situations like no man I’ve ever known. If anyone can survive, it’s your dad.”

  “Mum never said there was a possibility,” I reply, quietly.

  Alex stands, gets ready to move.

  “After the mess, it’s all she could have done, to survive. The news we brought was never going to be positive – a senior officer and padre had already visited her. To make sure you survived, she would have had to focus all her energy on the two of you. Survival. It’s all any of us could do.”

  “I’m sorry about your wife,” I say.

  “Thank you,” he replies, smiling, for me, I know.

  “Let me come with you, please. For the stuff. It’ll be quicker with two.” I’m eager now not to let him go now that I’ve found him.

  “There’s a high risk, Mercy. There could still be Subs or Hounds on that side.”

  “It’s fine,” I say brightly. “I’m already acquainted with them.”

  He shakes his head, grinning. It reminds me of Storm. He waits patiently while I grab what I need. He puts a Glock into his pocket but takes a rifle, too - it’s the one he shot David with. For now, he folds it. He sees me looking at it.

  “Paratus. My latest find. Someone, all those years ago, was up to something naughty. These are high-tech weapons, favoured by special forces. You can have one if you like.”

  “I’ll get used to the Glocks first,” I say, as Alex removes the panel from the cellar wall.

  I pull myself through the hole. Expecting it to be black from dirt, I’m surprised that it’s only stone dust that coats my arms and legs. Only a few feet in, the level dips again but there’s much more room. We must be under the back yard, close to the alley. Alex disappears at a right turn.

  The level dips further for fifty yards then flattens out. I can stand up, thankfully. We’re now in a proper tunnel. The walls are ragged rock but the floor is smooth from traffic, recent and ancient. It’s dry too. Alex tells me to put the torch away. He puts a strap around his head, with a small lamp attached. I’ve never seen one before. The narrow beam is enough to guide the way without blinding us with flashbacks. Alex tells me the tunnel passes far away from the hotel then runs parallel with the beach, twenty yards inland.

  “I’m surprised it hasn’t collapsed.”

  “These were dug out over three hundred years ago, Mercy. Customs avoidance, smuggling operations. Whatever they were used for, I’m grateful.”

  As we move further along, he mimics a tap on the ceiling.

  “Another hotel - this one’s wrecked.”

  A bend brings us on a parallel heading to the southern boundary. There’s hardly a sound down here, even when we’re under the fires. Five hundred yards later, the tunnel bends to the left. It widens into a small chamber where crates lay, dumped in haste. A crude four-wheeled trolley lies nearby, the same one from the cellar.

  I think we’re just loading up now and hauling back but Alex has other plans. He wants to retrieve some more crates he had to leave in a hurry. The plan is for me to haul what’s here back to Anne’s. He’ll recon the hidden entrance for Subs then drag the rest back here. I start to protest I was coming all the way. His raised hand stops me as he tells me he’s changed his mind.

  “To take this stuff will speed our mission. I know the land out there - you don’t. If I need to worry about you it’ll put us both in danger. When it’s all back at the house, come back and wait for me here with a trolley. If I don’t return in three hours, head straight back. Make sure you’re armed. A spare clip, too.”

  I nod, accepting his command. I’ve never been good at taking orders but something tells me I need to follow these ones. He’s out of sight. Gone.

  There are six crates in the chamber. I load three onto the trolley, two next to each other, one on the top between them. I’ll have to make two trips. The trolley wheels look okay
but I’m not going to stretch their helpfulness. Thick rope makes it easy to pull and steer though occasionally I need to remove the crates to turn it by hand.

  I wonder what’s in them. I’m sure Alex won’t have had much time to be choosy but I’m also sure he wouldn’t risk his life carting any old thing around. There are no markings on the crates. Sealed tight with steel screws, I feel like I’m carrying an ominous cargo. I just hope it’s safe.

  I’m wearing Alex’s headlamp - he must have something else with him. I bet he’s got deep pockets, all that stuff he finds. It’s not quite mid-morning so the tide’s still out but every time I stop, I’m sure I hear the sea. The wild weather disappeared just before we buried Carrie and Storm. Thinking about them, especially Storm, brings bile into my throat. They were too young.

  I don’t know of any children born after a year or so following the mess. Maybe there are, somewhere. I wonder if we can still have children. The water and airborne toxins could have brought sterility along with the rages, sickness, and death. I never mixed with boys my age. I never saw any. I think I may have seen some in the distance when I first saw Holly. Up by the northern edge. Maybe. Focus, Mercy.

  I lower my head, crouching, pulling carefully as I move closer to the house. It’s hard work now. Sweat pours down my back as I half-pull, half-drag the trolley up the slope. Reaching my arm out in front I bang the panel. Before I knock it away, cleaner hands than mine remove it and help me and the mini cargo through the hole.

  I brush the grit and stone dust from my jacket and trousers. Anne smiles.

  “Great job. Don’t tell me, Alex got greedy. Went for more?”

  I just nod, trying to regain a normal heartbeat.

  “Well, he pushes the envelope. It’s what makes him successful. And we’re grateful. Worried, but grateful. We’ll go to the hotel later, when Alex is back. We need to check in with Sister Maria.”

  Rags looks on, interested but not over-excited. An observer. Anne pushes the crates to the middle of the cellar floor.