Dark Water: The Chronicles of Mercy

by G. P. Moss

  It appears that the standard practice is for the Sisters to go about their business quietly and with no fuss - for reconnaissance purposes that suits me fine. Apart from the general depressive look of the locals, there’s no evidence on this boundary of anything too unusual. The earlier sight of the man carrying the stick backs up Sister Theresa’s statement regarding overseers patrolling the boundaries - he’s the only one I’ve seen though. Something tells me that Anne’s story will be somewhat different to mine.

  From my peripheral vision, I catch the colour of a glossy, raven-black flash, cutting across the evening sky - there’s no piercing squawk but I’m sure it’s those big black birds. Looking up fully now for just a few seconds, there’s nothing to see but a shifting sky of streaky blacks and moody greys. As we climb the cracked stone steps of the convent, an over-loud voice booms in our direction.

  “Goodnight Sisters,” the man shouts – “hope you got plenty o’ cleanin’ done.”

  Without turning, we nod as we reach the building’s entrance, the tightness in my chest threatening to deny me of air. When the door finally closes, Sister Joan lets out a long lungful of breath.

  “That was Donny Ray.”

  I nod, still breathless myself from my self-imposed stress. Somehow, I had guessed as much.

  Anne’s not back yet but they will have been over at the western boundary which is further away. As I follow Sisters Theresa and Joan through to the testing area, the door is opened to let in Anne and Sister Agnes. We wait until we’ve observed the quality checks before being invited to join the two convent leaders in the inner sanctum.

  Sister Agnes speaks first, quietly even though we’re in here - you can never be too safe. I notice Anne looking a bit dazed - for her, that’s unusual.

  “Things have become worse over at the south-west. I heard that more residents have been detained, and some more Subs released through the fires. It’s not just that,” she says gravely. “I heard a rumour, and it is only a rumour, that your nephew Will has been sent to the courthouse too.”

  Sister Theresa’s face turns ashen.

  “When did this happen?” she asks.

  “This afternoon. He was told he was being taken for a ‘chat’, you know, a beating of some sort but it looks like they bypassed that and sent him to the cells. Like I said, it’s a rumour but there was too much detail not to take it seriously.”

  “We need to act soon,” the elderly Sister says. “Not just for Will but the others too. Will is about your age,” she says, looking at me. “Always questioning, never satisfied with the lies of Ray and his gang. He is a nuisance to them. If it was just the cells, which is bad enough, I would take some time, maybe apologise again for him but not now. If something is not done soon, he will cease to be human.”

  Anne looks at me.

  “I think Michael Thompson is here. He worked for Ray in an engineering capacity but they came for him yesterday. If it’s the same man, Holly’s father could be about to be given dark water.”

  Anne says she saw two men patrolling the western corner and two more as they passed the court building on the way there - those two had some sort of long-nosed pistols. I need to fetch the others but Anne says she’ll go now for them. After she disappears through the hatch, I ask Sister Theresa where Donny Ray lives.

  “In the middle of town. He has used the best building materials salvaged from wrecks to maintain quite a place. He loves to have big dinners - the best of any food produced goes straight to him and his greedy belly. There is usually just one of his gang patrolling nearby. I think he thinks he is invincible - nobody tackles him because of his love of violence and the fact that he rewards those who side with him. I have heard he will sometimes slash a face without warning. Nasty brute.”

  “He said goodnight to us as we arrived back here,” I tell her. “I didn’t see him - I just kept walking.”

  “Well, he is not exactly handsome,” Sister Theresa tells me. “Large and round, big bald head with a huge reddish nose. He would have been heading home for a feast, little doubt about that.”

  “How long does he eat for?” I ask.

  “Quite a while, so I have heard. A good hour or more. Why?”

  I know I should wait for Alex and Anne but a plan is forming in my mind. If we can get organised, I suggest we hit him at home, when he’s nicely rested with a full stomach. If we take him down, cutting communication to his thugs, then perhaps we can eliminate them bit by bit. Sister Theresa thinks it over briefly before shaking her head.

  “It will take too long,” she says. “I like the idea of taking Ray out first but a coordinated attack could work better - if we had enough weapons.”

  Listening to the elderly Sister discuss paramilitary tactics raises my confidence that we can do this. I can do this.

  “One thing I should mention before anyone goes after these people. They may not be the brightest men in the world but they are strong. They are ruthless. If you give them even an inch, they will take your life without the slightest hesitation. I have my faith and I am grateful for the things we have and even for our limited existence. However, I am also a realist. If we, or more accurately, you, are to succeed in removing Donny Ray and his men, you need to be able to do the same to them as they will try to do to you. They will not take kindly to being locked up. It is all I am saying. These people think nothing of destroying decent, human lives. Speeding their departure from this planet will only be doing a service to human survival.”

  “I can do it,” I say, confidently.

  I mean it. I can do this. I’m focussed.

  A tap on the floor below signals the return of my comrades. Sister Theresa arranges for a young Sister to wait with Rags underground before spreading out the map once more, pinpointing the likely positions of Donny Ray’s men.

  “What about resistance from the folks at the fires?” Alex asks.

  “Nobody can be one hundred percent sure,” Sister Agnes replies, “but my opinion is they will not come to their aid. Those thugs do nothing but bring fear to the normal people of this town. If they have collaborated, it has been to survive, not to help them.”

  Realistically, we could do with at least a dozen fighters. There are five of us. We will need Sisters not only as guides but as combatants too, if possible. I know that Sisters Agnes and Joan are capable.

  Sister Theresa leaves the sanctum to choose the Sisters she believes can help. They will be needed as guides but if they could use a weapon, all the better. Ten minutes has passed as she returns, announcing we now have the required number. As Sister Joan walks in trailed by another five ladies in their beige habits, I wonder at the stories I’ll be able to tell if we survive this. We will survive this.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  The extra five Sisters chosen by our host are all medium to tall, in height, looking fit enough at least to run away if they need to. They’re quickly introduced as Sisters Helen, May, Cristina, Margaret, and Angelica. Apart from Alex, Holly, and myself, the rest of our raiding party are Sisters, not soldiers. Anne and Evie though, I’m unsure about. They’ve received military training of some sort, I’m convinced. Alex is still officially an army officer, Holly has learnt on her feet, quick as lightning while me, well, it was just expected that I’d have to fight, the moment I left the valley.

  The sanctum is now quite crowded - spare weapons and kit are laid out on Sister Theresa’s desk waiting to be redistributed. One thing we must be aware of when choosing who gets what is we can’t afford to be losing equipment to Donny Ray and his men - whoever gets a gun must keep hold of it.

  Alex and I will go to Donny Ray’s, remove any outside threat then take him down quickly. Anne will take Sister Helen to the south, Sister Evie is paired with Sister Angelica to take the west, while Holly will go with Sister Joan to the north-east corner near the river. Sister Agnes will be responsible for the east, behind the convent where less resistance is expected. We hope. She’s going there with Sister May. That leaves Sisters Margaret
and Cristina who will head towards the courthouse.

  Sister Cristina volunteered for this - Will is an old family friend. I look at Holly across the table. She’s been told it’s likely her father is here, in the cells and in great danger. At this moment, she looks like a steadfast warrior, ready to do battle with evil. It’s exactly what we’re going to do. After a brief discussion with Alex, it’s agreed that Holly will be more focussed in the first action away from her father then joining up for the courthouse rescue. I hope it’s her father. I pray we save him. We will. I will.

  We have enough spare weapons to give Sisters Margaret and Cristina a six-round Glock each. Alex doesn’t want them taking spare clips in case one or both are lost and fall into the wrong hands. I disagree, in case of unexpected trouble. I stand my ground in that it is only right that the Sisters have adequate means of defence. We compromise on one spare each. The silently held thought would be if any more are needed before we all meet up then things will be going disastrously wrong.

  The remaining six-round Glocks and commando knives are shared between the other Sisters. It’s a plan. It had better work. It will work. I’m focussed.

  Alex won’t have to worry about a disguise - none of us will. When we near our targets, we go in hard, and fast. The meeting point is the courthouse. The seven Sisters from Longton have all had a quick but thorough training in firing and reloading, including the two without guns - in case one of their partners goes down.

  Sister Theresa believes that now’s a good time to go. She knows, as we do, that if we fail, the remaining Sisters will suffer terribly. We won’t fail. We will win. I will win. The elderly lady kisses each of us on the cheek and bids us ‘au revoir’.

  “Never goodbye,” she says – “we shall see each other soon.”

  I’m back in my combats and fully armed. Sister Agnes opens the door as eleven women and one man stroll purposefully outside as the last greys give way to a blanket black. Overhead, a solitary, screeching bird heralds the most important night of my life.

  We know where Donny Ray’s house is. You can’t miss it, sporting a ludicrous huge brass weathervane pointing to the sky from a patched-up roof. The cockerel vane. While the night sky is pitch black, the cockerel, sitting aloof, mouth open, still tries to shine its silent crow.

  As we turn a deserted street corner, lamps burn from within his house. A ‘woah, who are you, like?’ comes from a huge, bald headed man opening his long dark coat to show a sawn-off shotgun. The thug immediately falls, his mouth half open in surprise as a bolt from Ghost pile-drives into his chest. Running over to retrieve the bolt, I drag the heavy body to the side of the house. I put Ghost away, unfolding the rifle.

  It’s been less than a minute since woah! Alex briefly looks at me like I have problems but we continue to the front door of the mock palatial splendour that belongs to Donny Ray. As Alex raises his boot to smash in the door, I hear gunshots from around the town. I hope they’re ours. The enormous bulk of Donny Ray dives to the ground as a woman drops a tray of food in absolute fright.

  Bullets crack, smashing into the wall to our left as I hear his wheezing voice trying to threaten as we move closer.

  “I will hunt you down,” he screams as he tries to fire again.

  “No, you won’t,” Alex replies calmly as he fires a short volley into the top half of Ray until he screams no longer.

  Without having fired a shot, I ask the woman if anyone else is here. She points silently through the kitchen door, making the shape of a gun with her shaking hand.

  “Like him?” I ask, pointing to the body on the floor.

  Nodding and trying her best not to cry, she inches her way back along the wall, away from the large oak table. While Alex checks Donny Ray’s pockets, I advance towards the kitchen. Letting my finger do the two-pressure squeeze, I start to shoot straight through the door. A short scream then silence tells me he’s hit. Kicking open the shattered door I see a heavy man in black military gear, sprawled on the cracked mosaic floor. Turning him over to check for weapons and keys, a large wet hole stares at me where the bullet went right through, slamming into the exposed brickwork behind.

  I put his shotgun in my sack. Nodding my thanks to the woman in the room, I head straight out with Alex to meet with the others.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Leaving Donny Ray’s house, we immediately encounter two more of his huge men running towards us, their trademark black coats flapping open as they begin to raise their shotguns. We double-squeeze simultaneously as they fall back in the road - this time we don’t waste precious seconds clearing them off the street.

  Heading quickly through the south-west quarter of town, I hear a lower-calibre weapon discharging its deadly cargo. It sounds close - probably less than two hundred yards away - the direction of the court building. Folding the rifle away as I walk while Alex covers, I leave a flap open for easy access before taking a ten-round Glock from my jacket pocket. Alex now does the same - resistance now will likely be in the form of close quarters fighting.

  We don’t hide our guns as our long, careful strides bring us closer to the rendezvous. Swinging my right arm in the direction of soft footsteps running on the broken asphalt street, I’m relieved that it’s Holly approaching, her breath ragged from her quick dash from the north-east. Before I ask about Sister Joan, as she falls into step beside me she tells me the Sister’s returned to the convent to provide at least some protection there if needed - Holly supplied her with two extra clips for the six-round handgun.

  Raising my hand for us to stop, I motion for the other two to go close to a ruined shop wall as I clearly see the backs of two of Ray’s thugs near the court building. They’re moving slowly from the front wall, arms outstretched, ready to fire from guns invisible to me. A lamp inside the courthouse throws enough light for me to easily see their whole shapes as they advance to the corner of the building where I believe Margaret and Cristina to be.

  We’ve stopped in shadow as I quickly retrieve the already primed Ghost, putting it to my shoulder in one move and letting one bolt fly before a slight move to the left provides the second target within a few seconds.

  The second man barely has time to turn his head in surprise as the bolt smashes into the back of his neck. Both are on the ground, perfectly still as we retrieve their pistols, calling out to the ladies. They both appear, shaken and temporarily relieved that it’s friendly faces instead of the guards. They’ve already used a six-round clip each - they haven’t reloaded as their hands shake so badly they can’t hold the spare. Alex slots in one each for them, handing back the Glocks to their now slightly less trembling hands.

  As Sister Agnes appears from the shadows, we quickly agree that Margaret and Cristina should return to the convent to back up Sister Joan - after their recent gun battle, they both look relieved. As they hurry off, I hear two more shots, then, silence. We can’t wait any longer if we want to take advantage of momentum and rescue the prisoners. There must be more of Ray’s men down there and by now they’ll be aware they’re under attack. They’ll be ready.

  As we climb the stone courthouse steps, Anne appears without Sister Helen - she too has returned to the convent. So far, so good - no casualties for us if Sisters Evie and Angelica are still okay. Saying a quick but specific prayer for them, my body hugs the stone wall as I enter the building’s foyer. Alex mirrors the movement on the left as Holly covers the darkness to our rear.

  A locked black iron gate blocks our way to a set of steps heading underground. Holding the bunch of keys that I took from the thug in Donny Ray’s kitchen, I try one that looks promising. Alex covers as the lock moves open, slowly, and quietly. A small squeak comes from the hinges as I focus on maintaining my steady breathing - my heart struggling to comply with the same request. I needn’t have bothered as banging and shouting echoes through the damp, warped walls - reason enough to set off down without delay.

  As we start to descend, the Glock out in front of me, an outstretched arm appe
ars from the bottom corner, firing up the stairs. Alex is hit immediately in his already wounded shoulder as I return fire while Holly struggles to drag him back out of further danger. As I move closer to the foot of the stairs, I empty a clip into the shadowed space where the shooter was. I’m rewarded with a sound of pain but I think it’s an injury rather than fatal - likely a lucky ricochet.

  Reloading quickly, I turn into shadow, firing into a large mass as the injured man tries to reload his pistol with a shattered hand. I give Holly a questioning look as she joins me - Sisters Evie and Angelica have turned up and are taking Alex back to the convent. Good, he’s still alive.

  The shouting is louder now - as I get closer it’s clear a single voice is making the noise. I don’t hear anything else. Turning another corner, I see the object of the noise. Going quiet now, a man, probably around twenty years old, beckons me over from within a large iron cage. With light brown hair ending at the tips of his ears, he looks tidier than the average post-mess man, even in his unfortunate circumstances. The tall, slim body, widening at the chest, is moving excitedly as I approach, his grey-green eyes urging me to hurry.

  As I turn the key to liberate the young man, he calls out a warning, too late as I’m pushed violently from behind. Dropping to the ground, I turn to see a heavy-set man with long black straggly hair, kicking back my dropped gun as he locks the door. He’s holding Holly by her neck - one wrong move and he’ll crush it like paper.

  I think my right arm is broken or at least something is sprained as I struggle to move it without intense shock waves of hot pain shooting along its length. As I lift myself forward, I quietly urge my new companion to slip out the crossbow from my sack. As the man forces Holly onto a small metal chair, his wide back is exposed. Before I ask if he knows how to use it, I see the large man slump to the floor. It hasn’t killed him.

  Rising with a roar of burning rage, the bolt still in his back, he sideswipes Holly to the floor, blood immediately seeping from her mouth. As his huge fist prepares to crumple her face, the young man’s second shot slams into the base of the attacker’s neck, dropping him for good.