Mercy (The Last Army Book 1)

by Freeter, John

  “Ms. Greenlee, my calculator’s not working,” one of the girls said.

  “Yeah, mine either,” echoed at least ten of my classmates.

  I checked mine and found it dead. I turned toward Karla, and judging by her frown after trying her back-up batteries, her calculator still didn’t work.

  “This… this must be an EMP or something,” said Tom, a scrawny guy at the back. Although his theory was met with a few nervous chuckles, no one dared challenge it directly. An EMP—electromagnetic pulse—certainly would’ve been able to fry all the electronics in the room, and more.

  “Oh, God. Do you think it’s the terrorists?” one of Amy’s friends whispered, barely keeping her panic in check.

  “No way. It’s the Chinese. It’s got to be them, the sneaky bastards,” said the handsome guy behind her. The eyes of half the class fell on Jason Okada, who sat by the door. He wasn’t even of Chinese descent, but he sank in his chair under the weight of the accusatory glances.

  A loud bang came from outside, followed by squealing tires. Screams rang out not only in our classroom but throughout the entire school. My heart trembled in my chest like a newborn chick, and I held my breath for the few seconds it took me to get over my shock. We all rushed to the window. A large delivery truck had just plowed through a car at the nearby intersection. The streetlights had stopped working. Several people got out of their cars, many of them rushing to the aid of the wrecked car’s driver.

  I flipped out my phone, hoping to get some news of what was going on—or at least call my parents—but it was bricked. Karla grabbed my arm with a frigid hand. Her lips trembled slightly, as though she were on the verge of tears. I put my phone away and tapped her hand, trying to push back my fear as I soothed hers.

  Ms. Greenlee banged on the whiteboard to get our attention, scaring the hell out of everyone in the process.

  “Okay everyone, calm down and take your seats while I—”

  Total darkness. In the blink of an eye, the sunlight streaming through the window was snuffed out like a candle. A thousand blood-curling shrieks echoed in the darkness, mixed with the screeching of desks and chairs violently jerked around. Karla and I held each other and crouched against the wall, under the window, screaming at first and then weeping as we ran out of breath.

  “What the hell’s going on? I can’t see!” I shouted into her ear.

  “Oh God, I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t…” She broke down into terrified sobs and held me even tighter.

  Karla started shaking badly. I shook quite violently myself. After the window beside us shattered, and pieces of broken glass rained down on our heads, it didn’t take long for me to realize the building itself trembled.

  One of the guys yelled at the top of his lungs, managing to make himself heard over the terrified screams.

  “Get down—it’s a bomb!”

  What, a nuclear bomb?

  We were all about to die.

  Chapter 3

  I dived under the desk beside us, dragging Karla along with me. Our blinded classmates trampled my legs and kicked my back as they rushed for cover. They grunted and shrieked, running into each other or banging against one of the scattered desks in their frenzied dash.

  The tremor became even stronger. The floor bounced up and down, tossing us as if we were on a raft at sea in the middle of a storm. The ceiling tiles loosened and crashed to the floor, over desks, and onto anyone caught in the open. I had to shut my eyes and mouth as the falling tiles kicked up clouds of fine dust. The textbooks lining a tall shelf against the classroom’s back wall fell to the floor with sharp thuds, followed by the bookshelf itself, which triggered a wave of anguished cries from those trapped beneath it.

  The noise of falling objects and furniture throughout the school became deafening. What seemed like massive thunderbolts could be heard—far away at first, but nearing every second. The building itself groaned and wailed like a wounded animal dying around us as the trembling intensified. In the midst of all that uproar, Karla prayed.

  “Our father who art in heaven… hallowed… hallowed be thy name…”

  I didn’t find it comforting—particularly not in her broken, panicked mumbling. She didn’t pray for long, though, as a thick stream of dust showered us from above. It sounded like a stampede going through the school’s upper floor, its roar escalating as the building swayed even more violently. The concrete over our heads cracked like a breaking bone, pouring debris upon us. A terror-stricken shriek pierced the trembling’s roar, followed by shouts and curses. Several of my classmates rushed for the exit.

  I didn’t dare move and stayed curled up in a ball under the desk, next to Karla. I repeated, in my mind, bits and pieces from the few prayers I could remember, slipping in a few obscenities as I cried. The terrifying rumble of buildings collapsing sounded closer and closer.

  Oh, dear God, I don’t want to die… please… oh shit… please.

  A chunk of concrete crashed onto the floor beside us, pelting my face with rough bits. We screamed and held onto one another, burying our nails into each other's skin. I knew the building wouldn’t last long, and we’d soon be buried under tons of rubble. I found a little comfort in knowing that at least I’d die next to my best friend.

  I thought of my parents, though. The little girl in me wished they were with me, as if everything would be okay with them around. I hoped they would be safe, even if I wouldn’t be.

  Mom… Dad… I’m sorry I—

  There wasn’t time to finish the thought.

  Chapter 4

  The trembling finally subsided. It couldn’t have lasted more than a minute, but it felt more like an hour. The dreaded nuclear shockwave that would seal our fate never came. We were still alive.

  When I could finally open my eyes, all I saw through the swirling dirt cloud was a faint red glow coming from outside the shattered window. Ominous as it was, it brought a desperate smile to my face after the disconcerting darkness.

  Karla and I remained under the desk for a few seconds, crying and thanking God for making it out of that nightmare alive. It wasn’t until I heard the anguished sobs and cries coming from the back of the class that I ventured to crawl out, gently brushing away the glass shards and debris on the floor until I had enough room to get on my feet.

  “Where… where are you going?” Karla asked in a scared voice, still crouching under the desk. Her long black hair and caramel skin were caked with grey dust. The tears streaming down her face left a muddy trail.

  “I think there’s someone trapped over there. Don’t worry. Just follow everyone else outside.” I placed my hand on her trembling shoulder.

  I tried looking out of the broken window to see the aftermath of what must’ve been an earthquake—even if an earthquake in the middle of Queens was as strange as the darkness that engulfed us—but the only thing coming through was a thick stream of dust faintly lit up by the reddish light.

  I slowly felt my way across the classroom, barely able to see the outlines of the desks tossed around. I pushed them out of the way as I tiptoed forward. Broken glass and ceiling tiles crunched beneath my feet with every step.

  Even with all that care, I still managed to trip over something.

  “Ow!” I screamed.

  When my hand shot to the floor, breaking my fall, bits of glass pierced my skin. I brushed them off and felt around my feet to see what had tripped me. A long crack, about an inch thick, ran across the floor. I could’ve sworn the concrete slab wobbled under my feet as if it were about to cave in.

  I felt like running out of the building to the relative safety of the street, but the cries of my trapped classmates at the back urged me to keep going. I pressed on as fast as I could until the toppled bookshelf emerged from the blinding dust cloud. A girl had stayed behind to try to lift the large bookcase.

  Amy?

  Even covered in a thick coat of powdered concrete, that tall, slim figure was unmistakably hers. I’d have thought she would have b
een the first one out the door, but there she was, groaning as she tried to lift the bookcase with her slender arms. I rushed up to her and grabbed onto the edge of the bookcase. Fortunately, it was a cheap one, made out of compressed wood, which helped our chances of rescuing our classmates.

  “Let me help you,” I said.

  She turned and just stared at me for a few seconds, terror in her eyes. She nodded and took a deep breath before trying to lift the bookcase. I followed suit, and we managed to raise it until it slammed against the wall. The ensuing blast of dust made me cough violently, and before I could say a word, she was halfway to the door with one of her friends propped on her shoulders.

  Tom—the guy who thought that the blackout could’ve been an EMP—had also been trapped beneath the bookcase, so instead of chasing after her, I grabbed his arm and helped him up. “Can you walk?” I asked.

  A thick stream of blood ran down the side of his head, but he managed to stand up with only a slight grunt. He nodded with his eyes half-closed, and even though his lips trembled from the pain he struggled to suppress, he managed to stagger forward by himself. I walked alongside him to the exit and found the door almost closed. I tried prying it open, but it must’ve gotten stuck on the frame during the earthquake. As I helped Tom slide through the opening, I spotted Ms. Greenlee, who rushed back to the classroom along with Karla.

  “Are you guys okay?” our teacher asked. Then she noticed Tom’s bloodied face. “Oh, no, Tom. These stupid kids. We drilled a dozen times, and they still ran away like that! Is there anyone else trapped inside?”

  I shook my head, but she hurried inside anyway after instructing us to follow the throng of students shuffling through the grey haze toward the nearby staircase. Obviously, she didn’t feel like taking any chances after leaving some of her students behind once already.

  Karla and I helped Tom walk along the hall and down the stairs. His strength failed him every now and then, so we made sure to take each step of the cracked staircase as carefully as we could to keep him from tumbling down. I wanted to ask Karla about the rest of the class, but the groans and weeping of the people around us—to say nothing of the rumbling still made by the building—made me stay silent. The thin streams of powdered concrete raining down from the fractured ceiling told me it was better to focus on getting out of there.

  The air had cleared somewhat in the school’s first floor, so we quickened our pace, maneuvering through fallen lockers. The more seriously injured students only just emerged from their classrooms, aided by their teachers and classmates. A hefty boy screamed as five of his friends carried him away, one of his legs bent at a strange angle. I held back the tears welling up in my eyes and pushed on through until we reached the school’s entrance.

  The source of all the dust flooding the area soon became apparent. Most of the redbrick houses along the street had collapsed, the drugstore on the corner was nothing but a pile of rubble, and a wide dust column stood in place of the small family restaurant where Karla and I sometimes went for lunch after school. In the distance, only a handful of buildings stuck out of the haze stretching across the horizon. Bright orange spots along the grey mist marked where fires had broken out.

  “Sweet Jesus. They did it,” a man standing by the entrance steps said. Although his navy blue uniform looked grey under the coat of powdered debris, I recognized the school’s janitor by his balding head and bulging nose. His mouth was wide open as he stared intently at the sky.

  I followed his gaze, and a cold wave washed over me. I almost tripped on the stairs as I took a step backward.

  A bright red circle hung on the sky where the sun should’ve been, surrounded by an impenetrable darkness, as if the day had turned into a starless night. Fear clouded my mind, and it took me a few seconds to realize that the sinister sign on the sky—that glowing crimson ring—was the sun, turned to darkness in a total solar eclipse.

  Chapter 5

  Many of the students and faculty gathered at the school’s parking lot fell to their knees and prayed. Clusters of survivors from the nearby buildings joined them, while others rushed to unearth those still trapped under the wreckage. Karla crossed herself before mumbling a prayer. I just stared up at the extraordinary solar eclipse with a mix of terror and wonder.

  “Who… who’s done what? What’re you talking about?” I asked the janitor, my gaze still fixed on the sky. I couldn’t believe that the Chinese or terrorists could’ve been responsible for the unexplainable tragedy unfolding before us.

  “I’m talking about the LHC! You know, the Large Hadron Collider?” The janitor stared at me. “Those European bastards trying to play God, they must’ve… they must’ve… fired up their trillion-dollar toy, and now everything’s gone to hell!”

  I chuckled nervously for a second, finding his musings hilarious even in the face of our harrowing circumstances. The impotent tears on his eyes stifled my chuckle pretty quickly, though. He was probably just trying to make sense of things. I couldn’t blame him for that. Looking at the solar eclipse, all I could think of was the Book of Revelation, which I’d read out of curiosity when I was little. I remembered those strange passages of the sun turning to darkness and the moon turning to blood.

  It wasn’t until Tom’s head sagged forward as he struggled to maintain consciousness that I remembered there was no time for staring slack jawed at the sky.

  “Come on—let’s get him some help,” I said, steadying Tom’s arm across my shoulders.

  Karla helped me carry him down the school’s front steps, leaving the janitor cursing the Europeans under his breath.

  We walked to the parking lot, where everyone was gathering. The nurse and some teachers treated the injured as best they could with the few medical supplies available. We laid Tom down next to Mr. Robertson, our science teacher, who was helping a girl whose fingers on her left hand had been crushed. The fingers were covered in blood, bits of broken bone poking through ripped skin. Her hand shook, and she looked away from it, weeping. Mr. Robertson obviously had his plate full, but he was one of the few teachers who didn’t have a circle of injured students surrounding him.

  Karla, who had some knowledge of first aid, offered to assist in treating Tom and the rest of our wounded classmates. She had wanted to follow in her dad’s footsteps since before I’d known her, going as far as reading Dr. Lagos's impenetrable medical textbooks in her spare time. She even went to specialized summer camps and courses where she learned about first aid and other medical stuff. Given the enthusiasm with which she dissected those innocent little critters in biology, she could become either a surgeon or a serial killer.

  I probably would’ve ended up killing someone rather than helping out, so I ran back to the school building, figuring I could help with the evacuation. But any ideas of rushing back inside the crumbling building vanished right away when I looked at the remains of our school.

  The third floor had practically caved in, with only a few pillars sticking out from the piles of building refuse and shattered furniture. The building slanted to the right around the second floor, where many of the walls had been knocked down, giving it the appearance of a card castle on the verge of toppling over. A cold shiver ran down my spine when I noticed students still spilling out of the frail school building. They'd been on the third floor, judging by their battered appearance.

  I rushed to help them get to safety, unable to take my eyes off the looming structure as I drew closer. My dash didn’t last long. The menacing rumble made by the school gradually turned into a metallic wail, stopping me dead in my tracks. As if in slow motion, the building tipped over little by little, speeding up as the angle at which it slanted increased. By the time the survivors making their way out of there realized what was happening, they could only shriek in terror. The building collapsed around them, burying them under an avalanche of rubble and dust. My ears rang from the thundering crash. I barely had time to shut my eyes before a dense cloud of pulverized concrete swallowed the entire block
. Bits of it showered upon me, scraping my skin.

  It took a few minutes for the ringing in my ears to finally trail off, replaced by a faint rustling. I ventured to open my eyes.

  All that was left of my school, the place I'd gone to week after week for the last few years of my life, was a mound of rubble. Of my schoolmates who hadn't made it out of the building, there was nothing left. At least nothing that wasn’t buried under tons of broken concrete slabs and twisted rebar.

  I brushed away the rough coat of concrete clinging to my face and coughed out the mouthful of dust that had made its way into my throat as I took a few timid steps forward, unable to tear my gaze away from the wreckage.

  This… this isn’t… oh God… no…

  “Becca! Where are you? Becca!”

  I barely noticed Karla’s screams as I staggered toward the ruins, vainly expecting my classmates to materialize out of the lingering grey mist. I couldn’t have been more than fifty feet away from the entrance when Karla wrapped her arms around me, holding me in place. She pressed her face against my back and wept.

  “We should… we should wait for help to arrive. I’m sure they’ll be here soon,” she said between sobs. A few pillars and wall sections still stuck out menacingly from the mountain of rubble before me, as if the devastated school hadn’t had its fill of its former students.

  Karla didn’t let go of me until one of the teachers howled and dropped to her knees. The woman’s long greying curls bounced as she cried into her hands, the layers of fat under her tight blouse shaking as she took frantic gasps for air in between each crying spell. It wasn’t long before her anguish spread across the rest of the teachers and students staring in disbelief at the wreckage that used to be our school. They soon gave voice to their grief, as well.

  As we returned to the parking lot, the heart-breaking cries made me feel lightheaded. I didn’t know whether I’d join them or be sick from the despair and anxiety stirring inside me. I kept looking over my shoulder at the ruins of our school, hoping to see any signs of survivors. The sight of the devastated school building made me think not only of my teachers and schoolmates who’d been crushed before my eyes but also of my parents. The modern office building in which they worked should’ve withstood the earthquake, but the smoke pillars rising all over the city were hardly reassuring.