Mercy (The Last Army Book 1)

by Freeter, John

  Dozens of people had been packed inside the cramped clinic so close together that there was only a narrow corridor left to walk in. They moaned and cried, following me with tearful eyes as I made my way inside. Many of them had really nasty injuries, their blood seeping through makeshift bandages as they squirmed on foldable cots or even mats on the floor. Some just lay still, their fingers twitching every now and then. I unbuttoned my coat. The suffocating warmth of so many people crammed into such a tiny space made me sweat.

  I soon found Karla, standing over a whimpering old man. A pile of bloodied bandages lay at her feet. She cleaned a large gash on the man’s arm, which was covered in a disgusting yellow paste. She’d removed her jacket, and the white blouse she wore underneath was sprinkled with dried blood. Her uniform consisted only of a disposable medical mask covering her face. Judging by the way she kept turning toward the ceiling to take deep breaths, the mask didn’t help cover the odor given off by the man’s gruesome injury.

  Apart from her, just three more medical assistants—two guys and a woman, all dressed in normal clothes—tended to the wounded. Only a black man with greying hair and a stethoscope hanging around his neck looked like a doctor. He wore a stained white coat over similarly dirty jeans and a yellow polo shirt.

  I inched my way through the crowded clinic, trying not to disturb anyone, and gently placed my hand on Karla’s shoulder. She recoiled in fright but didn’t drop the blood-soaked cotton ball at the end of the tweezers she had used to clean the old man’s wound.

  “God, you scared me, Becca. What are you doing here?” She swept her gaze around the room, looking nervously at the other workers as if my being there were some sort of crime. They only glanced at us and carried on with their tasks.

  “Sorry. I just got off my job and was wondering if you wanted to go and have lunch,” I said, trying not to stare at the old man’s festering wound.

  “No, Becca. People are dying here; I can’t just leave Dr. Johnson and the others while there’s so much to do. I’m sorry, but maybe we’ll see each other later, okay?” She focused her attention back on the old man’s wounded arm, frowning. A gleaming coat of sweat covered her forehead as she wiped the gash with precise motions, so gently and confidently that the old man barely groaned.

  The smell of spoilt milk alone weakened my knees. “Sure, Karla. I understand. See you later.” I turned around to exit the clinic and came face-to-face with Dr. Johnson. The patients’ pitiful moans had muffled his steps. I recoiled in much the same way Karla had done earlier.

  “Are you a friend of Karla’s?” the doctor asked with arched eyebrows. He placed a weak smile on his face. His small, tired eyes were half swallowed by the bulging bags beneath them.

  “Yes, I was just seeing if she wanted to go to lunch, but I had no idea of how bad things were over here. I’m really sorry for disturbing you.” I meant it, too. Obviously I couldn’t complain to Karla about my job after witnessing her nightmarish working conditions.

  “Actually, I think it would be best if you took her with you. It’d do Karla a world of good to take a break.” He walked over to her. “We’ll take over for now, Ms. Lagos. Don’t worry about coming back until after you’ve had lunch, okay?”

  Karla took off her paper mask, a worried frown on her face.

  “But Doctor—”

  “Listen, I really admire your commitment, but you’ll be of no use to anyone if you burn yourself out,” he said.

  Karla looked around at all the people suffering in the cramped beds, bathed in blood and sweat. She gulped and nodded. Dr. Johnson handed Karla her jacket and led us outside. I took a deep breath of the cold air, and the faint sickness in my stomach slowly faded away. Karla bit her lips as she zipped up her jacket.

  I looked back at the clinic. “What happened to all those people? Did the monsters attack them or something?”

  Karla followed my gaze. “No, they come from nearby towns. Most of them had their homes come crashing down on their heads during the earthquake. I’ve heard the other clinics around town are even worse off than here.” She sighed before looking at me. “Listen, Becca, I appreciate you coming over to get me, but I’m needed here. I’m the youngest assistant, so Dr. Johnson’s acting all fatherly toward me, but from now on, just have lunch with the other laundry girls, okay?”

  “Oh, yeah, about that… Amy’s alive.”

  Karla’s eyes opened wide, and she took a step toward me. “Amy’s alive? Why didn’t you say that before? Where is she? Is she all right? What about the others?” She stepped closer with every question.

  “She’s fine. A bit shaken, of course, but fine.” I took a step back. “I think she’s gone to listen to Brother Tim’s sermon. Do you… do you want to go and talk to her?”

  Karla hesitated for a moment, lowering her head and pursing her lips. Amy wasn’t exactly Karla’s best friend, either, and as a staunch Catholic, she couldn’t have been thrilled about going to an evangelical sermon, but she soon nodded. “Yeah, sure. Let’s go.”

  ***

  We had little trouble finding the place in which Brother Tim did his preaching. Although his church had originally been just a small wooden building near Main Street—built in the colonial style, all painted in white—the pastor now gave his sermons in a football field at the outskirts of town. Thousands of people already gathered there, facing the bleachers at one side of the field. The crowd buzzed like a rattled beehive.

  Dozens of armed locals wearing white armbands patrolled along the running track circling the football field in groups of five or six. One of those groups approached us as we walked toward the crowd. A tall man wearing jeans and a striped blue shirt asked for our ID booklets, while a stern-faced woman patted us down, looking for weapons. Seeing how they’d treated some of their non-Christian “guests,” it seemed like a wise move on their part.

  “I can’t tell you how glad I am to see more of our Catholic friends joining us here. I’m sure you won’t regret it,” the man said as he handed our booklets back to us.

  “Yeah, we’ve heard lots of good things about your pastor,” I said after glancing down at the large gun holstered by his side. Karla nodded politely. The man let us through with a creepy smile pasted on his face.

  We made our way through the crowd, looking for Amy. Many of the people around us were frenzied, their hands in the air, swaying from side to side as they mumbled prayers with tears in their eyes. Only a few scattered clusters of people remained aloof, looking ahead with their arms crossed or their hands inside their pockets—probably fellow refugees, given their haggard faces and somewhat mismatched or badly fitting clothing.

  No one paid us any attention as we squeezed by. Their gazes were fixed on the man standing on the bleachers. Even in the middle of the football field, surrounded by the feverish congregation, it wasn’t difficult to hear his clear, confident voice. It seemed he barely had to raise it—as though he spoke inside my head. I ignored his words, concentrating instead on finding Amy among the sea of enraptured faces, but I couldn’t find her. Our search soon took us within only a few feet of the town’s supposed prophet.

  Brother Tim stood on a wooden platform built at the top of the bleachers, its support beams hidden by a skirt of silky white fabric. Not a single strand of his blond hair fell out of place as he paced the stage, addressing the audience. His fierce blue eyes shone almost as brightly as his pearly white smile. He had no podium and carried nothing except a plain, leather-bound bible. The rolled-up sleeves of his white shirt allowed him to emphasize every word he spoke with a forceful gesture, yet not a drop of sweat could be seen on his youthful face.

  I froze in place, captivated by the pastor’s impressive display of confidence upon the stage. Karla seemed to have forgotten all about Amy. She stood next to me, her gaze fixed on Brother Tim—but she crossed her arms over her chest and squinted as if staring at a bright light.

  “Many of you believe you’ve seen the terrible power of hell this week,” Brother Tim s
aid, stabbing downward with his index finger. “Satan’s fallen angels were made flesh before your very eyes, our great cities crumbled to dust in a matter of seconds, the sun itself darkened, and the moon turned to blood… even your trusted cellphone has failed you,” he added, fishing one from his pocket and displaying it to his audience before tossing it aside. Subdued laughter rippled through the crowd. I giggled, too, but stopped as soon as I saw Karla’s face. Her squint had turned into a scowl.

  “This guy’s a clown,” she whispered.

  Brother Tim resumed his sermon once the laughter had died down. “Fear has naturally taken root in your hearts, but I’m here to tell you that this is not the time for fear. This is the time for joy. The Lord, in His infinite mercy, has given us one last chance to repent our sinful ways and accept Him in our hearts as our Lord and Savior.” The pastor raised his Bible. “All of these catastrophes have been prophesized in scripture—signs given to us by our Lord Jesus Christ to prepare for His coming. The Enemy will try with all its might to confuse us in the face of even greater trials yet to come, but we must stay strong, trusting in the Lord and His promises of everlasting life!”

  “Amen!” shouted the enthusiastic crowd. Out of all the people near the front, only Karla and I remained silent. Some of the guards standing at the bottom of the bleachers—whom I hadn’t noticed until then—looked straight at us with subtle frowns on their faces.

  “Come on, let’s keep looking for Amy; I have to get back to the clinic soon,” Karla said, giving an apprehensive glance at the guards. I nodded and walked behind her, following the sickly sour smell still clinging to her from the clinic. I wondered how well Brother Tim’s words of joy and life would’ve gone down with the wounded patients squirming in agony back there.

  “Hey, I think I see her.” Karla tugged on my coat sleeve as she stared ahead of her.

  There she was, surrounded by a dozen laundry girls. She clasped her hands against her chest, as if in prayer. She didn’t even blink as her dark green eyes followed Brother Tim’s every move, a dumb smile on her face. The crowd erupted in another “Amen!” but Amy remained static as though oblivious to his message but mesmerized by the man himself. A few of the girls around her noticed me staring at them. They whipped their faces away and murmured amongst themselves. One of them tapped Amy on the shoulder and glanced at me. Amy sighed and shook her head, directing her attention back to the stage.

  Fine, be that way… you miserable bitch.

  I grabbed the back of Karla’s jacket, pulling her toward me. “I’m leaving.”

  “But why? Come on, don’t be childish.” She tried to grab my hand. I pulled it back in time.

  “Just tell Amy I’m sorry for what happened at work. I’m sure she’ll tell you all about it.” I shoved my way deeper into the crowd before she could answer.

  I wanted to patch things up with Amy. I really did. The hundreds of hurtful quips I’d gotten from her over the years seemed silly compared to what we’d been though in the last couple of days. I had hoped that with Karla’s mediation we might’ve cleared up that morning’s misunderstanding, but obviously Amy wasn’t ready for that yet. At least I had tried. Next time she would have to be the one carrying the peace pipe.

  Brother Tim kept preaching through our little drama, but only once I’d put a few hundred people between me and Amy could I focus on his words. With so much resentment stirring up inside me, I was in no mood to praise Jesus, but I still found the pastor’s voice strangely comforting. I blinked away the tears welling in my eyes and decided to hang around a while longer. I probably wouldn’t get to the school gym in time for lunch anyway.

  The atmosphere soon turned somber, however, as the pastor began listing people whose faith had been tested in the bible: Abraham, commanded by God to kill his only son; Joseph, sold into slavery by his own brothers, and a few other biblical characters that sounded only vaguely familiar to me. The crowd kept a grim silence as he recounted their trials, but they cheered as he detailed how their faith had been strengthened by their trials and ultimately rewarded by God.

  I couldn’t help wincing as Brother Tim narrated each cycle of divine tests and rewards, though. It just didn’t seem like a very healthy relationship to me—at least not by human standards.

  The pastor motioned for his audience to quiet down. The buzz from the crowd dwindled until all I could hear was my heart, pounding against my chest in anticipation of what the pastor would say.

  “Our faith will also be tested, as even greater trials await us.” Brother Tim spread his arms as if enveloping the crowd. “Though our town has been spared by the Lord from destruction, the Enemy will try to snuff out this lone beacon of hope among so much despair…

  “This will not happen. I have no doubt that as long as we trust in the Lord, we will make it through whatever lies ahead. Never forget that we are not alone in our struggles. Stay strong in your faith, and a new sky will greet us tomorrow, as clear and warm as the love that our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ has for every one of us.”

  For a few seconds, only the hum of worried murmuring could be heard, but little by little, the congregation came back to life. A few scattered cries of “Amen!” rang out, each one answered by several more, until the triumphant mood spread out throughout the crowd.

  I remained immune to their joy, sensing there was something Brother Tim was keeping from us. Brighter days might’ve lain ahead of us, but I knew I was in for another sleepless night.

  Chapter 18

  I woke up to the sound of explosions. Unlike the previous night’s distant murmurs, these blasts rang clearly, like a booming growl. The hardwood flooring beneath the thin mattress I shared with Karla trembled. I pushed the blanket away and sat up, my gaze darting across the dark school gym. The lamps hanging from the high ceiling glinted as they swayed from the shock, reflecting the paltry red light that filtered through the windows.

  “Oh, God. What was that?” a nearby woman asked. The nervous whispers and tremulous prayers of the women and children sleeping at the gym echoed in the darkness. A girl cried, calling for her mother. No one answered. My chest tightened, and my heart beat harder and faster. I shook Karla, still asleep next to me.

  “Karla, wake up. Get up, for Christ’s sake, something’s going on,” I whispered, struggling not to scream and cause even more panic. Brother Tim’s ominous prophecies occupied my muddled thoughts.

  “What… what’s wrong, Becca?” she asked, rubbing her eyes.

  “I don’t know, but it sounds like an attack.” I slipped on my boots. “Get up, we’ve got to—”

  A long stream of thundering cracks shattered the uneasy atmosphere, plunging the room into chaos. The women shrieked in terror and ran blindly toward the exit, trampling over each other. I grabbed Karla’s arm and dashed for the nearby wall, out of the terrified mob’s way.

  “Oh shit, they’re here,” I said, my voice almost a squeal. Duller gunshots joined the bursts of heavy fire. The shooting couldn’t have been more than a mile away, to the west—probably by the machine gun at the entrance of town. “Come on, get your shoes on, and let’s get out of here!” I screamed.

  Powerful beams of white light swept the gym from the narrow windows near the ceiling as a bright light outside—a flare—slowly made its way to the ground. The flare illuminated the squirming mass of almost two hundred people flocking at the exit, as well as the crumpled bodies of over a dozen injured women and children left in their wake. A few of them managed to get on their feet, but most writhed on the ground, crying for help. The white light fell upon Karla and me. It burned my bleary eyes, but I managed to help Karla tie her tennis shoes. I bolted off the floor, dragging her along with me, and ran for the exit, skirting the injured refugees still moaning on the ground.

  “Becca, wait. We have to help them!” Karla struggled to release my grip on her arm.

  “There’s no time! If we stay here, we’re dead.” I grabbed onto her with both arms as I charged forward. A pitiful wail rose
from the floor as I stepped on something soft, but I only gritted my teeth. If those monsters caught us inside, there’d be nowhere to run to.

  By the time we reached the exit, most of the women sleeping at the gym had already squirmed through the threshold. A rush of cold air hit my sweaty face as I stumbled outside. Scores of people ran in the streets, fleeing the gunshots to the west. Karla finally stopped struggling, her eyes fixed on the smoke columns rising at the outskirts of town. Lights flashed in the night from the gunfire just a few blocks away.

  “Come on, Karla, we’ve got to run!” I screamed, pressing my face close hers. She nodded, tears already brimming in her eyes, and followed me without hesitation.

  The approaching gunfire spurred us on block after block as we ran through New Jerusalem, escaping the battle raging behind us. Families poured out of their elegant homes in their nightwear, some the smaller children still hanging onto their dolls and teddy bears, and fled with us. Only a handful of people ran in the opposite direction, toward the fight. At first I thought they were the police, or even soldiers, judging by the military-style equipment and clothing on some of them. Their white armbands dashed my hopes. I took a glimpse of the shotguns, handguns, and rifles they carried, and wondered how long they would last against the demonic assault.

  More of the town’s militia made an appearance as we crossed into Main Street. A few of them took cover behind the cars parked along the road, weapons trembling in their unsteady hands. Most had taken shelter inside the stores’ second floors, the barrels of their rifles and shotguns poking from the windows. They opened fire.

  I glanced over my shoulder. The demons had almost caught up with us. Their glowing red eyes left a burning trail of light behind them as they rushed forward. Enraged roars and howls erupted from the dozens of monsters behind us as they took the barrage of deafening gunfire, but it barely slowed them down now that their prey was in sight. I ran with renewed strength, grabbing Karla’s hand to make sure she wouldn’t be left behind.