The Survival Chronicles (Book 2): Angel of Mercy

by Nally, Fergal F.

  Mercy lowered her rifle, “You win, you bastard.”

  The Colonel nodded, stepped forwards and took her gun. “Drop the pistol and knives too, then my people will open the door.”

  Mercy did as he asked keeping her eyes on the screen beside the door, on Flynn’s face. All that mattered was the moment she would see him for real.

  Colonel Randel kicked the weapons away, he nodded at the camera, “Open the door—”

  A metallic click followed and the door opened inwards. A man in a white coat waited on the other side. The Colonel pushed Mercy through, her eyes searched for Flynn, Stevie and Dakota. The door closed again, the man in the white coat picked up a device from a table and approached her. The device looked familiar, she remembered something similar being used on Flynn at the wall near the Henry Hudson Bridge back on Manhattan Island. He pressed the device onto her neck and pressed a button.

  “It’s her, subject confirmed—” the man said to the Colonel.

  “Just needed to make sure, protocol, you see, these scientists are sticklers for protocol,” the Colonel said behind her.

  “Follow me,” the white coated man said, turning and walking down the corridor.

  Mercy followed him her eyes taking in her surroundings. She heard the Colonel’s footsteps behind, he kept his distance. They entered a laboratory bathed in red light, Flynn lay on a gurney in the centre of the room. Stevie and Dakota sat beside him, they were wired up to a row of machines.

  Flynn’s eyes flicked to Mercy, he struggled against his restraints. “You’re alive, they told me—” he fell silent.

  Dakota looked up. “Mercy—” she stopped, her face blank.

  Mercy went to Flynn, bent over him and took his hand. “Flynn, what have they done to you?” She kissed him, her hands went to his restraints.

  “I’d leave those alone if I were you,” Colonel Randel said pointing the AR-15 at Flynn.

  Mercy hesitated then pulled her hand away from the restraints, she leant towards Flynn’s ear and whispered, “Don’t worry, I’m going to get us out of here—”

  Flynn blinked. “I know you are,” he responded.

  The man in the white coat approached Mercy holding a syringe and tourniquet. He nodded towards a chair and table. “Take a seat please.”

  Mercy looked around the room for anything, an angle, an advantage. A large mirror ran the length of one wall, a bank of computers sat along the opposite wall, an assortment of drip stands and medication cabinets lay in the corner.

  A one way mirror, a likely viewing room and more staff behind there, if I can grab the lab technician, use him as a shield— Mercy calculated the odds, they were not good, but she was cornered and low on options.

  A cornered animal fights the fiercest—

  Mercy tensed her muscles and went towards the chair, keeping her eyes on the technician. She turned towards the Colonel who looked at her, a detached look on his face. He stood with his feet apart the AR-15 aimed at Flynn. Mercy’s eyes drifted to the lower section of the door behind him. Another pair of legs stood in the doorway.

  A shot rang out. The Colonel’s forehead disappeared in a bloody explosion of splintered bone and brain matter. He remained standing for a moment before falling, the gun fell to the floor. Mercy grabbed the lab technician’s arm pushing him towards the one way mirror, she pressed him against it. He fought back but was no match for Mercy’s fury.

  Mercy’s anger and frustration boiled over, she forced his hand, which still held the syringe, towards his neck. With a last burst of strength she threw her body against his, the syringe entered his neck and her body weight depressed the plunger. His eyes widened, his pupils dilated and his body went limp.

  A voice from behind shouted, “Mercy, DOWN—” A voice she recognised, and trusted. She threw herself to the floor, a volley of shots shattered the one way mirror. Mercy held her arms over her head protecting her face from the falling glass. Footsteps behind, another three shots, then silence.

  “You OK Mercy?”

  Mercy looked up and smiled. “What took you so long Rose?”

  “Lucky you left that lift jammed open up there. There’s nothing I don’t know about lifts—”

  Mercy looked puzzled.

  “Long story, let’s just say I’m pretty good at getting into lift shafts. Listen, things are pretty hairy up there, we gotta leave now,” Rose said, helping Mercy up.

  Mercy saw the three dead bodies in the observation room behind the shattered mirror. “Good job,” she said.

  They freed Flynn, Stevie and Dakota, they were able to stand and walk. Mercy picked up the AR-15 and took the lab technician’s swipe card. They left the laboratory and headed down the corridor to the stair door. Mercy spotted the open lift and looked in to see bare concrete walls and the lift shaft’s metal frame; Rose had climbed down.

  My angel of mercy; little Rose, who would’ve thought?

  Mercy opened the electronic lock with the swipe key, she retrieved her pistol and knives from the floor beside Leo’s body. Rose looked at Leo and shook her head, “Pity, Leo was OK. Would never have worked out with Tawny though,” she looked away. They piled up the stairs.

  “What do you mean things are pretty hairy up there?” Mercy asked Rose.

  Rose glanced back. “We knocked out the two 50 cals at the front gate with the grenades you gave us. Quinn got hit, he didn’t make it. We got the gate open, the families have breached the compound fence in at least three of four places, things looked good for a bit. There was heavy fire from the walls, a lot of people were hit. But then we saw the dead, swarms of them, streaming in everywhere, but mostly from the other side of the sports track. They came fast, hundreds of them—”

  The mass graves, Mercy thought. They’ve come back just like the skinnies in Manhattan—

  “Shit, is there a way out?” Mercy asked.

  They had reached the entrance to the lower level. Rose led the way up the stairs to the barracks above.

  “The fort is surrounded by hordes of dead and tropes, the NSA will run out of ammo soon and the gates are open, the dead are already in the fort. Our only chance is to get to the well—”

  Mercy cursed, she looked at Flynn, Stevie and Dakota; there’d be no way they’d make it down the well.

  So close, so close, think, think, think—

  They climbed the stairs. Shouting and gunfire filled the barracks. Rose reached the top of the stairs. She stopped and crouched extending her hand stopping the others. Mercy squeezed past Flynn, Stevie and Dakota to reach Rose, the shooting was drawing nearer.

  “Rose, take them to the next level quick, this floor is compromised, we might be able to get out of a window from upstairs. I’ll hold them off. Go. Go,” Mercy shouted.

  Rose nodded and took Flynn, Stevie and Dakota up the stairs. Mercy turned her attention to the ground floor, she lay down and aimed along the corridor towards the first room. The sound of breaking glass and pistol shots came from a side office, a long blood curdling scream rent the air. A figure staggered from the room covered in blood and fell against the opposite wall. Mercy recognised the girl’s hair.

  “Crimson,” Mercy shouted, “over here—”

  Crimson looked up, a deep gash glistening across her neck, Mercy knew she had seconds left to live. Crimson raised her hand and pointed at the room with a bloody finger. “Save Tawny,” she gasped. Crimson’s arm fell and her head lolled to one side, her eyes glazed over.

  Mercy ran down the corridor to the room and burst in. Tawny lay on the floor, a NSA soldier on top of her, the point of his knife against her neck. Tawny had her hands on the knife pushing it away, blood seeping between her fingers. Her hands were shaking, her eyes flicked across to Mercy, recognition registered on her face.

  “Do it,” Tawny gasped.

  Mercy squeezed the AR-15’s trigger in a controlled burst. The soldier’s skull exploded, splattering Tawny in gore. Tawny threw the corpse to one side and retrieved the knife. Tawny stood up, feeling her ne
ck, “Good timing,” her eyes flicked to Crimson’s body in the hall. “They got Quinn at the gate, me and Crimson made it across here, there’s swarms of dead all over the Citadel. We tried to make it to the well but it’s no go. Rose came in here, is she—”

  Mercy processed the information. “Rose is OK, she’s taken Flynn, Stevie and Dakota upstairs, we need to join them now—”

  Mercy and Tawny left the room and ran to the stairs, they took two steps at a time and reached the upper floor. Rose was standing beside a spiral staircase halfway down the corridor, she beckoned to them.

  “Come on, hurry, the roof, it’s our only chance—” Rose shouted.

  Mercy’s heart sank, they were backing themselves into a corner, the roof was a dead end. “Go on Tawny, get to Rose, get up there, work something out. I’ll hold them off as long as I can.”

  Tawny nodded, squeezed Mercy’s shoulder then bounded down the corridor. More screaming and gunfire came from the floor below, an explosion rocked the building, the smell of petrol hung heavy in the air. Seconds later thick smoke belched up the stairwell followed by flames, she backed away from the intense heat, one hand protecting her face.

  A second later two burning figures threw themselves from the flames onto the floor in front of her. They crawled towards her. Mercy looked at the nearest figure, what was left of the NSA soldier’s face had peeled away to reveal bone, his empty eye sockets stared at her. The flaming trope behind the dying soldier moved with a purpose fuelled by bloodlust, its teeth snapping at the soldier’s leg.

  Mercy opened up on the two figures with the AR-15, the figures shook then lay still the flames consuming their flesh. The AR-15 fell silent, its magazine empty. Mercy threw it down and pulled out her pistol. The smell of charred flesh was sickening, two heartbeats later another burning figure appeared at the top of the stairs and hurled itself at her. Mercy took aim and opened fire, stopping the trope in its tracks. It fell to the ground, a flaming heap. Her pistol clicked on empty. Mercy turned and fled.

  She made it to the spiral staircase and climbed without looking back. At the top she found an open hatch, she climbed out onto the roof. The others were pressed up against a nearby chimney. Mercy shut and bolted the hatch and went to the others. She still had her combat knife and bayonet. She glanced out into the night, down onto the parade ground and the compound beyond the Citadel’s walls.

  The rest of the fort’s 50 calibre machine guns had fallen silent. Bursts of automatic rifle fire peppered the air from all directions, screams and shouts merged into a confused cacophony. The barracks was on fire, flames burst through the roof thirty feet away. Mercy huddled with the others against the chimney.

  “Rose?” Mercy asked.

  Rose shook her head. “This is it, end of the line—”

  A loud bang came from the hatch followed by more blows.

  “Christ, they’re here already,” Tawny said, clutching her knife.

  A dull thrumming sound came from somewhere behind the Citadel and grew stronger. Mercy looked around and saw two lights suspended in the sky, she frowned trying to understand. Another loud bang came from the roof hatch, she turned in time to see it fly open. A large trope climbed out followed by others, they were on fire and staggered towards the chimney their arms outstretched and teeth bared.

  Mercy raised her bayonet. Rose fired twice at the lead trope, it fell to the roof but the others came on. The thrumming sound was deafening and a storm seemed to appear out of nowhere with wind tearing at the roof. Ropes dropped out of the sky and masked figures swept down from above. They formed a ring around the chimney and opened fire at the advancing tropes.

  Mercy looked up and saw the underside of a huge Chinook CH-47 transport helicopter, ropes dangling from each side. She looked off to the left and saw another Chinook hovering over the compound its two miniguns blasting away at the hordes of dead. She pressed her back against the chimney and turned to face Flynn.

  Flynn’s eyes stared into hers, she felt the same deep connection as before and smiled. He reached up, touched her face then embraced her. All the noise fell away with his touch, she closed her eyes and held him tight counting, waiting for what she knew was coming.

  One, two, three, four—

  Two gloved arms wrenched her from Flynn’s embrace. She kept her eyes closed and felt herself being lifted up through the air into the heart of the storm.

  To be continued—

  About the Author

  Fergal F. Nally is an outdoors lover often to be found in amongst it all in the Scottish Highlands. His passions are hillwalking, music, and reading great stories. He lives in Edinburgh. Mercy Kill— The Survival Chronicles Book 2 is his eighth novel.