Grant Us Mercy (Book 3): Grant Us Mercy

by Little, D. C.

  Right now, though, she wished she would have left him in the safety of the house or somehow had gotten him to the safety of the bunker. That would have been a chancy move, though. It wasn’t that she feared Arland, but she might have pushed Tucker further than she should have. Maybe she should have let him stay in the house.

  She scanned the perimeter again hoping for a sign of Blake. Arland had guys roaming the edges of the forest for their protection Surely they would have called out if they had seen him.

  Kris attempted to enjoy the banter between the people. She had longed for something like this for some time now, some interaction with other humans, other good humans. And they were good, weren’t they?

  Tucker’s uneasiness made her uncomfortable. His wide eyes watched the people and then looked out toward the forest the way his dad had disappeared. Back and forth. Back and forth.

  “Tuck, it’s okay. These people won’t hurt us. It’s Hannah’s dad, remember?” She leaned down to whisper in his ear and kiss his temple.

  “They’re so loud. Others will hear. Dad...he’s angry. I feel it.” Tucker tucked his head into her.

  “I wish your daddy was back, too, Sweetie. He may have handled this situation differently, but having contact with other people is important, for trade if nothing else.”

  “Like tonight? We shared some vegetables with them and they shared some turkey with us?”

  “Yes, Tuck, just like that.” She looked back at the crowd. “If things don’t go back to normal, having people to trade with will be important. Some will have skills we don’t have.”

  Tucker screwed his face up as he looked at her. “We’re survivalists. We have all the skills we need.”

  Kris smiled and kissed his forehead. “I’m sure we do. Isn’t it nice, though, to see other people?”

  Tucker shrugged and watched the forest’s edge once again. He gasped slightly and turned toward her, but right then Arland approached them.

  “It’s a lot to get used to, isn’t it?” Arland sat on the bench next to them, looking over his group lounging around the yard.

  “It’s definitely different,” Kris said, trying to push forth a smile, her mind still wrapped around what Tucker could have seen. He scooted closer to her when Arland spoke and wouldn’t look at the forest again.

  “I have to admit, there are times I would love to trade it for some peace and quiet. They’re a good bunch of people, though. We’re doing our best to survive and regain some humanity.”

  “I always wondered if people would pull together after events like this.” Kris soothed her son with her hand. “Or if everyone would be at each other’s throats.”

  Arland nodded. “I never really thought about it before all this happened. It was a struggle at first. We haven’t been without our contradictions. We’ve had to protect our group a few times.”

  “Is it well-known where you are?”

  He shook his head. “We’re pretty protective. The Survivalist, I mean Blake, gave me the advice I needed to find an ideal location. Though there has been word about roving groups. Hence the security measures.”

  Tucker couldn’t sit still. He squirmed and wiggled his way until he sat in her lap.

  “What’s gotten into you?” she whispered.

  “Dad...” Tucker choked out.

  “I’m sure he’ll be back soon, Sweetie.”

  Movement at the forest edge to her right caught her attention then. Out of the darkness came two men, one with a knife on the other’s throat.

  As they slowly made their way up to the group, Kris could only watch in horror. The others scrambled to their feet, raising guns and shouting threats. She immediately recognized her husband as the man wielding the knife.

  “Blake,” she said in a soft warning.

  “You can all drop your weapons now.” His steely voice held barely controlled rage. “Kris, Tucker, inside now.”

  “Daddy,” Tucker shouted and started running toward him.

  “Inside now!” he growled, stopping Tucker in his tracks.

  “Blake, it’s Arland. You know, Hannah’s dad?”

  Arland lifted a hand in greeting with a wide smile. “I told you to be extra cautious, didn’t I, David? I told you the Survivalist would be returning.”

  “I never heard him, sir,” the man with the knife to his throat whispered hoarsely.

  Blake shifted his gaze from Arland to his wife to the group with the guns.

  “Drop your weapons,” Arland ordered his crew, who immediately followed his command.

  Blake shifted his weight, but he hadn’t let the man go.

  “Blake,” Kris tried again.

  “I won’t tell you again, Kris. Take Tucker inside now.” His tone of voice left no room for discussion.

  Kris seethed, her fists clenching and unclenching as she thought about repercussions of not following her husband’s directions.

  “Come on, Tuck,” she finally said through gritted teeth. Once she had her son’s hand, she turned toward Arland. “I apologize about the rudeness of our departure. Thank you for the turkey and company. May we see you again.” She nodded her head and stiffly walked Tucker away from the group and into their house.

  At the door, she looked back once more. Blake still held the knife to the man, David’s, throat. A tingle of apprehension swept down her spine. What was he going to do?

  ~6~

  Blake could smell the man’s fear, a sour stench that made him want to let go. Yet, the man was his only bargaining chip, and he needed all he could get. His mind swam from the emotion of seeing his wife and son in the midst of an armed group.

  Hearing that it was Arland made no difference to him. People changed when the world collapsed, and Arland certainly had. He could tell by the hardness in his eyes and the confident set of his shoulders. Who knew what his intentions were?

  “What are you doing on my property, holding my family hostage?” Blake’s words sounded as edgy as he felt.

  “Whoa there, Blake. No hostages. We were just visiting friends, and we’re happy that you returned before we left.” Arland smiled, holding up his hands.

  Blake didn’t move. There was a hardness in Arland’s eyes that hadn’t been there before. The man had been working, and he had done things he wasn’t proud of. His eyes told Blake that.

  “Do you see how he’s holding his feet?” Arland turned and asked the people in his group. “One foot in front of the other so he has time to react in any direction.”

  The quick turn of conversation floored Blake. He held one of Arland’s guys by knifepoint, and yet, the man gave a lesson on his tactics.

  “We’ve been working on learning defensive and offensive positioning. Hope you don’t mind being an example.” Arland watched him carefully, keeping his smile spread widely.

  “I see you acquired followers,” Blake said evenly.

  “I didn’t ask to lead. I just wanted people to survive.” Arland cocked his head. “Do you feel ready to let David go yet? I don’t want him having a heart-attack. His wife and young children would be devastated.”

  Blake almost smiled, but he kept the grin in. He had chosen well. Arland had turned into the leader that Blake thought he had seen in him.

  “You have nothing to fear from us, obviously.” Arland motioned to the group.

  “Why are you here?” Blake asked.

  “We heard shots. Wanted to see what we were up against. I can’t tell you the joy at finding your lovely wife, even if she was quite intimidating holding that shotgun aimed at my heart.” Arland laughed.

  This time, Blake did allow a small smile to tug at the corner of his mouth. The image of his wife eight months pregnant and holding a shotgun at an armed group made him want to go up there and hug her. His grip on David loosened, but he didn’t release him.

  “Tell your people to leave all their weapons on that table over there.” Blake nodded toward the picnic table he had planned on setting the deer on before finding this mess.

  “
You do as he says,” Arland motioned to them.

  The group watched Blake with something between fear and appreciation.

  “Why are they looking at me like that?” he asked.

  “You’re the Survivalist,” Arland said as if it were common knowledge.

  Blake grit his teeth, like that answered anything.

  Once all the weapons were on the table and the group had moved away, he dropped the knife from David’s neck. The man still stood there until Blake gave him a little shove.

  “Go on,” Blake said, still not sheathing his knife. He closed the gap between him and Arland and was impressed the man didn’t move back. “They need more training.”

  “Yes, I know. You want the job?”

  Blake watched him, trying to read any hidden agenda behind the question. Why would Blake want to make a group stronger than it already was? He could see that turning against him as time unfolded.

  “You don’t have to answer now.” Arland looked back over his group, nodding for them to return to their conversations. “They’re a good bunch. None of us are soldiers, but we do what has to be done to save our families.”

  “How’s Hannah?” Blake asked, biding his time while assessing everything going on around him.

  The group still watched him. David glared, rubbing his neck and getting jostled by his comrades. Blake watched him closely, trying to judge what kind of man he was. He might not have the skills, but that didn’t mean his retribution might not be dangerous.

  “Well, she’s taking on the art of herbalism taught by our midwife...” Arland trailed off looking at him pointedly.

  Blake grit his teeth. He didn’t look forward to being the only one to help Kris birth their baby, but the implication that he needed help grated on his last nerve.

  “At times like these, Blake, survivalist or not, you need a community of people in order to thrive.”

  Blake looked at him closer, took in the gauntness of Arland’s cheeks, the tough but slim arms. Then he scrutinized the group. The whole lot of them looked malnourished.

  “Thrive?” Blake asked, an eyebrow raised.

  “Winter was tough. We were caught unprepared. This one won’t be as bad,” Arland said with a shrug.

  “What of news?” Blake had to admit he had wondered what others were doing to survive. How bad had the chaos become after he secured his family in the bunker?

  “Not much. Societal collapse as you foretold. Marauding groups. We’ve kept to ourselves as much as possible. Picked up some people adrift here and there. Fought off a few attackers. No one knows the extent of the damage, but the rumor is that it’s large. Too large to fix for quite some time.”

  Blake nodded. He knew how long the scientists expected the need for bunker security was. Twenty years. He glanced back up at the house in time to see Kris step away from the window. Even though he was proud of her for facing off an armed group, the fear of what could have happened, and her letting them all stay, and, by the looks of it, eat their food, caused a flame of anger to consume him.

  Sure, he could send Arland and his gang off in a fit of rage and threats, but then he would have enemies out there, enemies that knew where he lived, where his wife and kid lived. Kris had better have a good reason to have met them, armed or not, instead of hiding away like he had told her to.

  ~*~

  Kris finally gave up on Blake coming back up to the house. Her eyes were heavy. She couldn’t keep them open any longer. Bed called to her...her real bed where Tucker curled up in his old spot. Easing in beside him, she wrapped a protective arm around her son. It was awkward with her huge belly, but she needed to feel him against her.

  His heart beat rhythmically against her palm, soothing her. She had locked the doors, and Blake was out there. Besides, Arland had proved himself a friend, hadn’t he?

  Another yawn sent her pulling the lightweight covers over her. The feeling of her old bed beneath her ruined any last chances she may have had to stay awake.

  She had slept hard, so hard that waking to the light of dawn sat her straight up in bed. Her heart pounded as she frantically searched the room and reminded herself of where she was. As she calmed, the quiet, happy chirping from the birds outside sent her back under the covers with Tucker, a smile now spreading across her content face.

  How she missed waking to natural light and the songs of nature.

  Before long, Tucker stirred as well, snuggling into her. She missed this, too.

  “Morning, Mommy.” Tuck’s sleepy voice made her kiss him on the forehead.

  “Morning, Sweetie.”

  He stretched and then threw an arm around her. “Is it exercise time already?”

  “No, you can sleep a little more.” Though she did wonder what had transpired overnight.

  “Then why do I hear Daddy leading drills?”

  Kris held her breath for a moment. If she listened past the beauty of the song birds, she could hear Blake’s voice calling out commands.

  As much as she didn’t want to, she kissed Tucker on the forehead again and crawled out from under the covers to investigate. Her feet hit the carpeted floor, and she sighed. It was so much more welcoming than the floor of the bunker.

  She tiptoed to a window that looked into the back property. Sure enough, Blake stood there calling out commands to Arland’s group. Her brows squeezed together at her husband’s sudden change of thought.

  “Tuck, I’ll be right back.”

  “Mmmhmmm,” he murmured, snuggling deeper into the covers.

  She locked the door behind her and made her way purposefully toward her husband. Several of the members from Arland’s group nodded at her, but Blake kept his back toward her the whole time.

  “Now, pair up and use those same techniques to disarm your partner. Use the sticks as weapons. No one wants to get shot today.” Blake watched intensely at the group before him.

  “So, now you’re training them?” Kris whispered once the group was busy with their practice.

  Blake didn’t turn toward her, didn’t acknowledge her more than a slight nod she would have missed if she hadn’t been staring at him.

  Kris’s eyes narrowed as she felt the rage building up inside her. She tasted it in the bile that rose to her throat, feeling it burn.

  “You dismissed me in front of everyone last night without even asking what had happened, never coming in to see if we were all right, or anything. Now, you have turned your back on us to train them?”

  “You didn’t leave me much choice. Now stop. We don’t really want to be having this conversation now, do we?” His words came through gritted teeth, foretelling the animosity he felt, or was it exhaustion?

  She could read the lines in his brow and the paleness of his eyes. How he still stood was beyond her because everything in his body spoke of pure fatigue.

  “Fine, but I’m not keeping Tucker holed up in the house.”

  “Suit yourself.” Blake turned back toward the group. He stepped away from her, kneeling down next to a pair of Arland’s people. “Grab him like this.” Blake took the man’s hand and twisted it up behind his back.

  The man let out a groan.

  “See, now he’s immobile. You try it.”

  Kris shook her head and walked away. She didn’t understand her husband. She could read him, though, and she knew he hadn’t slept a wink last night. The guy probably watched everyone like a hawk, thinking that at some point they would try to overpower him.

  Poor guy. It must be difficult to always think everyone was the enemy.

  Arland came running up to her just as she neared the steps to the back deck.

  “Morning, Kris.”

  “Good morning, Arland. Did you all get any sleep?”

  “Oh yeah. I think most of us slept well, though that man of yours kept watch all night, I think.”

  “He’s paranoid.” She shrugged.

  “It’s kept him, and you and Tuck, alive, though. Hasn’t it?”

  “True.” She looked back
over at her husband, trying to quell the anger that stewed inside of her. “How did you get him to train them?”

  “Power of persuasion.” He smiled. “In truth, I think he misses being in charge of a group of soldiers.”

  Kris watched Blake. He didn’t look like a man doing what he wanted to do. He looked like he needed rest. No one else probably could tell he favored his left shoulder and hunched slightly from his ribs paining him. His shirt was caked in dried blood, something she hadn’t noticed when staring daggers at him. He must have gotten a deer because she couldn’t see any fresh blood or other evidence of new injuries.

  “Miracles do exist,” she finally stated.

  Pain rippled through her, and she bent over, gritting through it. Another cramp. She wouldn’t call them contractions—too inconsistent and way too early. After it passed, she panted for several seconds before she opened her eyes and saw Arland’s offered hand.

  “You should be resting, Kris. You’re going to put yourself into labor.”

  “I’ll be fine.” She straightened, easing her breathing and pushing forth a strained smile. She felt Blake’s watchful gaze and didn’t want to elicit any further anger from him.

  “I think I should bring Laurie over. She could help you.”

  The thought of a midwife coming to her filled Kris with a lightness she couldn’t quite grasp. The intenseness of Blake’s glare, though, brought her crashing back to reality.

  “I’m not sure he would be happy about that.”

  “I’m sure he would want the best for you and his child.”

  Kris shrugged, biting her cheeks in order not to let the tears escape. So close to having just what she needed, and yet the barrier of her husband’s distrust in others would stand in the way. She knew it.

  Arland laid a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll convince him. You go rest.”

  Kris nodded, unwilling to trust her voice at the moment. As she took the steps slowly up to her house, she allowed a few tears to escape. It had to be a miracle that they arrived when they did and with a midwife in their community. How could Blake not see that as a gift?

  ~*~

  Blake watched the men and women packing up their bags, laughing and joking while getting ready to head back to their camp. He hadn’t taught them much, but maybe it would be enough to save a life or two should an altercation erupt.