Christ—
Mercy pushed back against the tropes behind her. Rounds slammed into tropes five feet from her, their skulls bursting like ripe fruit under the steel rain. The horde pressed towards the gates, drawn by the noise.
A roar. The loud chatter of twin .30 caliber M2 Browning machine guns overhead. A flash of yellow and a trail of smoke.
The biplane’s hail of bullets tore through the guard tower, shredding the two militia machine gunners, their weapons fell silent. The biplane disappeared from view over the prison roof trailing smoke, its engine coughing and stuttering. Automatic weapons fire continued to sound from the top of the building.
That’s it, they’ve got Barnes and Dimitri. Shit—
The horde seemed to find new strength with the sound of the frenzied gun battle. It pushed forwards, surging against the bomb damaged gates. The first row of tropes were crushed against the metal bars, their shattered bodies falling to the ground to be trampled by those behind. The dumpster was shoved back and the gates sagged further, under the weight of the horde. Seconds later the gates burst open with a rending sound. The horde spilled forwards like pus bursting from a ripe abscess.
Jesus, they’ve done it. Keep upright, keep upright—
Mercy rode the wave of chaos, allowing herself to be swept through the inner gates. The horde filled the open space behind the entrance. Mercy glanced up at the prison roof.
Are they going to shoot us from above? They’ll just waste their ammo—
She cast around, looking for the others.
There’s the exercise yard enclosure ahead. Get over there like we planned, the others will be there—
Mercy pushed and wormed her way through the seething horde. The prison’s siren continued, its wail echoing throughout the entire complex.
That alarm’s not such a bright idea, it’ll inflame the tropes, keep them agitated. Somebody’s bound to shut it down soon—
Mercy neared the exercise yard gates amid the throng. The stench of rancid, undead flesh filled her nose.
There they are—
Tawny and Rose were at the entrance to the exercise yard, their hoods pulled up. Tawny held a crowbar and was trying to break the gate lock. Flynn and Annalise were speaking to the prisoners behind the chain link fence. The tropes had smelled the prisoners in the yard and were clawing at the fence, snapping their teeth.
Don’t make it look too obvious Tawny. There’s bad guys looking down on us—
Mercy pushed in, between two leering tropes, she leaned in close to Rose, “How’s it going? We may need to use the slug rounds if the crowbar doesn’t work. What do you think?”
Rose nodded and spoke directly into Mercy’s ear, “Yeah, the prisoners know what we’re doing. The plane was shot down, so our exfil trope-diversion plan is gone. We need something else to draw them away to allow the prisoners out. Can you radio Brody to see if he can come up with something?”
“On it. Keep the prisoners in there until I get the tropes away,” Mercy said, stepping back from Rose. She pulled the radio from her belt and lifted it up to her chest. She hesitated.
I don’t want to draw unnecessary attention with the radio—
Mercy shuffled along the fence, past Flynn and Annalise, to the corner of the exercise yard. She lifted the radio to select the new frequency. She pressed the earpiece back into place and spoke into the microphone.
“Brody… this is Dawes, do you read? Over—”
Mercy held on to the chain link, trying to resist the buffeting on all sides. Static hissed in her ear.
Come on, come on guys—
A voice exploded in her ear, “This is Brody’s team, we read you, over—”
Relief washed over Mercy.
“Dawes here, put Brody on, over—”
“Roger that, hold on—”
A pause.
Come on, come on, come—
“Brody here, Dawes. What’s your status?” Brody’s voice erupted in Mercy’s ear.
“Brody, we’re at the exercise yard gates. We’re working on the lock. We need you to find a way to draw the horde away… anytime now would be good. We need the tropes distracted to get the prisoners out—” Mercy said, glancing up at the prison roof.
“Copy that Dawes, I’m on it, out—” Brodie’s voice broke up and the connection went dead.
A tall trope shoved past Mercy, reaching for the fence behind her. A shot rang out from above. A high velocity round hit the trope’s head, shredding bone and brain. Black blood and gore splashed across Mercy’s face and neck.
Sniper. That was meant for me—
Mercy ducked down and looked up to the right.
There’s movement on that roof. Move… move away from the others. He mustn’t see the others—
Mercy dropped to her knees and crawled through a forest of trope legs towards the sniper’s building. Three more rounds slammed into the horde, felling more tropes close by. The tropes pressed in around her, their legs and knees pushing and battering her. She gasped, winded by a knee to her side.
Keep… keep going, you’re nearly there, there’s a door ahead—
Another shot rang out from above and another trope collapsed to the ground, a foot away. Mercy looked up, an arm appeared over the roof and dropped an object into the jostling crowd. Adrenaline surged through Mercy.
Grenade—
Mercy threw herself forwards, through a gap in the trope legs. She reached the open door and rolled through. She counted.
One, two, thr—
An explosion shook the ground feet away, the blast was absorbed by the densely packed tropes. Gore splattered against the door and her jacket. She lay sprawled on the floor, stunned. Her senses returned after a few rapid breaths.
I’m… still here. I’m still alive—
Mercy looked up at a dimly lit, long room, lined with tables and chairs. A handful of shuffling tropes had entered the room from outside, they were milling around the entrance beside her.
Looks like a canteen. Sniper’s on the roof, the bastard. If he saw me he could see the
