Nothing new… nothing broken. Nothing I can’t handle—
“Let’s go—” Mercy replied, she took Brody’s hand and pulled herself up.
Mercy staggered over to Brody’s horse, she nodded at the riders grouped around her. A horse was brought to her and she was helped up by one of Brody’s men. The man handed her a silenced Glock 17.
“Found this on the road, figured you’d like it back,” the man handed her the gun and returned to his own horse.
Mercy glanced back at the burning oil tanker and the prison. “That was some diversion you managed to find, Brody. The tropes sure took the bait, it drew them away real good—”
Brody nodded, “Piece of luck is all, one of my men spotted it coming up the road with that armored car. We waited as long as we could, until it was close enough to the prison, then we hit it—”
“Yeah, sweet—” Mercy said.
“The militia have other strongholds throughout Charlottesville, they’ll send reinforcements. Let’s make ourselves scarce—”
Mercy nodded, “Yeah, sounds good. My people… have you heard? Are they OK?”
Brody took his reins, “Yes, they made it out of the prison. Annalise radioed in… your buddies are OK—”
Mercy closed her eyes and settled herself in the saddle. She breathed out, “That’s good news—”
But what about—?
The radio on Brody’s waist crackled to life, “Mayday, mayday… Barnes to Brody. Barnes to Brody. We’ve crash landed near a river, there’s a lake, we’re somewhere east of the prison. Mayday… they’re coming for us. Militia forces on horseback. Help—”
Mercy’s eyes met Brody’s. “They’re alive, he said we… Dimitri’s alive too. We need to get to them before the militia does—”
Brody turned to his men, “Forget the rendezvous, we’ve got a downed plane to find. Our people are alive—”
Hang in there Barnes—
Chapter 33
Crash Site
The ground in the dense forest was damp and yielding. Brody had split his riders into three groups to cover more ground. Mercy stuck close to Brody’s horse, she cursed at the tree branches which scratched her face as she passed.
These trees are too close together, I can’t see a bloody thing—
Brody seemed immune to the branches and pushed on through the mire.
No further contact from Barnes, that could be good, they could be lying low. It could be bad—
Distant gunfire echoed through the forest. Mercy sat bolt upright in her saddle.
Shit, shit, shit. That’s not good—
Brody stopped and looked towards the sound of the shots. The radio on his belt crackled.
“Cousins to Brody, come in, over—” a raspy voice came from the tinny speaker.
Brody spoke into the radio, “Brody here, over—”
“We’ve found the plane near the Rivanna River, Island Creek direction. One of my scouts saw a militia patrol heading south east, he scoped two prisoners… likely our guys. My guess is they’re being taken to Lake Monticello, over—”
Brody shook his head, “The island? Christ.” He looked at Mercy then brought the radio to his mouth, “Copy that. We heard gunfire Cousins. Was that you? Over—”
A pause then, “Negative boss, the militia are spooked, probably by the raid on the prison, they’re shooting at ghosts. My scouts are under orders not to engage, over—”
Brody nodded and spoke into the radio, “Good, keep it that way. Tell your scouts to keep eyes on the prisoners until we reach your position.” He looked at his watch, “Our ETA Boston Creek… an hour and fifteen, meet you there. Out—”
“Roger that boss. Cousins out—” the radio went dead.
Brody looked at Mercy, “You got all that?”
Mercy nodded, “Sounds like they’re both alive. So what’s the deal with this Lake Monticello anyway and aren’t you worried the militia will intercept your radio signals?”
Brody returned the radio to his belt, “It’s possible yes… but unlikely. They’re not as flush with gear as the NSA, besides we don’t have much choice… look around you, there’s a lot of country to cover—”
Mercy nodded, “And the lake? You mentioned an island—?”
Brody frowned, “Yeah, the militia have a number of slave farms out that direction. They work the slaves on the land by day and return to the island in the evening. They’ve got a compound there. There’s only one way onto the island; a narrow footbridge and it’s heavily defended—”
Mercy’s shoulders sagged, “Of course it is. We need to get there, get eyes on… there’s always a way. There always is, there has to be. Let’s go—”
Brody looked sceptical but he nodded, grunting, “There’d better be.” He kicked his horse and moved on through the trees.
Two hours later they met up with the rest of Brody’s riders at Boston Creek. Brody dismounted and spoke to Cousins and his scouts. After a few minutes Brody gathered everyone around. He knelt down and spread a map out on the ground.
“OK, so the six man militia patrol found the downed plane here. They’ve taken Barnes and Dimitri prisoner and have headed east to their island here, near Van Buren Cove on Lake Monticello,” Brody stopped to let his words sink in.
A ruddy faced man frowned, “That’s a fucking fortress chief, how in hell are we gonna bust them outta there?”
Brody looked up, “You said it Nate, we’ll not catch them before they get there neither.” Brody checked his watch, “We’ve got a few hours of daylight left, enough time to do a recon of the island from the lake shore, there’s enough cover there to keep us hidden. As some of you know the militia compound is on the south of the island and the bridge is at the north. We’ll scout out the bridge first then decide what to do. Any questions?”
Mercy stepped forwards, “How many militia are on the island? And farm workers?”
“Slaves,” Nate corrected.
Brody nodded at Nate, “You answer that one Nate, you knew someone who escaped from there—”
Nate raised his eyebrows, “Sure did… a fella I met on the road before I found you guys. Ex-cop… went by the name of Stinger. He said they had around thirty to forty prisoners in the compound and ran the place with
