A walkway, all the way around to the front gates, two buildings, candles and storm lamps in the far building. Near building… its door looks bolted, no lights. Jeep and caravan to the left. Lean to and van over by the far building and a… woodshed over on the right—
A storm lamp lit the open-sided woodshed. Dogs were barking inside the shed. A man’s voice cut through the dogs’ noise. A thumping sound followed. Mercy strained to see what was happening but her line of sight was blocked by the near building. She glanced across the compound, the lone guard had completed his circuit on the far side. He was beside the front gates.
Just enough time—
Mercy dropped down from her vantage point and ran around the corner of the compound to midway along the wall to where she estimated the woodshed was. She took her time and carefully climbed up the stone foundation to the wooden and corrugated iron palisade. She paused.
Should be OK—
She stepped up onto a horizontal section of corrugated iron and pulled herself up. She peered over the top of the palisade and looked down onto the rear of the compound. The open sided woodshed was clearly visible on the right. Mercy’s eyes widened.
Jesus… that’s Barnes and Dimitri—
Barnes and Dimitri were hanging upside down from a crossbeam inside the woodshed. Both men were naked, their battered bodies were covered in blood and bruises. Two fierce looking Dobermans were chained to an upright post and a burly looking man with rolled up shirt sleeves was pacing around Barnes and Dimitri. Mercy flinched and her lip curled.
He’s got a whip, he’s been flogging them. What is it with these bastards and whips?
Mercy closed her eyes and shuddered. A wave of nausea gripped her.
What did that Kindred bastard, Brother Bastion, say? I’m gonna put bullets on your grave. Breathe, let it go, it’s in the past. He’s in the past. He’s gone. One, two, three—
Mercy opened her eyes and watched as the torturer put his whip down and lit a cigar. Blood dripped from Barnes’s hands onto the ground. The militia man turned sideways, his face catching the light from the storm lamp. His skin glistened in the lamp’s glow. Mercy’s jaw clenched.
He’s sweating from the exertion. Fuck him. This changes things, this changes everything—
Movement. Mercy’s eyes snapped over to the palisade walkway.
Shit, the guard’s coming back, get out of sight—
Mercy ducked down and dropped to the ground. She slunk back to the bushes and crouched low. Her mind spun with what she had seen.
Torture. Fucking torture… they want to find out who was behind the operation at the prison today. Barnes will hold out, he’s got the training. Dimitri on the other hand… who knows? A fucking whip? Anyone would cave under that. No… I can’t afford to waste time with a diversion up at the bridge defences. I need to do something here, now, before they kill Barnes or Dimitri. But there’s only me, dammit—
Mercy checked her watch; 11:07 pm.
OK, OK, dial it back. Think it through… let the militia settle down for the night in their safe compound on their safe island. Hopefully they’re lulled into a false sense of security. In a while most of them will be asleep, leave it until then… then I can make my move. If I can neutralize the guard, climb in over the wall and free Barnes and Dimitri. Shit, there’s the dogs, but dogs bark all the time… I’ve got my silenced pistol and they’re chained to that post, so I can take them out. Shit, there’s too many variables in there. A lot of shit could hit the fan… but I’ve got no choice. Call Brody, give him a sitrep but just enough, don’t mention Barnes or Dimitri. Keep Brody at arm’s length otherwise he’ll charge in and lose his men for nothing—
Mercy withdrew from the compound and radioed Brody, telling him about the compound but omitting the details on Barnes and Dimitri. “Am continuing surveillance, will give you update in a couple of hours—”
Brody’s voice crackled down the line, “Understood Dawes, be safe. Brody out—”
A couple of hours? A lot can happen in a couple of hours—
Mercy waited for half an hour. She timed the guard and returned to the wall when he had passed her chosen spot. She clambered up and peered over the palisade again, memorising the compound layout.
Porch in front of the far building, two windows, wood smoke… so a stove. The other building’s dark, no windows, no light, its doors are bolted. That’ll be the prisoner block—
The front door of the main building opened and three men appeared, two were carrying a large steaming pot. The third man held a shotgun and a set of keys. The smell of hot food carried across the compound, the dogs in the woodshed started howling. Mercy lowered her head and watched as the men walked across the compound to the unlit building. They stopped in front of the door and unlocked its sliding bolts. Shotgun man entered first, switching on a torch to light the way. The men with the steaming pot followed.
They’re feeding the prisoners. OK, so this must be the night time routine. There’s still too much activity. Give them more time to settle down—
Mercy dropped down from the wall and returned to the trees. She waited another half an hour, again timing the guard manning the palisade. The wind rustled the leaves above, water lapped on the nearby shore.
Maybe now—?
She tensed, preparing to move in again.
A man’s voice carried on the wind, “I’ve had enough of this shit. We’ll get back to it in the morning. Fucking losers—”
Silence, followed a minute later by a slamming door.
OK, go—
Mercy returned to the wall, she crouched in the shadows below. She listened, waiting until the guard on the palisade above had passed. She climbed up, positioning herself on the same piece of corrugated iron as before.
