A heavily tattooed woman stood over Mercy with a baseball bat. She grinned, her gold teeth glinting in the flames from the burning house. The camper van’s door was open.
Shit, I forgot about the camper van—
The woman spat in Mercy’s face. “Been a busy little bitch, ain’t ya?” She hefted the baseball bat and kicked Mercy’s Glock away, “I’m gonna bust you wide open and feed your skinny ass to the dogs—”
Mercy coughed, flecks of blood coming to her lips. Searing pain ripped through her chest.
Busted ribs, thanks lady. But you ain’t got no dogs left—
The absurdity of the woman’s threat triggered something in Mercy, she started laughing in spite of the pain from her ribs.
The woman frowned and poked Mercy with the baseball bat. “What you laughing at you stupid bitch—?”
Mercy retched on the ground, she pulled a ragged breath into her bruised lungs. Something familiar stirred deep inside her, the pain receded and her mind cleared.
The biotech’s kicking in—
Mercy looked up at the woman, “Sorry lady, your dogs are dead. I wasted them—”
Where’s my gun? Dammit, I dropped it—
The woman screamed and raised the baseball bat high over her head. Mercy ducked, her eyes searching the ground for her pistol.
It’s not there. Do something, anything—
Mercy grabbed a handful of dirt and threw it at the woman’s face as the baseball bat hurtled towards her skull.
A burst of semi-automatic gunfire rang out nearby.
Take me—
Chapter 36
Wish
The woman dropped the baseball bat and sank to her knees, a surprised look on her face. Her eyes widened and she reached down to her chest. Her fingers came away covered in blood. She looked at Mercy, her mouth gaping. She tried to speak but instead red froth flecked her lips. She collapsed on top of Mercy, a death rattle in her throat.
More gunfire at the palisade. Movement beside Mercy. A fleeting glimpse of Barnes beside her. Gunfire over her and a scream. A warm glow inside, a sudden rush of energy. Strength returning to her limbs.
The biotech—
Mercy gasped and sat up, pushing the dead woman off her. She turned to see Barnes lowering his rifle, the caravan militia man was down and not moving.
Barnes went to Mercy, “Nice work Dawes. Inflict maximum chaos on the enemy, it usually works. The rest of the militia bastards at the bridge will have heard that explosion. They’ll see the fire and come running. What’s our exfil plan?”
Mercy pulled the radio from her belt and pressed the transmit button, “Brody, this is Mercy here, recommend strike now, repeat… recommend strike now. We have control of the compound but will need assistance as bridge guard likely on its way to our position, over—”
Mercy waited for an answer but was met with static. She looked at Barnes, concern on her face. She repeated her transmission and was again met with static. She threw the radio to the ground in disgust. “Bloody thing’s broken, must’ve damaged it when I fell—”
Dimitri hobbled over from the woodshed wearing a sheepskin coat. He carried the pistol Mercy had given him. “I nailed the other bastard on the wall, got us a couple of coats.” He handed a bloodied parka to Barnes.
Barnes grunted his thanks and pulled on the parka. He grimaced, in obvious pain. The flames consuming the guard house were burning fiercely, sending sparks high into the air.
“I need to check the front gate, the bridge militia could be here in minutes if they’re on horseback,” Mercy said, standing up. “You guys go over to the prisoners’ block, see if you can free them.” Her legs wobbled as she stepped past Barnes. She took a deep breath and her head cleared a little. She walked over to the front gate and spotted its two padlocked bolts.
Slug rounds would take those out easy. We’d best make sure they don’t get close enough to blast the locks off—
Mercy turned to shout to Barnes. She stopped, staring at the narrow gap between the guard house and the compound wall. Three armed militia men were in the gap with a fourth emerging from an open window at the rear of the building. The lead man looked up and saw Mercy, their eyes locked.
Mercy reached down to her webbing, her fingers closed around her last grenade. The man brought up his rifle. Mercy pulled the pin, the man squeezed his trigger. The rifle’s muzzle flashed as she threw the grenade into the group of men. Rounds whizzed past her on the left as she flung herself right.
Oh—
Her body hit the ground forcing the breath from her lungs.
Two, three—
The grenade exploded in the confined space between the house and the wall. Mercy rolled, knocking into a charred militia corpse in front of the porch steps. Her eyes focused on the body, she saw the Colt Python .357 Magnum in its hand and pried it free. A single scream came from the side of the house and a man wielding a machete staggered out, his clothes and hair smoking. Mercy took aim and fired the Colt Python, her round going wild.
Shit. Barnes, Dimitri some backup about now would be good—
Mercy glanced around. Barnes was over on the other side of the compound beside the prisoners’ block.
Sonofabitch, they’re too far away—
Mercy swung back to face her attacker, the man was three feet away, the machete raised above his head.
Mercy pointed the revolver at his chest and fired twice. The man’s body jerked as the magnum rounds ripped through his body, bursting his guts and shattering his spine. He sank to the ground and swayed on his knees, the machete slipped from his bloody fingers. Mercy used her feet to push herself away.
Fuck. This. Shit. No more. No fucking more—
Mercy sat up, her
