Mercy took the three grenades and looked around. Dimitri was walking over from the prisoners’ hut. Mercy pressed the grenades into Dimitri’s hands, “Take these, give them to Barnes, up there,” she indicated the palisade above. Dimitri nodded, a vacant look in his eyes.
He’s in shock, Christ, that just leaves me and Barnes—
Mercy clutched the dead officer’s CZ P-10 C pistol and looked at the scene of devastation behind her. The guard house was still burning, the heat intense on her skin. The bodies of the militia garrison lay scattered in the open. Cinders floated up into the night, glowing like golden fireflies. More prisoners were emerging from the prison block, looking frightened and dazed.
No time to hide the bodies, no time to prepare the prisoners, no time—
Mercy turned to the gates. The old woman was still clinging to the bars.
Christ—
Mercy stepped forwards, “Lady, please, you’ve got to go, go and hide—”
The woman turned towards Mercy, tears staining her face, “I’ve got to get to my son, he’s out there in the fields. They beat him and left him there… he’ll be cold, he’ll be cold and hungry. I’ve got to get to him—”
She’s lost it—
Mercy frowned and squeezed the lady’s shoulder, “It’ll be OK lady, it’ll be OK… we’ll get your son, just go over there and join the others. It’s not safe right now—”
The woman ignored Mercy and turned back to the gates, her hands gripping the bars, her knuckles white.
The sound of approaching riders grabbed Mercy’s attention. She withdrew to the side of the gates, hiding from view. Horses’ hooves thundered on the compacted earth in front of the compound. Militia head torches shone into the compound, the low murmur of men’s voices came from outside.
The Jersey barriers will keep them twenty feet from the gate, they’ll need to come through one at a time—
Mercy closed her eyes and waited. A cold breeze swept across the compound from the lake shore, bringing with it the scent of sweet honeysuckle.
Beautiful—
Mercy closed her eyes and listened to the sound of boots on gravel outside the gates.
A voice came out of the darkness, “OK folks, you’ve had your fun. Open up and let us in. There’s no way you can escape this island and you know it. Open the gates and we’ll talk—”
A muffled laugh came from somewhere beyond the barriers. The sound of a shotgun round being chambered was clearly audible. The elderly woman at the gates whimpered and mumbled something about her son in the field.
He’s dead lady, but your broken mind doesn’t know that. Come on Brody… where are you? Shit, there’s been no gunfire from the bridge, maybe there’s some delay? Maybe… no, they’ll want to do it stealthy. It’s likely these guys left a skeleton crew at the bridge; two or three men with the machine gun. No, Brody will be doing it right, slow and stealthy—
Mercy looked up at Barnes, he was ready with his assault rifle and the grenades. Dimitri was crouched at his side, gripping his handgun, a blank look on his face.
Christ, Dimitri looks as if he’s seen a ghost—
“OK, if you want to play it the hard way. We’ll bust open the gates ourselves, we’ve got an RPG here. We’ll just toast your sorry asses. Hitch, bring it up—” the man’s voice called out.
Mercy looked up at Barnes who was peering over the palisade. He looked down at her and held up one finger mouthing the letters: R-P-G.
OK, so no bluff there. Here goes—
Mercy hid her pistol under her belt in the small of her back and stepped out from cover, “Wait a minute mister. No need for that… we’re just getting the keys. We’ll have the gate open in a moment, just hold on—”
A second man had joined the first and was unslinging a rocket propelled grenade launcher from his shoulder. The first man took the RPG and turned back to face Mercy.
“Ah, there you are. OK bitch, open the gate right now or this baby fucking will,” he patted the RPG.
“Yes, yes, the keys are coming, I swear—” Mercy turned around, waving to a non-existent companion.
The lead militia man knelt down and lifted the RPG to his shoulder, taking aim at the gate, “I’m bored with this shit. You’ve got five seconds. Five, four, three—”
Mercy grabbed the old lady who was still clinging to the bars. She pushed the woman over a pile of tyres to one side of the gate and rolled in after her. A cry went up from outside followed by an explosion. The gate collapsed inwards, heat and light enveloped the compound. Shrapnel flew in all directions. An assault rifle opened up from the palisade. Mercy covered the woman with her body, she felt a jolt of pain in her shoulder.
Oh—
Mercy pressed her face into the dirt and groaned. Another smaller explosion followed the RPG strike, then small arms fire erupted. Mercy clung on to the old woman, pinning her to the ground.
“It’s going to be alright, it’s going to be alright, it’s going to be alright,” Mercy repeated into the lady’s ear.
Mercy lay shivering beside the old woman until the gunfire stopped. The pain in her shoulder had lessened to a dull ache.
This was all a dream, everything… all this shit. Wasn’t it? I’m going to wake up now back in New York, back in the orphanage. Any moment now. Yes, it’s all a bad dream, all of it… It has to be—
Mercy blinked. The compound was still there with the burning guard house and the smell of death heavy in the air.
“Except it isn’t a dream,” Mercy whispered to herself. She cradled her injured arm and sat up, staring out across the scene of devastation. The RPG round had blown the gates apart. Barnes was slumped against the palisade on the walkway. Dimitri was climbing down the ladder, his head hung low. Mercy pushed against the wall, forcing herself up. Her vision went blurry and she staggered against
