The Survival Chronicles (Book 7): Hard Mercy

the wall in frustration. She felt a metal plate, her eyes narrowed. She peered at the words engraved on the sign: RUSH ELEMENTARY SCHOOL.
Hell yeah, I saw that somewhere on the map—
Mercy returned to the map, scrutinizing the streets and avenues. A few seconds later she breathed a sigh of relief.
Gotcha. D Street Southeast. So… Stadium-Armory Metro Station is just a klick and a half away. I’ll keep to D Street, head east and make it to 19th Street then head north. I’m back in the game—
Thirty minutes later Mercy reached the junction of D Street Southeast and 19th Street Southeast. Moonlight bathed the city in a stark monochrome. A huge concrete building blocked her view on the far side of the road. A large part of the building was fire-damaged. Some levels showed blast damage. A lone army truck sat in the middle of the junction, its tyres were flat and its loose canvas covering flapped in the breeze. Mercy checked her map and watched the road.
It’s the old jail. It looks deserted enough but there’s something not quite—
Mercy frowned, unease creeping through her bones. She retreated, back along D Street Southeast. She headed north up 18th Street Southeast and reached the intersection with Massachusetts Avenue. She stopped. Her skin crawled as she glanced back. Weeds and long grass rustled in the breeze, a distant crow called out, an old plastic bag rustled in an overgrown bush.
Something’s back there—
She waited, watching, her M16 in the low-ready position.
It’s not showing itself, whatever it is. Maybe it’s my imagination. Keep moving—
Mercy backed across the intersection, her eyes glued on the road behind. Without warning a large shape burst out of an apartment block garden and charged at her.
What the fuck—?
Mercy raised her M16 and fired a short burst. The wild boar squealed as three 5.56 mm rounds tore through its chest and two more rounds caught it in the rump. It collapsed to the tarmac in a quivering heap. Mercy held her ground, her eyes scanning the area for more of the beasts. Nothing came. The dying animal made a choking sound, shuddered, then was still. Mercy took a step forwards and stared at the boar. She pulled a face.
What the hell are you? Some kind of souped-up pig?
She leaned a little closer, examining the dead animal’s squat, powerful body.
It’s a pig alright, a damn hog, except—
Mercy squinted, tilting her head. She jerked back, a look of disgust on her face.
It’s got two snouts. A second mouth on the side of its head. Christ, it’s some kind of freak, a mutation—
Mercy stepped away from the dead animal, her eyes returning to the surrounding buildings.
Get away from here, it’s some reject NSA lab experiment. Move, someone could’ve heard my shots—
Mercy turned and ran north, up 18th Street, her eyes scanning the houses on either side of the road. The next two blocks passed in a moonlit blur. Mercy arrived breathless at the junction of 18th Street Southeast and A Street Southeast. She leant against a utility pole and listened to the night. An owl hooted somewhere nearby, otherwise the city was quiet. A drop of sweat ran down her nose and onto her top lip. She shivered in the chill night air and scanned the area. She waited for the rumble of an engine, the buzz of a drone or the metallic footsteps of a DARPA robot.
Nothing—
An urge to laugh… to scream, filled her. Rage surged through her veins.
Keep it in, keep the lid on. Don’t let the madness out. Not yet—
Mercy glanced up at the moon then stared at the silver world around her.
Flynn? I wonder if you can see the moon where you are. I hope you can. I will find you. I promise—
Mercy turned around and recognised the arched building at the end of the street.
DC Armory. I’ve found you—

Chapter 2
Blood and Iron
Mercy crept to within thirty yards of the Stadium-Armory Metro street entrance. She concealed herself in tangled undergrowth on a raised bank overlooking the station. She checked her watch; 3:47 am.
Come on guys. I’m here. Where are you? You need to be here. Come on, come on—
She lay shivering on the ground for the next two hours. A dreamless sleep finally claimed her just before dawn.
Wind chimes? Wind chimes in the breeze. Where’s it coming from?
Mercy reached out to the bright light, her body felt heavy.
Why can’t I move?
She tried to speak but her tongue would not respond. She was trapped in silence. The wind chimes grew louder. Her fingers touched the light and she woke up. Her eyelids fluttered, letting in shards of early morning light.
Stiffness. Disorientation. Confusion. Memory.
Mercy blinked, the real world came into sharp focus.
Hell, that was one rough night—
She wiped the corner of her mouth and rubbed her eyes. Her stomach ached with hunger, making her gasp.
Christ. I need something to eat—
Mercy took a drink from her water bottle.
That was one strange dream—
Movement interrupted her thoughts. A blur in the shadow under the station’s canopy. Mercy froze then reached for her M16. She looked through the scope and adjusted the focus.
Come on baby. Show yourself. Show your… self—
Ten seconds later a familiar profile filled the scope.
Rose. You made it—
Relief swept over Mercy, she lowered her head to the gun stock and took a deep breath. She looked up a moment later and saw more of Rose, standing just inside the shadow. She watched for a few more minutes and, satisfied Rose was in the clear, she called out. “Rose. It’s Mercy. You good? Everything OK?”
Rose turned in Mercy’s direction. “Mercy? Where are—?”
Mercy stood up and raised a hand. Rose stepped out from the canopy and ran towards Mercy. Mercy scrambled down the overgrown bank and met her friend half way. They embraced in the middle of the road.
“Mercy, I thought I’d lost you—” Rose blurted out. “We made it back to 11th Street. The place was crawling with NSA. The building was on fire.” Rose held Mercy