The Survival Chronicles (Book 7): Hard Mercy

steel staircase.
We sound like an army of robots—
Mercy frowned.
Not an army of alphas—
A few minutes later the staircase ended, delivering them into a long concrete tunnel. A shaft of daylight was visible in the distance.
That’s what I’m talking about—
Mercy’s pace quickened. She neared the end of the tunnel and looked out into a green space. Weeds and long grass rustled in the mid-morning light. Birdsong filled the air, somewhere the sound of an engine hummed. A dog barked in the distance. Mercy took a step backwards and swore.
Fuck, another camera—
“What is it?” Rose whispered.
Mercy pointed at the pole-mounted camera twenty feet away. “It’s got a direct line of sight on this tunnel entrance. If we go out there it’ll see us. We’re OK in here but outside… we’re toast—”
Goddammit—
Barnes edged close to the tunnel entrance and peered out, “That’s the National Mall out there, for sure. We’re in, we’re inside. What do you wanna do? Wait until dark? Go in now? I can knock that camera out with my rifle—”
Mercy lifted a hand, “No wait, let’s think it through. If you shoot the camera there’ll be a noise, even though your gun is silenced. Someone could hear the shot. I heard a dog a second ago. Let’s just take a moment, consider our options—”
Mercy sat down and stared out at a patch of blue sky. Rose paced up and down, a frown on her face.
“Yeah, we can’t just waltz out there in broad daylight. We need to wait until dark, then we can knock out that camera, then we can infiltrate—” Barnes said, he set his rifle against the wall and sat down opposite Mercy.
“I’m with you on waiting until dark,” Mercy said. She held a hand up, “I don’t think we should shoot the camera though.” She looked around, “There’s lots of mud in here, could we throw some mud at it? Blind it? Much quieter, less risk—”
Barnes pulled a face and looked out at the camera, “It’s about twenty feet away. That’s a long throw, it’d be better with a slingshot or a hunting catapult—”
“Which we don’t have,” Mercy sighed.
A scraping sound came from further back in the tunnel. Mercy turned to see Rose on tiptoes, her hands in amongst the electrical conduits running the length of the tunnel. Rose gave another tug. She held up a fistful of cordage.
“Bungee cords, they’ve used bungee cords to support these power cables. Bungee cords will work as a slingshot. Say thank you Rose—” Rose beamed, revealing her yellowed teeth.
Right now Rose you look like a clown, but you’re beautiful—
Mercy tilted her head and smiled, “Thank you Rose, thank you fabulous Rose—”

Chapter 7
Knockout
The day was long, they rested and finished the last of their food and water. Rose made a catapult from the bungee cord and a T bracket she found in the tunnel. She fashioned the catapult cup from a section of plastic hosing.
We’re ready—
A fly buzzed beside Mercy’s ear. She stirred and checked her watch; 10:37 pm.
Nice and late—
Outside, the lights in the National Mall had gone out.
Good… even the mighty NSA need to ration their power. Good news for us—
“So, you wanna do the honors?” Mercy asked Rose.
“Yeah, I’ll give it a shot, literally,” Rose grinned. “I’ve been practising all afternoon with this bloody thing, so we should be sweet… sweet as—”
“Yeah, and the camera is only about twenty feet away so… no pressure,” Mercy walked towards the tunnel entrance.
“Yeah, no pressure,” Barnes echoed.
“Yeah, no sweat,” Mercy added.
“Enough already,” Rose said. She picked up a mud ball from the pile she had made earlier in the day.
Mercy whispered, “You’ve got this Rose… nothing can possibly go wrong.”
Rose squared her shoulders and adjusted her stance. She stretched her neck and brought the catapult up, aiming at the camera. “The trouble with you Dawes, is you always gotta have the last word—”
“Truth—” Mercy said, her voice barely a whisper.
Rose closed one eye and pulled back the bungee cord with the mud missile in its plastic cup. She breathed out and steadied the catapult hand. She released the bungee cord. The mud ball flew true and struck the top of the camera, covering half the lens.
“Awesome shot Rose, now repeat that for the rest of it,” Mercy urged.
A dull rumble filled the air. A flash of lightning lit up the sky. A few drops of rain struck the ground outside.
“Quick Rose, do it again before the rain washes it away—” Barnes edged forwards, his voice tense.
Rose swore and grabbed another mud ball. She aimed and let her missile fly. It struck the camera housing, splattering the rest of the lens.
“That’s the money shot. Go, go, go—” Mercy said. She hefted her M16, ran out of the tunnel and past the camera, into the open space beyond. Her eyes darted left and right.
It’s wasteland. No electric light. Good—
Rose and Barnes ran up behind her. Lightning flashed overhead, briefly illuminating the surroundings with intense light. Mercy blinked in shock, the National Mall stretched out in front of her. The Washington Monument stood bleached and stark against the bruised sky. A gust of wind whipped Mercy’s hair, she turned and looked east to the Capitol Building. Another flash of lightning lit up the sky. Mercy gasped. The great dome was in ruins and much of the west front was fire-damaged.
Oh my god—
“So much for the New American Dominion,” Rose said. “Look at what they’ve done, the bastards.”
“Keep people in the dark, feed them shit and they’ll believe you—” Barnes said. “All empires crash eventually, this virus called time on the old world—”
“Come on, we need to call time on President Mitchell,” Mercy said, pointing towards the buildings on the southern side of the National Mall. “The Smithsonian is up there somewhere—”
“There’s a whole bunch of museums along here. How do we know which one he’s in?” Rose asked.
“Easy, it’ll be the one with the most activity. There’ll be lights, vehicles, guards and shit. Come on let’s go—” Mercy