Mercy (The Last Army Book 1) (22 page)

“The town’s just a few miles west of here. It’s called… it’s called New Jerusalem.”

I shuddered as if an ice cube were sliding down my back.

“You’re not lying again, are you?” I tossed the sword aside and pulled the revolver out of my pocket. “Because if you are…” I cocked the hammer. The raider flinched at the metallic click.

“Please, I’m telling you the truth, I swear!” he stuttered.

“Tell me who gave the order. Who told you to deliver supplies to New Jerusalem? Answer me, dammit, or I’ll blow your brains out!” I screamed. My hand trembled. This time I wasn’t bluffing.

“I don’t know!” he screamed, furiously shaking his head. “I don’t know who’s in charge; I don’t know shit! No one’s even seen him! I’ve heard he sends instructions from somewhere else by radio, but no one knows for sure. It could be the devil himself for all I know.” The raider wept again. “Oh God… please don’t kill me…”

“I’m the one with the gun here, not God,” I whispered and hooked my finger around the trigger.

“Rebecca!” Martin shouted from behind me. He inched forward, showing me his palms. “Don’t do it, Rebecca. This isn’t you. Come on. We’ve got to take that girl to a hospital.”

I bit my lip at his mention of the wounded girl. We had to save her.

I grabbed the raider’s arm again and yanked him to his feet. I tore a strip of fabric off his tank top and tied it around his eyes.

“Now, walk!” I stabbed his back with the revolver’s muzzle. The raider staggered away, weeping and mumbling his pleas for mercy.

I knew we couldn’t take him with us to New Jerusalem after what he'd said about the plundered supplies, and I’d lost the nerve to execute him. I recalled a similar dilemma when watching
Saving Private Ryan
with my dad. I'd decided to go with the heroes’ solution… even though I recalled it didn’t work out so well for them in the end.

***

The sword’s blade curved gracefully. I ran my fingers over the intricate wave pattern imprinted on the gleaming steel, and caressed the Japanese flowers engraved on the blade, near the hilt. The samurai sword seemed to be legit, not some Chinese replica. The red silk straps tightly wrapped around the handle felt smooth and worn, as if by decades of use.

“Are you all right?” Martin asked as he drove the truck toward New Jerusalem. Air rushed through the gap left by the missing windshield, making him squint. “You’ve been staring at that thing for a while now.”

I sheathed the sword in its scabbard and laid it next to my new rifle. Admiring the sword helped to take my thoughts off the girl bleeding to death in the back, the raider’s confession, the four corpses we'd left behind, the sticky blood clinging to the truck’s vinyl seat, and of what would happen to me once we got to New Jerusalem.

“Sorry. You must think I’m a psychopath or something.” I looked away.

Martin laughed. “I was worried for a minute back there.” He glanced at the raider’s black revolver that sat on the dashboard. I didn’t reply but focused on the trees speeding by.

Martin pursed his lips and frowned. “Listen, Rebecca… I’ve known a few psychopaths in my line of work, and you’re no psychopath, okay? Trust me. Killing people isn’t like killing deer. It’s never easy. It shouldn’t be easy. It’s only normal to feel guilty about it. If you ever feel like talking about what happened back there, well… I’m always here for you.”

I stared at Martin for a few seconds. Tears welled in my eyes. I hadn’t told him about the raider’s confession, which troubled me more than anything. I did feel some guilt over killing the other raiders, but it was nothing compared to what I'd felt when Tommy died. I couldn’t tell whether it was because they were raiders or because I just had a finite amount of grief, which had to be shared between every kill to my name—each successive one weighing less and less on my conscience.

Martin met my stare, and a gentle smile spread across his face. I responded in kind. The wind ruffling his short black hair gave him a savage look that weakened my legs. Before I realized it, I'd slid across the long vinyl seat toward him. He eased off the gas and drew his face closer to mine until our breath mingled in the narrow gap between our lips. I bridged it with a decided thrust, closing my eyes. Our lips brushed for just a second, sending an electric jolt throughout my body that left my toes tingling. Martin turned his face back to the road, his breathing unsteady.

“I’m sorry, I—”

“No, it was my fault,” Martin said, gripping the steering wheel with white-knuckled hands.

I pulled away from him. Martin glanced at me and smiled, but his rigid posture made his discomfort obvious. I didn’t regret our kiss, though… It wasn't as if I'd forced myself on him. Of course, if he'd doubted my sanity before, now he probably thought that murder got me hot or something.

***

Martin stopped the truck a quarter mile from New Jerusalem.

“You should get out here.” He looked at me with a furrowed brow. “If someone recognizes you, there might be trouble. I’ll take that girl to the hospital and pick you up once we’re done.”

“No, I want to go. I need to talk to Karla and let her know I’m okay.”
As well as look into that raider’s claims about the supplies.
“I’m sure that after last night’s attack, I’ll be the last thing on their minds.”

“All right, suit yourself.” He drove ahead.

Five guards watched the eastern road into town. I faced away from the windows, staring at the stinking puddle of drying blood at my feet, and prayed that none of the guards would recognize me. The truck stopped with a screech. One of the guards headed toward us, his footfalls sounding closer and closer. I trembled along with the idling engine.

“Where do you—wait a minute—Rebecca?”

That went well…

I turned to look at the guard. It took me a second to recognize Mark. His black polo shirt and tired eyes gave him a strange, somber look.

He brushed back his chestnut hair as his gaze went from me to the bloodstained cabin.

“Jesus Christ,” he whispered.

Martin’s hand crept to the black revolver lying on the dashboard.

I leaned over Martin. “Listen, Mark, we’ve got a seriously injured girl in the back. Couldn’t you just let us through?” Mark opened his mouth to speak but strode to the back of the truck and checked the cargo box instead.

“What happened?” he said after sprinting back, his face pale.

“Raider attack. I’m afraid it’s a long story, and that girl doesn’t have much time left,” Martin said.

“Yeah, I can see that. You can go in. I’ll have to let Pastor Tim know you’re here, though.” Mark stared at me.

“Come on, Mark. We’re not looking for trouble,” I said, my chest tightening.

“The pastor’s in charge of the security volunteers now. I had my doubts, but the man did a good job last night. We’re under explicit orders to let him know if you show up. Sorry.”

“Crap… okay, I understand.” I swallowed the lump in my throat. “By the way, I’m… I’m sorry for what happened. For Tommy.” Mark tried to smile, but couldn’t.

“It’s all right. I know it wasn’t your fault. Danny’s dead by the way, so… you don’t have to worry about him anymore.” A tear rolled down his cheek. I leaned out of the window.

“What? But how—”

“We really should be going,” Martin said, grabbing my shoulder and pulling me back inside. The truck rumbled forward, shrouding Mark in a grey haze as he wiped his eyes.

***

Martin parked the truck in front of the hospital, and we helped Esha climb out. Her body felt limp, and her skin had turned ashen, but she remained conscious. We walked her inside, followed by the other two girls.

I looked around for Karla and was surprised at the hospital’s eerie calm. I expected the place to be swamped by soldiers and militia injured during the demonic attack, but most of the patients lying on their improvised beds looked ill, not wounded. I figured the army must’ve set up a hospital closer to their security perimeter, since only Dr. Johnson and a handful of medical volunteers remained at New Jerusalem’s hospital.

I spotted Karla taking a bedridden boy’s temperature and called out to her. She rushed to meet us, cloaked in the smell of lemon disinfectant and a hint of urine. Her caramel skin turned almost as pale as the wounded girl’s.

“Becca! Are you okay?” She inspected the improvised bandage over Esha’s bloodied white blouse. “Oh God. What happened?”

“She’s been shot, but the bullet missed any nerves or arteries,” Martin said.

Karla looked at him, her face lighting up with recognition. She sucked in her lips and looked at me. A hint of blush colored her cheeks.

“Right. Well, for now, just sit her over there, and I’ll go get a doctor,” Karla said, pointing to an empty bed.

We eased the wounded girl onto the thin mattress. The two younger girls sat beside her, cheering her up. Dr. Johnson showed up a few seconds later, with Karla in tow, to examine her wound. I took her hand and dragged her to a solitary corner of the hospital while Martin and the doctor focused their attention on the Indian girls.

“I see you’ve been in good company.” Karla stared at Martin with a raised eyebrow. “Did you run into each other at one of the settlements to the east?”

“Yeah… sort of. Anyway, I’m glad to see you’re doing fine, Lala.” I tugged on her arm to get her attention away from Martin. “Brother Tim hasn’t gone after you since I ran away, right?”

“No, he’s got better things to do now that he’s pretty much in charge of the town.” She took another glance at Martin. “You know, Becca… we’ve had a few cases of…” She caressed an imaginary bump on her belly. “So don’t think that just because the world’s ending, nature won’t take its—”

“I’m not sleeping with him, Lala.” My cheeks flushed as I recalled our kiss.

Karla looked at her feet. After a second, she patted the back of her black hair and chuckled. “Sorry. It’s just that I know you really like him, and, well, be safe. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Oh, I’m being safe, trust me.” I tapped on my holstered gun. Karla’s face soured, but she closed her eyes and took a deep breath instead of commenting on it.

“Never mind that, though,” I whispered, stepping closer to her. “I wanted to ask if you knew anything of where the town gets its supplies from. Food, ammo, medicine…” I waved my hand around the room. “Know anything about that?”

Karla sighed. “You’re not thinking of joining the scavenging force again, are you?”

“Of course not. Don’t be silly.”

Karla crossed her arms over her chest. “Then why are you asking?”

“Can’t you just trust me on this?”

Karla tilted her head to the side, arching her eyebrows.

Paranoid bitch.

“Okay, fine.” I combed my hair back with my hand as if brushing off the bitter thoughts gathering in my head. “The truth is that I’m planning to do something really stupid that’ll probably get me killed, okay? But if you tell me what you know about the town’s supplies, then maybe—just maybe—I’ll be able to pull it off.”

Karla leaned against the wall, shaking her head. Her pouting lips slowly curled into a smile. “It’s really sad, but I can actually believe that. Okay… supplies aren't really my area, but as far as I know, the scavengers bring in some of them, and the rest we make up by trading with nearby settlements.”

“Trade? And what do you guys trade with—prayers?” The only thing that New Jerusalem seemed to have in surplus was its supply of refugees.

“No, Becca.” Karla rolled her eyes. “Some settlements bring their ill people here in exchange for supplies, or the engineers and technicians around town help them repair any equipment fried during the blackout. The big one would be protection, though.”

“Protection? What, like the mob?”

Karla chuckled, shaking her head. “No. We send a few security volunteers to isolated settlements to help defend them. Actually, that’s how we get most of our food nowadays. The farmers to the east are pretty vulnerable to raids, so they’ve been sharing their crops in exchange for security once they started being attacked.”

“I see. Thanks.” I chewed my lip. If the raiders really were supplying New Jerusalem, then they must’ve been working with the security volunteers—now under Brother Tim’s leadership.

“You’re welcome.” Karla grabbed my hand. “But please don’t do anything stupid, okay? I’ll ask around, see if I can find out more, so—”

The gym’s metallic doors swung open with a bang. Karla screamed and pressed herself against the wall. I covered her with my body, half expecting to see Danny and his buddies at the entrance.

A pair of New Jerusalem’s guards stomped inside, carrying assault rifles. They scanned the room until their eyes landed on me. “There she is.”

The guards marched toward me, the stomping of their boots loud on the hardwood flooring. I recognized their fresh, cocky faces from the outlet mall. Amy strolled behind them, soothing the startled patients with a saintly smile and a wave of her dainty hands.

“What’s the problem?” Martin asked, rushing to meet the guards.

Amy stepped in between them. Despite looking frail in her sleeveless white blouse and tight grey pants, she eyed Martin’s towering figure with sneering contempt as though he were a mangy dog. “I don’t think I know you, sir.” She placed a sharp grin on her face. “Please step aside.”

One of the guards took a step forward. Martin’s hands rolled into fists, but Dr. Johnson pulled him out of the way.

Martin looked at me as Amy and the guards strolled past him. I nodded, patting the air by my waist. Amy glanced back at Martin, and her lips twitched into a smirk before assuming a neutral, almost bored, expression. She finally stood before me—no hugging and squealing with joy this time. Her spicy vanilla fragrance accentuated the stench of sweat and blood clinging to me.

“So… you’re back,” Amy said, hands on her hips. The guards stood a few feet behind her, whispering and taking occasional snide glances at Martin and me.

“Not really.” I stood up straight to make the most of the couple of inches I had on her. “Just dropping off a gunshot victim we found a few miles away from here.”

“How noble of you.” The smirk returned to her face. “By the way, I see you’ve made a new friend.”

“He’s our friend, actually,” Karla said, stepping beside me. “That man saved our lives back at the city.”

Amy squinted her eyes at Karla, dropping her smirk. “Really? Well, he does look rather… capable.” She looked into my eyes.

“What do you want, Amy?” I tried to remain cool despite my erratic heartbeat. “Let me guess—Brother Tim wants to see me? Alone?” I grinned and winked at her.

Amy laughed, flipping her long blonde hair back. My throat tightened. That wasn’t the reaction I'd expected.

“I’ve always loved your sense of humor, Rebecca.” She clasped her bony fingers over my shoulder. “Actually, Pastor Tim’s too busy to see you right now. Apparently, they’ve captured some sort of criminal, and he’s got to oversee his questioning. Pastor Tim’s the head of the security forces now, you know?”

“So I’ve heard,” I said, prying her hand off me.

“Amy, I’m sorry, but you’re starting to bother the patients.” Karla nodded toward the ring of bedridden people craning their necks to look at us.

“Oh, forgive me. I’ll get to the point, then.” Amy turned back to face me. “Despite your rather crass jokes, Pastor Tim actually does cares about you, Rebecca. He’s worried about you roughing it out there, and he’d like to ask you to come back to us.”

I sighed.

Back to the harem, you mean…

“Obviously, his offer to help him on his pastoral duties didn’t tempt you,” Amy said, glancing at my necklace, “so now, given his expanded role in town, he’d like for you to join our security forces instead.”

“She’s not interested,” Karla said, frowning at me as if it’d been my idea.

“Hang on,” I said, patting Karla’s arm. “Does Brother Tim want me back on the scavenger team?” I struggled not to smile as Karla huffed beside me. The opportunity to investigate the raider issue—and any connection it had with Brother Tim—could’ve just fallen into my lap.

“Of course not.” Amy chuckled. “That assignment’s much too risky. He was thinking more along the lines of watching over important buildings here in town. You’ll receive a weapon, of course, as well as proper training.”

“Sorry, but Karla’s right. I’m not interested.” I stuck my hands in my pockets.

“Maybe this will help change your mind.” Amy walked to one of the guards. He handed her a brown paper bag. Judging by the way her hand bobbed as she took it, it contained something heavy. “I’ve been told you’ve had your eye on this for a while now.”

She stretched her hand to me, clutching the top of the bag. Karla looked at me with her eyebrows squeezed together, holding her breath. I rubbed my lips, looking from Amy’s grin to the brown paper bag. I took it.

The bag held a solid object, a bit under two kilograms in weight. I wrapped my hands around it, crumpling the bag around its contents.

“A gun?” I took a relieved breath and slipped my hand inside the bag. “Thanks Amy, but I’ve already got—” My blood turned as cold as the heavy piece of steel I was touching. It was Mr. Forcellati’s .50-caliber revolver. “This is… how?”

“I knew you’d like it,” Amy said, leaning toward me. “That man confessed to giving you the gun involved in the local boy’s death, so the town took his weapons cache. Pastor Tim thought you should have that one, though.”

“Pastor Tim?” The revolver felt so heavy in my hands I hunched down until I was eye to eye with Amy.

“Yes. He said the boys you went scavenging with heard you raving about that gun on your way to the next town.” Amy clutched my shoulder again, frowning. “You look so pale, Rebecca. Don’t worry—that man won’t be asking for it back.”

I dropped my arms to my sides. The revolver almost slipped through my sweat-slicked fingers.

“Mr. Forcellati’s…”

“In a better place, yes,” Amy said, nodding. “He and the men who threatened you and Karla the night you ran away all volunteered to help defend the town last night—as a way to atone for their sins, I guess. I only hope they truly accepted Jesus into their hearts before the end.”

I pressed the revolver to my stomach—which felt empty, as if my guts had spilled to the floor—and covered my mouth as a string of sobs rattled my chest. Tears streamed down my cheeks and over my numb fingers. Amy took a step toward me. I pulled away until my back hit the wall.

“Rebecca—”

“Get away from me! Get the hell away from me!” I screamed and whimpered as I crumpled down to the floor.

I’d killed Mr. Forcellati. He’d taken the blame for my stupidity and lies, and now he was dead.

Strides thumped across the floor toward us. One of the guards yelled as Martin shoved him aside, onto a trolley filled with medical supplies. They scattered across the floorboards with a metallic clatter. The other guard slammed the butt of his rifle on Martin’s stomach. He grunted and staggered backward, but not before grasping the guard’s rifle and swiping it out of his hands. The guard stumbled back and fell on his bottom as Martin trained the rifle on his face.

“No, stop!” I shouted, holding my hands outward. They trembled. My skin tingled as if ants were crawling over it. “Martin, it’s okay. Everything’s okay. I’m okay.” My voice trailed off in a fit of whimpering. I wiped my face as Karla—crying and panting with shock—helped me up from the floor.

Martin lowered the rifle as the other guard pressed the muzzle of his gun against his ribs.

“Amy, I’m sorry, but I can’t join you. And I can’t accept this.” I handed her the revolver. “Please, just let us go; we won’t come back, I swear.” The other guard got up and yanked his rifle out of Martin’s hands.

Amy’s lips trembled, her eyes glistening with tears. She shook her head.

“All I wanted… all I wanted was for us to be friends, you know?” She cried in earnest. “Oh God… I’ve always hated you so, so much.” She rubbed her eyes, her hands shaking, and took a few deep breaths. Amy turned to the guards. “Please, don’t. Everything’s fine. You can back off.”

The guards stepped away, but their rifles remained fixed on Martin.

Amy staggered to me and threw her arms around my neck, smearing her tear-stained cheek against mine. “I’m sorry for hating you. It’s just that every single guy I’ve ever liked always had to look at you with those puppy-dog eyes, and I—”

“Amy, what the hell are you talking about?” I whispered, my arms hanging by my sides. She wept over my shoulder and tightened her arms around me. Obviously, she found her confession deeply cathartic, but all I could think of was Mr. Forcellati’s revolver in my hand, as well as the two guards itching to gun Martin down in front of me.

“It’s just that… I try, you know? To be a good Christian?” She pulled back and looked into my eyes. “But nothing ever goes the way it’s supposed to with you. I mean, I thought you’d be happy to get that gun, I really did.” She sniffed and gave me a fragile, tight-lipped smile.

“I believe you, Amy. Really, I do, okay? For what it’s worth… I’ve always hated you too.” I smiled back at her.

“You’re both pretty easy to hate, you crazy bitches,” Karla said, her hands on our shoulders. Then she went to pick up the scattered supplies. Amy and I chuckled.

“Listen, Rebecca… Pastor Tim doesn’t want you back with us for some creepy scheme,” Amy said, holding my hands. “God has something bad in store for those who don’t believe in Him, and we don’t want you to get caught up in that.” She placed her hand over my chest, covering the silver cross in my necklace. “Please, just… come back, okay?”

I plucked her hand away, caressing it with the tip of my fingers. “I’m sorry, Amy. I guess I believe in Jesus, but… I don’t think it’s the same Jesus Pastor Tim believes in.”

I looked at Karla as she put the toppled trolley in order. I couldn’t believe that her dad—and my parents were victims of some divine plan to judge humanity.

Amy stepped back, sighing. “I’ll pray for you, Rebecca,” she said, placing a hand over her heart. “I’ll pray that you’ll see the light before it’s too late.”