Mercy

Chapter 70

Pine and Mercy were jolted from sleep by the drumming of boots on wood. They sat up on their bunks as the half-dozen large men filed into the room. Four of them were armed with shotguns. The other two held restraints designed to transport prisoners.

Buckley was not with this group.

Pine searched the men’s faces. They were all hard, featureless, soulless. They were here to do a job — a well-paid job, no doubt — and they were going to do it. Morals, issues of right and wrong, were never going to be entertained by such people.

“On your feet,” said one man. He was the smallest among them, at six one, but he also looked the sharpest.

“Where are we going?” asked Pine. “And where’s Carol?”

“We’re taking you to her. Now, on your feet!”

The door was opened and both women’s ankles and wrists were manacled with the chains, which were then interconnected around their waists, forcing them to do the prison shuffle as they left their cell.

One man nudged Pine in the back with his shotgun. “Now you know how it feels to perp-walk, FBI.”

They were led outside, where it was cold and dark with a raw wind blowing in from the west. Pine shivered and felt sprinkles of rain land on her head.

As they were marched across the dirt she could see other buildings, the guard tower, and a row of vehicles. This clearly was a compound of some kind, stuck in the middle of nowhere. Could the well-dressed and well-spoken man who was doing all this really be some sort of cult leader, like a David Koresh? Or was he the head of some criminal organization? The men surrounding them looked far more like hardened criminals than potential Kool-Aid drinkers. If so, that did not bode well for Pine, Mercy, and Blum.

They were led into a large building that looked like a barn, and there they were separated. Before that happened, Pine had a glimpse of something large in the middle of the space. She couldn’t see what it was, because it was draped with a huge tarp.

She was led into a small room by two of the armed men. Hanging on wall pegs were articles of clothing.

One man took off her chains while the other kept a shotgun pointed at Pine.

The man stepped back, coiling the chains around his arm. He said, “Take your clothes off in that little stall over there and put those on.” He indicated the things hanging on the pegs.

“Why?”

The other man waggled the shotgun. “Just put them on. We’ll be waiting right here. You got two minutes before we come in there, so hustle it up. And no shoes or socks. Leave those behind.”

Pine grabbed the items and marched into the stall. She stripped down to her underwear and then looked at the articles of clothing.

What the hell?

She slipped on the Lycra shorts, a chest protector, and the sports top.

She stepped out of the stall and looked at the men.

“What is going on?”

They just motioned her to the doorway they had come through.

They returned to the main area, where Pine saw Mercy come out of another area of the building wearing clothes nearly identical to her own. Her twin stared back at her, obviously as confused as she was.

They were led over to the tarp.

And that was when Buckley appeared. He was dressed in khaki pants, a tan sports coat with a yellow crew neck sweater underneath, and sturdy brown boots.

Pine glared at him. “What in the hell is all this about?”

In answer, Buckley motioned to a man standing in a far corner, his hand on a metal lever connected to a machine with a flywheel and a chain. The man pulled on the lever, and the space was filled with the whine of engaged hydraulics.

They all watched as the tarp, attached to a chain at its pinnacle, was slowly lifted. Revealed underneath was something very familiar to Mercy.

A UFC cage. She glanced over at her sister, her mouth agape.

The tarp was swung away from over the cage and deposited on the ground.

Pine looked at Buckley. “That doesn’t answer my question.” “This will,” said Buckley. He motioned to another man. He disappeared from sight, but came back about ten seconds later, leading a blindfolded and gagged Carol Blum.

“Carol!” exclaimed Pine. She tried to reach her, but a wall of armed men barred her way.

Blum was forced to sit in a chair next to the cage and her blindfold was taken off, but her gag remained. As her eyes adjusted to the light, she saw Pine, and then Mercy, and her eyes widened to the extreme edge of their range.

Pine whirled on Buckley. “Look, just let her go. Your beef is with us, not her. Just let her go.”

Buckley stayed silent for a moment and then said, “Are you finished? Because I have a schedule to keep.”

Pine just scowled back.

“Good. Now, as you can see, you are about to engage in battle with your sister.”

“The hell I am!”

He looked at the man next to Blum and nodded. The man took out a serrated-edged knife and held it against Blum’s neck.

“If you don’t fight, your friend dies and then you both die, too. It’s up to you.”

Mercy stepped forward. “I killed your brother, not them. Let me fight one of your guys. Hell, I’ll fight all of them. But you don’t have to hurt my sister or Carol.”

Again, Buckley remained silent for a moment. “Are you finished?”

Mercy glanced at Pine but said nothing.

“Let me introduce you to your referee.”

From out of the shadows stepped Britt Spector. She was dressed in a striped hoodie with a kangaroo pouch, and black pants that hung loosely on her, with a knapsack over one shoulder. Her hair was tied back. She came to stand next to Buckley. Spector didn’t look at Pine or Mercy. Her gaze just stared out.

Buckley said, “Now for the rules. There will be four rounds. Five minutes each round. If, at any time, I feel that you are not fighting your hardest...” He turned to the man next to Blum. “Jason over there will make an incision on your friend’s skin. Each subsequent incision will be deeper and draw more blood. The ending of this is easy to see. The more times I request the cuts, the more blood she loses. A tipping point will be reached and that will be that. But I will be fair in my calls.”

“Sure you will,” snapped Mercy.

“And how exactly does this end?” said Pine.

“If one of you wins by knockout, you live, as does Ms. Blum. And the other one dies. If neither of you clearly wins, you both die. Along with Ms. Blum.”

“And you expect us to believe that you’ll just let us walk out of here to tell the cops what happened?”

“I didn’t say the winner walks out of here. I said you get to live. I didn’t say where or how.”

An enraged Pine bolted toward Buckley, but two of the men tackled her before she could get to him.

She fell at his feet. He looked down at her and then nodded at the man next to Blum.

Pine saw this and screamed, “No, please, don’t hurt her.”

The man ripped open Blum’s sleeve with the knife and cut delicately into her skin. Blum jerked back as the blade sliced into her. She started to shake with pain.

Pine was hauled to her feet and was vibrating with fury, as Buckley looked at her in disappointment.

“I expected better from you,” he said. “And your sister is apparently a real killer in the cage. You better bring your A game.”

He jerked his head at his men. They force-marched the two women into the ring. Spector followed and then the door was closed behind them.

Spector finally looked at them. “Are you two ready?”

“What the fuck do you think?” snapped Pine.

“If you don’t fight hard, he will do exactly as he said he would to your friend.”

“And you really expect us to believe he’s not going to kill all three of us regardless of what happens in here?” said Pine.

“I don’t know what else to tell you,” said Spector, looking at the dirt.

“Great, thanks for the help,” said Mercy.

“I’m just doing my job.”

“Right, I’m sure he’s paying you plenty. Enjoy it along with the memory of a triple homicide,” barked Pine.

Spector led them over to the center of the ring. She pulled from the knapsack two pairs of UFC gloves and two mouthpieces. She helped the women get them on and then looked over at a man who was standing next to a large countdown clock set on a table and visible to all in the cage.

“Okay, I’m sure you both know the rules. Knockouts and armbar stops are in my sole judgment. Your level of fighting is up to him. And Carol is already bleeding some, so keep that in mind.”

Both women looked over at Blum to see her pained face and the swelling patch of blood leaching onto her torn sleeve.

Pine stared at her sister. Mercy looked back at her, with not a shred of hope on her features.

“Well,” said Pine. Her voice was garbled because of the mouthpiece. “He was right about this being something I’ve never faced before.”

Spector said, “Okay, step back and then commence fighting on the sound of the horn.”

Pine looked once more at Mercy and shook her head.

“Shit” was all she could think to say.