Any traces of resentment were noticeably absent from Remi’s features as she beamed at her cooing daughter nestled in Leif’s arms. “Humanoids. Ghastly looking beasts that are equal parts human and robot. We don’t know where they come from, or who is behind their creation, but their attacks cost lives and resources at every encounter.”
“We’ve faced them before.” Detroit picked up a scorched hunk of tree bark, crumbling it in her fist. “The team before us was almost completely wiped out by them.”
Shifting Adalyn from one arm to the other, Leif nodded in bitter acknowledgement of their mutual enemy. “We lost complete control when they appeared during the burn. Our camp hasn’t recovered from the destruction of that day. Honestly, I don’t know if it ever will.”
“Their camp,” Remi corrected. She edged up alongside Leif, and bent her head to kiss the top of Adalyn’s sweet head. “We can’t count ourselves among that clan anymore. Not after today.”
A serene look of peace stealing over his features, Leif peered down at his precious cargo. “If another twenty-four hours goes by with this precious girl alive and well, it will all be worthwhile.”
“And if she’s not?” Those notably somber words were the first Reno had added to the conversation.
“Then, we will know and no other parents will have to wonder or question.” Shoulders squared, Remi spoke with a wisdom well beyond her years as she represented the struggle of mothers from every clan.
Further conversation was thwarted by a ping echoing through the leveled plane. A bullet slammed into a scorched sapling, exploding it in a spray of ash.
“Incoming! We’ve got gunfire!” Grasping Leif’s upper arm, Houston forced him and the baby behind him.
Juneau mirrored his protective valor, putting herself between Remi and the shooter.
Grabbing the assault rifle flung around her shoulder in one hand, and an FN pistol in the other, Detroit squeezed off a few warning shots at their hidden attackers. “I’ll cover you. Get them out of here!”
Reno spun around as Houston ushered Leif to safety, snatching the ZiP pistol and Rhino revolver from his belt. “Got your back, Dee.”
“That is always appreciated.” Squinting into the tree line, Detroit searched for a hint of movement. “Although, I will miss Houston’s sharp-shooting skills. Should have thought of that before I sent him away.”
“Maybe this will ease your mind.” Auggie filled his lungs to capacity, and swung the formidable weapon strapped to his back into his waiting grip.
Detroit hitched one brow, granting him little more than a sideways glance. “You look like death and are holding a grenade launcher. What part of that wouldn’t make me feel better?”
“I have no idea. Side note, I want to marry this gun.” Pressing it to his shoulder, Auggie scanned the landscape through the scope. “Two clicks, three o’clock. I’ve got a visual.”
Arms outstretched, Detroit held both of her guns at shoulder height. “If you can fire that thing without falling over, clear ’em a path, Auggie.”
“You dare doubt me?” Auggie braced himself with a wide-legged stance, lined up the shot … and fired.
The hidden gunmen dove for cover just as the spot they had been hunkering in detonated in a thunder cloud of pine needles and tree shrapnel. Before the smoke could clear, they opened fire. Diving for cover behind tree stumps and boulders, the trio gave as good as they got. Empty casings littered the earth, allowing Houston and the others to make their escape.
While Detroit took a beat to reload, she craned her neck to see around the rock shielding her. Their opposers were backing farther into the forest, unaccustomed to the perils of battle. That left only one option to bring a quick end to this skirmish. Rising on one knee, Detroit shouted, “They’re feeling overwhelmed, boys. Unleash hell!”
The A-5 pressed back hard. Rising up from behind their safeguards like gods of war, they let loose a nonstop barrage of bullets.
When the return fire ceased, Detroit pulled up short and waved Auggie and Reno in the direction their friends disappeared. “Toward the water. Go, now!”
She kept both guns out in front of her, owning her role as the team leader, and let the other two get a head start before joining them. Spinning on her heel, Detroit was moments from disappearing into the brush when one lone shot sliced through the hush.
A pained yelp rang out, and one among them fell.
Chapter 14
“Up here, keep moving!” Houston practically dragged Leif alongside him, the baby now cradled in the bend of his arm. Maneuvering down a steep footpath sliced between two tall dunes, he fought to keep his footing on the powder white sand. While he had yet to break a sweat, Leif’s face was starburst red. Breath coming in ragged pants, he managed an awkward shuffle as the seasoned warrior dragged him along.
Juneau crested the rise of the sandbank behind them, a stunned Remi flung over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
“She was slowing me down.” Fighting to steady her breathing, Juneau lowered Remi’s feet the ground. “It was just easier this way.”
“You took the harder route, and risked exhausting yourself. You know better than that,” Houston snapped. Parting the blanket, he checked up on Adalyn who blew happy little spit bubbles in response. “This one wasn’t bothered by the run at all.”
Arms outstretched, Remi skidded down the ridge to collect her child. “It was the movement. It puts babies at ease, reminds them of being in the womb.”
Hands on his knees, Leif stifled a dry-heave. “Not me … huuuuh … I may die. For real. I can taste my lungs. That can’t be good.”
“Complain all you want, we’re here.” Juneau sighed in breathless wonder. Skirting around Houston, she ducked under a low-hanging branch jutting from the left hill. The skyline opened up before her, welcoming them to the lapping shoreline. The cerulean sky was sponged with fluffy white clouds. Other than a few lazy ripples, the water was peaceful and still. “I’ve only seen the sea in pictures or footage from the archives.”
Houston gently bumped her elbow with his. “And now that you have?”
Cheeks filling with a merry blush, Juneau’s eyes crinkled as she grinned. “It smells like … happiness.”
Inhaling a lungful of air, the hint of a smile tugged at the corners of Houston’s lips. “I’ll be damned. Yes, it does.”
Roughly three hundred clicks from where they stood, two cruise ships ravaged by time and weather were ported. The beastly vessels were rusted, their engines long since dead. Still, they were upright and afloat.
“Are you lost?” a voice, sweet as a songbird, chirped.
Turning, they found a young woman who could have passed for anywhere from sixteen to twenty-five. White-blonde hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun, she dragged a canoe toward the water.
“You could say that. Are you a Floater?” Remi called, shielding her eyes from the late day sun.
Momentarily pausing in her task, the blonde straightened her spine and hitched one brow. “If I was what you refer to as a Floater, I wouldn’t adhere to clan titles bestowed by Landers. I would find labels insignificant in a time when we’re all struggling to survive.”
Flares of golden challenge swirling in the depths of his mahogany stare, Houston tilted his head. “You say you would find labels insignificant, yet used the term Landers in a derogatory fashion. That implies you classify yourself amongst those that disregard classification.”
“Son-of-a-bitch,” the girl grumbled, her shoulders sinking. “This is why I hate talking to people. All right, let’s cut right to it, then. You came here looking for something; fish, water, man power. It’s always something. What is it this time?”
Tone a hypnotic rumble, Houston flicked a wavy strand of ebony hair from his tangle of lashes. “We seek only safe passage aboard your vessel.”
As she chewed on the inside of her cheek, she traveled the impressive length of him with a wandering stare. “Why would I do that? Under no circumstance d
o we let outsiders aboard. The archaic thinking of divided clans is not welcomed among us.”
“Nor should it be.” Clasping his hands in front of him, Houston acknowledged her objection with a diplomatic dip of his chin. “We are members of the Apocalypse Five. Our goal is to protect all life without distinction or discrimination. We ask for your help in that now. We have a newborn with us, only twenty-four hours old. One more day, and she will be hope and truth for all that the Fortress has been manipulating everyone with false science and rumored legends.”
The blonde twisted the canoe’s rope around her fist, clucking her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “Orion’s Belt. I have heard some impressive lies, but that gets points for originality.”
Pulling back the blanket shielding Adalyn’s face, Remi took a brave step forward.
“That’s … a baby!” the Floater gasped, stare shooting from face to face in search of a how or why.
“That it is.” Catching a whiff of the squirming bundle, Juneau pinched her nose shut and waved the smell away with her free hand. “Alive and well, and in desperate need to have her bottom changed.”
Remi ignored Juneau’s comment, her eyes pleading for compassion. “Please, can you help us keep her safe?”
“How have you made it this far without the Fortress coming for her?” The shadow of fear darkening her features, the Floater coaxed her canoe farther into the water. Waves licked against the ankles of her rubber boots, causing her boat to sway with the motion. “The second they learn of a birth they come for the baby and punish all those who dared to keep it from them. Allowing you to come aboard would bring blasting into our masthead.”
Juneau’s lips puckered. “Uh, those are cruise ships. They don’t have a mast.”
“You know what I mean! They’ll blow us out of the water.” Panic bubbling through her tone, the Floater turned to push out into the water. The moment she did, she gave them a glimpse of the puffy red scars poking out from the collar of her shirt. At a glance, they appeared poorly healed wounds from a lashing.
Houston splashed out to catch up before she could push off, the water sloshing up to his knees. Hands clasped to the edge of her vessel, he held it in place. “Unless there is an enraged army waiting to stop them. And there will be. That baby is closing in on a day old. She survives one more after that and every heartbroken parent forced to give up their children will realize they’ve been lied to. The wave of rage that will follow will need direction. That’s where we come in. One night. That’s all we ask. Then, we will have our proof and will leave in peace. Unless you make the choice to join our cause.”
“We have no way of knowing what becomes of the children that have been given up,” Remi said, voice cracking with emotion. “They could be forced into servitude, or … worse. Think of all the innocent lives you could be sparing simply by offering us sanctuary for one night.”
“No. We have no way of knowing.” With yesterday’s sorrow jading her tone, the Floater pulled her dinghy closer to shore. Jaw tensed, her gaze drifted to Adalyn. “And she’s healthy? So far, at least? She’s presenting no signs of ailments that could jeopardize my crew or fleet?”
Glowing with pride, Remi brushed the pad of her finger across the apple of her daughter’s cheek. “She’s perfectly healthy. If she wasn’t, I would never ask you to jeopardize your people like that.”
“Fine.” Side-stepping, the wiry blonde—acting as gatekeeper to the seaward vessels—waved mother and child into her boat. “One night. That’s it. My people won’t take part in a war we can’t hope to win.”
Remi took a step forward, only to be stopped by Houston’s raised arm blocking her way. “What’s your name?” he asked the Floater.
Her chin lifted to meet his penetrating stare. “Tatum.”
“Tatum,” his chest swelled with a deep inhale, “do you have the authority to back such a declaration amongst your people?”
A smile threatening, Tatum’s eyes narrowed. “Is it because I’m young or a woman that would make you ask such a question?”
Houston’s warrior front cracked long enough for a wry huff of laughter to slip through. “Neither. My team leader falls into both of those categories, and I hold no doubt she could hand me my own ass.”
“Hand-to-hand, or gunfire?” Juneau’s dynamic mane bobbed as she tilted her head in consideration. “Sparing for sure she could take you down. But you could always shoot her.”
Houston silenced her with a glare, then turned his attention back to Tatum. “I’m just looking for a little insurance we aren’t walking into an ambush and about to become anchors.”
Catching a strand of hair that broke free from her bun, Tatum tucked it behind her ear, her grin widening. “You have nothing to fear there. I’m the commodore of this fleet. I was the first to swim out to them, clear them, and make them into the livable camps they are now. If I say you aren’t to be touched, you won’t be.”
“Then, I thank you, Commodore Tatum, for your hospitality.” Houston took a step back, and dipped in a formal bow. His smoldering gaze, perfected for his legions of fans, never wavered from the dusting of freckles on the rise of her cheeks.
Jerking her head for them all to climb into the dingy, a peach blush crept up her neck to the tips of her ears. “Let’s hope I don’t end up regretting it.”
As if cued by the gods of irony, a flurry of snapping twigs and heavy footfalls pounded down the embankment. Sweat and grime streaming down his face, Augusta heaved Reno out onto the beach. Skin gray and waxy, one of Reno’s arms were draped around Auggie’s shoulders, the other he held tight to his chest. Blood covered his bent arm, the flayed tissue of his tricep hanging from bone.
“We need to go, now!” Tatum barked, running the rowboat into deeper water.
“No! That’s my brother!” As she tore the medpack from her hip, Juneau sprinted to Reno’s side. She shook loose a tourniquet, and tied it just below his shoulder, using her teeth to tighten it. Secure that she’d slowed the chances of him bleeding out, she put an arm around his waist and helped Auggie drag him toward the boat and escape.
“Who did that to him?” Complexion paling, Tatum’s bulging stare settled on the ruby droplets dripping from Reno’s arm. “You know what? It doesn’t matter. I can’t let you aboard like this. If whoever is chasing you is willing to do that, they’ll sink our ships just to get to you. I’m sorry, I can’t risk it.”
Any arguments to the contrary were cut off by a thunderous boom that shook the ground beneath their feet and leveled the walking path in a mushroom cloud of sand and falling branches. The dusty smoke cleared to a glimpse of Detroit striding down the beach toward them with the grenade launcher settled at her hip. Covered in soot and ash, her look could only be described as a goddess of chaos and war.
Splashing over, she planted herself directly in front of Tatum. “No one is following us now. Can we go?”
Chapter 15
The twin vessels, anchored side by side, had once been pillars of extravagance and luxury. Posh resorts that whisked travelers to exotic ports of call around the globe. Now, bobbing anchored in the current was as close as they came to seaward adventures. The exterior of both ships were diseased with rust, a slow killer that would eat them alive if not contained. But the products needed to hinder and reverse their effects were hard to come by and paled in comparison to the need for food and essentials for their inhabitants. The interiors had been stripped to their metal hauls. What had once been the elaborate atrium, with hand-carved railings marking the four floors soaring overhead, still maintained glass and contemporary décor built into its structure. All acted as reminders of a time of frivolous splendor.
Heavy footfalls echoing through the interior of the larger vessel, the A-5 let Tatum lead them farther into the bowels of the ship toward their medical bay. One floor up from sea level, hidden away in a narrow hall meant to deter wandering vacationers, they located a gurney to ease Reno down on. A bare bulb swung overhead, plugged into an extension
cord duct taped to the ceiling. White cabinet doors hung slack on broken hinges, the shelves behind them tragically devoid of supplies.
“Who is this? What happened?” A black woman in a white lab coat layered over long johns and flannel darted to the side of her new patient, immediately checking his vitals.
“Believe it or not, Doc,” Tatum grabbed gauze and rubbing alcohol from one of the cabinets and passed it to the doctor, “this is a member of the Apocalypse Five. He got shot trying to save a baby from being offered up to the Fortress.”
Popping an old-school stethoscope into her ears, the doctor’s nimble fingers unzipped Reno’s flight suit and shoved the T-shirt underneath aside to press the cold steel to his chest. “Never had a celebrity on my table before,” she mused, brow furrowed at his weak heartbeat. “Does he know babies can’t survive longer than forty-eight hours on Earth?”
Setting her handful of supplies on the edge of the gurney, Tatum jerked her chin in the direction of Reno’s anxious crew hovering at the door. “The whole team seems convinced that it’s bullshit.”
Doc huffed a humorless snort of laughter. “I’ve been saying that all along. If the mother and father can both breathe the air, there is no medical explanation for their newborn suddenly being unable to. What kind of weapon was he shot with?”
Seeking comfort in the security of her warrior façade, Detroit muttered, “SIG P320C, clean shot. Exited the back of the muscle.”
Doc peeled open one of Reno’s eyelids, then the other, shining a penlight in his eyes to evaluate pupil dilation. “I actually was just wondering if a spray of BBs or shrapnel were going to be an issue, but thanks for the battlefield breakdown.”
After sloshing alcohol over his wounds, she began stitching him up. Minutes ticked by like hours with the doctor in blood up to her elbows. A half an hour later, she emerged from the medical bay drying her freshly washed hands on a towel. The other A-5ers were easy to find slouched outside of the door, waiting in silence.
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