“What is that?” Layla said, reaching out to stop him.
“An adrenaline-steroid mix. Saved my life.”
Before Layla could object, X stuck the needle directly into Michael’s wound. He sat straight up and roared in pain until he ran out of air. He fell back to the floor, eyes rolling up in his head.
“Help me get his clothes off,” X said. He coughed and looked at the other divers. “The rest of you, strip down to your underwear.”
“You’re kidding, right?” Rodger asked.
Magnolia cut her eyes at him. “Do it.”
The divers took off their armor and then everything but their undergarments. Rodger put the discarded items in a pile while X and Layla helped pull Michael’s clothes off. Rodger kept his eyes on the floor, but Magnolia still folded her arms across her chest, slightly embarrassed. This wasn’t exactly how she had imagined Rodger seeing her undressed.
She shivered in the cold spray of chemicals and stared at the man everyone had written off for dead. The burly leader of Team Raptor was gaunt now, but his bones were still covered in lean, ropy muscle. Scars crisscrossed his flesh like roads and rivers on a map. A thick gray beard covered his face but didn’t quite obscure the long scar across his neck, where something or someone had cut him from ear to ear. The evidence of the pain and suffering he had endured was written on every part of his body.
He turned as if sensing Magnolia’s gaze on him. He opened his mouth to bark an order, revealing chipped teeth. Amazingly, most of them were still white. X had always had a killer smile.
“Open that,” he said, indicating the plastic sheet behind Magnolia. She pulled back the drape, revealing another steel door. She grabbed the handle and opened it. There was only darkness beyond.
“Light,” he said, pointing at the floor.
Magnolia went in and bent down to turn on the lantern. The light spread over a small room with a metal dresser on each side. Supplies were stacked neatly on metal shelves.
“Next door,” X said.
Magnolia crossed the space with the lantern and pulled back a hatch that opened onto a living space. The room connected to a kitchen with an island covered in some sort of water purification equipment. Stacks of crates, a large metal table, and two chairs furnished the living space, and a second door led to an open bedroom, where Magnolia saw blankets and pillows piled on the floor. Various weapons were propped against the walls.
Rodger and X picked Michael up and moved him over to the table in the living area. They sat him down carefully, and X grabbed a medical kit from his stash, along with a canteen. He swirled some water around his mouth but didn’t offer a drink to anyone else.
“Miles,” X said, jerking his chin toward the dog. “This is our home.”
“It’s very nice,” Magnolia said uncertainly.
He locked eyes with her. “You … What’s your name?”
“You don’t remember me?”
X’s eyes went unfocused, as if he were looking at something far away. He seemed unable to form an answer to her question. He turned and busied himself with Michael’s injured leg.
“Is he going to be okay?” Layla asked.
“Wound’s deep. Poison and rads making things worse.”
No one said a word. They just watched X treat the wound. With Layla’s help, he cleaned it and began stitching it up. Unable to stand the silence, Magnolia walked over to a pair of rifles set up against the wall.
“Help me with these, Rodger,” she said.
She tossed him a rifle. They were both still in their underwear as she stalked back into the other room to check the dressers for clothing, with Rodger in tow. She found plain brown coveralls that looked as though they would fit okay.
“You think he’s going to make it?” Rodger asked as he dressed.
“He’s strong, but he’s been through a lot over the past few days.”
Rodger looked at the ground, shoulders sagging.
“It’ll be okay,” she said. “Come on, let’s get back out there.”
As they walked back into the living area, she heard X talking. “Took you long enough to find me,” he was saying. “It’s too bad, though. If I saw you coming in, then the floaters saw you as well.”
“The floaters?” Rodger asked. “You mean the Sirens?”
X gestured toward the black plastic tarp covering the balcony. Several hazard suits were folded on the floor beside the exit, along with a pair of binoculars. “See for yourself.”
Magnolia and Rodger put on the suits and stepped out onto a balcony covered by a cage of bars like the one that had blocked their way earlier, protecting them from airborne Sirens. She taped the black tarp back in place to seal off the light from the apartment, then turned to look out over the city.
“Holy moly,” Rodger breathed. He stood stock-still, staring through the binos.
Magnolia studied the massive ship docked at a concrete pier stretching out into the dark waters. Several other ships had capsized on the shoreline, their bellies burst open like dead sea animals. But the ship on the pier didn’t seem to have any damage. Just a coat of rust covering most of the hull.
“No way,” Rodger said. “No freaking way …”
“What do you see?” Magnolia asked. Her eyes flitted to the lighthouse where Sirens circled the flashing tower. She nudged Rodger impatiently and held out her hand for the binoculars. He slowly handed them over, still looking out toward the ocean.
Raising them to her visor, she then dialed them in on the flashing lighthouse. The Sirens flapped around the light. There were dozens of them drawn to the beacon and more still coming from the city.
“Do you see what I saw?” Rodger asked.
She lowered the binos to the shoreline where she finally saw the reason for their erratic behavior. Aboard the ship docked on the pier she saw movement. She zoomed in further on a person in heavy metal armor standing at one of the ship’s turrets.
“It can’t be …” she said, gasping.
Rodger looked over, eyes wide. She quickly pushed the binos back into position to scan the ship that appeared to be decked out for the end of the world. Which, she supposed, it technically was. Tarps covered the stern, and rusted sheet metal formed a roof over the middle section, with several lookout towers jutting out at intervals.
She focused on old-world vehicles parked on the deck. Another person emerged at one of the turrets. The figure grabbed a mounted swivel gun and fired a harpoon into the air, skewering one of the Sirens circling the lighthouse through the back. The beast fought for altitude, but the man reeled it in like a fish.
“Who are they …?” Magnolia muttered. She knelt and pulled Rodger down, out of view.
“Are those really people?” he asked.
Magnolia nodded.
Layla stepped out on the balcony. “X insisted I see this, too. What is he talking about?” She glanced back toward the tarp covering the door, clearly irritated at having to leave Michael, even for a second.
“We’re saved,” Rodger said, his voice low.
Magnolia handed Layla the binoculars. She brought them up and then lowered them a few moments later, silent.
“See, we’re saved,” Rodger said excitedly.
“No,” said a gruff voice behind them. “Get back inside.”
X held the plastic curtain open and gestured for them to return to the apartment. When they were all back inside, he zipped the curtains back up.
“They aren’t here to save us,” X said. “You must trust me on this.”
“Who are they?” Magnolia asked. Her body shivered with excitement, and fear. After all of this time, these were the first humans she had seen in her life besides people she knew from the sky.
“X, who are they?” she entreated.
“Monsters,” X said. “That’s all you need to know.”
&n
bsp; He went back to work on Michael without saying another word, Layla joining him at the table. Magnolia and Rodger stayed behind and exchanged a glance. X definitely knew more than he was telling them about these mysterious boat people, and while Magnolia wanted answers she knew the most important thing they needed to focus on right now was saving Commander Everhart.
TWENTY-FOUR
Jordan stood in the launch bay, surrounded by officers, support staff, technicians, engineers, and militia soldiers. Anyone without an active role in the launch was outside in the crowded corridors. Hundreds of faces—nearly everyone on the ship—tried to get a look at the pods the engineers had pushed through the narrow passages an hour ago.
The captain was looking at those pods now, admiring the quick work of Samson’s team. He might not like the chief engineer, but the man did good work. If only he could learn when to keep his opinions to himself.
“We’re almost in position,” Hunt said in his ear.
“Good.” Jordan walked over to the two groups of men and women preparing for the dive. On the right was a small team of militia soldiers, Sergeant Jenkins among them, donning armor and black hazard suits. Jenkins was a valuable asset to the Hive, but Jordan couldn’t risk sending anyone less experienced to retake Deliverance—and kill Xavier Rodriguez.
Team Phoenix stood beside the pod on the left. Together, they would kill or capture the traitors and then board Deliverance and fly her from Miami to a rendezvous point safely away from the storms.
Samson strode through the crowded room, wearing a combat suit that barely contained his sagging belly. Other than Jenkins, he was the most important man on this mission. They needed the chief engineer to help operate Deliverance, especially if the airship had sustained damage in the storms.
Les Mitchells would assist him and serve as backup in case something happened to the chief engineer. That was the reason Jordan had personally delivered the medicine to Les’ family just hours ago. The Hive needed the electrician, too, even if he was compromised by the lies Ty had fed him.
“Everyone other than the dive teams, clear the room,” Jordan ordered. He grabbed the hilt of his sword while technicians and support staff hurried away from the pods. Both hatches were open, providing a view inside. It would be cramped, but then, the divers wouldn’t be in the pods long.
Sergeant Jenkins and the militia soldiers saluted as Jordan approached. He returned the gesture with a firm salute.
“Today is one of the most important days in the history of the Hive,” Jordan said. “Deliverance will help preserve our fragile existence until we can safely return to the surface in the distant future.”
He scanned each face in turn, starting with the divers. Erin, Jennifer, Olah, and Les all stood with straight backs, eyes ahead. It was remarkable how quickly Miss Jenkins had managed to whip them into shape. The young woman had a future on the Hive—or possibly on Deliverance.
To their right were Del Toro, Lore, and Sergeant Jenkins, all of them decked out in bulkier armor than they wore on the ship. All members of the two teams carried automatic rifles, blasters, and combat knives. Samson also had a duty belt around his wide waist, stuffed with tools.
“Twenty-nine thousand feet below us is one of the most intense electrical storms I’ve ever seen,” Jordan continued, “and beneath that, the city that was once called Miami. Make no mistake, there will be countless threats on the surface. The traitors we once called friends have taken over Deliverance. Your job is to take it back from them.”
He paused to think of the most convincing lie or half-truth. “Michael Everhart will claim he was abandoned down there on the surface. If you see him, do not be deceived. Do not negotiate with him. He and the other traitors are armed and dangerous. Don’t hesitate to fire. They surely won’t hesitate if they have you in their sights.”
Sergeant Jenkins slung his rifle over his shoulders. “Don’t worry, sir. I’ll take care of them.”
Jordan scrutinized the sergeant, still unsure how far to trust him. Hell, he wasn’t sure he could trust anyone anymore. But that was why he had one last test up his sleeve.
“Hunt, bring in Bennett and Donnie,” he said.
Hunt hurried to the launch bay doors while Jordan sized up the divers and soldiers in front of him. Everyone looked frightened, but for different reasons. Jordan had a feeling Jenkins was more worried about his daughter’s life than his own. Families made reliably good leverage. But Jordan was going to add another incentive just in case any of them weren’t as loyal as they seemed.
The launch bay doors screeched open, and he turned as Hunt and a pair of militia guards led two teenage boys into the room. These pimply-faced wastes of Hive resources were the ones who had defaced the bulkhead with their effigy of the captain with his throat cut. The militia had finally ferreted them out, and now it was time to make an example of them.
Hands bound and wearing orange coveralls, the two prisoners shuffled forward, eyes burning with rage.
“On your knees,” Jordan said.
Bennett slowly got down, but Donnie remained standing, defiant. One of the militia soldiers kicked him in the back of the leg, forcing him to one knee.
Hunt spoke. “You have been charged with, and found guilty by a jury of your peers, the crimes of vandalism, conspiracy, and threats against the captain of the Hive. You are hereby sentenced to five years in the brig with minimal rations—or conscription into the Hell Divers.”
“Five fucking years!” Donnie spluttered. “It was just a joke, man.” He looked at Jordan and spat on the deck. “You’re a pig. You think we’re stupid? We know you’re a liar and a—”
In a swift motion, Jordan drew his sword and traced a line across Donnie’s neck before the boy could finish his words. Blood spattered the shiny metal floor and flecked the toes of Jordan’s boots.
“No!” Jennifer shouted.
Les wrapped an arm around her shoulders and she turned away, burying her face against his side. Erin watched, expressionless, as the boy reared his head back, bloody bubbles gurgling out of his mouth.
“You were saying?” Jordan said, raising a brow. He looked at the edge of the blade. “She’s sharper than I thought.”
“Please … please, don’t kill me,” Bennett said as Donnie slumped to the deck, his body still fighting to scavenge a few more precious seconds of life.
“I’ll join the divers,” Bennett said. “I’ll do whatever you want!”
“Of course you will,” Jordan said. He turned to the others. “This is what happens to traitors, and this is what you’re all going to do to Michael Everhart and his comrades when you find them. Got it?”
The divers and soldiers all nodded at once.
“Good,” he said. “Now, go get me that ship.”
* * * * *
Les looked out the porthole as the launch bay emptied. A pair of soldiers dragged Donnie’s limp body away, leaving a broad smear of blood. Another soldier hauled Bennett outside, presumably to return him to the brig.
“I can’t believe he did that,” Jennifer mumbled for what seemed like the fiftieth time.
Les put a gloved hand on her armored shoulder but didn’t reply. Erin’s helmeted head was downcast, silent, but Olah was smirking.
“He wanted to cut Jordan’s neck, so Jordan cut his,” he said. “Seems fair to me. That’s what I call karma.”
Olah fastened his harness across his chest armor. If karma was real, then Les was really looking forward to the moment Olah got what was coming to him.
“Quiet, all of you,” Erin said. “Fasten in and prepare for launch.”
The divers all finished belting into their seats while Erin made sure their weapons and gear were secured by mesh nets attached to the bulkheads.
A technician in a yellow jumpsuit knocked on the porthole, and Erin gave the man a thumbs-up. He returned the gesture and then secured the h
atch over the thick glass window, sealing the divers in darkness. Then two LEDs in the top of the pod warmed to life, spreading red light over their armored bodies. Erin belted in and reached up to the control panel to prepare the operation systems.
Les chomped down on his mouth guard, preparing for the rush. Part of him was glad they were taking the pods down. He liked having a thick layer of insulation between himself and the storm. But what if something happened with the chute? What if this was just an elaborate plot by Jordan to get rid of him?
Snap out of it. You’re going to be fine. Katherine, Phyl, and Trey will all be fine.
“Preparing for launch in T minus one minute,” said an automated voice.
“All systems look good,” Erin said.
“Sit back and enjoy the ride,” Olah said with a chuckle.
“You’re sick, man, you know that?” Jennifer said. “This ain’t no game.”
“Aw, lighten up,” Olah sneered. “I’ll be sure to watch your back once we get down there.”
“Cut the shit,” Erin said.
“Thirty seconds,” said the same automated female voice.
The seconds ticked down on the mission clock at the upper right corner of his HUD. Les tried to focus on the task ahead. Over 470 people were counting on them. Even if Ty was right about everything Jordan had done, Les and the others had no choice. They had to take Deliverance back from Commander Everhart.
He just wished there was a way to do it peacefully. Killing Sirens and monsters was fine. It was a clear choice: shoot them or get eaten. An easy decision. But the thought of killing another human made his guts churn. Les imagined having to tell Trey that he had shot Michael Everhart. He pictured the look of hurt and betrayal in his son’s eyes that his father had killed one of his role models. If the order came to pull the trigger, he wasn’t sure he could do it.
“Ten seconds,” repeated the female voice.
The red lights in the pod shifted to a cool blue as the clock on his HUD hit the end of the countdown. Les took a breath that smelled of plastic. His heart hammered, and the blood rushed in his ears. The launch process was different from a free-fall dive, and he wasn’t prepared when the clock hit one.
Hell Divers III_Deliverance Page 28