Warriors

by Nicholas Sansbury Smith

  “Promise and cross your heart again?”

  Les motioned over his chest, drawing the hint of a smile from Phyl. He grabbed her stuffed bear and put it in her hands. She relaxed her head on the pillow, hugging the bear and letting out a sigh.

  “Everything is going to be okay, my princess,” Les said. He pulled the sheet up to her neck and tucked the sides in neatly around the bed.

  Phyl watched him retreat to the doorway with Katherine. “Wait,” she called out.

  “We’re going to talk outside, okay?” Katherine said. “We’ll be right outside the door in the hallway.”

  Phyl’s lips quivered in the candlelight.

  “Just right outside,” Les said.

  “Leave the door open,” Phyl said.

  Les followed his wife out of the room and kept the door ajar. He fully expected another lecture or that withering gaze, but again he was surprised.

  Katherine took his hand. “Les,” she said.

  Moonlight through an open window illuminated his wife’s features. She had braided her hair tonight, just the way he loved it.

  “After the ceremony earlier tonight, I realized why you’re doing all this,” she said. “I won’t try and talk you out of it anymore or make you feel guilty.”

  Les felt as if he had entered a dream. This couldn’t be real.

  “I don’t understand the sudden shift,” he started to say.

  “The world I’ve lived in is not the same as yours,” she said. “You have dived through the storms, trekked through the wastes, and fought countless monsters and humans.”

  “It’s my duty, and I do it for you and Phyl. Just as Trey did.”

  “I know,” Katherine said, heaving a deep sigh. Her freckled nose crinkled in the moonlight. “All this time, I’ve been mad at you for leaving and for what happened to Trey, but . . .”

  She squeezed his hand.

  “I don’t blame you for what happened to our son,” she said. “I know you would have traded your life for his if you could.”

  “I would have,” he said, “but Hell Divers don’t get do-overs, and I will live with the regret of that mission for the rest of my life.”

  “Don’t blame yourself. You are a good diver, captain, father, and husband. You’re a good man, Les. You always have been.”

  He didn’t know what to say, but he didn’t hold back his emotions this time. He let the tears come.

  “It’s okay, Les,” she said.

  “I’m sorry . . .” He wiped his eyes.

  “No, if you need to cry, cry. I just want you to know I was wrong, and I’m so sorry.”

  “You have no idea how good it is to hear these things,” he said. “Katherine, I’m going to do everything in my power to save our home, our people, and you and Phyl so she can grow up in a peaceful, safe world.”

  “I know . . .”

  She loosened her grip slightly, and he waited for things to take a turn for the worse.

  “What are the odds you can beat the machines and the skinwalkers?” she asked. “I mean, what are the chances we will win this war?”

  He hadn’t seen that one coming.

  He reached down and grabbed her other hand and led her to the kitchen.

  “We’ll be right out here,” Katherine called out to Phyl.

  Les stopped near the open windows, where the cool breeze rustled his thinning red tuft.

  “I don’t know exactly what we’re going to find when we reach the target in Africa,” he said. “All I know is that I have two secret weapons to use against the machines: Timothy Pepper and Hell Divers.”

  “Les, you’re not just a good man; you’re an intelligent one. And that’s part of the reason I fell in love with you. But one AI and a team of Hell Divers? What makes you think you can stop the machines that destroyed the world?”

  “I have a plan. I’m working with Timothy to develop something that I can’t talk about yet, but you have to trust me. Trust that I believe I have a chance.”

  “I—”

  Les kissed her on the lips. Then he held her gaze. “I have to do this, or eventually they will find this place. If that happens, there will be no future for Phyl or the rest of the children.”

  “There’s no one else who can do this?”

  “Everyone will play a role in the coming war,” he said. “This is mine.”

  “What can I do?”

  “Take care of our daughter and promise me you’ll always love me.”

  “Oh, Les . . .” She hugged him. “I’m so sorry for not being there for you. I didn’t realize how bad things were until I talked to . . .”

  “What?”

  She looked down. “I talked to X, and he gave me some perspective on things.”

  Les didn’t know whether to be happy or mad. But the king had done something he couldn’t: make Katherine realize she loved him still.

  “I’m sorry, too, for everything. I love you and Phyl so much.”

  They kissed but were interrupted by a surprised voice.

  “What is that?”

  They both turned to see Phyl standing in the hallway, her stuffed bear dangling from one hand.

  “You’re supposed to be in bed,” Katherine said.

  Phyl lifted a finger and pointed out the window, not answering.

  Les and Katherine turned to the open shutters.

  Red flares floated down from the sky.

  “What is that, Les?” Katherine asked.

  He smiled.

  “Those are Hell Divers,” he said. “And they’re going to help me save us from the monsters.”

  twenty-five

  The next morning, the islands had come alive with activity. News of Colonel Forge’s promotion to general had spread fast, and most Cazadores seemed thrilled that one of their own was again in charge of the military.

  Civilians across the rigs had started their day helping with the war effort. Rumors about the machines had also spread, and every soul understood what was at stake. It had taken a shared threat to bring everyone together—a threat that had already wiped out most of humanity and destroyed the world.

  Michael watched it all proudly, with confidence and optimism. Everyone was playing a role in preparing for what could very well be the final battle in a war that had lasted over two and a half centuries.

  An army of shipwrights and mechanics had arrived to get Renegade and Shadow ready for battle. Every bullet, bomb, and missile across the islands was inventoried while prisoners at the Shark’s Cage and civilians on other rigs redoubled their efforts repairing damaged ordnance, casting lead bullets, and reloading spent brass.

  At the trading post, animals were being slaughtered and preserved for the journey to Aruba. Food, ammunition, and spare parts were being ferried out to Discovery. Even the people from the bunker in Rio were helping.

  On the capitol tower, a group had gathered at dawn to patch jumpsuits and parachutes. The people who had lived underground for centuries had many skills that were coming in handy.

  Like most of the Hell Divers, Michael had spent much of the night diving through the clouds to train for the Africa mission. This would be his last time in the sky—a promise he had made to Layla and wasn’t going to break.

  After wrapping up twelve training jumps, the divers had been assigned to help a team of Cazador scuba divers with the last of the underwater sensors to detect submarines. These were already in place at strategic locations along the border of light and dark, but the teams installed more around the capitol tower and the Hive, just in case.

  When the sensors were all in the water, the divers returned to the capitol tower for a few hours of rest before more training. Finally, Michael took them to the Sky Arena, where they were given breakfast and water.

  He was there with them now, standing in front of Mac and Felipe. A
rusted metal rack of swords and spears was nearby. Pedro stood with his arms folded over his chest, dreads hanging over his back. He was here at X’s request, although Michael wasn’t quite sure why.

  Michael handed a bottle of water to Sofia, who passed it down to the other divers. The casual onlooker wouldn’t have known a greenhorn from a veteran. They all looked exhausted.

  Sofia, Lena, Ted, Hector, Edgar, Arlo, Magnolia, and Rodger were all here, but barely. Some were almost staggering.

  Arlo sat down and then leaned back with his hands behind his head. “Let me know when you’re ready,” he said. “I’m going to take a quick nap.”

  “X should be here soon,” Michael said.

  He looked up at the surrounding seats, picturing the crowds that had watched when X and Rodger first fought here.

  So much had changed since then.

  Some of the other divers started to sit down, too, but Michael remained standing next to Magnolia and Rodger.

  “I know you’re all tired,” he said, “but suck it up. What you’re about to learn could very well be the difference between life and death once we reach Africa.”

  “I ain’t fucking going to Africa,” Rodger muttered.

  Michael wasn’t in the mood to argue, and he didn’t want to upset Rodger further so soon after he buried his parents.

  “That’s going to be decided by King Xavier,” he said. “Regardless of where you go, there or Aruba, you need this training.”

  Rodger grumbled, and Magnolia elbowed him in the ribs.

  The sound of boots on the stands commanded his attention, and Michael brought a hand up to shield his eyes from the sun. Ton and Victor walked with X down the stairwell splitting the stands. Miles trotted after them but stopped at the railing.

  Arlo and the other divers got to their feet.

  “Stay, boy,” X said.

  The dog paced and whined after X and his guards climbed down to the sand. The king carried the double-headed spear that had belonged to his most trusted guard, Rhino.

  “Sorry I’m late,” X said.

  “Welcome, King Xavier,” Mac said. He bowed slightly and twirled a cutlass in his only hand. “This afternoon, you’re getting a crash course on how to wield that spear.”

  “What the hell do we need those for when we have machine guns and blasters?” Arlo asked.

  Mac looked at the diver as one might respond to a slow child. Then he said, “Guns don’t always work in the wastes, and a sword doesn’t run out of ammo.”

  He swung the cutlass at Arlo’s neck, the blade stopping less than an inch from his Adam’s apple.

  “In the time it would take to aim a gun, I would have just lopped your head off,” Mac said.

  Arlo swallowed, looking shaken.

  “Everyone, grab a weapon,” he said. “Your training starts now.”

  The divers walked over to the rack of weapons and chose from the blades and spears. Pedro joined the divers and grabbed a double-edged sword.

  “Hope you got a plan on how to teach me to use this with one arm,” X said, raising his spear awkwardly in the air.

  “Oh, I’ll show you a few tricks,” Mac said.

  Michael didn’t like the idea of X trying to fight Horn with the weapon, but he knew better than to try to talk him out of it. Once X had his mind made up, he rarely entertained alternatives without a fight. But also, Michael wanted to see how Mac would train X on the weapon.

  “Watch and learn,” Mac said.

  He stepped into a white ring painted in the dirt and raised a blunted cutlass to Felipe. The younger Barracuda got into a fighting stance with a short sword. Sweat beaded on his bald pate and trickled down the crab tattoo.

  Mac let out a cry as he swung first. The blades clanged.

  For an old man with only two natural limbs, Mac was fast. Felipe was a strong fighter, too, and he didn’t seem to be going easy on the veteran. They traded blows for several minutes, staying within the border of the white line.

  “Don’t watch your opponent’s eyes,” Mac said to the spectators. “He can use them to fake you out. You can get a better read on his next move by watching his chest.”

  Felipe, who didn’t know much English, wasn’t prepared when Mac flitted his eyes to the left and jabbed with his right. Mac turned the dulled blade aside at the last moment, smacking Felipe in the back with the flat.

  Wincing, Felipe hopped away.

  “Wow,” Arlo said. “That was sick.”

  Edgar twirled his sword. He was still bruised and injured but looked more determined than ever. “Let me try,” he said.

  The former militia soldier wasn’t just an expert with a sniper rifle. In the militia he had been an artist with a baton. He wasn’t bad with a sword, either. At least, that was what Michael thought until Mac had the Hell Diver on his back, with a blade to his chest, within four strokes.

  “Damn,” Arlo said. “You just got worked, homes!”

  “Sick? Worked? Homes? What the hell does that shit even mean?” Sofia asked.

  “Just stuff I heard in old-world movies and songs,” Arlo said.

  Sofia stepped up next, and to everyone’s surprise, she swung her sword so hard that it made Mac take a step back with his prosthetic leg.

  He hit back, but Sofia lunged, forcing him to sidestep the blow.

  “Whoa,” X said. “Take it easy, Sofia.”

  But she only hit harder. Mac parried the blows with his cutlass, not striking back, letting her expend energy.

  “Damn,” Arlo said. He looked to Lena. “You got hidden moves like that?”

  “I know a few tricks,” she replied.

  He winked at her, and Lena rolled her eyes.

  “Guys, less talking, more watching,” Michael said.

  “She’s got skills,” Arlo said.

  “You’re right for once,” Ted said after taking a slug from his flask.

  Sofia grunted louder, hitting harder, feet moving nimbly.

  “Careful,” X warned them.

  But Mac didn’t seem to be easing up any more than she was, and the bloodlust in her eyes made Michael a little uneasy.

  A scream pierced the morning as Sofia charged Mac. She swung hard, sparks flying when Mac’s sword deflected the blow.

  Felipe stepped closer, clearly worried about his commander.

  “You’re good, but not that good,” Mac said. He swung at her, but she swung harder, almost knocking his sword out of his grip. She smacked him in the face with her elbow.

  Stumbling backward, he dragged his forearm across his lips, smearing blood. His eyes glared with rage.

  They both raised their swords at the same time, but Michael strode into the middle of the ring and reached out with his metal arm, catching her sword blade. Felipe stepped in front of Mac.

  “Enough!” X said.

  The king’s raised voice seemed to calm Mac down, but Sofia just yanked on her sword. Michael’s robotic fingers held the blade like a vise.

  “Calm down,” he said.

  “Fuck you.”

  “Hey!” Magnolia said. “Sofia, you need to check yourself.”

  “You can fuck off, too,” Sofia said. She finally let go of her sword and stormed off, over the railing and up the stairs.

  Magnolia walked after her, but X shook his head.

  “Give her time,” he said.

  Blood dripped off Mac’s chin. He held up his hand and spat a tooth into his palm.

  “Oh, it’s just wood,” he said, and chuckled.

  X laughed, too, but the jocularity vanished with the whistling wind.

  Michael dropped Sofia’s sword, point first into the soil.

  “Tell me again how we’re supposed to use swords on the machines,” Arlo said. “I don’t think I caught that part of the training.”

  �
��You’re not,” X said. “They’re for human enemies.”

  “And why is Pedro here?” Ted asked.

  Hearing his name, Pedro walked over.

  “He’s going with you to Africa,” X said. “He’s humbly volunteered to join the crew and share his knowledge of the machines.”

  Michael wasn’t surprised to hear this and once again appreciated the man’s courage.

  “Either way, I think I prefer my submachine gun and blaster,” Arlo said.

  They had bigger problems than weaponry to worry about. Michael wondered whether X was thinking the same thing. How could a team of emotionally and physically broken-down Hell Divers fight the machines on the machines’ turf?

  They weren’t ready, but would they ever be?

  * * * * *

  While the sun sank into the sea to end another day, Cazadores and sky people worked together preparing for war.

  X was still in the Sky Arena, working with Mac and Felipe. He wanted to hear Imulah translate the book about the Outrider, but there would be plenty of time for that on the journey to the not-so-abandoned Cazador colony on Aruba.

  Right now, though, he must learn how to fight one-handed with the spear if he had any hope of killing Horn.

  Mac and Felipe finished off the rest of their water, and Mac motioned for X to get back into the ring.

  “Again,” Mac said.

  X gripped the spear as Mac had taught him, and then jabbed it through the air at the crab tattoo on Felipe’s skull, only to have the blade knocked away by his cutlass.

  “Better, but too slow,” Mac said. He spat in the dirt. “It’s a shame you lost your knife hand—makes training all the more difficult.”

  “No shit,” X muttered, panting.

  He tightened the thong of the leather sheath on his spearhead. Ton and Victor watched his every move.

  They weren’t the only ones. Miles watched from the stands and got up when X looked in his direction.

  “Almost done, boy,” he said.

  Looking at his wristwatch, he realized he was running out of time to spar. The ceremony for Michael and Layla was in an hour.

  “We’ll pick this up later,” X said. “Thank you for helping me out, brother.”