Hell Divers IV: Wolves

by Nicholas Sansbury Smith

  Ada looked away from the radio equipment, her dark face distraught. “Captain, would you like to take my place?”

  Katrina nodded and took Ada’s chair, where she waited impatiently for Magnolia to respond.

  “Mags,” Katrina said. “Mags, what is going on there?”

  They could hear her breathing over the rise and fall of the siren, but she didn’t respond. The suspense left Katrina and everyone around her even more anxious.

  Layla grabbed Michael’s hand. Bronson White balanced himself with a hand on the back of a chair. Ada put her hand over her chest.

  Gunfire cracked over the channel and echoed through the bridge, followed by Magnolia’s frantic voice.

  “Those things are almost inside. I’m sorry, I have to go and get ready for them.”

  “Magnolia,” Katrina said. “Take care of yourself. You have lot of people up here counting on you two.”

  “We know, and thanks for reminding us,” Magnolia replied.

  Katrina smirked at that. If Mags could joke, she could also fight.

  Guttural snorting then gunfire came over the channel. Then static.

  Katrina got up and motioned for Ada, who moved over to check the radio. She twisted the knob and then shook her head. “We lost her.”

  “Lower the volume,” Katrina said.

  Ada did as ordered, and silence fell over the bridge. Timothy’s hologram moved over beside Michael, and everyone including the AI looked to Katrina for orders.

  A monitor beeped, and Ensign White, hunched over, walked to his station. “I just received the upload from Magnolia.”

  “Download it and let me know when it’s ready,” Katrina said. She glanced over at Connor. “Ensign, were you able to pinpoint their location?”

  “Yes, Captain. They seem to be stranded in a bay that is part of the Turks and Caicos Islands. Bringing it up on the main screen now.”

  “Good,” Katrina said. “Update our current map of their journey.”

  The hatch to the bridge opened again, this time disgorging Les Mitchells’ tall, gangly frame. He ducked below the overhead, stopping just inside the room. He looked to Layla and Michael, then to Katrina.

  “I’ve got the recruits Sergeant Sloan gave us waiting in the launch bay. I thought Commander Everhart and …” His words trailed off as he scanned the assembled faces. “Okay, what did I miss?”

  * * * * *

  Magnolia suppressed thoughts of her family and friends aboard the airships. They knew she was alive, and she had successfully sent the upload, but if the Sea Wolf really had sailed away, then she would never see them again.

  How the hell had the boat ended up back in the bay? The question wracked her brain, but she pushed it aside for now. The best way to stay calm right now was to trust that Timothy wouldn’t abandon them.

  For the past hour, she had sat at the desk next to the skeletal corpse, worrying about X and Miles as she scanned hard drives. The hogs from hell were literally at the door, pawing, pounding, trying to bash their way inside. It was nerve-racking, but so far, the hatches, door, and debris pile were still holding them back.

  Every few minutes, she had been firing a few shots into the wall to deter the tunneling, and she was about to do it again. Another option kept tempting her, though.

  Her eyes went to the switch that activated the emergency siren. If she shut it off, maybe the beasts would scatter back into the jungle.

  Or they might go after X and Miles …

  She opted to keep the siren blaring while she finished gathering up the rest of the equipment in the expandable duffel bag she had stuffed into her cargo pocket.

  The banging and scratching at the main entrance made it hard to focus. She knew what those tusks and hooves would do to her flesh. But so far, the door and window hatches were holding the monsters back. It was the one burrowing into the control room that had her worried. Apparently, she wasn’t the only one.

  The spider that had taken refuge in the concrete rubble reemerged, furry legs scuttling toward Magnolia.

  She stomped it into mush under her boot, then scraped the sole against the concrete, leaving a trail of goo.

  “Gross,” she whispered, bringing her rifle up to her shoulder. She aimed at the collapsed wall, waiting for the real monster to present a target.

  The chunks in the bottom right of the rubble pile were starting to move. She could hear the rapid breathing coming from below.

  “Kid, do you copy?” X said.

  She breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Yeah, copy. Where are you?”

  “Almost back. Sit tight, kid.”

  Easy for you to say …

  Still, if she couldn’t sit tight, she could at least stop screwing up. She finished loading the rest of the radio equipment but left her battery unit plugged in to keep the emergency siren going.

  Hunching down, she aimed the rifle at the rattling hunks of wall where the hog was digging.

  “Come on, show me an inch of that ugly mug,” she said.

  The creature out there was digging harder now, knocking several rocks loose from the wall. One dislodged; then a second hit her in the shoulder.

  She tried to back up, but fell on her butt just as the deformed face she had taunted earlier filled the opening. The jaw parted, a rope of saliva drooping between tusks.

  The beast snapped at her right boot, but she pulled back just in time to keep her foot. Lining up a shot, she pulled the trigger and heard the click of a jammed round.

  So much for not screwing up. She just couldn’t catch a break.

  Magnolia scrambled for safety as the creature fought to get free of the hole. By the time she made it back to the entryway, the front legs and shoulders were through the broken wall. The furry, slavering abomination swung its massive head, shaking rocks and dirt loose. It had to weigh over three hundred pounds, and the fur covering its thick hide seemed to be metallic.

  She went to close the door between herself and the beast, then saw the loaded duffel bag lying next to the radio equipment. Her spare battery unit was still plugged in to the dashboard. She could see only two options, both of them crazy. One, free the jammed round and blast this fucker, or two, snatch the bag and battery and then run into the other room. Either action required more time than she had, and every second of delay worsened the odds against her.

  The thud of bone on the front door helped her decide. The only way out of this was to fight, not hide and wait for X to save her ass.

  Magnolia pulled the curved blades from her back.

  “Okay, shithead,” she growled. “You’re gonna have to work for your supper.”

  The hog snapped at her, slinging snot and spittle. It struggled to free its muscular torso and haunches, which were still jammed in the hole it had dug.

  Magnolia danced around the kick of a foreleg and another thrust of the head. She kicked the warty pink muzzle with her steel-toed boot, and it felt like kicking a rock.

  The impact forced her backward, pain racing up her leg. She planted her left foot and brought her blades down at the same time, aiming for the thick neck, hoping to behead the monster.

  Her blades scraped against what felt like sheet metal. In the amount of time it took her to bring them down on the neck, the fur had gone stiff and lain flat, forming a sheet of armor that sent sparks flying, and a stinging recoil that raced up her forearms.

  She stumbled backward a second time, staring at the chipped blades in her hands. The sound of falling rubble brought her eyes up as the beast hauled its body free and lumbered out of the hole.

  Magnolia backed up until she hit a wall. She raised the damaged blades as the monster gave out a deep animal rumble. Now she got her first good look at the full length of the creature, including the other side of a face missing an eyeball and half a tusk.

  The saggy lips d
rooled more saliva mixed with blood.

  This was the creature X had shot earlier, and judging by the glare of its remaining eye, it wanted payback.

  She tried to block out the sounds of the other hogs, the emergency siren, and a new message from X and focus on what she could do right now.

  Once again she had her back to the wall because of her own stupid mistakes, and this time she was going to get exactly one more shot at saving herself.

  It came a second later.

  As the beast lunged, Magnolia flattened her body against the wall and moved to the side while swinging the blade in her left hand sideways. The tip caught in the ruined eye socket.

  The hog missed its target—her chest—and the snout slammed into the wall where she had stood. She darted backward, ducking low as it twisted to snap at her. She came up swinging at the closest target: the monster’s right hind leg, beneath the fur line. This time, the sharp edge sliced through the sinew and caught on bone.

  The hog let out a long, piercing howl of pain.

  She pulled the blade free, blood spattering the floor. Another hack cut deep into the bone. The beast had sidled away by the time she sliced the air a third time. Its tail and hindquarters slammed into the desks and computer equipment, knocking her battery loose.

  The emergency siren waned and faded to nothing, leaving Magnolia with the sound of the panting creature and her own labored breath.

  This was it, her final moments.

  The right hind leg gushed blood, but it managed to remain standing. This beast was one of the most magnificent products of evolution she had ever seen. A shame it had to die.

  As it charged, she pulled the blaster from her holster and waited a beat until she had the face in her sights. Both shotgun shells fired, their pattern covering the entire head.

  Blood, bone, brain, and pieces of the blade stuck in the eye socket cut through the air, flecking the desks with gore. She jumped out of the way as the creature hit the floor.

  Magnolia checked the blade. A glance confirmed what she already knew: it was ruined. She quickly moved away and gathered the duffel bag of equipment, stashing her battery unit inside.

  Gunfire cracked outside the facility. She picked up her rifle, worked the jammed round free and pocketed it, and ran out to the other room to unlock the door and help X.

  She stepped out into the night, weapon sweeping the field for contacts. Insects chirped, and the screech of a vulture echoed in the distance.

  Another flurry of shots drowned out the noises, and she followed it to the other side of the building, moving cautiously.

  Heel to toe, heel to toe. Just like a soldier. No more mistakes.

  Hearing a bark, she moved faster, fighting the impulse to run.

  She paused at the crumbling foundation of the building to listen, then peeked around the edge to sneak a glimpse. X stood in the other field over a carcass. Miles turned in her direction, but she was tracking movement in the high weeds and foliage fifty feet from the dog.

  Bringing up her rifle, she zoomed in on the ripple spreading across the top of the weeds. This wasn’t from the breeze.

  The camouflaged beast bounded out and bolted for X, who still hadn’t seen it. There was no time to shout a warning—only enough time to get off a three-round burst.

  The charging monster, dead on its feet, slammed into X and Miles, knocking them down like skittles.

  Magnolia was running as soon as she finished firing. Her eyes swept the skyline for vultures and the field for more terrestrial predators, then back to X and Miles. When she got there, X was groaning under the weight of the dead hog. Miles was already up, tail wagging beneath the suit, which had bloody talon marks on the side.

  “Nice shot, Mags,” X growled.

  “No ‘thanks, kid’?” she asked.

  Reaching down, she grabbed X and helped hoist him to his feet.

  “Now, come on, old man. Let’s see if we can still chase down our boat and get off this nasty island.”

  EIGHT

  The clank of lockers and rustling of gear filled the launch bay on the Hive. Les nodded at the two guards standing sentry outside. Both were in their early fifties—on the Hive, a ripe old age.

  “Good luck, Giraffe,” one of them said.

  “Looks like you’re going to need it with them new young divers,” said the other. “I’d volunteer, but I don’t move as fast as I used to.”

  When Les had gone to Sergeant Sloan, he requested older militia soldiers like these guys—the best she had, just as Katrina had instructed. His goal was to fill some of the launch tubes with people who could fight but who had already lived a good deal of their lives.

  But once again the volunteers and recruits were mostly young people.

  The old guys were standing guard outside the launch bay.

  Les sighed and stepped inside the room where the new recruits and volunteers were suiting up. They’d been given some older gear that hadn’t been used in ages but was still in good condition.

  Les was pretty sure it had once belonged to Michael, Layla, Erin, and Andrew, but they’d upgraded their armor and suits over the years.

  Sandy gave him a little wave, which he returned with the nod of his head. Jed stood stock-still next to her, half suited up, looking at something in his hand. The young diver’s mouth was hanging partway open as he stared at a small sliver of paper. His lips moved, and then he stowed the object in his pocket and resumed the task of getting into his gear with his fellow recruits.

  Les crossed the room, his mind racing. He still hadn’t seen the data Magnolia uploaded and sent them, and he was anxious to get back to Deliverance for a full report, but his first job was to start the new Hell Divers training with Erin.

  He joined her at the wind tunnels, where she cupped her helmet under one arm, looking out over the youthful faces in front of them as they suited up and put on their armor.

  “Finish armoring up,” Erin said. “We’ll begin in a few minutes.”

  Trey nodded at Les from the front of the crowd. He had a freshly shaved head and about the same complement of pimples as the other teenagers in the group. Seeing his son standing there, shoulders straight, chin up, and talking with Jed Snow about their upcoming first dive gave Les a flash of anxiety.

  First dive …

  He was still catching up to the reality that his son had volunteered. But what could he do besides help train him to survive?

  Les stood at a distance, watching and listening to their conversation.

  “Why did you guys join up?” Jed asked.

  Vish and Jaideep, still finishing up with their gear, exchanged a glance.

  “There aren’t many job opportunities left,” Jaideep said.

  Vish laughed. “More like no one would hire us.”

  “I know the feeling,” Trey said.

  Sandy and Jed smiled uneasily.

  “How about you?” Vish asked.

  Jed scratched at the stubble on his chin, and then pointed at the Raptor logo hanging from the bulkhead. “Commander Everhart and Layla Brower are my inspiration. They taught me what kindness and courage are, and now that I’ve recovered from the cough, it’s time to join them as a Hell Diver.”

  “I’m here because I want to see the surface and help my family,” Sandy said. She batted long eyelashes and her light blue eyes met Jed’s, whose lips curled up slightly at the edges. Les could see a spark of passion there. Perhaps there was another reason Jed had volunteered. It wouldn’t be the first time a person volunteered to help protect those they cared about.

  Les moved over to the other new recruits who were still working on their gear. Edgar Cervantes and his cousin, Ramon Ochoa, nodded at Les. Both men had fashionably long dreadlocks and close-trimmed dark beards. As members of the militia, they had spent the past few years working the night shift on the lower decks,
where they saw suffering and despair daily. Their toughened sensibilities and dedication to the ship would speed their transition into the role of diving.

  At least, this was what Les hoped would happen.

  To the right stood Eevi Corey, a woman with bright blond curly hair and blue eyes. Her husband, Alexander, had matching eyes and long wavy brown hair. They were a good-looking pair, but had suffered greatly with the loss of their daughter to cancer several years earlier.

  Eevi was an investigator with the militia, and Alexander was an enforcer. Sloan had described them as smart, willing, and aggressive, with little to lose besides each other. The couple, along with Edgar and his cousin, would be a great addition to the Hell Divers.

  “Thank you for being here,” Les said to the four new militia recruits.

  Erin put a hand on the glass of a wind tunnel, leaning on it and looking relaxed. “All right, listen up, everyone. We’re going to jump right into training today, and I’ll be first in the wind tunnels. Probably don’t have to tell you this, but these tunnels will be the closest simulation you’ll get to diving.”

  She put her helmet on, flattening her Mohawk. Her voice broke over the speakers as she opened the door and stepped into the wind tunnel.

  Les fired up the propeller, and the air draft pushed Erin up. She spread her arms and legs and let the wind take her, suit rippling in the current.

  “Pretty cool,” Trey said. “Looks kinda easy.”

  She hovered in the constant updraft for several seconds, hardly moving at all.

  “Okay, this is what we call stable position,” she said. “This is how you will dive most of the time, unless you encounter a storm.”

  Les took over. “Thanks to Commander Everhart and the other brave divers who found Deliverance, we won’t be making any risky jumps in the near future. For the first time in my entire life, we have the necessary fuel cells, supplies, and food to sustain our current population.”

  Erin continued in the same stable position, her body relaxed, legs and arms bent, helmet slightly downward.

  “When I first started diving, about five years ago on Team Wolf, I was always instructed to get through a storm as fast as possible,” Erin said over the speaker system.