Hell Divers IV: Wolves

by Nicholas Sansbury Smith

  “Did you get it?” X panted.

  Magnolia zoomed in on the frothy water where the grenade had exploded. Even with her night-vision goggles, she could see the blood darkening the surface.

  “I … I think so,” she replied.

  Miles growled again and nudged her leg. She turned just as a vulture appeared over the top of the bamboo forest, its shiny beetle-shell eyes on her.

  There was no time to duck or jump out of the way—only enough to curse and fire her rifle at the beast. Rounds punched through the red plumage, and the bird’s downward trajectory steepened.

  Before she could move, it slammed into her and sent her stumbling backward. She reached for something—anything—but her hands came up empty. Miles barked as she windmilled her arms. Two more of the birds were sailing toward the exposed bluff.

  “Hide, Miles!” she managed to cry out as she fell over the edge.

  TEN

  The bartender glanced up as Michael opened the hatch and entered the Wingman. Some of the passengers called this place a hole-in-the-wall, but to Michael, even that seemed generous. The bar generally reeked like swamp water, and today it was worse than usual.

  He saw why when he took a stool at the counter. Marv, the owner and sole bartender, was still cleaning up vomit from last night. A song featuring a talented guitarist from the Old World played quietly from a record player behind the bar.

  “You open yet?” Michael asked.

  “I am for a Hell Diver,” Marv replied. He put the mop away, wiped his hands on a dingy rag, and turned off the music. Then he grabbed a yellowish plastic jug and placed it on the grimy bar.

  “What time is it?” Marv asked, looking over his shoulder at a clock.

  “It’s time for a drink,” Michael said. As soon as the words left his mouth, he felt the pull of regret. This was the first time in over a year that he had visited one of the few drinking establishments on the Hive, but he needed something to help ease his anxiety.

  “Sure thing, Commander,” Marv said. He set in front of Michael a glass that looked even dirtier than the bar, and half filled it with shine from the jug.

  “Thanks.” Michael picked the drink up off the table and held it to the weak light of the orange bulb hanging from a cord.

  “It’s an old batch, Commander,” Marv said. He grabbed the rag again and started wiping down the glasses from the night before. “Shine helps kill bacteria. Good for your gut. You don’t see me going to Dr. Huff, do ya? I’m almost sixty years old. Haven’t been sick in years.”

  “That’s pretty remarkable,” Michael said. He downed the liquid in a gulp and welcomed the burn sliding down his throat and into his stomach.

  “Another,” he said, putting the glass down.

  “Kind of early for that kinda drinking, don’t you think, Commander?”

  Michael tapped the bar top with the glass. “You going to turn down a Hell Diver?”

  “Never have and never will.” The old militia soldier seemed to scrutinize Michael in the light as he poured another glass. Shine sloshed out of the jug, and he wiped it away with the rag, his eye on Michael the whole time.

  “Go ahead and say it,” Michael said.

  “Commander?”

  “I know you want to say something.”

  Marv pulled the plastic jug back and continued wiping the bar down with the rag. “Was just having a flashback, is all.”

  Michael brought the glass to his lips, took a whiff of the potent spirits, and knocked them back. After the burn subsided, he dragged his sleeve across his mouth.

  “Flashback about what?” he asked, squinting from the burn.

  “The Immortal.”

  Michael carefully set the glass back down. “Ah, well, this used to be his favorite hangout back when my dad was alive.”

  “Yep, it sure was. I think I saw X more than his wife did back then. Saw your dad a few times, too. He was a good man.”

  “Thanks,” Michael said. He reached for the empty glass again but hesitated. X would have sucked down shots until he was slurring, but his father would have stopped at two. Hell, his father probably wouldn’t have had more than one.

  “Everything in moderation,” Aaron had always said to Michael growing up.

  He retracted his hand and got off the stool to leave, but Marv reached out. Looking to his right, the bartender checked the open hatch to make sure no one was listening. Then he leaned forward, his sour breath hitting Michael.

  “I’ve heard a few rumors about the Sea Wolf. I may just be a washed-up old militia soldier, but I’m not dumb. I don’t believe X is really immortal. He’s a man, and he can die. I just hope it’s not before he finds the Metal Islands.”

  Michael held the older man’s gaze for a moment, finally deciding it was safe to reveal some information. “X is still alive, but that’s all I can tell you.”

  Marv scratched his gray goatee and then grinned, apparently satisfied with the answer.

  Reaching into his vest, Michael pulled out his credit voucher, but Marv waved it away.

  “Money’s not good here, Commander. Drinking with a Hell Diver is always an honor.” Marv grabbed the jug and took a swig. The liquid dripped down his goatee and onto his shirt.

  “Thanks for the shine,” Michael said. “I appreciate it.” He walked out of the room but stopped in the entryway when Marv called out.

  “Whatever demons you’re trying to kill, this ain’t the place to do it, Commander,” Marv said. “Don’t end up like X. Follow in your father’s boots.”

  Michael went out into the passage and mixed with the crowd, moving through the main artery of the ship. The alcohol had already taken the edge off, and he had a feeling it was going to help when he showed up at the launch bay.

  The new divers, Sandy Bloomberg, Jed Snow, Trey Mitchells, Vish and Jaideep Abhaya, Edgar Cervantes, Ramon Ochoa, and Eevi and Alexander Corey, were already packing their chutes.

  Erin, Les, and Layla were supervising, with Erin doing the talking. When Layla saw Michael, she hurried over to him.

  “Where have you been, Tin?”

  “With Katrina and Timothy.”

  She stepped closer, her eyes narrowing. “Is that shine I smell?”

  “Yes,” Michael said. He never kept the truth from Layla, even when it might make her angry.

  “The data Magnolia sent is that bad, huh?”

  Les ran a hand through his ruffled red hair as he approached. “Can you tell us anything?”

  “Let’s just wait for the captain. She should be on her way by now.”

  Erin continued with her instructions, speaking in what Michael described as her “sergeant voice,” a firm and aggressive version of her late father’s tone.

  “You will not leave a single supply behind on the surface. Ever.” She pulled a shotgun shell out of the bandolier on her leg. “Every shotgun shell, every bullet, every parachute, and every piece of gear is important.”

  “So is every life,” Michael chimed in.

  Erin stiffened when he walked over. “Sorry to interrupt, but I want everyone here to know that ultimately, life is the most important part of diving. If you’re faced with running from a Siren or picking up a dropped shotgun shell, run.”

  Vish flicked the gold hoop in his ear. “Sirens? No one said anything about us facing any Sirens.”

  “When the time comes to dive, we will avoid areas where Sirens dwell,” Michael said. “But there are other threats down there. Everywhere we go, on every dive.”

  He took a moment to scan the group. They all wore red coveralls, but the Velcro square on the breast pocket where a team patch was supposed to go was unadorned for now.

  “Carry on, Erin,” Michael said to her. “Our briefing will begin as soon as Captain DaVita gets here.”

  Erin licked the corners of her mouth—a habit when
she was angry. Michael hadn’t meant to annoy her, but he also didn’t like her macho attitude. What these new divers needed was the truth.

  Still, he must give her the space she needed to keep teaching. He walked over to the launch tubes while they waited for Katrina. He ran his fingers over the curved glass of his tube, visualizing the bombs that had once plummeted through the sky and exploded below, incinerating millions of innocent civilians in a war that should never have happened. It was messing with his mind. He still couldn’t quite believe that machines had caused all this.

  A voice reeled him back from his musings.

  “Tin, I’m really worried about you,” Layla said. “Will you tell me what’s going on?”

  He tried to affect nonchalance. “It’s nothing.”

  “You went to the Wingman, so don’t tell me it’s nothing.”

  The launch-bay doors screeched, and Katrina came in. Michael was glad for the interruption.

  “Captain on deck,” Les said.

  Michael and the other divers all came to attention.

  “Listen up, everyone,” Katrina said. “We just received some information from X and Magnolia that’s going to affect you all.”

  Michael hadn’t expected this. She was really going to tell everyone?

  “Magnolia sent us the coordinates of a military base in Cuba, about seventy miles from our location,” Katrina said. “There is a top secret base called Red Sphere, which we believe has fuel cells, supplies, advanced weapons, and something even more important to our future.”

  Layla looked at Michael, her lips open.

  “I didn’t know,” he whispered back.

  “Sure.”

  Michael raised his hand. It was time to intervene. “Captain, I don’t remember hearing anything about this back in your office. When did the information about Cuba come through?”

  “After you left,” she replied. “I tried to buzz you, but you were apparently preoccupied.”

  His cheeks flared.

  “Remember Dr. Julio Diaz?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Red Sphere is where his team took refuge during the Blackout.”

  “In the laboratory?” Michael asked. “That’s where you want to send us?”

  Katrina brushed one of her braids over her shoulder. “It’s not the laboratory I’m interested in. It’s the boats he claims docked there.” She turned to look at the doors to the launch bay, then back to the divers.

  “I’ve decided to take Deliverance and a handful of divers to check this location out. It will bring us closer to X and Magnolia in case they find the Metal Islands, and it gives us a chance to stock up on supplies.”

  There was a buzz of hushed discussions.

  “What about the Hive?” Edgar asked.

  “Will we just leave it behind?” said Ramon.

  The captain cleared her throat. “The Hive will remain here, away from the storms, and since most of you are new, this is a volunteers-only mission. Make no mistake, there are storms where we’re going, and there’s no telling what we may encounter at Red Sphere.”

  Her eyes flitted back and forth over the group. Sandy was tugging on a lock of hair, her eyes wide. Jed was looking sideways at Sandy and didn’t make a move to volunteer. Jaideep shook his head and kicked the ground, while Edgar and Ramon exchanged a worried glance. Eevi and Alexander both avoided her gaze, and the seasoned Hell Divers all waited to see who else might step up. Katrina’s eyes settled on Vish, who simply stood there looking back at her, unreadable.

  “Don’t look at me,” Vish muttered.

  “If we don’t have any volunteers—”

  A voice from the back of the crowd cut the captain off.

  “I’ll go.”

  Michael looked over his shoulder at his friend Trey. Trey’s father, Les, standing to the left, slowly shook his head.

  “No,” Michael said. “I’ll go.”

  “Me, too,” Layla said.

  Erin stepped forward. “Better leave this mission to the vets.”

  Les looked away from his boy and joined Erin. “Guess that means me.”

  A few seconds of silence passed before Katrina nodded. “Okay then, it’s settled. Let’s start moving our gear over to Deliverance. In a few hours, we will start the journey to Cuba.”

  * * * * *

  “Mags, Mags!” X screamed. He front-crawled to the area where she hit the water. Waves slapped against his face, blurring his view. Several minutes had passed since she fell from the bluff, and he still couldn’t see her.

  But he could see Miles. The dog was where they had left him, looking down from the cliff on the edge of the bamboo forest.

  Don’t bark, Miles. Please, don’t bark.

  The wound on his arm made swimming difficult, and the water leaking inside his suit made the arm burn worse than ever.

  But pain, no matter how bad, was just poison leaving his body. At least, that was what he had learned to tell himself back on the torturous journey across the wastes.

  Just poison leaving your body, X.

  Ah, hell, that was bullshit. Pain sucked, and he was having a hell of a time managing it right now. Seeing Miles and Mags in trouble helped him forget about the fire in his arm, and he kicked harder.

  He tried to look through the murky water with every other stroke, but he couldn’t see very far ahead. He could see the shadows on the rocky bottom of the bay, though. It was a cemetery of skeletal vessels, their hulls mostly preserved in the water.

  The port must have attracted sailors caught out to sea when the bombs dropped and missiles started flying.

  What had happened to the survivors was a mystery, though. Whoever had manned the facility in the jungle was long gone.

  X gritted through the pain of his arm and kept up the crawl stroke. He could see something ahead. The waves slapped again, but he caught another glimpse of the object. A human shape, and a helmet … facedown.

  “Kid!” X choked.

  Oh, shit. Oh, God, no.

  He swam the rest of the way as fast as he could. Between strokes, he spotted a mass of feathers that had to be the bird that knocked Magnolia off the bluff.

  The creature was dead, floating where it had crashed into the bay.

  He pushed on until he reached Magnolia’s limp body.

  “Mags,” he said, reaching under her ribs and turning her onto her back. He choked on fear when he saw her helmet full of water. The night-vision optics provided a view of her pale face and dark lips.

  Maneuvering onto his back with one arm around her, he began kicking for the shore. That was when he saw the dorsal fin tacking toward them. He almost laughed. The shark had survived a direct hit with a grenade.

  We can’t catch a break, can we, kid?

  The shark broke the surface, showing what was left of its face. The upper right half, including the eye, had been blown off, exposing muscle and cartilage under the flesh.

  It swallowed the floating bird and vanished back under the water. There wasn’t anything X could do but keep kicking away. His blaster would be useless, and his knife wouldn’t do much against a monster that could survive a grenade blast. Besides, he had Magnolia in his grasp, and if he let go of her in the waves, she would be lost.

  He wasn’t sure how far they were from shore, but he couldn’t risk a glance right now. Keeping his eyes on the water in front of them, he searched for the fins.

  A whistling like a silenced rifle round zipped past, and X flinched at the sight of something cutting through the air. Before his mind could process what he was seeing, it broke through the water and then jerked to the right.

  The dorsal fin and back of the shark crested the water. Sticking out of the flesh was a harpoon with a rope attached.

  X kept kicking, his brain trying to process what he was seeing. Another spear shot th
rough the air and punched through the shark’s thick hide.

  “X, this is Timothy Pepper. Do you copy? Over.”

  The calm and proper AI voice was one of the sweetest things X had ever heard.

  “Pepper, where in the hell you been!”

  “I was following your orders, Commander, but my sensors detected that Magnolia’s heartbeat stopped, and my failsafe overrode that order, reactivating me.”

  “Can you move the boat?”

  “I’m working on it, Commander.”

  X turned toward shore and was surprised to find they were almost there. His feet hit the sand a moment later, and he dragged Magnolia through the surf.

  He pulled off her helmet and gently laid her head on the sand.

  Thunder boomed, and the distant eerie wail of a vulture answered.

  X looked up the cliff, but the dog was no longer there.

  “Miles!” he shouted.

  He had to make a decision, just as he had been forced to do back on the Cazador ship, when it was save Rodger or save Mags. This time, it was his dog or Magnolia, but he wasn’t sure he could save either of them. Not knowing where Miles was made the decision easier.

  X brought his mouth down to her pale lips, breathed into her, and pressed the heel of his hand into her chest rhythmically. He repeated the process, over and over.

  “Come on, kid, come on.”

  He breathed in again, pushed, and yelled, “Miles, where are you?”

  Lightning forked over the bay, casting a glow on the crooked mainmast of the Sea Wolf. The boat cut through the chop and headed for shore.

  X bent back down and put his mouth against Magnolia’s lips. He breathed in, moved back, and resumed the chest compressions.

  “Come on, kid!”

  Before the next rotation, he pulled his knife out and set it beside him in the sand, just in case anything else came along and tried to kill them. Just as he lowered to give Magnolia another breath, her electric-blue eyes flipped open, meeting his in the dim light.

  She vomited water, then brought her hands to her mouth.