Hell Divers (Book 7): Warriors

by Smith, Nicholas Sansbury

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

  X went back to his room, where he left Miles with a bowl of fresh food and water. Then he headed for the solar-heated showers on the floor below. Ton and Victor pushed open the double doors, and they all entered a steamy room that smelled like a mixture of body odor and flowers.

  Ted and Arlo were in the first changing area. With his back turned and his long curly locks hanging over his shoulders, Arlo looked like a woman.

  “You know why soldiers buzzed their heads in old wars?” X asked him.

  Arlo turned, tightening the towel around his waist. The stab wound he had suffered in Rio de Janeiro wasn’t fully healed yet, but the stitches were out.

  “I don’t recall, King Xavier,” he replied.

  “So an enemy couldn’t pull your head back and slit your throat,” X said, tracing a line across his own scarred neck.

  Arlo flipped a lock of hair over his shoulder, flinging water on Ted.

  “Hey, man, what the hell!”

  “Sorry,” Arlo said. He sat on a long wooden bench. “All due respect, King Xavier, but I’m going to have a helmet on out there, right?”

  “Yes, but that’s not the point.”

  “I still don’t know how a sword is going to do me any good against a machine.”

  “It may not,” X said. “But there are more than machines where you’re going. Remember that Siren pit you fell into on your last dive?”

  Arlo swallowed hard, and Ton and Victor gave him a hard look as X hit the showers.

  * * * * *

  Feeling refreshed, X walked back to his quarters in silence. Miles followed him over to his closet, where X pulled out his best shorts and slipped into his worn leather sandals. The two white shirts hanging on hooks were wrinkled, but the one thing in his small closet wasn’t.

  “What do you think, boy?” X asked Miles.

  The dog moved into the closet and sniffed the bottom of the leather outfit that Imulah had given X during the first days of his reign.

  To be king, you must dress like one, he had said.

  “Fuck that,” X mumbled.

  It was the same reply he had given back then.

  He left the closet and went over to the trunk at the foot of the bed. Miles sniffed the box eagerly, expecting a treat.

  X opened the lid to reveal the only possession that had survived all his journeys. While he had lost most of his original Hell Diver armor during his trek through the wastes and his imprisonment by the Cazadores, he still had the main plate of his chest armor.

  He placed it on the bed. After putting on a white button-down shirt, he added the chest plate. Turning, he checked himself in the cracked mirror on the wall.

  “I look good?” he said, glancing down.

  Miles’s tail thumped, and X laughed.

  He went to his small desk, where he had placed Imulah’s book on the Outrider colony, but it was the second book from Imulah that he was interested in tonight. A faded gold cross marked the cover.

  It was as old as X felt, with pages as creased and weathered as his scarred flesh. He had never felt much in common with religions, but tonight, he was going to use a line from this ancient book for the old-world ceremony that would unite Michael and Layla.

  X buckled his captain’s sword to the duty belt at his waist. For the first time in as long as he could remember, he stopped in front of the mirror and made sure he didn’t have anything in his teeth. He even ran his fingernails through the thicket of eyebrow, then used scissors to cut any errant bristles. Satisfied, he went to work trimming his beard into shape.

  At last, he wiped the mirror off and stared at his reflection.

  He hardly recognized the man looking back at him. A new wrinkle had formed on his forehead, and his nose looked more crooked than before. And his short hair and beard now had more salt than pepper.

  “You shouldn’t even be alive,” he said.

  He and Miles left the room and walked with Ton and Victor to the sun deck where el Pulpo’s wives had once lounged in the sun while servants fed them grapes.

  The servants were gone, as were the cages that once held Rodger and Miles captive. The rest had been transformed into a beautiful oasis.

  Electric lights hung from the branches of trees. Four tables, each covered with a white cloth and set with dishes of fruit and vegetables, had been set up along the deck.

  Voices came from the other side of the garden. X walked toward them, halting behind a tree when he saw Michael and Layla holding hands under a bower strung with lights. Several people waited in the shadows.

  Layla looked beautiful in a white dress with flowers and a lace V-neck. Michael wore a black Hell Diver jumpsuit with the Raptor logo on the sleeves. Armor covered his chest. The ponytail was gone, shorn down to a crew cut. He had also shaved his baby face. Both were too busy talking with Imulah to even see X.

  He stood there a moment, admiring the two kids. Even in their midtwenties, that was how he saw them. And they were about to start their own family now.

  X drew in a breath, suddenly feeling more nervous than he did before a dive. A memory surfaced of his ninety-sixth jump, the day Michael’s father died with the rest of Team Raptor.

  More memories flooded his mind: bringing Tin orange noodles while he put together a vacuum cleaner bot in their small quarters; finding the boy in the medical ward with his shiny foil hat after a storm.

  He recalled the fortune cookie quote Tin had given him before the dive that left X stranded on the surface. They hadn’t seen each other for almost a decade until their reunion in Florida, when X was a half-crazed shell of his former self. Since then, they had made up for lost time, but that time was fraught with harsh reality.

  Devastating dives.

  The battle for the islands.

  Death and suffering.

  His drinking again.

  All those moments had led X to tonight—to this very spot, where he was lucky enough to see Michael and Layla joined together in the sacred tradition of marriage.

  Rodger and Magnolia waited hand in hand. She had buzzed her head and wore a bandage over the burn wounds on the right side of her forehead.

  Rodger pushed his glasses up and smiled as X walked over.

  Les stood with his wife and daughter, holding their hands. Eevi and Samson had also come. And there were the ever-present Victor and Ton, keeping to the shadows to watch for threats.

  But so many were not here tonight—people they had lost who would have loved to see this union.

  X led Miles over to the gathering.

  “Welcome, King Xavier,” Imulah said.

  X almost choked up as Michael and Layla turned to face him.

  They both smiled, but there was still tension in their faces—concern over what came after their ceremony. X vowed to live in the moment and leave the worries for tomorrow.

  “We are here to celebrate the union of two beautiful people tonight,” X said. “Two people I’ve had the pleasure of knowing since they were children.”

  He stepped up in front of the altar, under the fronds of a palm tree.

  “Layla Brower and Michael Everhart, it is my honor to oversee this ceremony. You are beautiful inside and out and have always put others before yourselves with your kind and selfless hearts.”

  He let that sink in.

  “Tonight is about you, and I hope you can put aside all other thoughts and focus on each other right now. For this is a night that you will never forget.”

  Michael looked at Layla and smiled. Her dimpled grin widened.

  “Gather around,” X said.

  Everyone moved closer, and he thought back to his own wedding. He wasn’t even sure how long ago it was—probably thirty years by now. A distant memory, but one that still lived in his m
ind.

  His wife had looked so beautiful that day, and they were so in love. Long before the diving turned him into a drunk and, at times, an asshole.

  Accept your past without regrets, he reminded himself.

  X opened the book. Clearing his throat, he read the passage about love.

  “Love is kind. It does not envy . . .”

  He handed the book to Imulah and moved to a tradition his people had come up with over the years.

  “Layla, Michael,” X said, “tonight your hearts become one. Wherever one of you goes, the other follows, even if not in physical form.”

  They placed their hands over each other’s heart.

  “Repeat after me,” X said. He waited a moment. “I, Michael Everhart, promise always to put you first and take care of you as long as we live in the sky . . .”

  Several chuckles sounded.

  “Sorry,” X said. “I guess we’ll need to change some words.”

  Michael and Layla both smiled even wider.

  “As long as we live,” X corrected.

  Michael repeated the words, and Layla did the same.

  “I want to make another promise tonight in front of you all,” Michael said. He looked to X for permission.

  “Go ahead,” X said.

  “Layla,” Michael said, meeting her gaze once again, “I promise the mission to Africa will be my last as a Hell Diver.”

  A tear rolled down her cheek. She nodded once, then twice.

  “Put your hand on top of each other’s,” X said. They did, and X put his left hand on top of theirs.

  “Let us all pray for their love and safety,” he said.

  The small crowd bowed their heads.

  X waited another beat and took his hand away.

  “And with that, I present you all with Michael and Layla Everhart,” he said.

  Clapping rang out, and several cheers.

  Miles wagged his tail and barked.

  Michael looked to X and mouthed, Thank you.

  “Don’t look at me, kid—er, man,” X said, correcting himself again. “Kiss your bride!”

  Michael leaned in, kissing her gently on the lips.

  To no one’s surprise, Rodger did the same thing to Magnolia, and to everyone’s surprise, she didn’t slap him.

  Samson walked over to the table, grumbling about being hungry, while the lovebirds embraced. X smiled and cried at the same time as he sat with the others for their banquet, just as they did before a dive.

  Only tonight X wasn’t going to get plastered and make bad decisions. Tonight, he was going to be the king that his people needed before the most important missions of their lives—and perhaps the most important mission since the end of the world.

  twenty-six

  The rain sounded like hundreds of fingernails tapping on the glass. The noise stirred Ada awake. The first thing she saw was two large, gleaming black eyes staring back at her.

  Startled, she let out a cry that prompted a shrill yelp in reply.

  She had slept so hard that at first, she didn’t remember where she was, but the sight of the baby monkey brought everything crashing down. The creature she had rescued from the island hopped off the bunk and onto the deck of the rocking boat.

  “It’s okay, Jo-Jo,” Ada muttered. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  She sat up and checked her wrist monitor, shocked to see she had slept for several hours. It was no wonder, really. She had expended much energy launching the boat after first killing a pack of Sirens.

  The launch had gone better than expected, but she had worked for hours to rig the other sails, and one still needed patching.

  She was lucky to be on the water. Lucky to be alive and off that nightmare island. Lucky to be going home.

  Now she needed to figure out where home was in this vast sea. And for that, she needed the boat’s GPS.

  The monkey grunted and then whimpered. Ada reached out with a gloved hand.

  Jo-Jo reared back, baring a slight underbite. The creature’s hair was bristly, almost like spikes. She had yet to touch it with her bare hands, fearing that it would transmit some disease.

  A long groan sounded across the vessel’s twin hulls. The monkey looked left, then right, and climbed Ada’s leg to perch on her lap.

  The creature let out a purring sound as her gloved hand stroked its back.

  “You don’t like boats, huh?” Ada said. “That makes two of us.”

  The monkey just whimpered.

  She had no idea what Jo-Jo wanted, so she dug through the supplies she had stowed in front of the control panel.

  Digging into a pack, she started with food. The little creature didn’t seem to want any more fish jerky. She tried water next, mindful of what little she had left. But it wasn’t that, either.

  “You must just be scared, then, huh?” Ada said.

  Lightning forked outside, followed by a loud thunderclap. The monkey didn’t seem to care about the noise, but every time a wave jostled the boat, it cried out.

  Ada picked up the animal again and sat down on one of the chairs in front of the control panel. The screen was cracked, and the controls to the sail wouldn’t work without power.

  The monkey went limp in her arms, and she didn’t dare move. She held it for a few minutes until the bristly back moved rhythmically up and down.

  Ada gently set the baby monkey down on the pad and covered it with the blanket she had salvaged from her boat. With the creature asleep, she changed into her suit. She had managed to sail out of the obstacle course that was the harbor, but if they were going to find their way home, she must get the battery online.

  After putting on her taped-up helmet, she returned to the back hatch, stopping first to check on the monkey, who was snoring peacefully.

  Ada slung her backpack and opened the hatch. Wind and rain blasted her, and she quickly closed it behind her.

  A torrent of electricity flashed through the clouds. The strikes lit up more than just the boat; they showed her a storm front that appeared as a wall of clouds rolling over the water. Cloud towers that looked almost like scrapers rose out of the mass, moving as if they were a floating city. From what she could tell, the boat was heading right for it, or rather, the mass was heading right for the boat.

  Grabbing her backpack, she crouched near a hatch. Rain pummeled her as she twisted the screwdriver. Another wave crashed into the hull, splashing her with water. Thunder boomed, rattling the twin hulls.

  With the hatch open, she shined her flashlight into the battery compartment. A thick, powdery rime of corrosion blossomed up from both the battery’s poles. Her heart sank. This could be a lost cause.

  Still, she had to try.

  In the pause between thunderclaps, in the whistling wind she heard a familiar crying sound, followed by pounding on metal. Jo-Jo was awake again, alone, and probably scared to death.

  Ada worked faster, scrabbling in the tool kit for the wrench to fit the battery clamps. The battery was old, and while some of them had a theoretically infinite life span, its connections hadn’t been cleaned in a century or more.

  Her gut told her the sky people needed her.

  She wasn’t sure why she felt so strong about this. It felt almost like a sixth sense. It was no mistake that she found the note from X when she did. Her heart told her the king needed someone like her, who could make tough choices to save their people.

  Holding two screwdrivers by their insulated grips, she placed the tip of each on a battery pole and bumped the shafts together. She was rewarded with a pop and a spark.

  Her spirits lifted instantly. The old storage cell still had some juice. If she could clean the poles and cable clamps, she just might be able to get some of that juice to the GPS monitor. What she needed now was something alkaline to clean them with.

  When she r
eturned to the cabin, the baby monkey jumped onto her, latching around her waist. It held on as she moved over to the little refrigerator. Praying that it had what she needed, she opened the door and groaned. The shelves inside were bare.

  As she swung the door shut, something caught her eye. Opening the door again, she reached to the back of the bottom shelf and pulled out a small yellowish cardboard box.

  Yes! She had heard about this old-world trick of keeping an open box of baking soda in the fridge.

  Putting a few ounces of water in a pan, she dumped half the box in and stirred it with a wooden spoon. Then, grabbing a dishrag from the counter, she calmed Jo-Jo and went outside again. She must get this done before the storm arrived.

  Soon, she had loosened the nut on each battery clamp and got the cables free. Then she wet the dishrag with the baking soda–water slurry in the pan and rubbed both clamps and both poles of the battery. They fizzed and foamed, and when she wiped them off, they were gleaming and free of corrosion. She reconnected the cables and tightened down the clamps, then closed the battery compartment and went back inside.

  With bated breath, she flipped the toggle switch powering the GPS monitor . . .

  Ada let out a whoop so loud, Jo-Jo started whimpering again. There on the monitor was a map of the Caribbean.

  After soothing the nervous monkey, she brought up her current location. They were way off course, sailing south when they should be going east. Then she typed in the direction she wanted to go, and the destination—what had been the British Virgin Islands.

  The monitor on the control panel brought up a map that showed a line through the water. Not a line—a road to the Vanguard Islands. Again, she thanked all the gods that the machines hadn’t been able to shoot down the solar-powered positioning satellites, without which she would be forever lost on a dark ocean.

  Ada held both fists in the air and gave a slightly more subdued whoop this time. The monkey just looked up at her.

  “We’re headed home, Jo-Jo!” she said. “And I think you’re going to love it there.”

  * * * * *

  Magnolia had revenge on her mind, and a light hangover from last night’s celebration of Michael and Layla. The wine had helped numb the pain of her burns but combining it with the medicine was a bad idea.