Hell Divers Series | Book 8 | King of the Wastes

by Smith, Nicholas Sansbury

  They ran harder, and now the kid was cooperating, keeping up the pace.

  “There they are,” Edgar said, pointing toward the other divers. The group huddled about a thousand feet from the rim of a vast crater, behind a shipping container on its side. When Magnolia got there, Kade was crouched by Ada, with Gran Jefe and Sofia holding security.

  They both raised their weapons as Magnolia and Edgar approached with their prisoner.

  “What in the hell is this thing?” Sofia asked.

  “Not a thing,” Magnolia said. “It’s a young man.”

  “If you can call him that,” Edgar said.

  “He lives out here?” Sofia asked.

  “We don’t know much about him, but we will once we get him to the ship,” Magnolia said.

  Sofia walked over. “Captain Rolo won’t like you bringing back a prisoner.”

  “¿Eres Cazador?” Gran Jefe asked the kid, who didn’t respond.

  “I’m serious, Mags,” Sofia said. “He didn’t even want us coming after you guys.”

  Magnolia cursed under her breath.

  The old bastard was going to leave us down here? Fuck him.

  She hurried over to Kade and Ada, crouching down.

  “What happened to her?” Magnolia asked.

  “Those turtle things covered her in eggs and now she can’t move, but she can hear us,” Kade said. “She blinked at me.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “No doubt in my mind.”

  “And Jo-Jo’s missing?”

  “She took off during the last attack.”

  Magnolia looked around the rolling, rubble-strewn terrain, but Kade pointed to the crater.

  “She’s down there,” he said.

  The electronic wailing of the Sirens grew closer, and Sofia aimed her rifle at the sky.

  “Hostiles at three o’clock, just below the clouds,” she said.

  Magnolia saw a vee of the monsters sailing closer, keeping high in the sky as they scanned the terrain with their radar.

  One suddenly let out an otherworldly wail, the pitch rising and falling like an emergency siren. The noise sent a chill through Magnolia.

  She put a hand on Ada to comfort her. “You’re going to be okay,” she said. “Hang on. We’re taking you home.”

  “What’s the plan?” Kade asked.

  Magnolia hated doing it, but they couldn’t search for Jo-Jo. Her beacon was over a mile away, somewhere underground.

  “It’s safer to get Ada into the air than move her,” Magnolia said.

  “I’ll take her,” Kade said.

  A faint groan came from Ada, and Magnolia leaned down. She was trying to move her lips to say something, but Magnolia couldn’t make it out.

  “Ja . . .”

  Magnolia realized then, Ada didn’t want them to leave her animal.

  “We’ll come back for her,” Magnolia said. “We have to get you to the ship, see a doc.”

  “Jo . . .”

  “I’m sorry,” Magnolia said. She stood, guilt setting in as she looked at Ada, who was blinking rapidly. She knew how much Ada cared about the animal, but they couldn’t risk human lives to save a monkey, not with the Sirens and hybrid turtles out here.

  “Edgar, you want me to take the kid?” Magnolia asked.

  “I got him,” Edgar replied.

  Magnolia walked over to them and pointed at the sky.

  “We’re going up there,” she explained. “You’re coming with. Okay?”

  The beaked helmet didn’t move.

  She snorted. There was no use explaining anything.

  “Edgar, you hold on to him tight,” Magnolia said. “Use a locking biner. I don’t want to lose him.”

  Kade and Sofia helped Ada sit up, and with Gran Jefe’s help, they got her on her feet. Sofia made a web harness for Ada, securing her to Kade.

  Magnolia pointed as their prisoner watched.

  “This is what we’re going to do with you,” she said.

  The kid seemed to understand and backed away, shaking his head.

  Out of nowhere, Edgar hammered him in the side of the helmet with his fist. The boy crumpled to the ground.

  “Edgar!” Magnolia snapped.

  “Only fair—he knocked us out first.”

  Edgar picked the kid up. “Besides, less squirming this way.”

  “Okay, we’re good to go,” Kade confirmed.

  “Edgar, you and Kade go first,” Magnolia said. “The rest of us will cover you.”

  Reaching over his shoulder, Kade tapped his booster. The helium balloon exploded from the canister and rose into the air.

  It whisked him off the ground with Ada limp against him. She was still trying to protest, begging them not to leave Jo-Jo.

  “I’m sorry,” Magnolia said.

  Edgar went next, with their prisoner, who also hung limp in his harness.

  Raising her rifle, Magnolia aimed at the vee of Sirens. Ten of the pale abominations flapped toward the crater. She sighted up the lead beast and moved her finger to the trigger.

  Their alien calls echoed through the night as they broke formation to scan for prey.

  Kade and Edgar had moved into the cloud cover without being detected.

  “Gran Jefe, you’re next,” Magnolia said.

  The big man fired his booster. The helium balloon filled, plucking him off the ground, pulling him skyward as Magnolia and Sofia covered his ascent.

  “Thanks for diving down to this hellhole,” Magnolia said.

  “You’re my best amigocha—what did you think I would do, leave you?”

  “Did Captain Rolo really want you to?”

  A Siren shriek cut her off, and she ducked instinctively. One by one, the monsters peeled off the formation and dived toward the two women.

  Magnolia led the first one in her sights. “Hold your fire until they get close,” she said.

  The beasts rocketed toward the ground, shrieking as one. As if in answer, the earth beneath them rumbled.

  Magnolia glanced down, then pushed Sofia toward the shipping container. They ducked behind the rusted metal box.

  “Get ready to run,” Magnolia said.

  “What? Run?” Sofia asked. “We can take them . . .”

  Her words trailed off at the violent shake beneath her feet. The formation of Sirens tried to pull up as the mounded dirt rolled aside and four sets of orange claws pushed up out of the ground.

  The creatures flapped away—all but one that didn’t pull up fast enough. The massive pincers were quicker, snatching the Siren from the sky.

  “now!” Magnolia said.

  She took off running with Sofia as the yellow-domed monster clambered up onto the surface, shedding great clods of soil and dust.

  After running a quarter-mile, Magnolia gave the order to launch into the sky. They hit their boosters and were whisked up off the ground.

  Below them, a giant pincer brought the hapless Siren to the gaping beaked jaws. The electronic shrieking grew more frantic, then abruptly ended.

  “That’s a different one,” Sofia said over the comm.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Gran Jefe did a number on the first one with his grenade launcher. That one down there is not the same beast.”

  Magnolia stared in amazement as they sailed over the Panama Canal. The sector wasn’t just high in radiation, it was home to a variety of mutant monsters.

  And somehow, the teenager who had captured her had survived it all.

  She looked up at the storm roiling above them. They would get their prisoner back to the ship and, with some linguistic help from Timothy, have a conversation about how he managed to survive so long on the surface. His knowledge and experience would enable them to return and take the canal with the Cazador n
avy—and, with luck, find Jo-Jo. The monkey was born and grew up in a place like this. She would find a way to survive.

  Magnolia ascended to the launch-bay doors of the airship Vanguard. They opened up, allowing her and Sofia to maneuver their balloons into the chamber.

  The doors closed under their feet, and Magnolia got out of her harness, dropping a foot and a half to the deck. Inside the glass dome, antiseptic antirad mist sprayed the two divers.

  The decontamination unit finally opened to a sight of two militia soldiers armed with crossbows, flanking Captain Rolo. He stood there, hands behind his back, looking stern and imperious.

  The other divers had already gone, along with their prisoner.

  Magnolia stepped out with Sofia.

  “Commander Katib, good to see you made it back,” Rolo said. “Unfortunately, we’re going to have to put you into quarantine for the trip back to the islands.”

  “To the islands? We’re headed back already?” Magnolia asked.

  “I’m afraid there’s some bad news,” he said. “That storm was worse than we feared. We lost Blood Trawler, and apparently, Michael Everhart and Rodger Mintel were on board.”

  * * * * *

  X stood at the top of the capitol tower, Miles at his side, gazing out over the Vanguard Islands as the sun rose. It was hard to fathom that the tranquil sea had risen to twenty-foot walls last night. The last storm clouds melted into the invisible barrier, leaving a scene of devastation in their wake.

  Every rig had taken damage, and the scribes would soon start collecting data on crop damage.

  What X knew so far was worrisome. Fifty-one people were confirmed missing, including Michael, Rodger, and Alfred. Twenty-five were confirmed dead from fires, smoke, and drowning.

  The Mako had sunk, and so had Blood Trawler, but it was still too early to know whether the lost oil would taint their fishing waters.

  What X did know for certain was that they were frighteningly low on gas.

  Below, a dozen boats of different shapes and sizes waited on the piers. More were being lowered to the water from their lifts in the enclosed port, to help with rescue and rebuilding efforts.

  On the horizon, two construction boats were already sailing toward the trading post rig, which was still smoking. The clank of armor preceded the gruff voice of General Forge.

  “King Xavier, we have news from Captain Rolo.”

  X turned slightly but kept gazing out over the sparkling sea.

  “The Vanguard is on its way back to the islands,” Forge said. “I’m told they have a prisoner with them, a human they discovered at the canal.”

  “A Cazador from the Sea Sprite?”

  “No, they never found that vessel. This man is from another far-off land.”

  The news gave X a hint of hope in a time of despair. “And the divers?” he asked.

  “Arlo Wand was severely injured, as was Ada Winslow, but they are alive, King Xavier.”

  X nodded, trying to keep his emotions in check.

  He had a soft spot for Ada despite her horrific crime. She had survived her exile, helped save the islands, and served as a Hell Diver to atone. Hearing she was hurt added to X’s unhappiness.

  “Anything else?” he asked.

  “This is all I have heard, my king.”

  X nodded, and General Forge backed away.

  For the next few minutes, X remained in the same position, staring off toward the horizon, wondering if Michael, Rodger, and Alfred could still be alive out there somewhere.

  Pedro had diverted all weather drones to searching for them, now that the worst of the storm had passed. But they couldn’t afford the fuel for search vessels when they could be anywhere.

  X had to be diplomatic while at the same time husbanding their dwindling resources. He couldn’t send the entire fleet off to look for three men who were probably already dead.

  The thought pained him, but it was reality.

  They needed their vessels to help repair the islands, and gas was now more precious than ever before.

  He stepped away from the balcony, feeling a deep dread in the marrow of his old bones. Miles sensed his unease and nudged his leg.

  “It’s okay, boy,” X said.

  But that was a lie. Everything was falling apart, and it had happened in a single night. This was precisely why they must expand and create outposts.

  El Pulpo was right—something X had never thought he would say. And it wasn’t just el Pulpo. His predecessors had also expanded with outposts in the Caribbean and along the continental coasts.

  X took in a long breath of fresh air, trying to invigorate himself for another long day of agonizing work. This was the burden of being king: overseeing the lives of so many and being responsible for those who died.

  He patted his leg, and Miles got up, following him across the roof. They went to the elevator cart, where Ton and Victor waited. They looked exhausted after staying up all night with X in the rescue effort.

  He would give anything for a stim pill right now.

  A nip of shine would be nice, too, or a jug of wine.

  But those days were behind him.

  He took the elevator down to the marina, which was a hive of activity as people gathered to clean up and rebuild. He spied Layla’s blond pigtails hanging down her back, and as she turned, there was Bray, tucked in a pouch at her chest.

  She had two volunteers: Shelly, who had served as head seamstress on the Hive, and Katherine, the widow of former captain and Hell Diver Les Mitchells. They were preparing to head out in the Sea Wolf.

  The cage set down, and X opened the doors and trotted off toward the piers.

  Imulah spotted him and walked over, holding up a clipboard. “King Xavier!” he shouted.

  Ton and Victor kept close to X as he moved through the crowds. There were people from all societies here. People from Rio de Janeiro, the Cazadores, sky people, and the survivors from Kilimanjaro. But today X didn’t see differences in race or cultural traditions.

  He saw citizens of the Vanguard Islands. All of them prepared to help their fellow humans.

  X had considered saying some words this morning, but these people didn’t need to hear what he had to say. That would come soon enough. They had work to do.

  X moved through the crowd, wearing shorts, T-shirt, sandals, and the Marine Corps baseball cap with its eagle, globe, and anchor.

  He remembered their motto, “Semper fidelis”—always loyal. Last night, he had been forced to break one of their cardinal rules. He had left a man behind.

  He walked over to Layla as she supervised the loading of the Sea Wolf. Bray was sleeping.

  Shelly and Katherine bowed slightly to X, who frowned at their formality.

  “I’m going after him,” Layla said, stowing the last duffel. “He’s alive. I know it.”

  “Take Ton,” X said. “He can help you with the sails.”

  Bray opened his eyes, squinting into the sunlight to look at X.

  “Hey, little guy,” X said. He gave the child his fingertip to squeeze.

  “What about the Hell Divers?” Layla asked. “Have you heard from them yet?”

  “They’re on their way back,” X said.

  “Does Magnolia know?”

  “I imagine so.”

  Layla handed Bray to Katherine as a voice called out. “I’m coming with!”

  A girl ran past X and hopped onto the boat. It was Les and Katherine’s nine-year-old daughter. She had seen more than her fair share of suffering over the past few years, after losing her older brother in a dive, and then Les on the mission to Tanzania.

  “Phyl, I told you to stay here!” Katherine yelled.

  “I want to help find Michael,” Phyl said.

  X nodded at Ton, who hopped aboard the Sea Wolf.

  “Be care
ful,” X said.

  X made it only a few steps down the dock before Imulah stopped him to hand out his infamous clipboard.

  “These are the current tallies, King Xavier,” he said.

  X looked at the figures as he walked toward his boat. The scribes were already radioing in crop information from the other rigs.

  “No,” he breathed upon reading a single line.

  Almost a total loss . . .

  X swallowed hard. He had to see this for himself.

  “Bring up my boat,” he said, handing the clipboard back to Imulah.

  The One-Armed Bandit was ready to go. A team of Cazadores stood at attention as he boarded.

  X went up the ladder to the boat’s command center and fired the engines as Victor cast off the mooring rope. He reversed away from the dock, drawing alongside the Sea Wolf. He waved to Layla, who was behind the wheel. Phyl had lost the argument and was on the deck holding Bray and standing next to Shelly, who would look after them.

  Ton looked up from inspecting the sails and rigging and waved to X, who nodded back. Then X pushed the throttle down, powering away from the capitol rig toward the main agriculture rig, where he was needed most right now. His heart tugged at him with every beat to join the hunt for the castaways, but he had chosen to accept the burden of leadership, and that meant caring for all his people equally.

  The boat skipped and banged across the wave tops, the engines purring with restrained power.

  “Sir,” came a voice.

  It was Victor.

  “I’m sorry about your son,” he said.

  “My son . . .” X blanked for a moment before realizing that his friend and guard was referring to Michael. “Thanks,” he said.

  The ride to the rig gave X plenty of time to think—enough time for the feeling of dread to sink into despair.

  A warm tear ran down his face.

  He wiped it away and motioned for Miles to join him.

  For the next hour, X toured the damaged plots and orchards with his dog. Tarps flapped in the wind, exposing areas where the dirt had been ripped away. In other sections, cornstalks were broken or ripped out entirely.

  X bent down and picked up a handful of moist dirt. The future of the islands had been in this dirt. Now it was gone.

  His radio crackled.

  “King Xavier, this is Pedro, do you copy?”